[The Greenest Dolphin, Hold, A Musty Galley]
You are on [a timeworn naval freighter].
This musty galley harbors a continous quiet clamor as crew and passengers eat and attempt to enjoy a bit of leisure in their cramped confines. A series of trestle tables are bolted to the floor, secure against the motion of even the roughest sea, and tucked into the back of the space, across from the arch out to the hold, is a cramped kitchen and food storage area. A few lanterns swing from the ceiling, illuminating the galley with swaying pools of light.
Fixed above, a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope hangs as a climbing aid.
( The grubby kitchen has been freshly stocked with firewood from elsewhere in the hold, next to the small contained hearth.)
A cramped kitchen serves up thin gruel at all hours. A dull grey bilgerat pelt is left here. A grimy wooden mug has been upended. A heavy ship's mop is here. A mass of orangey-brown seamoss grows here. (x9) A sturdy wooden crate stamped with a rising sun in a circle is here.
a fine-boned, sapphire-eyed young woman, Sekani Rayegan, and Illi Idir sleep here.
Kinsa is sat slumped against a table, head resting with cheek against arm. Inaya is sitting beside a bolted trestle table. Yeshev al-Car is sitting indoors near a bolted trestle table.
Cardinal Exits: east through an arch to the hold
Other: a splintery hole in the ceiling (steep)
...[excerpting a bit]...
Zahra al-Dhahab dips her head to Inaya and then extends a smile over to Sitra Tahan whom she seems to not have spotted with her initial greeting. But then she's sinking down into a seat there at the table as she flicks a look in between you and Yeshev al-Car in the midst of her listening. (Sit - at a bolted trestle table -)
(At a bolted trestle table): "I did think I would impose myself upon the group, yes," Zahra al-Dhahab finally lowly comments to you in an aside. Eyes crinkling at the corners with her amusement, she adds to you, "I would ask how you are, but I'm sure you've already answered that question, Sayyid. So I will just assume well."
(At a bolted trestle table): Yeshev al-Car shifts his attention across the table to Zahra al-Dhahab. "Sayyida al-Dhahab," he greets, "Do you dream well today?" Something about the young man's demeanor perks up a little.
Inaya only continues looking amused, unhelpful, not explaining to you. Her gaze also catches on Sitra Tahan, and she offers a dip of her head by way of greeting, before her attention comes back to Zahra al-Dhahab.
(At a bolted trestle table): Zahra al-Dhahab's attention flashes over to Yeshev al-Car, lips curving upward into a smile for him. "I do dream quite well, thank you. And how about you, Sayyid al-Car?" She casts a momentary glance to a bolted trestle table and the pile of pickled eggs there; said pile does not long hold her interest. Her gaze snaps back to Yeshev al-Car easily enough. "How have your dreams been of late?"
(At a bolted trestle table): "A reasonable assumption, Sayyida, yes." Yasin replies to Zahra al-Dhahab, without skipping a beat. "Aside from, you know ... the usual." Leaving 'the usual' for implication. He does shoot a quirked eyebrow to Yeshev al-Car at that question, though.
Rostam Marzani climbs over from up a splintery hole in the ceiling.
Rostam Marzani climbs down adroitly, with the aid of a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope.
(At a bolted trestle table): Zahra al-Dhahab shoots you a sidelong glance, a knowing nod following. "That beard," she agrees with you in a stage-whisper, clearly filling that in for 'the usual'.
(At a bolted trestle table): Yeshev al-Car leans forward to pluck an egg, daintily, from the pile Zahra al-Dhahab had so recently scorned. "Oh, the same, the same...nothing worth boring the table with."
Yeshev al-Car takes out a purple pickled egg from a bolted trestle table.
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
"No dates have magically appeared, alas." [in Sirdabi with a moderate yet clarion alto] Sitra Tahan murmurs to herself, though she soon turns to offer the others gathered a polite incline of her head.
(At a bolted trestle table): Yasin groans in response to Zahra al-Dhahab. "Sayyida, why must you remind me." And at that, he then proceeds to scratch at his walnut-brown beard, in obvious annoyance.
"If only," Zahra al-Dhahab lifts her voice to gently call back to Sitra Tahan, a wistful sigh following. But then her gaze is alighting upon Rostam Marzani and she greets his arrival with a warm smile. "Sayyid Marzani. Won't you come grace us with your magnificence?"
(At a bolted trestle table): "I thought it looked... nice," Inaya offers, expression giving absolutely no hint as to whether she's sincere or otherwise, only that tiny pause.
Yasin offers Sitra Tahan a polite bow of his head from the table, asking simply, "No ... dates, Priestess?" Before turning back to Yeshev al-Car with a question about his lips.
Yeshev al-Car eats some of a purple pickled egg, finishing it off in two bites, looking for all intents and purposes like it was a completely normal and satisfying dinner.
a purple pickled egg is finished.
Rostam Marzani wanders toward a bolted trestle table, raising his eyebrows. "Did someone mention dates? I'm afraid I am out of stock." Smiling toward the group as he settles down at a bolted trestle table. "I will absolutely grace you with my presence, if you believe you can handle the brilliance of my reflection." [in Sirdabi with a low-toned baritone]
(At a bolted trestle table): Zahra al-Dhahab lowers her voice to jest to the table, "I keep hoping if his ego swells up enough, he might lift the boat straight out of the water and fly us to safety."
(At a bolted trestle table): Agreeing with Inaya between bites, Yeshev al-Car speaks, "Mm. Keep the beard."
Rostam Marzani loiters near a bolted trestle table, but can't seem to find room to sit.
Yeshev al-Car straightens to stand near a bolted trestle table, shooting a look towards Rostam Marzani as he gestures to his chair.
(At a bolted trestle table): But whatever question was at Yasin's lips turns into a brief bellow of laughter at some comment from Zahra al-Dhahab, and he spends a moment in that state.
Inaya looks up, still utterly poker-faced, to offer a nod of greeting to Rostam Marzani.
"I will endeavor to not be blinded," Zahra al-Dhahab banters back to Rostam Marzani with ease, her smile lingering on. "And how are you this evening? Beyond the usual."
Rostam Marzani beams toward Yeshev al-Car and takes the seat, settling down with an utterly put-on attitude of royal condescension.
"What is it you need dates for, priestess?" Inaya asks now, raising her voice with obvious effort to speak across toward Sitra Tahan, her voice catching and creaking.
(At a bolted trestle table): Yeshev al-Car positively beams back as he offers the chair to Rostam Marzani. "Ah...Rostam. Perfect timing. I've been told I need to work on my manners around the elders."
And then finally, Yasin ceases in his laughter, to shake his head toward Yeshev al-Car. "I will -not- keep the beard, Sayyid. As I have said, the moment we have additional water, is a day of ... celebration. For many reasons, but ah, particularly for the beard."
Yeshev al-Car steps away from a bolted trestle table, leaving.
Rostam Marzani goes to sit at a bolted trestle table, joining a small crowd.
"Mm, pickled eggs aren't quite the same. Amunat has very good dates, you know." Sitra Tahan offers to you with a slight smile, approaching a bolted trestle table to instead pick up an egg despite her own protests. Smiling amusedly at Inaya, she just shrugs lightly, "Only to eat. I woke up wanting to eat dates..."
"I prefer you clean shaven," Zahra al-Dhahab then weighs in on the matter of your beard at last, her gaze flickering back his way. But then she's shooting a look to Yeshev al-Car when she arches an eyebrow and wonders, "Is Sayyid Marzani considered an elder now?" Amusement laces her tone.
Rostam Marzani smiles at Yeshev al-Car and bows his head, agreeing. "You've been rude and disrespectful ever since I met you, you know." He wags a finger, looking around the table and inserting a creak into his voice. "He has no respect for the elder generation. Especially us old date-smugglers."
(At the general area): Yeshev al-Car folds his arms, seeming to take a careful appraisal of Rostam Marzani.
"You cannot use salt?" Inaya asks you, seeming quite puzzled by this.
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
With an appreciative look to Zahra al-Dhahab, Yasin then quips back, "Sayyid Marzani gets older, I think, every time he calls one of us a youngster. I ah, believe he gains at least one year, each occurrence, I think." Yasin grins over toward Rostam Marzani, with that.
Appraising Rostam Marzani carefully, Yeshev al-Car says to Zahra al-Dhahab, "Mm...He's retired, he's cranky, and I think there's some spots of grey in that beard. Ticks all the boxes, sayyida."
Zahra al-Dhahab props her elbows up on the table, long fingers steepling as she, too, takes to appraising Rostam Marzani.
From the interior of the ship, you can sense that it floats smoothly upon calm waves.
Very seriously, Sitra Tahan says to Rostam Marzani, "I can understand, did you even bother to smuggle any dates on this voyage? Sleeping on the job."
Eventually, Zahra al-Dhahab agrees with both you and Yeshev al-Car, "I think you both are *quite* astute. Sayyid Marzani is an elder, indeed. He's even carrying a cane." Clearly, she is referring to that wooden sparring sword of his.
Rostam Marzani shakes his head first to Sitra Tahan, looking mournful. "It is hard to remember things, when you advance in years as far as I have." Looking between Zahra al-Dhahab, Yeshev al-Car, and you, he says "You youngsters do not know this yet, but.." He cuts off, mock-dramatically, "Is there *really* gray in my stubble?"
Inaya smirks, glancing from Zahra al-Dhahab to Rostam Marzani and said stick. She continues to toy with the bandage over her hand, just picking at the edges idly, fraying them.
To Inaya, Yasin replies, "I considered it," admitting with a light sigh. "And I might still stoop to that, Sayyida. I've shaved with salt water once, and I hated the feel of it. Fresh water ... rain water, even ..." There's a wistful look in his eyes, before he finally shakes his head and says, "But, if this goes on for more days, I may be forced to."
Obviously pleased with himself, Yeshev al-Car turns to wind his way towards a splintery hole in the ceiling with a smug little smile. "Well...with all've you down here, should be quiet enough for me to get an hour's sleep upstairs. Sayyids, sayyida. Priestess." With that, he is deftly scrabbling his way up the scaffolding.
Yasin eyes Rostam Marzani, saying pointedly, "Only if you wish for there to be, Sayyid."
Rostam Marzani says, "Youngster."
Yeshev al-Car begins to climb up the scaffolding.
Yeshev al-Car climbs away up a splintery hole in the ceiling.
Zahra al-Dhahab turns out her lips into a bit of a pout when she dips her head to Rostam Marzani, woefully informing him, "It glitters most brightly in the light, Sayyid. Those grey hairs of yours."
Rostam Marzani removes a pair of steel interlocking-plate gauntlets.
Inaya looks back to you, and gives a sort of concessionary little tip of her head and a shrug. "I do not shave, sayyid. Except my head, when I was young. You would know best."
Rostam Marzani puts a pair of steel interlocking-plate gauntlets in a large, pebbly-leather backpack.
Sitra Tahan adds to Rostam Marzani in a brighter, and less accusing tone, "It's fortunate you have lived long enough to have grey hairs. It's a blessing to become an elder."
Rostam Marzani rubs both hands down his cheeks, then yanks off a steel greathelm and inspects himself. He gives a ghastly look to Zahra al-Dhahab, then turns to you. "We must use salt-water."
Rostam Marzani removes a steel greathelm.
Firelit shadows prance through the murky surroundings around a lit small, soot-stained hearth.
Inaya tongues at the inside of her cheek, gaze straying to Sitra Tahan at her comment, expression unchanging.
Yasin eyes Rostam Marzani, replying, "I will hold out as long as I can, Sayyid." But then there's another uncomfortable scratch at his chin.
Rostam Marzani peers over at Sitra Tahan, belatedly, and says "I shall leave the blessings to others." He rubs at his face absently, frowning at the rasp.
Zahra al-Dhahab indulges in a low chuckle to herself while her fingers interlace, her chin propping atop that perch. Like that does she flick another glance over toward you, molten eyes alight with mischief when she muses to you, "I'm almost tempted to suggest we go and watch Sayyid al-Car sleep again, but I do think we have him a mild heart attack last night with that."
"If you aren't careful, Sayyid Marzani," Yasin says to Rostam Marzani with a smile, "I ah ... think you shall have the reputation of being ancient by the time we reach port. What will the ballads tell of you, then?"
Zahra al-Dhahab corrects herself with, "I do think we *gave* him a mild heart attack, I mean."
Sitra Tahan lets out a quiet exhale under her breath, "Certainly, we'll all be much older when we return home. Emotionally, at least."
Yasin shoots a grin in Zahra al-Dhahab's direction, shaking his head. "He was ready to stab us both, I think, Sayyida. Perhaps best if we do not ... take such -deadly- chances." There's a mock emphasis on the word 'deadly', clearly amused.
"This is what he wants, sayyid," Inaya says amusedly aside toward you, and then smirks to Zahra al-Dhahab. "Unkind, sayyida," she comments, mildly.
Rostam Marzani gazes at Zahra al-Dhahab for a few moments, snorting softly to himself. "I would have a heart attack if I woke up to see you staring at me," he says softly. And then to you, nodding to Inaya, "The story is so much better if I am an ancient."
Drawing in of a deep breath, Zahra al-Dhahab then lightly expels in Rostam Marzani's general direction in a gentle sing-song, "Marzani the Elder, Marzani the Grey. Everyone's favorite hero of yonder days... where once there was absolutely nothing he lacked..."
"... now he simply has a bad back."
"Wait your turn, whelp," is Inaya's quipped reply to Rostam Marzani, back to her poker face.
On cue, Rostam Marzani doubles over, clutching at his left hip. "Oof. Oh. And could you not have rhymed with 'great'?"
Zahra al-Dhahab shoots a quick look toward Inaya, quirking a smile in that direction.
Rostam Marzani winks at Inaya.
Sitra Tahan peers down at some tan inikiskin sandals, the footwear crusted in matted blood and other grime, "I'm also certainly going to need to buy new shoes, I am not sure these can be saved now."
Around you, the ship floats peacefully onward.
At this, Yasin lets out another brief series of chuckles, looking between Zahra al-Dhahab and Rostam Marzani, before saying, "Oh, I ... I enjoyed that. We must teach it to the crew, I think."
Firelit shadows prance through the murky surroundings around a lit small, soot-stained hearth.
Softly, testingly, Rostam Marzani sings in a low-toned baritone,
"Marzani the Elder, Marzani the Great..."
Rostam Marzani nods.
Inaya just remains in her place at the table, picking idly at the frayed edges of her bandage, smug as a cat with its prey.
"... perhaps we should have a shoe burning party," Zahra al-Dhahab suggests over to Sitra Tahan. "... when we reach port." But then she is offering up a warm smile to you, clearly pleased with your commentary on her latest abuse of Rostam Marzani. "Grey," she insists back to the sellsword, not budging on her lyrics.
Chiming in with the others, Sitra Tahan says, "Grey is a better choice."
"Sayyid, you are -already- misremembering the song." Yasin corrects the taller Rostam Marzani. "We cannot confuse the crew of the Dolphin with mis-matched lyrics."
Zahra al-Dhahab triumphantly proclaims to Rostam Marzani, "You see? The Priestess agrees with me," as if Sitra Tahan's opinion held so much weight no others need apply.
Rostam Marzani juts out his lower lip, looking suddenly far younger, despite the shadow of his beard. He says, in a quavering, protesting voice, "I'm confused."
"It is rude to shame an elder for his loss of memory, sayyid," Inaya chides you quietly.
Rostam Marzani nods hurriedly to Inaya.
Zahra al-Dhahab clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes at Rostam Marzani's theatrics. But she's soon chuckling once more.
Lifting a finger to pronounce what is obviously a very real religious truth, Sitra Tahan says, "Grey is the color of a stormy sky, it is a sacred color."
The ship floats peacefully onward on beneath you.
Looking to Inaya, Yasin's expression seems ashamed, dubious though whether it is genuine. "You are correct, Sayyida," before turning to Rostam Marzani and speaking quite sincerely, "I apologize, Grandfather."
Rostam Marzani drops the act for long enough to say to Sitra Tahan, respectfully, "Then I shall not take it in mock." He says to Zahra al-Dhahab, "In decency, it must be Great. We can--"
And then, that title. Grandfather. He stares, poleaxed, and turns to Inaya. "I've made a terrible mistake."
Zahra al-Dhahab's laughter rings out properly when you names Rostam Marzani as 'Grandfather'.
Inaya's attention shifts to Sitra Tahan at this, looking suddenly thoughtful, and perhaps skeptical as well, and offers a nod.
Yasin perhaps looks just a -little- bit regretful, a hint of a wince in his expression, as he looks to Rostam Marzani. He's still smiling, though.
Suppressing a smirk, but only with obvious effort, Inaya tips her head gravely to Rostam Marzani.
Sitra Tahan does lift a hand in a poor attempt at covering a smile that crops up at the new title for Rostam Marzani.
Rostam Marzani does a pretty good job of keeping a straight face, but after awhile it slowly breaks into a smile.
Firelit shadows prance through the murky surroundings around a lit small, soot-stained hearth.
Sitra Tahan says, "Elder Marzani does have a nice ring to it, but not as good as Grandfather Marzani."
It is night, the hour of ashes.
"Do not pretend this was not at your request, sayyid," is Inaya's very dry comment aside toward Rostam Marzani, before she smirks across at this from Sitra Tahan.
Softly, like a man stricken, Rostam Marzani says to Inaya, "It is true. I have brought this upon myself. I must demonstrate my vigor."
Rostam Marzani swishes a light wooden sparring sword.
After a few beats, Yasin adds on with a quieter tone, though still smiling toward Rostam Marzani, "I am afraid that if I keep this up, I will be harshly punished." And after a moment more, "...as is the right of the Elderly, when dealing with misbehaving youths."
Sternly, Rostam Marzani says to you, "You're not too old to be switched."
Sitra Tahan fixes a serious look at Rostam Marzani, "Be careful, think of your grandchildren. My grandfather is very important to me, I'd hate to have him break a hip."
You think: I'd really better quit it, now.
Zahra al-Dhahab simply groans when Rostam Marzani announces that he must demonstrate his vigor. "Please do not," she lowly complains of the man. But with his latter words, she shoots a look over to you.
Inaya settles back in her seat again, casting her copper gaze from one young face to another with a smirk that's smug-touched and highly amused.
Rostam Marzani fixes an outraged stare on Sitra Tahan. "And you, Priestess? Now I am *your* grandfather?" He says, sadly, deflating, "So many dreams have died."
Sitra Tahan lifts her hands at Rostam Marzani, "Of course not. Though, my grandfather was a bit of a hooligan in his younger days. You might both get along well."
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
Yasin offers Rostam Marzani then, in good humor, "You are correct, Sayyid. So I will, I think, abort my comments, before I am suddenly waking up to find -you- staring at me, with weapon drawn," before looking back to Zahra al-Dhahab with an amused smile.
Zahra al-Dhahab's eyes find your with that look you gifts to her; a smile curves her lips in reply. "... what a terrible way to wake up. Sayyid Marzani with his sword out."
This comment from you sends Inaya's gaze to Zahra al-Dhahab with a faint shift in her expression, eyes narrowing just fractionally, intent.
Rostam Marzani waggles his eyebrows up and down repeatedly at you. And then, in a remarkable fit of facial dexterity, he turns to the group at large. His lips contort, thinning away from his teeth, and he...waggles one eyebrow up. And drops the other down.
Yasin begins laughing immediately at Zahra al-Dhahab's comment, and then (unsuccessfully) attempts to suppress his laughter by holding his hands in front of his face. And he -just- seems to get that under control, before he shoots a look over to Rostam Marzani, and all is lost for the young Razmani, at that moment. Oh no, now he's just bellowing, a not terribly unpleasant (though a bit loud) bass-baritone filling the galley.
Zahra al-Dhahab seems unable to keep her own amusement at bay in the face of your laughter. Ducking her head, she gives herself over to a few chuckles, missing that look Inaya sends her way while her gaze is thus averted.
Inaya seems for a moment not to notice Rostam Marzani's antics, focused as she is upon watching Zahra al-Dhahab. When she looks up at your laughter, though, her only reaction is an upward tick of one brow.
Alun walks over from the way east through an arch to the hold.
Firelit shadows prance through the murky surroundings around a lit small, soot-stained hearth.
Alun arrives from the east, cringing a little as a cleaver hits a butcher's block. He makes a few minute adjustments to his kaftan, taking a deep breath and composing himself.
"Did they teach you this, in the Lion Guard, sayyid?" Inaya asks Rostam Marzani, still straight-faced.
But after a few moments of this, the burly man does manage to rein in his laughter, instead replacing that with a few well-needed breaths. Looking back around the table, Yasin shakes his head, apologetically, letting out a simple, "Oh." As way of recovery from the bout. "I apologize, Sayyids, Sayyidas. I could not help myself."
Rostam Marzani smiles from one person to another, relaxing. He looks at Inaya, clearly interested in sharing the joke, but falters slightly at the expression of focus on her face. He smiles to Alun as you slowly reins in his laughter, saying "Do not dare apologize, Sayyid. It warms me to hear laughter."
When Zahra al-Dhahab resurfaces from her own chuckling, she flashes a look back to you as another smile curves her lips. "You have a lovely laugh, Sayyid," she agrees in the wake of Rostam Marzani's own words.
For some odd reason, Yasin seems to blush at that. Or maybe it is simply the leftover amusement from his bout of laughter. But whatever the case, he shakes his head, replying warmly to the table at large, "Well, apparently it is a good night for it." And then he leans himself back, comfortably, in his seat, looking content.
Smiling after awhile, belatedly, he says, Rostam Marzani says to Inaya, "This, I learned in a tiny village."
Rostam Marzani says to Inaya, "Back when my name was not Marzani the Gray, but Rosty Jug-Ears."
Alun moves near the table and makes a production of choosing the perfect pickled egg. It takes some time. He chirps, "Did I miss a joke? Was it the one where the horse walks into the bar and the bartender says, why the long face?" He finds the right egg and plucks it from the pile. "Because of the way their faces are... well, you get the idea." [in Sirdabi with a hesitant tenor]
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
Repeating the term, you say to Rostam Marzani, "...Jug ears, Sayyid?"
Zahra al-Dhahab seems quite at ease herself when her chin returns to that perch atop her hands, elbows propped on the table. Like that, she looks toward Alun when she finally spots the fellow, then greeting him with a smile. "How does the night find you, Sayyid? And we have just been teasing Sayyid Marzani as he insisted he was an elder. Calling him Grandfather and the like."
"Children are unkind," Inaya notes, with a tip of her head to Rostam Marzani. She glances aside to find Alun, smirking abruptly.
Musing aloud, Sitra Tahan says, "Well, I have noticed the elderly do seem to have often have large ears."
...[and so on]...