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<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-g">“He na- cuin! Tur- cin ú- mel hen, gwanur firen?”</span></span> You’ve never heard Jess the Kid shout before, and her voice carries surprisingly well in a haunting tone over the fierce winds. You cannot tell if the Fae archer is shouting at your or the wind but she seems… joyous? Utterly mad, these Fae are. <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-g">“Tur- cin ú- nifred hen? He na- sui cuin sui i calen glad!”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i">“JEESSSS!”</span> You try again, not just because you made a promise to safeguard her on her journey outside of Fallavon but also because in your own way you’ve gotten attached to the little wildling. <span class="mu-i">“GET DOWN HERE! RIGHT! NOW!”</span>
To your astonishment your Fae archer gives you a friendly wave and begins to clamber down. You’re just about ready to breathe a sigh of relief when the rumble of thunder echoes, and a familiar tingle creeps up the fading scars of your stigmata. Not pain or fear, but a sense of eerie familiarity. The crack of lightning is momentarily disorientating, and it coincides with a mighty wave striking the Coy Siren full on the side. The force of the impact and the volume of the water sweeping the deck sends everyone and everything flying. Including the Fae archer still halfway up the rigging.
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