In the wake of the days prior, s?jira knew that there was more work to be done and less time for being too idle. If there was too much time for thinking, there was time for a heart to weigh heavily and a body with it. Already, she found self needing to sleep more and eating less and knew it to be bad if let to continue.
The dock work could not be added to, though she had not abandoned it. Already much was being done there and the men were shooing her away before she could become an old sea hag. The nets were still mended and the fish were still taken from their nets and baskets to put on display for the buyers who came in the very early morning hours.
Raulen and s?jira had worked together on the docks since before Fisherwoman Thale had died a few years ago. He was as much family as either of them would ever likely have, it seemed.
Raulen Saverask was the name given to S?jira weeks after they had met. The old fisherwoman, Thale, had called him Salt for various reasons. But it was perhaps mostly because he had a lot of white in his hair for someone not passed his third decade. He was not as tall as many of the grander men in RhyDin?s lands, or outside of them, and stood only five-feet-eleven. His hair was once a rusted reddish brown, as far as she could tell, but sometimes in his twenties the white had shown more than the auburn. His features were gruff and grizzled, heavily tanned and leathered by the sea wind and air.
Saverask was a fisherman by trade who spent the coins he earned on food, drink, and a shanty that stood on RhyDin?s north-east coast. He sat beside a few others, and s?jira, in the shade of the buildings that lined the docks and piers. All of them were on the docks itself, sitting with legs folded and crossed and ends of a huge net in their laps. Cord and large wooden toggles tied to the cord were worked to repair the holes in it.
? ?jira-girl.? Saverask was gruff. But he had always sounded on the verge of anger when he spoke, even when it was something as mild as commenting on the shift of a light breeze.
The small one did not look up at first. Distracted from her return and what had happened in her absence, along with so much more held her thoughts. The others had gone quiet in their chatting while mending the net and the silence of it drew a curious look up. Three looked at her expectedly and Raulen stared at her with something close to impatience, but not quite.
The dock work could not be added to, though she had not abandoned it. Already much was being done there and the men were shooing her away before she could become an old sea hag. The nets were still mended and the fish were still taken from their nets and baskets to put on display for the buyers who came in the very early morning hours.
Raulen and s?jira had worked together on the docks since before Fisherwoman Thale had died a few years ago. He was as much family as either of them would ever likely have, it seemed.
Raulen Saverask was the name given to S?jira weeks after they had met. The old fisherwoman, Thale, had called him Salt for various reasons. But it was perhaps mostly because he had a lot of white in his hair for someone not passed his third decade. He was not as tall as many of the grander men in RhyDin?s lands, or outside of them, and stood only five-feet-eleven. His hair was once a rusted reddish brown, as far as she could tell, but sometimes in his twenties the white had shown more than the auburn. His features were gruff and grizzled, heavily tanned and leathered by the sea wind and air.
Saverask was a fisherman by trade who spent the coins he earned on food, drink, and a shanty that stood on RhyDin?s north-east coast. He sat beside a few others, and s?jira, in the shade of the buildings that lined the docks and piers. All of them were on the docks itself, sitting with legs folded and crossed and ends of a huge net in their laps. Cord and large wooden toggles tied to the cord were worked to repair the holes in it.
? ?jira-girl.? Saverask was gruff. But he had always sounded on the verge of anger when he spoke, even when it was something as mild as commenting on the shift of a light breeze.
The small one did not look up at first. Distracted from her return and what had happened in her absence, along with so much more held her thoughts. The others had gone quiet in their chatting while mending the net and the silence of it drew a curious look up. Three looked at her expectedly and Raulen stared at her with something close to impatience, but not quite.