faderift | Maybe I'm meant for the sea

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.

Good, Claudina and her creepy dead eyes can be out of her range for a while. Araceli's question has Korrin shaking her head, not too concerned. "I've no magic underwater than what I can wear or wield, but it should be enough. We'll find out, won't we?"

After Araceli goes under, the Vashoth woman follows. As confident as she seems, she nonetheless does her best to keep close and alert to her surroundings as well as sense of time. The last thing she wants is the magic of her ring to run out right afterward.

Castileans are good swimmers. They're better than good swimmers which as Araceli has said before comes of swimming before you walk, and sailors should know how to swim too, same as they know the shape of a ship whole or in pieces, but to an outsider perhaps there's something that has a shade of the unnatural to it.

Or most people wouldn't spend enough time in the water or so close to ships because there's not a call for it so they'd never be able to tell.

Her lungs aren't burning though she swims closer to the surface where it'd be easy to find pockets of air of they have to, the cloak tight about her body, warmer than she knows she should be this deep until there's the shape of a jagged crack that she squints at--

It's a tight fit to slide through, bubbles streaming out her nose but she disappears through it after looking back for Korrin; it's darker down here but they'll be in and up, though not for the first time she wishes for diving bells or suits.

It's darker, yes, and Korrin's mentally cursing the dim light shed only by her staff. The temptation to pull out a glow stone is mounting, but she prefers keeping a hand free in case its needed to fend off whatever might be in the water with them. Which by what she can tell is nothing, but Korrin hasn't been alive this long by being completely reckless.

The tight fit is no doubt going to be tighter for the muscular Vashoth woman than it is for a small human, and she winces beforehand at the thought. She follows enough to see past it, hoping to spot Araceli far enough away before raising her staff. If she can't fit through the opening, she can make it a bit wider. A controlled burst, carefully pinpointed, and it could be just enough...or it could make everything worse.

Dammit. Bubbles escape her from a rush as she sighs, weighing her options. In the end, she'll try to slip in on her own first just to test things.

If an octopus goes for your face you're usually not going to be as fucked as you think you might be, they generally just want to say hello and they're not on the seabed where they'd be making little shell houses or in any reefs where they'd be living. Maybe one or two might lurk about but it's not prime octopus real estate. Honestly the Thedas waters are bereft.

After taking a deep enough breath to clear out the dead air in her lungs, Araceli waits, counts, then slips back down to circle back to Korrin to guide her through when it's taking long enough that she's worried, hand tugging just enough to urge her along to where she'd disappeared through.

Yes it'll be a squeeze but it'll be worth it.

And there's possibly blasting through if need be on the way back when they've got some ground to work with.

Taking hold of Araceli's hand, Korrin grimaces as she squeezes through just barely enough to avoid getting stuck. Once free, no time is wasted in pushing herself to the surface as quickly as possible. She wasn't struggling for air, thanks to the ring, but takes a deep sigh of relief anyway. Once Araceli is surfaced as well, she flashes her love a smile.

"Thanks, kadan. That was tighter than I expected. I better not have torn anything, trying to squeeze past." Her dragonhide armor is a point of pride, and all her care isn't going to go to waste on a sunken ship, dammit. She looks it over in concern just to be sure, though with what light is available, anything short of major damage is difficult to spot.

"What have I said about the sea reclaiming?" What a struggle it is to keep her face from curling into a smirk but Araceli has always been a professional when it comes to ruling her face, only brought into a different focus in Thedas so she manages. Turning away instead to pull her mouth into a ridiculous downward sob boohoo over dragonhide. It'd only give the excuse to go fight another.

Weren't a group of them just off doing that for a Qunari audience no less?

"Right, time to see what they might've been up to, if they were only carrying dull goods or perishables after that or if we've been thoroughly beaten to the punch I'll be disappointed. And wish to go to Llomerryn again. Or Nascere - have you heard much of Nascere?" Perhaps no, no one seems to know a great deal beyond their new friends but given the plans slowly forming she'll start hedging bets. "I'd love to be able to go there though the current situation…"

And of course the footing is treacherous, there are crabs scuttling, something flopping and swimming by turns that perhaps might be a lobster up here for whatever reason (lost are you old man?) as she gets her bearings for where the ropes would've been to lash it all in place. Any barrels. Any crates. Anything really. Probably in need of illumination.

Maybe I'm meant for the sea

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