The Kick (Rostam's Point of View)

You think: Should I knee him? Or a straight-boot?

At'ar al-Tessere smirks over at you. "I have spoken all that is on my mind. It stinks, I do not like the people, and my skills are useless on this boat. I paid for travel to my home-port, not to subsist on fish and bread while the rest of the world gets on."

Firouzeh flicks her eyes between you and At'ar al-Tessere, a now very obvious grin playing on her lips. "Yes, please do continue about our horrible smells and terrible opinions."

The ship continues across softly lapping waves, the scent of the brine thick in the surrounding fog.

(At the railing): Zayit discreetly leans her nose towards her armpit for a moment. She probably does smell, actually.
You're not sure anyone else notices.

You think: I think he gets a full-shinny.

Soft clusters of clouds continue to flow past, palely silver and blue in the light from the moons.

Rostam rolls his neck side to side, a few pops audible.

Fog floats past as the ship floats smoothly upon calm waves.

At'ar al-Tessere cringes at Zayit.

You shift closer to Firouzeh.

There's a subtle sense of tension as you move close.

(Hidden) You whisper to Firouzeh, "Enough?"

Sitri Tahan muses aloud as she looks about, "Wasn't there a merchant aboard who was transporting perfume? Perhaps she may still part with some bottles, though it may be at a premium now."

Absently, you say, "I hear her soap smelled awful."

(Hidden) Firouzeh whispers to you, "Not nearly as egregious as I had hoped, but I'm up for a little excitement none the less."

The ship's deck sways as it hits a wave.

Rostam nods twice.

You shift closer to At'ar al-Tessere.

There's a subtle sense of tension as you move close.

Fadila walks over from the way east to the aft.

Fadila walks away through the wooden hatch.

Firouzeh watches, curling her lips in to stifle a laugh at a joke no one has told.

Thoughtfully, Sitri Tahan says to you, "Did it? I never had a chance to smell it."

You tense squarely.

You attempt to tap At'ar al-Tessere.

Rostam reaches out to try to touch At'ar al-Tessere on the shoulder, tapping as if to get his attention.

"I liked her perfume," Zayit relays, awkwardly and self-consciously.

The ship tranquilly glides on, cloaked in an ominous haze of fog.

Bright silvery clouds form fanciful and ever-changing shapes against the dark backdrop of the sky.

Water dries on you, leaving you slightly damp.

At'ar al-Tessere looks over to you then. "What is it, Rostam."

Inaya glances to Zayit, tonguing at the inside of her cheek for a moment, perhaps thoughtful, perhaps only listening. Her attention shifts to you and At'ar al-Tessere a moment later.

The mist surrounds the ship as it drifts on peacefully.

You shift aggressively towards At'ar al-Tessere.

Rostam wordlessly winds up as soon as At'ar al-Tessere responds to his touch, sandaled foot coming backward, then lashing upward in a straight-legged blow at At'ar al-Tessere's groin.

In close quarters, the kick whips through the air to land solidly upon At'ar al-Tessere's groin.

Sitri Tahan blinks rather owlishly.

You try to stop fighting.

Firouzeh clasps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with humor at the attack. "I can't believe you did it," she manages to putter out through chuckles.

Zayit's hands fly up towards her face. She doesn't even LOOK like she's hiding anything dangly down there, and she still manages a sympathy scowl for At'ar al-Tessere's benefit.

The ship floats smoothly upon calm waves, the scent of the brine thick in the surrounding fog.

Firmly, you say, "A contract's a contract. You owe me a dirham."

At'ar al-Tessere apparently has jetlag in the brain and does not even register the kick to his balls in any other way but physical, immediately falling to the ground on a knee and groaning, moaning and foaming. It takes him a looooong beat to muster up the word- "You... cur!"

Inaya lets loose a breath, eyebrows rising as she watches At'ar al-Tessere and you. She suppresses a smirk, sort of. Not well.

Firouzeh nods firmly at you, digging through a coin purse.

Firouzeh gets out a silver dirham.

At'ar al-Tessere exclaims, "I will... show you... a contract!"

Rostam shakes his head with a brief smile and says to At'ar al-Tessere, "I would normally say this was not personal, but... well, I did enjoy it."

Zayit looks around awkwardly as if to see whether anyone's going to go help At'ar al-Tessere. Her loitering says, 'not it'.

Sitri Tahan lifts a hand to shield her lips, murmuring to herself, "Is this how duels work?"

Firouzeh offers a silver dirham to you.

At'ar al-Tessere draws an elaborate, gilt-handled rapier from a tooled leather scabbard.

You accept a silver dirham from Firouzeh.

At'ar al-Tessere says, "BLEED!"

Inaya is a looming, impassive presence. Definitely not it. In fact, oh dear, she's distracted by a bout of coughing, in fact, turning her head aside.

You hunch slightly.

At'ar al-Tessere takes a swing at your neck.

The punch is blocked by you!

You draw a steel-bladed saber with a knobbed bronze hilt from a long, unadorned leather scabbard with a brass mouth.

You say, "Put.. the sword.. Away."

Rostam backs away now, a steel-bladed saber with a knobbed bronze hilt drawn.

The crash of a wave sends a spray of water over the ship's edge while it flows gently across tranquil waters.

You sling an iron-banded buckler off your back.

Firouzeh's smile fades at the escalation. She steps back a bit. "You know, I didn't think about what happened next really."

At'ar al-Tessere says to Firouzeh, "You're next, lady!"

No longer amused at all, you say, "It was a contract, Sayyid. Put the sword away, and we call it quits."

At'ar al-Tessere says to you, "Quits? Are you crazed?"

Sitri Tahan backs up, trying to find a safe distance from the drawn blades and angry men.

At'ar al-Tessere says to you, "You have struck me. I am entitled to defend myself, cur!"

Rostam shrugs slightly, steps forward, and delivers a quick slash, more wrist than arm in the blow. "As you say, then."

In close quarters, the slash strikes strongly true upon At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.
Blood begins flowing from At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

Firouzeh puts up her hands in peace, "Yes, yes, he's right. If you wish to duel someone for your honor, you should fight me. I -did- offer him coin for next time you made a rude comment."

When At'ar al-Tessere threatens Firouzeh, Zayit opens her mouth to potentially protest, hesitant.

The ship's deck sways as it hits a wave.

At'ar al-Tessere says to Firouzeh, "Be SILENT, wench!"

Rostam delivers the single strike, a steel-bladed saber with a knobbed bronze hilt coming away red, and takes a step back, weapon raised. "Enough?"

Inaya scowls as she watches you and At'ar al-Tessere, shifting back a pace, well out of range.

Firouzeh raises an eyebrow at At'ar al-Tessere, but remains silent and still other than tightening her grip on a brass-capped reed cane.

You think: Well, this ceased to be amusing.

The ship drifts on peacefully.

Zayit Casually, nonchalantly, in no real rush at all, starts to slowly stroll away.

At'ar al-Tessere is duly cut on the arm, and has to cover it with his sword-hand, growling through the pain as he beholds his bloody palm. "This is all fun to you, Irzali?"

Zayit walks east to the aft.

Exhaling and watching At'ar al-Tessere, you say, "It is work, Sayyid. I would prefer we end it with that. I will stitch you up, if you like."

At'ar al-Tessere says, "You are a fool if you do not think you have made an enemy."

At'ar al-Tessere says, "Cake-eating savage!"

You put a silver dirham away in your coinpouch.

Zayit walks over from the way east to the aft.

Tekra walks over from the way east to the aft.

Firouzeh says, "Peace, At'ar, let him stitch you up and then you may direct your wrath at me. He simply followed through on work."

Rostam shrugs slightly as he watches At'ar al-Tessere. "Put your sword away, Sayyid, and I will stitch you. And thy animosity shall be your own.

Rostam shrugs slightly as he watches At'ar al-Tessere. "Put your sword away, Sayyid, and I will stitch you. And thy animosity shall be your own."

Tekra follows Zayit over, dark-bronze gaze quickly sweeping the drawn blades.

Zayit casually, nonchalantly, in no rush at all, strolls back towards the fight with the First Mate in tow.

Tekra shouts, "NO STEEL ON DECK!" [in Sirdabi with a harshly-affected countertenor]

At'ar al-Tessere struggles to move.

At'ar al-Tessere straightens to stand near the railing.

The ship moves across serene waves.

At'ar al-Tessere visibly struggles to remain conscious.

You sheathe a steel-bladed saber with a knobbed bronze hilt in a long, unadorned leather scabbard with a brass mouth.

At'ar al-Tessere says, "TELL THAT TO THE IRZALI TRASH-GREMLIN!"

Rostam promptly slides a long, unadorned leather scabbard with a brass mouth with a steel-bladed saber with a knobbed bronze hilt inside away.

At'ar al-Tessere apparently spent so much energy there that he starts to wobble.

Firouzeh takes stock of At'ar al-Tessere.

You try to stop fighting.

Tekra nods sternly to you, then turns that stare insistently upon At'ar al-Tessere.

At'ar al-Tessere speaks through hard, heavy breaths, raising a fist weakly. "You... I'll make you pay."

"So," Zayit proceeds to snitch in a matter-of-fact tone, pointing first to Firouzeh, "She paid him --" She points to you, "To kick him in the dick --" She points to At'ar al-Tessere, "And then he threatened to murder both of them and they all started comparing sword lengths." She shoots At'ar al-Tessere an apologetic look.

At'ar al-Tessere points at you, and then at Firouzeh. "Both of you."

The ship floats peacefully onward.

Firouzeh looks rather concerned at her assessment of At'ar al-Tessere, choosing to ignore his threats. "He will need to be mended quickly, he is losing a lot of blood."

At'ar al-Tessere says, "BE QUIET."

At'ar al-Tessere says, "I will not be touched by you, impure wench."

At'ar al-Tessere says to you, "Nor YOU!"

At'ar al-Tessere says, "Provincial scum."

At'ar al-Tessere sheathes an elaborate, gilt-handled rapier in a tooled leather scabbard.

Tekra shifts past Zayit, glancing between you and At'ar al-Tessere. "Who's drawn blood here?" is the coarse demand.

Lifting a hand tentatively after a moment, Sitri Tahan says, "Ah... I know some first aid..."

Rostam keeps an iron-banded buckler ready until At'ar al-Tessere sheaths his sword. Turning to Tekra, he says frankly, "I did."

At'ar al-Tessere shakily points to Rostam. "Clearly I am the injured."

You wear an iron-banded buckler slung across the back.

You think: I should've charged more, if I'm to be lashed.

At'ar al-Tessere says to Firouzeh, "You dare question my endurance?"

At'ar al-Tessere says to Tekra, "Do not let that wretch touch me."

The ship floats peacefully onward.

"No, no, this was my doing," Firouzeh interjects to Tekra.

Glancing between you and At'ar al-Tessere, Zayit notes of their injuries, "Reckon it was both of them. Sorry, folks. Wouldn't have reported if you boys had kept it between JUST the two of you."

Rostam watches At'ar al-Tessere curiously now, detachedly. He says to Zayit, without malice, "It is as it should be."

At'ar al-Tessere says to Zayit, "So you have a big mouth."

At'ar al-Tessere says to Zayit, "Good to know."

Rostam half-turns to look at Tekra and actually rolls his eyes toward At'ar al-Tessere as if to say, 'See?'.

Firouzeh scolds At'ar al-Tessere readily at his comments thrown to Zayit. "Now, your big mouth is what got you into this mess in the first place."

At'ar al-Tessere says to Firouzeh, "Be SILENT!"

"You would like to know, wouldn't you," Zayit tries to diffuse the tension with a wicked smile and a little innuendo, wriggling her calloused, provincial fingers At'ar al-Tessere's way.

Tekra scowls tightly at you. "This is gonna get reported," is the dour warning, and then to Zayit, "Good job tellin' me, Zay. We gotta run a tight ship in these mists -- " Then the first mate glances past, and completely ignoring Firouzeh, as well as At'ar al-Tessere's request, strides off to yell at some other sailor.

Inaya just watches, as she tends to do, tonguing at the inside of her cheek as her gaze travels from one face to the next, following the conversation.

Tekra strides east to the aft.

At'ar al-Tessere points the wooden hatch Rostam, "This one kicked me in the nethers. And then cut me with his sword. And he dares pretend he is free of any guilt.

At'ar al-Tessere points the wooden hatch Rostam, "This one kicked me in the nethers. And then cut me with his sword. And he dares pretend he is free of any guilt."

Firouzeh says to At'ar al-Tessere, "I will not. You have been so crude to many of the passengers aboard and frankly, you deserved a good groin kick."

You feel relieved. The captain is PROBABLY too drunk to whip me today.

The last of the water on you dries away, leaving you fully dried off.

Zayit stands a little straighter, with a big proud smile for being such a complimented narc.

Rostam can't help smiling a bit at Zayit, despite the circumstances.

At'ar al-Tessere says to Firouzeh, "You deserve death, old lady."

Sitri Tahan just lets out a little sigh under her breath as she watches the contained chaos.

The ship moves across serene waves.

Soft breezes freshen the air, sending the clouds above briskly along their way.

Firouzeh takes stock of At'ar al-Tessere.

Now that the First Mate's gone, Zayit beseeches the group in a tone of exasperation, "Just wait until we get to port to start murdering each other, alright?"

Firouzeh rolls her eyes at At'ar al-Tessere, "Well, you will be the one finding it if you don't let someone fix your arm."

At'ar al-Tessere says to Firouzeh, "Shut. Up."

At'ar al-Tessere falls back on the railing on his back, sliding down as he clenches down on his wound with his opposite hand.

At'ar al-Tessere leans on the railing.

Firouzeh throws her hands up. "Fine, die then, due only to your own ego- which I am surprised even fits on this ship."

At'ar al-Tessere says to Firouzeh, "I can find better physicians than you, wretch."

Fog floats past as the ship tranquilly glides on.

At'ar al-Tessere glances around swiftly for an escape.

Rostam continues to watch At'ar al-Tessere curiously. "Feeling a bit dizzy, Sayyid? Are you certain someone cannot...tourniquet that for you?"

At'ar al-Tessere says to you, "Take accountability and perhaps I will let you touch me, cur."

Firouzeh mutters, "So be it then", before pointedly ignoring the man. She casts her gaze out onto the sea instead.

At'ar al-Tessere ore spits at your feet. "Mercenaries. You disgust me."

You say to At'ar al-Tessere, "Apologize to the Grandmother, and I might. Do you have no respect for your elders?"

The mist surrounds the ship as it continues across softly lapping waves.

At'ar al-Tessere says to you, "Oh? Are you capable of sticking to your word? What is my guarantee?"

At'ar al-Tessere says to you, "Another KICK TO THE GROIN?"

Inaya watches At'ar al-Tessere, impassive but attentive, no real sign of emotion to her features.

Rostam shrugs and looks down at the spittle at his feet. "I played by your rules," he observes. "I stopped at first blood. But -- if you apologize to the Sayyida, I shall bandage and stitch your wound, and you shall live."

At'ar al-Tessere is ranting like a despotic child where he is, clearly.

Blood seeps from a short cut on At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

At'ar al-Tessere blinks slowly at you, clearly visibly tiring and turning pale, and then, drops his head back-first on the railing's surface, chuckling as much as he can. "...what is the point? We will be stuck in this mist for Annur knows how long... three, four weeks... and they will all be gone and dead. Gone and dead." Delirious.

You pick up a pale leather satchel from the deck.

You put on a pale leather satchel.

At'ar al-Tessere says, "Aha-ha-ha, let me die."

The mist surrounds the ship as it drifts on gently.

You get out a curved suturing needle from a pale leather satchel in your possession.

You get out a ball of 3 sinew lengths from a pale leather satchel in your possession.

Quietly, you say to Inaya, "Will you hold him?"

You feel sort of guilty. This really got out of hand. I should've made sure he couldn't draw steel.

At'ar al-Tessere says, "No, no. Nope. Do not... touch me."

At'ar al-Tessere holds out that hand, waving ghosts away.

Firouzeh side eyes At'ar al-Tessere. Concern obviously crossing her face. She crosses her arms and continues to look out into the sea.

(At the railing): Rostam looks a little guilty.
You're not sure whether anyone notices you.

Zayit goes to stand by the railing, joining you, At'ar al-Tessere, and Firouzeh.

At'ar al-Tessere says, "Oh-! Oh! And when we... make landfall. WHERE will we be?"

Inaya shrugs some to you, and moves forward without a word, kneeling to try and pin At'ar al-Tessere with a hand on each arm. (Kneel)

At'ar al-Tessere says, "NOT AL-SABIYYAH-! Where I have to be..."

Fog floats past as the ship calmly moves over glimmering waters.

You think: Well, he does have a point. We're probably all going to die if the mad convict is right.

At'ar al-Tessere slaps at Inaya as much as he can. "No! No! Do NOT!?

At'ar al-Tessere slaps at Inaya as much as he can. "No! No! Do NOT!"

Wondering after a moment, Sitri Tahan says to you, "Do you wish some aid with treating him?"

At'ar al-Tessere squirms.

Rostam strides over to At'ar al-Tessere, looking down at him, then over at Sitri Tahan. "If you are willing, Priestess, he may take it better from you."

At'ar al-Tessere says to Inaya, "You don't understand. I am- in a rush. I have to- I have to do something. Anything. Get out of here."

At'ar al-Tessere exclaims, "Let me go!"

Out of Character: Inaya rolled strength against At'ar al-Tessere's strength and the result was a pass.

"I can't believe he'll really choose his pride over his life," Zayit exhales at At'ar al-Tessere with a pointed stare.

Fog floats past as the ship calmly moves over glimmering waters.

At'ar al-Tessere continues to squirm helplessly under Inaya's grip. He growls, impotently. "UGH-!!!"

At'ar al-Tessere says, "You STINK!"

Sitri Tahan comes to kneel next to the fallen, and increasingly delirious man, attempting to first try and pause some of the bleeding. (Kneel)

At'ar al-Tessere is clearly delirious.

Inaya seems - what else? - impassive against At'ar al-Tessere's slaps, but implacable in bearing down on him. "As you like, sayyid, but you will not get there faster by bleeding," she comments dryly.

Blood seeps from a short cut on At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

(At the railing): Sitri Tahan shifts closer to At'ar al-Tessere.

At'ar al-Tessere says to Inaya, "Do me a favour and BATHE NEXT TIME YOU HOLD ME DOWN-!"

At'ar al-Tessere keeps slapping impotantly at Inaya.

Sitri Tahan offers to put pressure on a short cut on At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

You go to kneel beside the railing, joining Inaya, Sitri Tahan, At'ar al-Tessere, Firouzeh, and Zayit.

Zayit says to At'ar al-Tessere, "Ce'iw mim atatg maz i entit ce em'a serne zis amagh ce." [in Tessouare]

You say to Firouzeh, "Next time, three dirham."

Inaya looks plainly amused at this from At'ar al-Tessere, losing her grip on one of his arms briefly before grabbing at it again. She shifts to put a knee over his chest. "I will consider it, sayyid," she rasps.

Firouzeh glances knowingly at you, offering two short nods in response.

At'ar al-Tessere ceases to slap as Sitri Tahan puts down pressure on his wound, which makes him jump up and hiss in pain. Still... "-ooh! Such tender hands from a good lady... Priestess... hee.", he calms somewhat.

Rostam threads the needle.

Scattered clouds chase each other on the winds of the night.

At'ar al-Tessere gets kneed down on the chest then and gasps. "-hck, cur. Nice of you to RUIN IT-!"

Complacently, you say to Sitri Tahan, "Very good, Sayyida. Just pinch the skin closed. Very nice."

The ship drifts on peacefully, cloaked in an ominous haze of fog.

You say to Inaya, "Got him?"

Sitri Tahan pushes back the cuffs of her clothing, seeming to have some knowledge of what to do when dealing with At'ar al-Tessere's wound, helping to prep it for you and the needle.

Inaya just grunts and nods to you, watching At'ar al-Tessere and holding steadily.

The ship drifts on peacefully, cloaked in an ominous haze of fog.

Sitri Tahan offers to put pressure on a short cut on At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

At'ar al-Tessere can't even really squirm anymore, having lost all that latent endurance.

Sitri Tahan puts pressure on At'ar al-Tessere's right arm with a hand.

Rostam glances at At'ar al-Tessere for a moment, then down at his arm, and drives the needle through either side of the wound. Despite his callousness, he's actually quite good at this, working deftly, keeping the stitches quite small.

You shift closer to At'ar al-Tessere.

There's a subtle sense of tension as you move close.

You offer to stitch a short cut on At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

"Nec'iwanm sinm as winmar minmi minmaz rnaz e, rta ej'ntet mirnigh satgitg ire'e etgin," Zayit dryly remarks, standing back to let the professionals work.

At'ar al-Tessere starts to murmur as he fades somewhat, head wobbling. "Curs... fools... undesirab- buuuhlesss... I will... save... us all."

At'ar al-Tessere says, "Let... me go."

At'ar al-Tessere wavers, and then his eyes roll up in his head as he goes limp.

You go over At'ar al-Tessere's right arm with a curved suturing needle and a sinew length, but find nothing in need of stitching.

The ship flows gently across tranquil waters, cloaked in an ominous haze of fog.

Firouzeh softens her gaze a bit, watching on at At'ar al-Tessere is stitched.

Inaya takes stock of At'ar al-Tessere.

Sitri Tahan stops pressing At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

Sitri Tahan straightens to stand near the railing.

Blood seeps from a short cut on At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

You use a curved suturing needle and a sinew length to stitch a short cut on At'ar al-Tessere's right arm.

You put a sinew length in a large, pebbly-leather backpack.

You put a sinew length in a pale leather satchel.

You take out a sinew length from a large, pebbly-leather backpack.

You put a sinew length in a pale leather satchel.

Soft breezes freshen the air, sending the clouds above briskly along their way.

Rostam callously wipes a curved suturing needle on At'ar al-Tessere's sleeve, uncaring about the tiny gremlins that now live on it.

You put a curved suturing needle in a pale leather satchel.

Brightly, looking up, you say, "I think we all learned something very valuable today."

The ship's deck sways as it hits a wave.

Yeshev walks through the squat cabin door, with the aid of a makeshift wooden cane.

Firouzeh says, "What was that, dear?"

Seeing as how At'ar al-Tessere's now passed out, Inaya relents her pressure, leaning back on her heels as she remains kneeling beside him. She smirks to you.

You say to Firouzeh, "Be polite to our elders."

You say, "He was rude to you, Grandmother. I would've kicked him anyhow, but -- well, I admit slicing him open was a bit far."

The sound of Yeshev's cane on deck draws Zayit's attention that way, from over by the crowd that surrounds an unconscious, bleeding At'ar al-Tessere.

At'ar al-Tessere twitches for a second.

At'ar al-Tessere snores lightly.

The mist surrounds the ship as it drifts on gently.

Yeshev rubs his eyes wearily before his gaze flickers between At'ar al-Tessere, Inaya, and finally, the spattering of blood speckling the deck.

You pick a large, pebbly-leather backpack up and carry it in both your arms.

Firouzeh relaxes slightly, releasing her crossed arms. "Yes, well, to be fair he pulled a sword first."

You put on a large, pebbly-leather backpack.

Sighing, you say, "He will live. If the wound does not fester."

At'ar al-Tessere wakes up, lying on the railing.

Spotting Yeshev, Inaya offers him a smirk - but no explanation.

You straighten to stand near the railing.

Letting out a gentle exhale once more, Sitri Tahan says, "I don't suppose there's any salve or medicine aboard?"

Firouzeh says, "Someone mentioned that the moss is perhaps medicinal... though I can't remember if it is the red or orange."

Grimacing as he rises, you say, "Honey works well. But I've used all mine."

Sitri Tahan gets out a bunch of 2 stems of hairy orangey-brown seamoss from a black cotton drawstring pouch in her possession.

You think: I doubt the Captain is going to let me bring the prisoner on deck, after this.

Eerie mist hazes around the hull as the ship continues across softly lapping waves.

As she draws out a bunch of 2 stems of hairy orangey-brown seamoss to inspect, Sitri Tahan says, "It might need some preparation though..."

At'ar al-Tessere snorts up from his sleep, eyes wide open. "ACCURSED-!", he exclaims by reflex, huffs out, squints about, then crosses his arms, and looks away, as he presses back at his wound.

Sharply, you say, "Careful! Don't rip it!"

(At the railing): At'ar al-Tessere murmurs, "Thanks..."

"I have more," Inaya says with a glance to Sitri Tahan and you, shrugging. Her gaze falls to At'ar al-Tessere again, expression vaguely skeptical. "Not much more."

Rostam gives Inaya a tiny shake of his head.

His gaze finally drifting over to land on you, Yeshev says, "Why do I have the sneakin' suspicion this is your handiwork?"

Firouzeh only offers a passing glance at At'ar al-Tessere, before offering, "I can powder it if needed."

"The green and red moss is for medicine," [in Sirdabi] Zayit helpfully supplies, though who knows how or why a humble sailor like her would know that.

At'ar al-Tessere shakes his head at Firouzeh.

Breezily, hiding a bit of guilt, you say to Yeshev, "Because I am always guilty?"

At'ar al-Tessere says to Firouzeh, "No, no. Do not touch me. I feel violated enough already."

Looking to her more orangey moss, Sitri Tahan says to Zayit, "