"It's you I'm fighting for. He can't lose with me in tow." ~ Amy Winehouse

Morning. Johnathan did nothing since Renne left--but to cry and just go catatonic. And that was when her brain went flashbacky...

Late in the evening, close to one in the morning. A cloudless quarter-moon-filled night. The stars were like little white dust particles upon a sheet of black. The port of Bangil, along the southern shores of Morie Country, were having a grand ol' time. Though all of the said-grand-ol'-time were in the Pub and the brothel right next door to it. Sailors and the Port-Town's folk laughing and singing all throughout the night.

They were quite a few ships at port for the evening, but only one of them had candlelight burning. Vaguely seen through the windows of The Missing Link's window was the young and lone Captain Johnathan Tapole. Her quarter's were filled with empty bottles of rum and various alcohol; paper streamers and dyed-paper confetti. It seemed like...yes, it was the Captain's birthday that evening. However, she was not celebrating anymore for the night. Paperwork all over her desk, ink spots here and there on her hands. For now, she was completely oblivious to everything.

Quietly sailing along the waters was a ship of black-wood. The sails themselves were hoisted; as if the waters alone were guided them quietly through the night towards the ports.

"Keep it still, Langley. We need our quota by the mornin'."

The lycan, in a holey-sailor's outfit, nodded a bit as he watched towards the port; eyeing the four ships that were there.

Twenty-three other lycans and wolf-kin were getting prepared for the raids among the silenced ships. It was another ten minutes or so before the blackened ship set port.

"Be silent, but take all that ya can." The supposed-captain lycan, the only one who was dressings were clean--at least not holey--grabbed ahold of his saber.

Having the lycans and wolf-kin hop off the blackened ship and climb onto the other silenced ships. Crashing down the covers to get to the bowl; for all the cargo. The lycans made a train to transfer the cargo from the original ships to their own.

The Missing Link was the second ship to get raided. And Johnathan heard the thumping from above. Moving from her desk over to the windows, she blinked and widened her eyes a bit as she slowly backed away from the window. With that, the frog charm--now on her neck--slowly glowed to a forest-green tone. She glanced down and knitted her eyebrows for a moment. She then quickly looked back up to the door when she heard the voices going down towards the cargo.

"Joseph. I saw a light o'er there. Ya and Marlow cheack to make sure that there is noone--or they are dead."

The two lycans sneered, but then nodded to the captain, having their daggers at the ready. Climbing down the set of stairs towards the captain's quarters' door; the two chuckled as they kicked down the door.

When Johnathan heard the captain order two of the crewmates to look down in her quarters, she quickly went over to the two lit candles and blew them out. She then slid two of the boards directly under her desk--something that she did during her first year onboard--and squeezed herself, in a fetal position, inside the little coffin-like box that was there. Moving the two boards back as if they were always there; with only two seconds to spare...before the raiders kicked down her door

"Come out, come out, yeller-back. We still smell the snuffed candles." The lycan named Joseph sniffed around a bit, yearning to smell something sweet and salty. Speaking of scents, their own was not delightful. A mixture of swamps, the sea-waters, and weeks of personal perspiration reeked of the two lycans. The muzzle from the two gave a low growl; ready to bite and attack whenever possible. After five minutes of destroying the crates of paperwork, the streamers, and over-throwing the desk--letting the still opened ink-well drain out all over the place--Joseph growled with both anger and disappointment. "Come on. The Cap'n will need our help." And with that, the two climbed back up the stairs to help out on deck.

Nearly an hour went by before Johnathan realized that the coast was clear. Keeping in her fetal position just for a moment longer, she moved her hands--what little room there was--up to move the boards. She peeked her head up a bit; but then tears slowly rolled down her face. It was not because that her ship was ruined and the cargo was stolen. No. But for the fact that she was a yellow-backed coward. Even through her tears, she found it confusing on why the lycans did not smell her out so easily. Blinking through the tears, she looked down to the frog charm; it was not glowing the forest-green anymore; but the frog's belly was a forest-green. Johnathan did not understand--until about fifteen minutes later, she watched the blackened ship leave the ports. The frog charm slowly faded back to the original crystallized-green color. It was then that Johnathan knew that the frog saved her. But only from the lycans. How could she explain everything to her crewmembers--or even to the other captains of the harbored ships. And there was only one thing she could do--and she did not want to. Climbing up onto deck, to see that half of their mast was ruined; she climbed off onto the platform and onto the docks themselves. Running as fast as she could. It took her nearly ten minutes to get to the otherside of this Port-Town..and luckily, there was a small brothel there that was still open.

It was morning light what she feared. To act surprise of this raid--but her brain let her know that it is lycans and wolves is what she has come to fear the most.

As if coming out from a thought, Johnathan slowly raised her head and blinked. Her stoic face came back. But this face, though, had something else with it. Determination. Grabbing her bag, she stood up, glancing down at the new ring. She then looked up and started to head back towards the Pub.

The warrant's presence will not fear her. She will go out to the City-Above and find all that she needs. The jury, the defender, prosecutor, the judge, anything and everything. For she will win Renne back; but this time, fairly.

"I'll wait for you until the Sea is dry." ~ Nelly Furtado

Charm clinks were heard from the Outsider. The little charms upon the bracelet on her right wrist was a little too loose; but she did not mind it one bit.

For nearly a week, Johnathan had been roaming all around The City; curious about the points of views of the "Dockside Murderer" and the long-awaited trial. A good amount of the folk either cannot remember the details or they nearly forgot about the trial at all.

Only a handful recognized her; but none considered turning her in..since they never announced if there was a reward or not.

Every now and again, Johnathan did pass by the street where The Maritime once was. And--go figure--the one time she took the short-cut, she saw Renne staring at the empty lot. Being near the left end of the street, she only stopped and watched him for a bit. She dared not do anything. Her face was stoic like usual; but inside. Inside, her whole body was tearing into pieces. Having her left thumb rub the bottom of the ring absent-mindedly, she breathed in heavily as she turned back around the way she came.

Johnathan, well, she had a distinct scent to her--for those with keen sense of smell. Granted, far too many folk smell of Salt-Water. Her, however, also had an odd scent of fresh raspberries and vanilla-bean along with the Sea-Water scent. So. By the time that the strange scent--a scent that Renne knows all too well--diffused to his direction, she was already two blocks away from the once Tavern-Held street; continuing on her mission to find more answers.

Some Unholy Wars
Scruples

"A man need not be a saint to have honour, nor need a man be wise to know when he has faltered in his steps."





The perceived prison escapee was growing bolder. Bolder as he drew further away from Ty'Rekh, passed that bare-earth spot and caught the faint scent of one that managed to still hold his heart. The scent was faint and anyrate, he couldn't have tracked it much as he'd have liked to.
He had a job to do.
Renne was no purified saint by any means.
But neither was he cold-blooded.
He had a heart -- of a sort, even if it was only figurative.

He was no genius when it came to Outworld matters.
He wasn't quite on the level of stupid, either.

Renne's mind was, for the most part, cooperative on this night that he crawled above-ground in search of the Holding Houses. Having found three landmarks to go off of, he found his way decently soon after that.
His mind -- aside from yet another rage between the hours of midnight and dawn -- was mostly cooperative. One-track, thinking of nothing else except the goal and getting there.
It was not impossible but it wasn't a cakewalk. The unremembered rage took the element of relative ease out of things and stirred in confusion.

At least no one was around to witness it this time.
And no living thing took such rage.

It was a rubbish bin that saw the full fury of a beast that didn't know what he was doing. And the raging attack saw the container was no longer a bin.
Like all others of the raging storms, it left him exhausted, disoriented and quite oblivious as to what had just gone on.
Like all others when he wasn't contained, he had found himself someplace without recalling how he got there.

It was how, after a good three hours of regaining equilibrium, he found himself in the little alley with the thing that used to be a rubbish bin.

He let the exhaustion pass.
He regained equilibrium.
And he crawled again, with only his goal in mind.

He found it just before the first light of dawn.

?If you want to cry, I am here to dry your eyes.? ~ Sade

With any luck, the folks around the docks and closer within The City ignored Johnathan or simply did not recognize her. This is a good thing on her part. It has only been a few days since her last sight of Renne?and a little over a week since the ring. Her left wrist though, which had nothing but the end of the sleeve of the crimson shirt, had been itching for the past few evenings. Johnathan knew what would soon happen?just the why, how and what it is the things are a mystery to her. She is a Halfling?the only Halfling to her knowledge of a Sea-Elven. Humans cannot get it. But she can feel it. But then again, all of this was still a mystery to her species.

On their next birthday is all it takes. Lovers could be joined together in Bindings and-or, what rarely happens to Elvens, near-traditional weddings, but Sea-Elvens and Ocean-Elvens had something a little different. Noone understood it, not even The Elders of Sea-Elvens themselves. But it does not matter; all know that they are intentional-accidents.

Burnings while in the smithery or while cooking. Cuts from chopping wood or bad rope burns. Noone understood it. Upon the inner left wrist is where the accidents always happened. The Elvens only assumed that The Gods?both male and female?out there wanted it to be only there. Funny thing of it all, all these accidents happened precisely sixty days after they professed their love to someone. And not just the childhood-dreaming love. True Love. Yes, believe it or not, some species do believe that.

The kind of love where everything is so frustrating. The kind of love where nothing seems right and wanting to run from it all sounds like a good idea. The kind of love where just one look, no matter how frazzled you may be, tears of anger and joy join together. The kind of love where the brain tells you to go with your heart and your heart tells you to go with your brain, and you only end up with a stomachache.* The kind of love that no matter what, you know that you are happy deep down past the anger and the pain.

These accidents leave permanent scars?but not the scars any one accident would leave. As if these accidents are scratching away the surfaced skin to show a symbol beneath the skin; like tattoos or brandings had always been there. But only waiting for the right time to show themselves. Each paired couple has the same scars, for no three or four scars are alike. Downside to it all, these scars only appear on Sea-Elvens and Ocean-Elvens. So any Outsiders would not understand, let alone get, the scars at all.

Johnathan remembers being only 43, but looked like a four year old, when she asked her father about his symbol, a eucalyptus leaf.

?Yer mother and I first met in one of the foreign lands well far south from here. She was a People captain?s daughter on one of the trading ships while I was firstmate on the Darkened Skies. I begged me captain fer her to join us. But he ferbade it; refusing to let a People onboard. So, I stayed within the foreign lands fer a good six months or so; courting the People Captain?s daughter during that whole time. The People captain allowed I to join in his crew as just a mate. Two months befere we sailed back here, me birthday came. The only thing I could remember was one of the rainstorms were harsh that evening. I saved one of the other mates from a collapsing sail, but the splinters from the collapsing sail nicked me wrist. Two days later, it healed to this.?

It took Johnathan a couple of hours to meander back to the South Port; knowing now that Renne is back in there. Back in the Holding Houses. She stood at the beginning of the Docks, watching the Holding Houses; as if they will disappear if she looked away. Clutching onto the strap of her traveler?s bag that she positioned as a sling-bag, she only sighed as casually glanced down at her opalined-blue ring. It was then did she realize what it means?without the true reason from Renne himself.

"?t'alinn L?f. ?t'alinn ?st."**

Her voice was just soft. Maybe the breezes will carry it to where it sounds haunting to those who are within the Docks of Port-South.
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* Quote mostly came from the movie ?Over the Hedge?.
** Islandic language. Babel fish it!...And yes, the " ' " are supposed to be "V"s