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+---- Thread: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay (/showthread.php?tid=7297)
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(Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Hadama - 06-14-2022
A man floated in the water off one of the coastal docks, dark-skinned and green-eyed, with long hair like wet steel braided back over his dripping shoulders. Scars crossed his chest and back - bare, except for a harness that held a few pouches and tools - and glittered golden in the mild Deepfrost sunlight. They gleamed from his arms and hands when he raised them to stretch, and powerful muscles bunched and relaxed as he lowered them again.
Beside him, socketed into one of the dock's supports, a simple fishing pole curved gracefully against the sky, the string at its tip trailing far out into the surf. His attention drifted from pole to the distant bobber - often hidden in the waves - and back again until the slender rod suddenly grew taut. Wasting no movement the big man reached for the rod and lifted it free, catching the wheel so it didn't spin out farther. He began to tease the line back with a slow, steady patience, focused entirely on the ancient battle between (mer)man and fish.
Or old boot. It could be a bit of a tossup, this close to the human settlements.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Kenza - 06-18-2022
She's dressed for the "cool" (read: slightly less warm) weather—loose blouse, simple long skirt, colorful scarf draped around her shoulders. The difference to summer is something along the lines of "all my skin except for my face and hands and feet is covered" because she's still barefoot, of course she is. There's just something about the sand under her feet..
Yeah, she's stepped on bad shit more than once. Sharp rocks, pieces of glass, literal shit. You name it, she's stepped in it. Worth it? Apparently, because she's still barefoot, ambling down this particular part of the coast with a fish basket on her hip, enjoying the sun on her face and the sea breeze in her messy braid.
If it wasn't for his fish (or boot) she probably would've missed him, but the movement catches her eye. The rod raised skywards, the line invisible against the waters and sky, sunlight gleaming on dark, wet skin—broad shoulders, strong hands, yet so neatly teasing that boot (or fish) to the surface. She's seen merfolk before but not done more than chat with them—they're pretty, but frightening because of it, and she always feels like a fool around them.
She's in no rush to get home. What's one more humiliation, anyway? There'll be plenty more of that anyway because she's not planning on dying tonight. So she (nervously) moves closer, steps onto the jetty and brightly announces [say]"it's a good day for fishin', innit?"[/say] a bit too loudly as she drops her fish basket (it squelches) to her feet with less finesse than intended.
Yeah. Maybe this is why you always feel like a fool around them, Kenzie.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Hadama - 06-19-2022
He was fairly certain it wasn't a boot; the line jerked and resisted his attempts to reel it in and Hadama had to focus very carefully on not pulling too hard on the pole and breaking either the line or the mechanism. His concentration was intense, but he managed not to drop the rod when a light voice called out from above him on the jetty.
"Indeed," he rumbled distractedly, eyes on where the line disappeared into the constantly-changing surf. He didn't dare take a look up at whoever had joined him, but he gave a courteous nod as something squelched to the wooden planks nearby. From the smell he could well guess what it contained. "Your luck today has been good?"
Another jerk back and the line reeled out a foot before he stopped it and began to tease it back towards himself once more, slowly and inexorably working it closer to the shallows.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Kenza - 06-19-2022
She's looking at much the same thing: the line dipping into the waves, wondering about whatever mysterious load is attached at the other end. For a girl of the coast she's a surprisingly shitty fisher. Several attempts have been made to correct this, but she just seems incurably bad at fishing. Fruit and growing things are more her forte.
[say]"I mean, yeah, I suppose,"[/say] she answers rather nervously, taking her eyes off the line (and off the merman too; he's enchanting in that merfolk way and she's not sure how she feels about it) and dropping it to her fish basket. [say]"I know the right people to trade with."[/say] It's a bit of a mumble accompanied by a tortured wring of her hands in the flowing material of her skirt before she self-consciously tries to smooth it out again.
Why are you doing this again? The blush creeps over her cheeks. She's not usually embarrassed about her poor fishing skills—it's just having to correct his assumption. That's what does her in. She's already failing to live up to his expectations.
Maybe you should run away, before it gets worse? Nah, she's too invested in this bloody fish he's got, letting her guilty eyes return to the swell of the bountiful sea.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Hadama - 06-21-2022
He didn't dare take his eyes off the line to glance at her, but he took her words without any sign of disappointment. "It is not easy," he said obliquely, teasing the line in a little closer before it seemed to snag on something and came to an abrupt halt. The rod bent dangerously and Hadama exhaled slowly and eased the line once more. "I am learning the human way of fishing. It is... inefficient."
Though he didn't seem to mind too much; calm, patiently, he tested the line and teased it a little to the left and then to the right. It remained firmly stuck and he eased a little more line out until the rod wasn't under quite so much tension, considering the conundrum. "What do you trade?" he asked the human curiously.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Kenza - 06-23-2022
That seems like letting her off the hook (funny, right?) way too easy. She's surprised at his calm response, the lack of judgment—I guess in some way she was expecting him, a master of the sea, to sneer at her lack of skill in the noble pursuit of fishing. Like, fish above all! Worthless land-crab. But no. As his line snags and the rod grows threateningly taut she realizes that in this regard, the way of the tackle, they are not that far apart. Funny how that works sometimes.
She holds her breath, fearing his line will snap, but he just... lets it spool back out. Gives to that needy sea.
She releases her pent-up breath and folds neatly where she's standing, sliding down into a cross-legged position and pulling her fish basket up against her legs. [say]"Sure is a lot less efficient than trading,"[/say] she says, still a bit quiet, but some of that joyous, quipping spirit starting to flare back to life.
What's less joyous though is how stuck his line is. Kenza sighs, folding her arms over the basket and resting her head against her crossed wrists. She opens her mouth to speak, but he beats her to it, and she closes it again. [say]"Oh. Well. Bits and bobs. I work at a bar-"[/say] such a glorified profession, truly an ambassador for your race [say]"-so whatever I get left as tip, really."[/say] She grimaces, brushes a straying strand of hair from her face. [say]"What uh... what do you do?"[/say]
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Hadama - 06-24-2022
Hadama did not appear to be in any hurry as he let the line ease back out again. Fishing – at least as humans did it – was not a pastime for the impatient or impulsive. He could hear the human’s movements on the dock, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off his prize as he considered his next steps. ”Immensely,” he rumbled, in a voice as low as distant summer thunder. All of this for one – maybe – fish certainly seemed like an unequal trade.
But then, he wasn’t really doing it for the food.
He loosened the line a little more, testing—
But at his companion’s words he finally stole a glance sideways to her, interest piqued. He was considering her words and the potential therein when her question struck and he paused, drawing back into himself a little ways. ”I am Hadama. And I… have been trained as a sea smith,” he said slowly at last. A tug on the line drew his attention back to it, emerald eyes narrowing in suspicion and he began to slowly roll the catch in once more. It resisted a moment—
And then spun quickly, as if whatever snag it had caught on earlier was now free. But still it seemed far too heavy to be empty.
"What food and drink does your bar serve?" A question that was deceptively casual given the avid curiosity hidden behind green eyes.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Kenza - 06-26-2022
Hadama? What's that—
But it is made clear in the next second that Hadama is not what he is, but who: a name, rolling like the waves. She mouths it, chin bobbing a little against her wrists, completely at ease in her presumption that he is not watching her at all. One sun-bronzed leg extends from behind the basket, skirt pooling on the jetty beside her. [say]"A sea smith?"[/say] she echoes, trying to not feel stupid about having to ask (and quite oblivious to the curiosity evident in her voice).
She almost forgets entirely about it as the line dips of its own accord, her breath catching again as the rod tenses—and—suddenly it is free, the clucking of the waves joined by the whir of the wheel.
Talk about keeping them on their toes.
[say]"Oh, uhm,"[/say] what's she supposed to answer? how well-versed is a merman in human food? she's sweating and it's not the sun [say]"Mostly seafood in various forms—smoked, roasted, baked, in stews, the like. Got some nice vegetable dishes too. Chef's great, so if—"[/say] She cuts herself off abruptly. You're not at work, Kenza. You don't have to sell it to him. She clears her throat. [say]"Drinks are pretty standard range too."[/say]
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Hadama - 06-27-2022
He waited politely for the introduction he hoped would come; a name to give this new companion of the afternoon. Her question was initially met with silence as he played the line with a fierce concentration, but as it began to reel more smoothly he no longer had the excuse of it to delay his answer. "A metalworker of the mer. It is a... specialized trade." There was nothing easy about working with either fire or steel in saltwater, and a great deal that required magic beyond the usual available to his people.
The line was close now, and began to fight against him again as it was dragged into the shallows, tugging first one way and then another - but always trying to get away as he teased it closer in spite of its struggles.
Hadama didn't dare relax now that it was nearly his, but there was a subtle straightening of his shoulders in interest as the human listed various ways to cook seafood. And stew...
"I do not know what is normal for drylander drinks," he admitted. "Does it serve hot chocolate?" A recent discovery at the Deepfrost market in the Boondocks that he had grown thoroughly fascinated by.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Kenza - 07-13-2022
Specialized? Probably the understatement of the century. She doesn't even know what to think, what to picture; it's easy enough to imagine him by an anvil, hammer raised to swing down on some metal piece he's shaping, but she's someone who can drown. Her brain wants to fill in sweat on that dark skin, fire glistening in his golden scars—but then her imagination promptly dumps, y'know, the sea on that mental picture and Hadama's sodden and the forge put out in wet smoke and how do you look sweaty underwater anyway???
Too many questions. She puts them away for later. Blows some hair out of her face (it falls right back whenever the sea breeze doesn't tug at it) and watches where she thinks his elusive, reluctant prey is hiding in the gentle waves.
I don't know what's normal for mer drinks either she thinks to herself, kind of startled by this realization. [say]"It does,"[/say] she confirms in vague surprise. [say]"Plain, or with some warming alcohol, perhaps topped with whipped cream and cinnamon, mmh..."[/say] You're still not at work Kenza, but I guess it doesn't hurt to be passionate about hot chocolate. There are, after all, worse things to be passionate about.
She hesitates. The million dollar question sits on her tongue.
[say]"Why?"[/say]
Plain curiosity.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Hadama - 07-15-2022
There were ripples now around the surface of the water where the fishing string disappeared beneath, and a darkish shape that Kenza could see from her vantage on the dock. The size of a head, or a little bigger, and strangely shaped.
Though that could just be the distortion of the waves as they swept over it.
Hadama teased it closer, his attention split between his prey and his-- waitress? She was certainly doing a good job of selling her bar's wares. Every word she said painted a picture he could almost taste and he took a moment to savor it. And in that moment, her own curiosity brought a twinkle to grin eyes that were so focused on his quarry. "There was a market last season," he rumbled in explanation. "A Deepfrost festival market, near the coast in King's End. I tried a cup of it there." He paused, easing the pressure off the rod again, letting it bob for a moment as if whatever was hooked was surprised at the sudden slack. "It is not a taste we have, undersea." And then a steady twirl of the handle, bringing whatever was on the end of his string within a few feet of the dock.
But back to the important questions. "You can put alcohol in it?" he asked, intrigued.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Kenza - 07-16-2022
She stretches and peers a little awkwardly from where she sits, squinting to try and make out what has gotten hooked on his line. It's nearly frustrating, how close she is to seeing what it is, and yet she can't tell more than its approximate size. And right now, there's two things she can't decide between which of them would be worse: if it somehow got off the line and disappeared to take its mysterious identity away with it for all time, or if after all of this it was just an old boot.
[say]"Oooh, Deepfrost is a great season for it,"[/say] she kind of gushes, though not quite with so much emotion as the word might normally imply. She's just—enthusiastic? In agreement?
Though honestly, any season is hot chocolate season. You just gotta pick your moments. Basket full of raw and recently deceased fish under your nose is not a great time for hot chocolate. She wrinkles her nose a little.
[say]"Yeah, you can. Depending on what you mix it with it'll feel a bit different—if you want to sweeten it a little, or give it a bit more of a smoky edge... Or just some plain creamy liqueur. Gives some extra warmth to it, y'know?"[/say]
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Hadama - 07-17-2022
He nodded contented affirmation of Deepfrost being a good season for cocoa. It had warmed him from the inside out in chilly waters, though he was well-suited to the cold waters of the Arclight's depths.
But there was finally an end to his battle with whatever was on the end of his line. He listened with half an ear as the human extolled the flexibility of boozy cocoa and all its different flavors. The mermanta would have liked to have paid this information the attention it deserved, but now the water beneath his line formed a wake and there was no more teasing or easing of the wheel. He tugged sharply, once, and his prey finally broke free of the sea--
An old boot, indeed, the leather black and cracked with water damage and crusted in salt and sand.
But wrapped around that boot and looking particularly annoyed for a creature with no eyebrows was an octopus that curled its tentacles stubbornly tighter around the waterlogged footwear. It's body was the size of Hadama's head; it's tentacles almost as long as his arms, and the rod was bowed dangerously under the weight as the merman eyed the creature with bemusement.
"Ah."
After a moment's contemplation he reached out to disengage the hook from the boot's slimy leather, ignoring the tentacle that immediately wrapped around his wrist in protest. It was a battle of wills and Hadama grunted softly as he wrestled with unruly octopus and stubbornly-jammed hook, careful not to hurt the creature. "I did not... -hrm- ... catch your name," he called to the barmaid while the epic struggle took place.
RE: (Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay - Kenza - 07-23-2022
And there it is—!
Oh.
Oh.
[say]"What,"[/say] she exclaims, all sorts of confused when confronted with this monstrosity from the abyss: it's... a boot. A demonic, possessed, slimy-armed boot. ?!?!?!?!??!
Kenza reboots her brain and her sensibilities. It's not some hideous deep-sea creature she's never seen before. Really, for a bit it had fooled her, which may or may not have added some fuel to her little outburst. The rest of the sentence, 'the fuck is that', is fortunately not uttered out loud.
But then there's just this big hunk of a merman, all graceful and mystical and well-muscled, holding up this old dead boot with a grumpy octopus curled around it, and she can barely keep herself from laughing. The fits make her shiver up on the jetty, teeth digging into her forearm to keep it in. She's afraid to affront him with her mirth, but, it might just be the funniest thing she's seen in a while.
She manages to calm herself somewhat as Hadama pursues the rather noble option of trying to free the boot, presumably to return it and its owner to the depths. It's still pretty funny, but that picture of the stalemate is just burned into her mind. [say]"Oh, hrm, sorry!"[/say] she coughs a little as she struggles to get herself under control. [say]"I'm Kenza."[/say]