And fly to the skies from your land
I fall into step beside him easily enough—he clearly expects me to keep up, and I’ve never been one to trail behind when I’ve got somewhere to be. The market stirs around us, morning bustle just picking up, but I keep my focus on him, on the ship, on Torchline. On the opportunity—straight to the rest of my family, no stops.
"I’ve only been on a skyship once," I admit, glancing at him sidelong. "I was a kid, but I still remember it. Wind in my hair, stomach somewhere near my boots, the kind of view that makes you forget your name." I smile. "I loved it. Thought about it for weeks after. Pretty sure I annoyed my parents half to death trying to fold paper ships out of everything we owned."
The grin lingers as I adjust my bag, but I clear my throat, tone shifting a little more serious. "I’m not experienced. But I learn fast, and I don’t quit. Ever. I’m a bit of a problem that way." A pause. "The stubborn kind. Not the dangerous kind. Unless you're allergic to determination."
I watch him from the corner of my eye as we move. He doesn’t seem like the type who appreciates sweet-talking for the sake of it. "I’m not asking for a bunk and a free ride. Just a chance. I can carry, climb, clean, haul—whatever needs doing." Then, with a wry little tilt to my head, I add, "And sometimes I even make people laugh. And that’s always a plus."
The land that you love and all that you are
