And fly to the skies from your land
I snort a little under my breath at the paper ship comment, falling half a step behind as we reach the edge of the market. "I don’t know," I say lightly, glancing up at The Ark’s sails above us. "Paper’s surprisingly aerodynamic if you fold it right. But point taken."
Then he says it—put you to work for the morning—and I nearly trip on my own feet. Just like that, I’m in. Not on the ship, not yet, but it’s a crack in the door, and it’s more than I expected. I rein in the sudden burst of excitement before it can do something embarrassing to my voice.
"Bassian," I repeat, nodding once. "More muscle than sense—I’ll keep that in mind."
Then, almost as an afterthought, I glance back toward the ship and ask, "Should I be worried about protocol? Password? Secret handshake?" My brow lifts slightly. "Just trying to avoid the part where I get tossed back down the ramp for showing up unannounced. Do I tell him you sent me, or is that likely to make it worse?"
A beat passes, then I offer, more sincerely, "I’m Theea, by the way!" A simple statement, no fanfare. "Figured I should introduce myself before I go audition for passage."
The land that you love and all that you are
