[Wild Roses] Niamh, future forward
Title: uncharted waters
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Niamh, Aodh
Prompt: 88B "hug"
Word Count: 638
Notes: Prompted by a request. Expanded from well. tha's a problem. Still sketched.
She'd been itchy when she went to bed, itchy when she rose, skin tingling and the pulled-loose hairs at the back of her neck tickling uncomfortably, but it wasn't until she glanced at the chart spread over the navigation table that something clicked in her head, sent her running for the deck.
The chart was wrong. No idea how, or when it happened, but it was wrong and she hit the deck just as the first of the lookouts yelled, and it was her voice yelling back, roaring at the yardarm dancers and the helmsman.
She'd never had her father's depth of tone, but people heard her when she wanted them to, and despite the funny looks of the people on the deck with her, everyone's moving.
Something scraped along the portside stern as they tacked, and the man at her helm yelled something about a reef where there shouldn't be a damn reef.
Uncharted waters. They're in uncharted waters, half a day from home.
She took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart's hammering, feeling around her ship in the water as she did, and let it out as her sails changed colours, and the dancers started hauling them in. They're in the clear, just barely, the cut in the hull not deep enough to let the water in, but they're not going anywhere until they know they've got a chance at a safe path in doing.
She caught a leggy half-grown kid with her father's nose as the girl hit the deck, pulled her in secret-close, told her to go toss the navigator out of his bed. They've got problems.
The first words out of the navigator's mouth took a second to parse into "Where's the beacon?"
"What beacon?" she replied, tone a little flatter than she'd meant it to be.
"The beacon, the one the--your father put in, to guide his way home when he'd been wandering." The navigator frowned at her--she frowned back--then did something, blinked, and sat down abruptly. "The beacon's gone. It's--it's been there longer than I've been alive and it's gone--"
Niamh waited for him to wind down, holding onto her temper with her fingernails, then "Do you know where we are?"
He shook his head.
"Alright." She took a deep breath. "AODH!"
"Why," said a half-plaintive voice behind her, "why do you never use the cards? My head feels like the inside of a bell."
"Love you too, cousin," she told him, turning, caught him up in a brief hard hug, kissed his temple, then put him back on his feet. "I need y'help."
"The yellin' di' imply tha'," he agreed, rubbing at one of his ears, "but I can' say I see t'armada."
"Uncharted waters," she said, softly, gesturing to port-stern, where the reef lurked. "Navigator says t'beacon's--whatever that means--gone."
"Y'dad's work. 's why you lot always like comin' home--feels right, n'matter if you know why t'is." But his answer was absent, eyes starting to unfocus, head cocked to one side like he was listening for something.
The ship shuddered, starting to shift as a current picked up, and she could feel the eyes of the entire crew focused on her. Not her cousin, but her, and lightning, she hoped she wasn't wrong to trust this hard.
Then the itch faded, something in her gut clicking from wrong to home, and she thought she heard the navigator swallow a sob, as the curve of the Keep's mountain swam into view.
She blinked, felt a grin spread across her face, then let the sailmaster roar for her.
Aodh caught her shoulder as she turned to look for him, leaned up to whisper in her ear. "Stay home, Cousin. Tell the navigators what happened--you need new charts, before you go out again."
He was gone before she could even nod.
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Niamh, Aodh
Prompt: 88B "hug"
Word Count: 638
Notes: Prompted by a request. Expanded from well. tha's a problem. Still sketched.
She'd been itchy when she went to bed, itchy when she rose, skin tingling and the pulled-loose hairs at the back of her neck tickling uncomfortably, but it wasn't until she glanced at the chart spread over the navigation table that something clicked in her head, sent her running for the deck.
The chart was wrong. No idea how, or when it happened, but it was wrong and she hit the deck just as the first of the lookouts yelled, and it was her voice yelling back, roaring at the yardarm dancers and the helmsman.
She'd never had her father's depth of tone, but people heard her when she wanted them to, and despite the funny looks of the people on the deck with her, everyone's moving.
Something scraped along the portside stern as they tacked, and the man at her helm yelled something about a reef where there shouldn't be a damn reef.
Uncharted waters. They're in uncharted waters, half a day from home.
She took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart's hammering, feeling around her ship in the water as she did, and let it out as her sails changed colours, and the dancers started hauling them in. They're in the clear, just barely, the cut in the hull not deep enough to let the water in, but they're not going anywhere until they know they've got a chance at a safe path in doing.
She caught a leggy half-grown kid with her father's nose as the girl hit the deck, pulled her in secret-close, told her to go toss the navigator out of his bed. They've got problems.
The first words out of the navigator's mouth took a second to parse into "Where's the beacon?"
"What beacon?" she replied, tone a little flatter than she'd meant it to be.
"The beacon, the one the--your father put in, to guide his way home when he'd been wandering." The navigator frowned at her--she frowned back--then did something, blinked, and sat down abruptly. "The beacon's gone. It's--it's been there longer than I've been alive and it's gone--"
Niamh waited for him to wind down, holding onto her temper with her fingernails, then "Do you know where we are?"
He shook his head.
"Alright." She took a deep breath. "AODH!"
"Why," said a half-plaintive voice behind her, "why do you never use the cards? My head feels like the inside of a bell."
"Love you too, cousin," she told him, turning, caught him up in a brief hard hug, kissed his temple, then put him back on his feet. "I need y'help."
"The yellin' di' imply tha'," he agreed, rubbing at one of his ears, "but I can' say I see t'armada."
"Uncharted waters," she said, softly, gesturing to port-stern, where the reef lurked. "Navigator says t'beacon's--whatever that means--gone."
"Y'dad's work. 's why you lot always like comin' home--feels right, n'matter if you know why t'is." But his answer was absent, eyes starting to unfocus, head cocked to one side like he was listening for something.
The ship shuddered, starting to shift as a current picked up, and she could feel the eyes of the entire crew focused on her. Not her cousin, but her, and lightning, she hoped she wasn't wrong to trust this hard.
Then the itch faded, something in her gut clicking from wrong to home, and she thought she heard the navigator swallow a sob, as the curve of the Keep's mountain swam into view.
She blinked, felt a grin spread across her face, then let the sailmaster roar for her.
Aodh caught her shoulder as she turned to look for him, leaned up to whisper in her ear. "Stay home, Cousin. Tell the navigators what happened--you need new charts, before you go out again."
He was gone before she could even nod.