faderift | Maybe I'm meant for the sea

After Minrathous, this is all that Araceli wants: space away from Kirkwall and anyone who might want her (it takes time even with mounts to get back), in calm waters, with someone she loves. Taking Korrin's offered hand, she pushes up with the other, almost relishing the scrape beneath her palm that's not enough to break the skin but enough to surprise her as she starts to orient herself. Somewhere in the lower decks, they'd come in above ballast, if she had to make the guess, it's probably partly why it sank.

The wood beneath her feet once she's up is hopelessly warped, thick crusts of barnacles and clusters of limpets, a shock of green dead man's fingers beyond marking where the tide must reach.

"I think I'm good for now, my eyes'll adjust but we'll need it when we get further in, see up there--" she points upward with a wet slap from the cloak, leathery fabric clinging tight, "one of the masts came down somewhere, splintered through but it's given us some light, I wonder if there's a sail...Hoping we'll find anything exciting?"

Is there this sort of thing here? There probably isn't much left, Araceli's just out for a fun day for herself swimming and sliding through a broken ship as she goes with her sailor's gait, a glance back at Korrin as she goes, water slopping over her boots.

"Always." Korrin flashes a grin after peering where Araceli gestures, eager to see what they can discover about the wreck and what went down with it. She takes careful note of their surroundings, both out of curiosity and for safety reasons. Any point in their path that doesn't look safe to step causes her to pause and energize debris, creating a more walkable route.

"You never know, we might find something that was overlooked. Hidden treasures are always the most interesting." Even if they don't, satisfying their curiosity is never a bad way to spend the day. But Korrin has a good feeling about this one; they won't depart empty-handed.

"I haven't seen you do that much since we came to Kirkwall," Araceli says with a little nod to what might have been part of the mizzenmast come crashing down and through all the decks once it's safely out of their way. More than a year now, all the manual labour to make spaces liveable put to bed at least when it came to the Inquisition. She touches a small lantern hanging on the wall but the glass is shattered, the metal warped and rusted.

The floor beneath them angles down sharply as she turns her head upwards, the hood tipped back to stop it from limiting her sight. "We don't have wrecks at all, a ship like this we'd tow back home to take apart. But...I think if we go down here we'll be in the hold, or we can try going up, it should be fine. Anyone with sense would go to the hold first for the goods but sailors stash all sorts in their cabins, even from their own crew. Especially from their own crew."

Which is what makes up her mind as she turns on her heel (sharp because she can, in the water, on a deck, she's at her most confident, her body knows it too well to let her fall) and pulls herself up to where the wreckage of the ladder lived. It holds. Just about. "Put your weight on your hands and pull yourself up, feet are going to go straight through here."

"Eh, Kirkwall hasn't need it nearly as much as Skyhold." There might be a slight note of fondness at mention of Skyhold; certainly not for all the snow and cold, but Korrin would be lying if she said she never thought about their old room. They put a lot of work into making it suit them, and now? Well, someone else has probably changed it. That's the way of things.

There's a small smile on her lips as she notes Araceli's confident stride, happy to see her love in her element. It's brief, though, knowing she has to focus. Strapping her staff to her back again for now, the Vashoth woman nods. "Will do. Good thing I have strong arms as well as legs, then, isn't it? Not to worry, kadan. I'm no parkour champion, but I think I can manage this."

It's too bad the ambient light isn't great as Korrin loves nothing as much as showing off her physique for Araceli's benefit. But actively showing off will have to wait, as her attention is kept on doing as Araceli says. Tempering that eagerness with just a little caution, she relies on that firm to see her through more than her feet...which is good, since she nearly slips up and places weight on her feet instead. Fortunately, she stops herself just in time and with a grunt finishes hauling herself up.

Someone has changed it. The door is blue now and that's about it. Araceli did have a little time to go looking when negotiations wound down because people did have to sleep only she couldn't so what else was there to do. These days Araceli enjoys what they have because it's theirs, because it's their life that they've had to build that wasn't given to them because there was nowhere else. Everything in it is something chosen to be part of that life down to the part of the building itself, which isn't the easiest thing she could put into words so she doesn't try. "We might, one day, if we have another winter like last year."

May they never have another winter like last year, Araceli isn't built for that sort of cold, and now they have a kraken to keep from freezing in his bowl.

"You know there's not a curfew now, if learning where Skyhold was crumbling apart about us," said on the edge of a long-suffering sigh, Araceli could still probably pick out every spot where Skyhold has holes in the roof, walls in need of doing up, "or about the Gallows with that much of an audience there's the whole of Kirkwall that isn't Hightown. We'd be able to dive into the water if it's the fall that has you more squeamish."

(Easy, to share this part of her life too. The part she taught the others. Korrin's bigger, taller, but it could be done if she wanted it but she hasn't pushed before, isn't pushing now. The offer just. There.)

One arm shoots out instinctually to try to do what she can if she needs to-- "All right there?" And then she gives a doorway up ahead a speculative look. The lock is intact if rusted but the door itself is bloated enough to be warped in the frame. "I'll need your expertise."

Korrin just wrinkles her nose at mention of last winter; she had tried not to complain too much to anyone else, not wanting to shed her tough-as-nails mercenary image, but her kin weren't meant for the harsh cold of the south and neither was she. If they didn't have a purpose, a life built around that, she would have insisted on retreating to the warm sands and waters of the north.

"I'm fine, promise--" Loathe to accept that hand for fear of yanking Araceli down with her, she hauls herself up and tries not to think about how that could have ended just a moment ago.

Banishing that thought for now, she considers the offer seriously for the first time in a while. The curfew made parkour a subject she was loathe to mention, not wanting to poke any sore spots, but its being lifted has opened her back up to those possibilities. As she unhooks her staff once more, Korrin's eyes take on an eager glint as she looks over to her love. "As though I would ever miss an opportunity to dive into water with you? Share with me what you will, kadan. Well, once we're done here."

Turning her attention to the door, she studies it for a moment. "Picking that won't help if the door itself is too big to budge. I can blast a whole in it and energize the rest away."

One day there will be a ship. There will be a ship, Araceli may or may not be down one arm from above the fucking elbow if so required to get her there but there will be a ship, Araceli, Korrin, they will sail warm places, they will perhaps start to encroach on the edges of the map. This is part of that. This is planning and making ready, this whole fighting the fight and winning the war, this making a future here in Thedas for them. (If she exists, and she is increasingly sure that sometimes you have to be willing to cut and run in the end, so she might just have to do that when the time comes because Araceli Bonaventura y Castell is not suffering another plague of sweating and her mind melting, being bound into existence, nor is she going to risk capture again if it comes. There are myriad ways sailors and duellists lose arms that are so unremarkable no one would bat an eye.)

Giving a nod, Araceli gestures to the door in question as she tucks herself out of the way. The wood might not splinter but she wouldn't bet on it being past that point when magic's brought into the equation either. "It wouldn't be the same as teaching you from falling into hay, it hurts more if you do it wrong, it always hurts more to fall into the water because it has tension. It's the same if you go to dive but don't make it, and sometimes you won't be able to dive but it's still good practice. I know how you feel about the Gallows, I wouldn't make you have an audience for anything."

Qunari mages climbing buildings then falling off them in a controlled manner would bring out the gawpers no matter the hour.

"I'd say if I'm going to be gawked at, I might as well earn it...but that would likely earn all sorts of shit we just don't need." It almost makes her miss the days of not having to answer to anyone but herself and her company, but those days didn't have Araceli in them. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? I'll be careful, but there's no need to be gentle with me. I can take some roughhousing."

She winks, then settles into a stance and levels her staff at the door. A moment later, a blast of lightning erupts from the tip and slams into the door, provoking a loud crack and the scent of charred wood. Waving away the smoke, she eyes the door again. "...nah, not enough. One more time." After a pair of blasts, the wood splinters enough to make the door that much easier to deal with. Energizing what she can, Korrin places the warped plans out of the way.

"Finally...let's see that first door was hiding from us."

"These days I don't know if I could persuade Madame de Cedoux to flip out a window onto a horse. We might have won some battles but there's enough any could use to still poke us back into corners with when people aren't careful. Wait until you need it for a mission then you can be blasé as you like about it. 'Oh this? You can't do it? How tragic' or something like that." Araceli's voice veers into Orlesian for the impression which actually ends up not too unlike Gwenaëlle's to the untrained ear but Korrin probably doesn't know her friend well enough to pick that one up. She snorts, almost going to give Korrin a shove but she doesn't want to throw off her focus. "Should I have you duel with me? Hit you over the knuckles with the flat of my rapier the way Marjani would when I made mistakes?"

Marjani how I miss you, you'd whip this place into shape in no time.

The thought passes, the parts of the cape cut same as the lobes either side of a manta ray's mouth pulled tight about her face to help shield herself from the smoke and potential splinters that might come flying her way. It's bright enough in the gloom that her eyes are watering by the time Korrin's done, fanning the smoke away from her face with the lobes, fabric slapping as she peeks through then steps in.

"Gracias. Now for these." Her earrings are off, a slender lockpick in each hand as what were beds and are now breeding ground for crabs when the time is right, the straw of the mattresses putrid green slime spilling outwards into the rest of the room, the small frame collapsed into the footlockers. The lockers look intact. Mostly. Or the locks are as she kneels down to start picking away at the first, careful, so damned careful.

(The smell is pretty bloody awful. Ripe comes to mind. Better to breathe through the mouth.)

Mention of that infamous window-flip prompts a snicker from Korrin; had she seen it herself, she wouldn't shut up about it, either. As it is, she never stops bragging about Araceli's own prowess to anyone who will listen. It's a good thing she has patient friends. As for the idea of such dueling, she grins with no hesitation. "If that's what it takes, I'm willing to take knuckle-wraps if I've earned them."

Following her kadan, Korrin gags as the stench hits her nose. "If that's not the worst scent ever, it's definitely up there. Maker's balls...." Time to breathe through her mouth as well, before nausea causes her to lose her last meal. She'll stand guard while Araceli gets the footlockers open, as her own efforts would likely damage whatever was within.

"You know she knew how to do it without breaking the skin or bruising but it still hurt as much as standing on a stonefish." Too late Araceli realises that she has no way of knowing even now if those exist here. "It fucking hurts standing on those, it's worse than pretty much any jellyfish and the fix isn't piss or vinegar."

With a laugh from behind her cape, Araceli continues working the lock, knee deep in it. "It'll all come out in the wash, we'll be swimming back so you'll be fine. I'd say breathe through your mouth but you might taste it. Oh for the love of--" Years of rust have built up in the lock, forcing Araceli to bend closer to it, wrist twisted at an alarming angle to not jam the pick in it but it gives.

Grinning because it's a rush in and of itself every time, she rocks back on her heels, she gestures for Korrin to get in on the action even as her fingers itch towards the hinges.

"Come on, do the honours!"

"I bet it tastes like dwarven swill, which I'm also trying to forget.

Is there anything your earrings can't open?" Grinning proudly because of course no lock can best her kadan, she places her staff against the wall and crouches by the footlocker. "We'll do it together, eh? One, two, three--"

And with a loud squeak from rusty hinges, it's open. Korrin peers inside, just as eager and curious as her love. Among the assortment of items is a bottle of wine (the label faded), a set of engraved bone dice, a ceremonial dagger with a black pearl embedded in the hilt, a jade game board with playing pieces...lifting one up, she made a thoughtful noise. "Solid gold, I'd bet. Someone didn't mind spending money on the finer things in life...or lifting it from those who did."

"Almost three whole years and that's never crossed my lips." Does Araceli sound unreasonably smug about that Korrin? You bet your arse she does but there are some things she will not be trying in any sort of a hurry, she can wait at least another three. And perhaps another three after that.

Resisting the urge to huddle her hands in the water that's brackish and fouled, Araceli peers at the label which she could pass to any number of folk to guess at if it's even genuine. "Smugglers or pirates or both of a normal cabin has something like this in it. You need to bite it to see if it's gold."

There's a second chest, smaller, more of a lockbox that she's moving to already. Good thing Korrin has a pack for bringing things back to sort through because even if some of it gets tossed, she wants to at least be sat on the shoreline to go through it after giving it a bit of a rinse. Get that funk right off.

"I don't expect that they ever will, kadan." Almost three whole years. Damn. It seems like a lifetime ago since Araceli stepped out of a rift and into her life, and in the best way. Now she can't imagine a life without her in it, or their plans for the eventual future.

Distracted once again by the present, Korrin nods and bites down on a game piece carefully, not planning to lose a tooth herself. Peering at it again, she nods with a satisfied grunt. "Gold, it is. Not surprising given the other goodies, I suppose. More trinkets for Lux's napping spot." Slipping off the currently fox-free backpack, she opens it and begins placing their findings inside only after they've both had a chance to inspect. They're in no rush, after all.

Glancing over, she raises an eyebrow at the lockbox. Someone went to more trouble to keep those goods contained, so hopefully the reward is worth the effort.

There's a pause that lengthens, her hands stilling on the lockpicks as she turns back enough to make out Korrin's outline in her periphery. If she could extract the lockpicks to make her point, she would but she has to settle for her most serious tone instead. "Don't get ideas for the anniversary of my third year, dwarven 'ale'," the air quotes are implied with the snort that follows, "isn't fitting for 'and three years ago on this day you fell out of the sky into my life'. I'll drink some-- maraas-lok and paralyse my throat if you have it."

It's been a while since she's said anything more than kadan in qunlat, it's slipping more than she'd like.

"This could be etchings of a loved one, I've found alarming things in a lockbox. Tasteful nudes." Casual as discussing the weather but that's a thief for you as she drags the box closer to her for better leverage, rust flaking off onto her fingertips. "Drawings by their children, family recipes, old seals..."

The list would go on until there's a click, Araceli opening it to find-- "Oh no look at this horrible thing sirena, I think she wants to kiss you." Behold the porcelain doll Korrin with her unblinking dead doll eyes and her unnerving fixed smile to go with those dead doll eyes as Araceli dramatically thrusts said doll outwards. "We have to drown it, I have to give this back to the sea before we go home this is a nightmare, this is-- look at it. Look at it!"

"Maraas-lok is for dares, pranks and tests of endurance, not anniversary celebrations. And dwarven ale is just gross, full stop. If we're going to drink, let's get something with actual taste, please." Korrin doesn't consider herself a snob when it comes to alcohol preferences, but certain brews just aren't worth considering if you don't want the taste of old sock in your mouth for days, or the world's worst hangover.

When Araceli withdraws the porcelain monstrosity, Korrin recoils as though it's packed with magebane. "Andraste's ass, you keep that creepy thing away from me. I don't know why anyone would get that for their kid unless they hated them enough to give them nightmares on purpose. Better to drown it and spare a kid, just in case some idiot following us decides it's worth taking. Give it the sweet release of death, sooner than later."

"There's probably still some good rum or brandy stashed in the office or it's Kirkwall, we can probably get hold of some for a change or something more adventurous that isn't either of the things on the banned for celebrations list." Is this a thing? Is this a thing people in long term relationships have? Because it's the longest one Araceli's ever been in and it's not as if her parents were together that way and there's no one else she could ask though-- "I did have an offer before about the provost's wine, I could see what I can do there if you're inclined that way."

What's a little wine between friends when one is about to get married for politics and another one is celebrating three years together more or less? Probably neither here nor there.

"Sirena come and kiss me." Araceli rises to her feet, lockpicks in her free hand with the porcelain doll brandished in the other, moving the head with two fingers in a menacing fashion. The hair waves about limply as she advances on Korrin, her most terrible smile on her face before turning the doll to regard a truly horrific three-quarters profile. "I wonder if this would bring back the Outsider? I can't just go drowning people who annoy me as offerings to the sea, perhaps this would be a worthy beginning along with all the things Fernando destroys."

"Believe me, it's not a long list--" Nooooope. Korrin's love for Araceli is not enough to keep her from recoiling again, thanks to the sinister porcelain doll. She raises a hand as though to snatch and chuck it away, which she might just do if a certain someone doesn't knock it off. If the doll suffers, so much the better.

"You'd better find out before I blast it with my staff, then. It's getting more tempting by the moment, and I don't want hear forever about how I kept a reunion from happening. I'd say give it to Fernando to destroy, but that'd mean bringing it all the way back. He'll have to live with another thing to claim."

"Korrin! That is our daughter!" Araceli has three terrible sons (The Walrus is possibly the least terrible in that he has the least capacity for it being too large for buildings but the stable so the depths of it are going unrealised, perhaps) but they themselves as a partnership have not a daughter between them. Being that her hands are damp and Araceli's trying not to laugh, she can only watch aghast as the doll slips out of her hand to fly through the air, striking the deck before landing painted porcelain cheeks down in the muck.

There's a long terrible silence where Araceli looks from doll to Korrin to doll then slowly back to Korrin, attempting to hold her laughter in as her chest aches from it. "Our daughter! Claudina! Our sweet girl--" A sputtering noise starts to come out even as she presses her lips together tightly, determined to get through the bit. "Fernando is a good boy who only crushes ships as krakens tend to do when vexed, escapes when bored, shoots water and ink at papers and guests as he sees fit, and demands tribute."

What's so problematic about the youngest son?

Nothing, that's what. Korrin will defend Fernando's right to be a pest just as much as Lux, and she loves them exactly as they are with no judgment. Claudina, on the other hand...no. She grimaces in disgust as Araceli refers to that thing as a daughter, half genuine and half playing up to this nonsense because it's fun to see Araceli silly instead of burdened by responsibilities.

"Oh, fuck no. 'Claudina' only has one role in life and that's bringer of nightmares. Destroyer of hope. All will shudder under her deadened gaze." She reaches out, but only to prod Araceli's side and provoke that sputtering noise even further.

"We found her here, on a ship, at sea, a half-sunken ship. What do you think people would say to that? That it was meant to be? The sea guides us where we are meant to go, that's how it is for my people. To the places we must be, takes us to the people we must meet." Words Araceli has said before (Rivain, the ocean, naked as the day she came into the world on the day she celebrated it) but today she has the edge of a smirk even as her mouth is attempting to settle itself into a firm line.

A line abruptly crumpled into nothingness when that same helpless noise comes out of her again with the nudge from Korrin, a not-so-neat sidestep, turning herself out of the way, out of range of a sensitive spot. "Rude."

Her hands are very much out in readiness.

Korrin chuckles now, snapped out of her unease by such a reaction. She waggles her fingers, a smirk on her lips. Araceli is swift, true, but Korrin has a good reach when she needs it. She hasn't decided if she does, however.

"No ruder than you, love. In the words of children everywhere, you started it. And I'll stop it when that thing is guided to the depths of the Waking Sea. That must've been what we were guided here for, right?" You know, exploration and actual treasure aside.

"I'll tell The Outsider." Which is an empty threat when he isn't here and what would he have done anyway, made some comment, tipped his head, blinked with his liquid black eyes? It's even emptier for Araceli breaking into a squeak when Korrin manages to catch her again, forcing a jumping over an old crate gone to barnacle and limpet breeding ground.

"This is an escape from the city, c'mon more ship to explore we'll leave Claudina in the doorway." Araceli can't resist poking Korrin then moving to snag the doll on her way to the door, brandishing it as she would a shield on the way to the door. "Next cabin or further below? Where do you think the sea is guiding me sirena?"

That squeak prompts a laugh from Korrin, but she eases up afterward, lowing her hand. This probably isn't the place to get too distracted, even without immediate threats. Her smirk lingers at noting the creepy doll serving as a shield, but turns her attention to the question at hand.

"I have no idea what the sea says to you, but my gut tells me the more interesting stuff is usually below. Probably with better locks, too, not that it'll stop us in the end. Besides, we can always circle back and take a look at the next cabin afterward if I'm wrong."

The next move would've been out of the duelist's playbook with her cape hurled in a flourish to catch Korrin even if the cloak is heavy, still damp, not the light things worn for the panache. Heading out, Claudina is propped up to serve as a guard by the door with her sightless eyes staring into nothing.

"Be a good girl, we'll be back later and you're out of that box so stretch out, breathe the free air." Turning to Korrin, she nods at her staff because this isn't something they've discussed as she leads the way back to where they came in, taking a seat to slip in.

"Can you cast underwater? I'm used to swimming down there in the dark but it'll be dark. If you can't and think you're getting lost, tug the cape or my foot."

Then she slides in, under. Easiest way in instead of navigating possibly shattered floor when only one of them is used to that.

Maybe I'm meant for the sea

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