hadriel_logs | Event Log: Seven Seas

Entry tags:

Event Log: Seven Seas

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the first part of the Seven Seas event
Where: All over the world
When: August 13th-August 31st
Warnings: None

You've managed to get ships, maps, compasses, supplies - everything you might need for a journey across the ocean of an alien world. Sure, some of those things aren't in the best condition, but you've got an adventurous heart and little regard for your own safety, so it's time to go! Let's hope at least one of the people in your boat knows how to sail, otherwise this is going to be a pretty short trip.

But once you get going, well, there's a whole world out there to see. Islands to stop on for water or a break from the rolling waves, fish to eat, a wide open sky to enjoy. And when you get to your destination, the fragments, that'll be fun too! You'll get the opportunity to dive down below the waves, to the ocean floor, and see all the cool sea creatures and plant life.

Of course, some of those sea creatures want to eat you, and even in god-provided diving suits it's not safe to be down for too long. And if you successfully find and retrieve a fragment... that's when it gets really interesting, because everytime you're near them, and especially when you touch them, they'll inspire chaotic emotions: endless laughter, deep depression, sudden rage. They'll be safe in Tranquility's boxes - more or less - but you've got to get them up from the bottom first.

Enjoy your pleasure cruise!

► This log covers August 13th-August 31st.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you get eaten by a sea monster, just like you've always dreamed of, please let us know here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They had gotten the idea just the night before, over drinks at the Speakeasy while discussing the terms of payment Semiyon would owe Caedra for her calligraphic skills. A little get-together, just the two of them, before she heads out on a long and potentially dangerous voyage. Not that she's concerned about the danger, but - it makes for a good excuse.

She's not going anywhere for a day or so while they finish loading things up, and she'll have to return to the hallowing ritual in a short time before the herbs burn down. She's still half-focused on it herself, as she needs to be, but a quick break away shouldn't harm the casting one bit, as is common with these lengthy spells. So long as she doesn't pick a fight and lose concentration - or have too much to drink. As fun as that would be, she's serious about keeping the ship protected from intrusion by that awful creature that seems intent on ruining her fun from time to time.

Caedra has left Semiyon to procure the drinks, while she sets up the table. Not too far from shore, near some empty building. She's scavenged the shops for the nicest dishes and silverware she can find - so pardon her if the forks are that odd plastic material and the glasses are mismatched, her options are limited. There's a platter with mystery fruits sliced haphazardly into bite-sized pieces in the center of the table, and a bowl with what resembles ceviche, though there's no lemon or tomatoes, just cubed raw fish and diced orchard vegetables of unknown varieties. Close enough, she figures. With the constant roar of waves that surrounds the islands as background music, Caedra settles into a chair, content with her efforts to make decent party fare, and waits for one of the few people in this city she chooses to spend time with willingly.

Semiyon does not keep her waiting long, appearing along the shoreline in a light grey fur-lined overcoat (one of his few successful finds at the stores if you don't look close to realize the buttons are actually small taxidermy eyes, but he's actually grown fond of that detail.) He holds up a hand in a small greeting wave while he is still a few long paces off and then when he is close enough to be hear he holds up a shoulder bag.

"I have brought wine and candles!" And he was careful not to grab one of Newt's 'death scented' candles. Instead these smell randomly of new leather and roasting coffee beans which were, while unorthodox, enormously preferable to the alternatives. He carefully sets out the bottles and the candles before moving to take his seat.

"I must compliment you on the choice of location and the beautiful arrangement."

"You're far too kind," Caedra replies graciously, as if kindness were something she was familiar with. It's the thought that counts, right?

"But did you bring a lighter, or will I have to get creative?" she asks as a teasing smile appears. Meanwhile, she spots the labels. Scented candles? That in itself is an oddity to her. But she recognizes that he had to make do. Trying to bend the quirks of this place to something matching the comforts they both appreciate in their home lives is part of the fun, anyway. It's parody, specifically - but the way they both use it, it's a parody of this place. Of how awful, how demeaning it can be - and how despite that, they manage to maintain some semblance of elegance within it all even if it seems like the entire world strives to prevent them doing so.

"Where would the fun in that be?" He play pouts. He's fast gotten accustomed to Caedra's ability to use magic to make life 1. far more simple and 2. more interesting.

"Also! Before I forget...," He produces another bottle of Hadriel's finest questionable alcohol, holding it out to her. "A going away present and hopefully something to help tide you over on your journey."

"Semiyon!" she exclaims in delight and surprise, as she takes the bottle and looks it over and then slips it into her bag. "What a gentleman. I'll be sure to make good use of it. A celebration for when we find one of those fragments, perhaps."

A celebration that she's going to keep quite limited in scope, to make sure she gets her share of the bottle. If it wasn't for this slightly more fragile form the gods have forced her to take, she would keep it all to herself. Instead, she can reward whoever she sees fit to share it with.

"Creativity it is, then," she announces and scoots the candles close to each other, then summons a little penknife to her palm rather than the usual rapier. With a flick of her wrist, she deftly slices off the top quarter-inch of a wick. As the knife strikes the wick, though, her familiar green flame licks at the first candle and catches it alight - and as her hand sweeps past, it arcs off the blade onto the second one. Now burning with pale green light, she pushes both candles back into place between them.

He laughs as he moves to sit down. "I could not possibly send you off without a gift, now could I?"

Semiyon would, after all, miss her while she was away. Not necessarily out of affection but out of the dearth of good conversation that would be left in her wake when she'd gone. While he enjoys Newt's company it is usually of a different sort. Newt isn't exactly one for deep conversations on matters that are not science and beast entrails.

"See?" He gestures to the candles at the center of the table. "Much better this way"

"Magical flame does have its appeal," she agrees. The greenish hue honestly makes the table setting a little eerie, as it takes on a slightly sickly pallor. Caedra doesn't seem to mind, though, and she's amused by Semiyon's apparent approval.

"So," she begins as she pushes her own wine glass in his direction, clearly expecting him to open the first bottle and pour it for her, as a gentleman ought to. "How in the world will you manage to keep sane without my presence for a few weeks, hm? Or months. It's hard to say how long we'll be gone."

"I shall have to look to Newton," Semiyon smirks a little. "Although...that is a different kind of company."

He takes the silent cue of the glass and takes up a bottle, deftly opening it and pouring a generous glass. "Do you really think it might be so long? Will the network even be able to reach all of you so far from land?"

And he gently nudges the glass back towards her before serving himself.

Someone she doesn't know. A housemate he's mentioned. The smirk makes her wonder, but it could mean all sorts of things. She raises an eyebrow as she takes her glass and has a drink.

"We'll be as long as we need to retrieve those fragments. I want a way back home, after all. They might take some time to locate and return with. The network - well, I can't really say. I've heard that it didn't work for those on the previous search on that desert world, once they were out far enough. In fact, I've been told the reach of the gods entirely disappeared. If I had gone out, in that time, and killed someone, their soul might even have been within my reach."

An extremely intriguing thought, and one she hopes to test this time around should she get the opportunity.

The days are long. The sun is hot. Dany feels as if she has been in this boat for a lifetime.

"Lucky that Hope provided us with provisions enough, or else we would starve." As evidenced by her many fruitless attempts at fishing, the bare pole in her hand. The young queen sets the fishing rod aside, sighing and wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand.

"This must feel unbearable to you," she guesses lightly, eyeing Jon across the boat. Having come from the North - and Beyond - Jon has always seemed to be a physical manifestation of his home and the lands he's most traveled. Dany, bride of fire and survivor of the Red Waste, smiles thinly beneath the oppressive sun.

He is adaptable. Clearly. She begins to undo her messy braids in order to re-tie them, to sweep the errant hair back into its place.

His attention shifts away from scanning the open water (there's nothing worth speaking of out there, so far) to her. "Unbearable? -- No."

But she's right that it's uncomfortable at times; that he's shifted to dressing more as he had back before the city moved. He wears only a shirt, which for him is nearly a state of undress, and his breeches and boots. The shirt is done up to the neck, and his hair is tied back, and -- is she unbraiding her hair? He sighs very softly.

He'd intended to stay behind, initially, when people spoke of building their own boats. He's only been at sea once before, and that -- well, the rocking of this boat has already led to one intense nightmare in the hold, when he'd sat up like a shot, gasping, watching everyone he's ever known killed and raised again on the shores at Hardhome as the waters lapped under his feet. Then Daenerys announced her intention to take a boat alone, never mind that she's hardly been at sea more than he has, and that changed his mind.

"We wouldn't starve. I've been fishing the White Knife since I was small." My father taught me, he doesn't say, knowing that Ned Stark helped to topple the Targaryens. "If you have a taste for fish today, I could try it. But it might be better to land the boat somewhere to cook it."

She may not have followed through with her declaration: Dany is headstrong, but not a fool. Still, Jon had volunteered to accompany her, and his company is more than enough.

"We should find whatever fragments of the Door that we can and return quickly." All business, this one. Dany begins to re-do her braid after she untangles it, looking out to frown at the vast waters. "The sooner that we can return to Westeros, the better."

How strange, though, that they will become strangers again. He is hardly familiar, butt his company is, at the same time, a strange comfort. Jon Snow seems the kind of person to always have the right words, and that is a welcome quality in a place so heavy with chaos and uncertainty.

"... If you think we ought to land, then I defer to your judgment." A belated concession, but a concession nonetheless.

With a half-smile at her, he answers, "That depends on whether or not we catch something. If it's more bread and cheese from the hold, there's no point, unless you want to have solid ground under your feet."

He watches her as she redoes the braid, all that silky hair slipping between her fingers, and it occurs to him to wonder whether or not coming with her was a good idea at all. But he was a man of the Watch; he knows how to hold himself apart, where he has to. His gaze darts out across the water once he realizes that he's staring.

Part of him is eager to return to Westeros, to get on with things, to not let the urgency of their situation slip out of his mind until he becomes complacent about it. But the rest of him is tired of war, and it's good to see his sister happy, to know Margaery and Jeyne and the other people he might never have met if he'd never come here, and to sit with Daenerys on a boat, even if the last part might be him making a fool of himself.

"Show me how you're casting the line -- or give the rod over, and watch me. It might be that the fish aren't biting, or it might be that we can catch something together."

If she catches him looking (she does), she says nothing about it. Instead, Dany finishes her hair and sighs slowly, looking out at the water and thinking about the possibility of fish versus more bread and cheese.

"... If you insist." There's a dry chuckle at that, and then she retrieves the rod. Dany is proud, at least to a degree, and so she would prefer to give the catching of their food another try or two before relinquishing to Jon. As such, there's only a bit of a pause before she casts the line.

There's a bit of a tense silence in which she waits for the (perhaps) inevitable critique. She is very clearly not a fisherman and is stiff in her expectation of what her companion will have to say...

He watches her cast the line, and his half-smile becomes a full one, gentle and indulgent. It's not hard to see what she's doing wrong.

"It would have to be a curious fish to come so close to the boat. You'll be wanting to throw the line much further than that. If you know where the fish are swimming, the rest is luck and bait."

He hesitates, then. He can move in closer and help her cast the line, the way he'd help someone with the swing of a sword or the aiming of an arrow, or he can take the pole and let her watch him.

"Do you want me to show you how far I'd cast it?"

Dany doesn't respond to the first part, but she does listen. Her jaw stiffens a touch, still sensitive to criticism, but certainly wanting to learn. To be able to fend for herself, to provide without anyone else's aid. As such, she nods when he offers to show her, but rather than giving him the pole, she simply shifts closer.

How bold a man are you, Jon Snow? Take a slow approach with a dragon.

Bolder than he ought to be, often bolder than is strictly wise, but never bolder than necessary.

Still, in spite of everything, the mood on the boat is companionable. He lets her shift closer, and he twists so that his body is behind hers, then moves the pole to show her how he would cast the line.

But it puts his face very close to hers, and his chest almost against her back, which he elects to ignore.

There's a problem in that the rod isn't quite the type he's used to, is something a little more complicated than a stick with a string and a hook and some feathers, and seems to involve some sort of spool for the line. So, when he throws it out, it goes much further than he expected it to. That's not for the worst, but he does make a little movement of surprise, his head drawing back.

"Like that," he says, then adds, "But maybe not as much so."

Caedra | August 13 | closed to Semiyon

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daenerys targaryen ; closed to jon ; august ???

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ignis scientia. | closed to noctis.

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