>>6125299Your curiosity will kill you one day.
Yet, if the Asterite is so eager to show you something, it may be vital for the mission. As it turns out, once you leave her private cabin behind, the rest of the ship shows its rough character, with the planks, rivets, bolted-on supports and hanging racks, groaning and moaning and creaking and crackling with every step and the lull of the sea.
Willow keeps looking behind her, closing the line that sees Sandora at the head, and you just behind her. The few mariners who cross your path bow down at the coming of the Asterite, lowering their gaze with a greeting muttered between broken, yellowed teeth. Not for the first time, the Throne shows how different it is when it comes to caring for its inhabitants.
Strange how the circumstances of one’s birth determine what kind of life waits for them — especially for someone like Sandora. You are born an Asterite, it’s not something you can become. Like a country bumpkin from the Mar da Candéa turned into an aspirant Knight. Truly Ansàrra’s benevolence knows no bounds.
Speaking of which, this makes you think about Willow. She’s still antsy, on the edge, and you’ll likely ask her what’s wrong as soon as you are sure the Asterite is not there listening; her senses are much sharper than the rest of you. You watch her shield her eyes from the bitter daylight peeking through the thin windows and openings of the ship. Earthen eyes, for sure. The circumstances of her birth.
Or her re-birth. Wonder where she’d end up to, if she had been reborn in the Treviri Throne, or in the murderous wastes of the Borderlands. Perhaps, all things considered, she got just as lucky as you.
“Ow!” You moan, kneading your forehead where you hit a wooden beam.
[cont.]
classic Argia. losing track of her thoughts and getting a wooden beam to the face. 