Her throat hurt. Her head hurt. In fact everything was one agonizing ache and there was something weighing her legs down, keeping her from moving. She opened her eyes slowly, groaning softly in protest at the way the light stabbed, making her poor, aching head throb even more.
The weight it seemed, was Charles. He lay with one arm flung out as if reaching to her, a skim of dried blood half hiding his face.
"Charles..." that could NOT be her voice, that rasping, thready sound. She tried again and managed a hoarse croak then lay back with a cough. Her throat was dry, parched, and when she licked her lips she could taste the salt and blood on them. It stung, but she didn't have the energy to protest so she closed her eyes again.
She could feel her heart beating, the throbbing in time with the pounding in her temples, and the shrieking of the gulls, the creak of wood and the slap of water against the wood of the hull. All familiar enough sounds. comforting, in their way. enough so that it lulled her back into an uneasy drowse.
It had been a simple enough thing, the plan to take a few days away from duty and the constant round of chores that beset them, living in the Drake. Newly wed they may be, they were also expected still to put in the same days work that they had before hand, and sometimes Rinna had felt guilty, selfish for wanting more than just the hourse from candle-light to dawn with Charles; time when despite the energy and passion of youth they were tired, and like as not fell asleep in each others arms in between whispered words and ardent caresses to begin the next day with promises and a kiss.
They had decided to make good on those promises (and the kisses!), borrowing a small boat for their wedding jaunt on a day when the tavern had been all but empty, the winter custom having given way to spring planting and chores. They, another young couple and Squeeker (it had been Squeeker, after all, who had told them about the boat) had set out when the morning sky was pink still, and the western sky still boasted a sprinkling of stars and the last sliver of the moon slipping down into the sea.
None of them had expected a squall; not one of THAT magnitude, especially coming out of a clear sky, and from the south east as it had. Squeeker had only had time to warn them all in a shrill, piping voice to get below, get secure.
Charles, sailor that he was, had been; had helped set the sails - though they'd been shredded soon enough in the wind, and Charles had gone below at one point, his normally cheerful face somber. Worried. Frightened even, though he'd tried to hide that as he went and embraced Rinna and praised her ability to remain upright- though pale faced. "Truly a sailors wife!" he'd smiled, kissed the tip of her nose then had gone back up onto the pitching deck. She'd followed, and the last thing she'd remembered before waking was a hollow roaring sound and the most terrifying sight of her young life as the clouds let down whipping, writhing snake-like tails out of the boiling sky.
She didn't remember hearing Charles tell her to go back below. She didn't remember anything but the sound of cracking timbers, the roar and then.
Nothing.
The weight it seemed, was Charles. He lay with one arm flung out as if reaching to her, a skim of dried blood half hiding his face.
"Charles..." that could NOT be her voice, that rasping, thready sound. She tried again and managed a hoarse croak then lay back with a cough. Her throat was dry, parched, and when she licked her lips she could taste the salt and blood on them. It stung, but she didn't have the energy to protest so she closed her eyes again.
She could feel her heart beating, the throbbing in time with the pounding in her temples, and the shrieking of the gulls, the creak of wood and the slap of water against the wood of the hull. All familiar enough sounds. comforting, in their way. enough so that it lulled her back into an uneasy drowse.
It had been a simple enough thing, the plan to take a few days away from duty and the constant round of chores that beset them, living in the Drake. Newly wed they may be, they were also expected still to put in the same days work that they had before hand, and sometimes Rinna had felt guilty, selfish for wanting more than just the hourse from candle-light to dawn with Charles; time when despite the energy and passion of youth they were tired, and like as not fell asleep in each others arms in between whispered words and ardent caresses to begin the next day with promises and a kiss.
They had decided to make good on those promises (and the kisses!), borrowing a small boat for their wedding jaunt on a day when the tavern had been all but empty, the winter custom having given way to spring planting and chores. They, another young couple and Squeeker (it had been Squeeker, after all, who had told them about the boat) had set out when the morning sky was pink still, and the western sky still boasted a sprinkling of stars and the last sliver of the moon slipping down into the sea.
None of them had expected a squall; not one of THAT magnitude, especially coming out of a clear sky, and from the south east as it had. Squeeker had only had time to warn them all in a shrill, piping voice to get below, get secure.
Charles, sailor that he was, had been; had helped set the sails - though they'd been shredded soon enough in the wind, and Charles had gone below at one point, his normally cheerful face somber. Worried. Frightened even, though he'd tried to hide that as he went and embraced Rinna and praised her ability to remain upright- though pale faced. "Truly a sailors wife!" he'd smiled, kissed the tip of her nose then had gone back up onto the pitching deck. She'd followed, and the last thing she'd remembered before waking was a hollow roaring sound and the most terrifying sight of her young life as the clouds let down whipping, writhing snake-like tails out of the boiling sky.
She didn't remember hearing Charles tell her to go back below. She didn't remember anything but the sound of cracking timbers, the roar and then.
Nothing.