Post by tovaana on Sept 20, 2019 13:14:26 GMT -5
Treyvin; 11 turns old, sunset shipfish
His legs kicked at the open air between the docks and water. He was leaning against one of the wooden poles that supported this part of the dock. A lot of the docks rose and fell with the tides, but this was one of the few that had been made to always stay above the water. It was getting old and he knew there would be a day that it would be too dangerous to venture out on, but he liked the suspended feeling and the view of the wide expanse of ocean in front of him.
A salty breeze licked at his dry lips and he licked them, they were just as salty. He’d been hanging out on the docks, watching the traders and seeing where his tiny body could fit in or help out in any ways. There had been a few times that his thinner fingers were able to help out, but there hadn’t been enough for him to stick around permanently. Not yet at least, but he’d just recently realized that as soon as he became 12 turns, he’d be able to work and practice in a field – and he wanted to be at the docks. A few of the younger fishermen had been kind enough to show him a few knots, which was what he was practicing as he sat there. In his lap lay a rope twisted into a simple loop knot. Every now and then he’d play with the piece of rope, untying it and retying it into another one he could remember.
The sounds of footsteps on wood echoed through the docks as the last of the traders came in or were packing up. Their feelings of exhaustion were contagious and it made him feel as if he’d been working all day, instead of going to lessons, following his mom around in the field gathering ripe fruit, or skipping around the docks… All of which seemed like a lot, but it had been an enjoyable day, not so tiresome.
His head leaned against the cool damp wood, his blue eyes never leaving the swells of the ocean. It was days like these that he thought about his father, creating a new picture in his mind of what he may look like. Striking blue eyes, dark long hair – maybe a beard speckled in graying spots. His mom wasn’t that old, but he imagined that his father was slightly older, not gray old – but enough to be considered wise. Whenever he asked his mother about his father, she would dodge the subject, or say, “maybe,” but never giving a direct yes or no answer. He had stopped asking the question and had decided that his father would not know about him… or else he would have come back to visit him, so instead he imagined all the adventures his father had been on since he had left.
A movement in the near distance made him pause. He straightened, his fingertips lightly on the wood next to him as he peered into the colorful horizon and graying ocean. Again, this time closer there was the movement of sleek bodies exiting the water - shipfish! He gasped, almost leaning too far forward as he strained to see the sunset reflected on their wet bodies. Awe filled him and he twisted backward as if to share in the moment with the other fishermen – but there were none that were close…it was just him. After blinking at the gray emptiness behind and around him, he turned back to the water, watching as the shipfish played and moved away. It took him a moment to realize that the feelings that he’d been feeling were only his – he had owned them. It wasn’t often he could claim such powerful emotions as his own, as it was difficult to filter through the emotions of those around him. He reveled in that as he watched the jumping creatures in the fading light, glad he could have such a moment, but wondering if his father had seen these same shipfish at some point.