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[[26th Wintermarch, morning]] Celeste Monroe
Nicolette had rarely been more happy than she had been over the last few weeks. Although she missed performing in taverns to a rotating crowd of regulars, the crew of the Wicked Grace were more than supportive of her performances, and she had food and drink laid on. Not to mention that instead of a violently wobbling hammock below decks, she had a place in the captain’s cabin, and therefore enjoyed both a good night’s sleep and thorough exhaustion before she got to that point.
It was also still a novelty to wake beside Celeste every morning. Celeste tended to rise earlier than she did, but Nicolette stirred from slumber when the captain moved, and they usually greeted each other in an affectionate, lazy fashion before Celeste went up on deck. It was a touch of sweetness that had Nicolette skimming on her toes for the last few days. Even with the lingering fear that pierced her gut every time Thibault went too close to the rail, it was easy to forget within moments of him returning to safety.
Still, she had come on as a member of the crew, and she wanted to do more than play music when things were going well. The incident on their first day out had highlighted how little she knew about the workings of ships, and whenever the others were not engaged in actively helping run the ship, she begged lessons. Most seemed only too happy to help, although for the moment, with the weather getting warmer each day, her second favourite task after performing was being up in the crows nest. Not only did it bring back happy memories, but she could simultaneously remain alert while letting her imagination wander.
Now a savoury scent was drifting its way up from the deck; the noontime meal would likely be served soon. And just in time for it, Sorcha was making her way up the rigging to relieve Nicolette of her post. Just as Nicolette was leaning over to greet her, however, she was distracted by a flash off in the distance. A sail, but not a white one. It was red, with a black sigil on it.
“Is that one we know?”
Sorcha shook her head, and Nicolette called down. “Captain! Sail off the port bow!”
Hopefully it would be nothing, but Nicolette doubted anybody with sails like that meant well.
Nicolette had rarely been more happy than she had been over the last few weeks. Although she missed performing in taverns to a rotating crowd of regulars, the crew of the Wicked Grace were more than supportive of her performances, and she had food and drink laid on. Not to mention that instead of a violently wobbling hammock below decks, she had a place in the captain’s cabin, and therefore enjoyed both a good night’s sleep and thorough exhaustion before she got to that point.
It was also still a novelty to wake beside Celeste every morning. Celeste tended to rise earlier than she did, but Nicolette stirred from slumber when the captain moved, and they usually greeted each other in an affectionate, lazy fashion before Celeste went up on deck. It was a touch of sweetness that had Nicolette skimming on her toes for the last few days. Even with the lingering fear that pierced her gut every time Thibault went too close to the rail, it was easy to forget within moments of him returning to safety.
Still, she had come on as a member of the crew, and she wanted to do more than play music when things were going well. The incident on their first day out had highlighted how little she knew about the workings of ships, and whenever the others were not engaged in actively helping run the ship, she begged lessons. Most seemed only too happy to help, although for the moment, with the weather getting warmer each day, her second favourite task after performing was being up in the crows nest. Not only did it bring back happy memories, but she could simultaneously remain alert while letting her imagination wander.
Now a savoury scent was drifting its way up from the deck; the noontime meal would likely be served soon. And just in time for it, Sorcha was making her way up the rigging to relieve Nicolette of her post. Just as Nicolette was leaning over to greet her, however, she was distracted by a flash off in the distance. A sail, but not a white one. It was red, with a black sigil on it.
“Is that one we know?”
Sorcha shook her head, and Nicolette called down. “Captain! Sail off the port bow!”
Hopefully it would be nothing, but Nicolette doubted anybody with sails like that meant well.
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