WHO: Yseult, Darras, Derrica & Flint WHAT: Gathering intel on the blockade failure and the state of Val Chevin's harbor defenses; an unexpected dinner party. WHEN: Early Wintermarch WHERE: Val Chevin, the Waking Sea NOTES: N/A, will add if necessary.
It's darker than when they first set out, but there's light enough to see by. The spars of wood jut up from the surface like claws of some sea-beast. Derrica's hand looks very small, laid where it is. And the rest of the wreckage is just there below the surface, and all of it marked clearly with the black char that the water hasn't managed to wash away.
Darras leans a little to the right, trying to see around to the other side of it. "This side that's facing us," he says, slowly, "that'd be what faced outside. And then the other side--it was Orlesian, yeah? They're always painting the insides. Look there--the way the spliter happened. Means that whatever blew those holes out did it from the inside."
"Do you think they swayed some of the sailors to set off explosives inside?"
They shouldn't really be questioning this here, out on the water. But Derrica doesn't see another option. Unless someone managed to get aboard and plant an explosive, or pay off someone to do it, how else could a ship be blasted apart from the inside?
"We should look at another," she continues, before Darras has a chance to say either way. "In case this one was a fluke."
Risky, but neither Flint nor Yseult have signaled them yet. It's likely safe enough to try to poke around a little more, take that sounding and then retreat. The silence continues to be unnerving. It serves their purpose for the moment, certainly, but Derrica's skin is prickling with anxiety as she looks at the ruined ship in front of them.
"Coin can sway a lot. I'd think a sailor would have the good sense not t' blow up the ship they were standing on. Considering the consequences."
But, then again, given the evidence-- Well. Darras tears his gaze away from the splintered wood and takes up the oars again without further comment. He's going over it in his mind as he guides them over to the spars of the next shipwreck over. It's a short distance, not far to go. Even as they're making their approach, they can see the markings all over again. Black char, splintered and wrecked wood. The waves slap at its ruins, and the sound seems loud in the eerie quiet.
Darras stops their little boat when they're within easy reach of the wreckage. It's the same. He doesn't need to say it. Leaving them floating a moment, he shifts, the boat rocking with his movement, and digs out his sending crystal.
"We can make a report," he says into it. "Any sign of company yet?"
"No," she says quietly, eyes on the scorched wood. She can feel the misery of this place clinging to her skin. Forcibly, she pulls her gaze away to scan along the water. A faint ripple of sound comes across. Voices, the bob of a torch too far to make out.
"Not yet," she amends. "I can hear something, but I can't tell if they plan on getting into a boat or just watching from where they are."
Easy enough to evade someone who plans to stay rooted to the dock. There's no urgency in the distorted murmurs that make their way to them across the distance.
"Ask if they can see anything with the glass," she says, and then, a little softer, "I want to take those soundings. We might not get another chance."
Darras nods, and raises his crystal to speak into it. He's marked that torchlight as well, moments after Derrica. He's watching it now, distant though it is.
"We're on the wreckage," he says to Yseult, careful to keep his voice low. "Don't want to turn back until we've done what we came out here for. There's some light off to the east of us. Far off from us. Can you see what they're about with the glass?"
"Looks like a fisherman," Yseult reports, lowering the glass.
She speaks more directly into the crystal. "You ought to be fine. We'll let you know if they start moving closer. And you send word the moment you turn back to us."
The crystal's message is for Derrica to hear as well, and Darras nods to her once Yseult's response has come through. "We'll be quick," he says in response, then tucks the crystal back into his pocket. They'll hear any warning Flint and Yseult might send.
He trusts Yseult's assessment of the other ship. That doesn't mean he has to feel entirely at ease, and his gaze flicks back to the torchlight as he takes up the oars again.
"I'll keep us in place. Take the soundings, I'll break and write 'em down as they come. Fair?"
Derrica follows the movement of the torchlight uneasily before she looks back to Darras and nods.
There's no sense fleeing at the sight of a single fishing boat. But Derrica is thinking about how quickly guards would come scrambling at the sound of a shout as she reluctantly shoulders her staff. She can't work and clutch it, and there's no way shes going to give up on getting this particular piece of information so—
She takes the soundings, potentially with weighted ropes, who knows. And the entire time she's murmuring back to Darras she's straining to keep track of the fisherman or to anticipate the crackle of warning from Darras' crystal.
Darras does as he'd said he would, dutifully scratching out everything Derrica says. This sort of notation is simple enough to manage, the sort of thing he's learned to get by. And he stays calm, easy--watching the torchlight, ears pricked for the distant sounds of the fishermen that come over the water, that occasional splash of an oar, or slap of a wave against the distant bow.
They get no word of warning as they work, and Derrica is winding her potential weighted rope back up, he picks up the crystal again.
"Finished with the one. We'll get another. Those fishermen stayed fishermen?"
The conversation comes in muted, distorted waves across the water. As Darras speaks, Derrica plunks back into the boat. The weights drops to the floor, resting against the sodden roap, as she strains to get a glimpse of the fishermen and try to chart their trajectory from where they are. Yes, Derrica wants one more measurement. But she doesn't want to have to kill two fishermen for the crime of floating too close to them while going about their business.
Yseult, still keeping a careful eye on the fishermen and the docks both, replies quietly through the crystal: "Yes, still clear. One more, then come back." She flicks a glance sideways at Flint to see if he'll disagree.
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Darras leans a little to the right, trying to see around to the other side of it. "This side that's facing us," he says, slowly, "that'd be what faced outside. And then the other side--it was Orlesian, yeah? They're always painting the insides. Look there--the way the spliter happened. Means that whatever blew those holes out did it from the inside."
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They shouldn't really be questioning this here, out on the water. But Derrica doesn't see another option. Unless someone managed to get aboard and plant an explosive, or pay off someone to do it, how else could a ship be blasted apart from the inside?
"We should look at another," she continues, before Darras has a chance to say either way. "In case this one was a fluke."
Risky, but neither Flint nor Yseult have signaled them yet. It's likely safe enough to try to poke around a little more, take that sounding and then retreat. The silence continues to be unnerving. It serves their purpose for the moment, certainly, but Derrica's skin is prickling with anxiety as she looks at the ruined ship in front of them.
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But, then again, given the evidence-- Well. Darras tears his gaze away from the splintered wood and takes up the oars again without further comment. He's going over it in his mind as he guides them over to the spars of the next shipwreck over. It's a short distance, not far to go. Even as they're making their approach, they can see the markings all over again. Black char, splintered and wrecked wood. The waves slap at its ruins, and the sound seems loud in the eerie quiet.
Darras stops their little boat when they're within easy reach of the wreckage. It's the same. He doesn't need to say it. Leaving them floating a moment, he shifts, the boat rocking with his movement, and digs out his sending crystal.
"We can make a report," he says into it. "Any sign of company yet?"
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"Not yet," she amends. "I can hear something, but I can't tell if they plan on getting into a boat or just watching from where they are."
Easy enough to evade someone who plans to stay rooted to the dock. There's no urgency in the distorted murmurs that make their way to them across the distance.
"Ask if they can see anything with the glass," she says, and then, a little softer, "I want to take those soundings. We might not get another chance."
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"We're on the wreckage," he says to Yseult, careful to keep his voice low. "Don't want to turn back until we've done what we came out here for. There's some light off to the east of us. Far off from us. Can you see what they're about with the glass?"
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"Have them send word the moment they turn back."
They'll slip the anchor cable and be free of this place the moment the boat is swayed in.
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She speaks more directly into the crystal. "You ought to be fine. We'll let you know if they start moving closer. And you send word the moment you turn back to us."
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He trusts Yseult's assessment of the other ship. That doesn't mean he has to feel entirely at ease, and his gaze flicks back to the torchlight as he takes up the oars again.
"I'll keep us in place. Take the soundings, I'll break and write 'em down as they come. Fair?"
https://i.imgur.com/gWxwPbn.jpg
There's no sense fleeing at the sight of a single fishing boat. But Derrica is thinking about how quickly guards would come scrambling at the sound of a shout as she reluctantly shoulders her staff. She can't work and clutch it, and there's no way shes going to give up on getting this particular piece of information so—
She takes the soundings, potentially with weighted ropes, who knows. And the entire time she's murmuring back to Darras she's straining to keep track of the fisherman or to anticipate the crackle of warning from Darras' crystal.
https://i.imgur.com/5avaxe7.jpg
They get no word of warning as they work, and Derrica is winding her potential weighted rope back up, he picks up the crystal again.
"Finished with the one. We'll get another. Those fishermen stayed fishermen?"
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Hopefully, their pathway has remained clear.
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