Open The Crossing

Bocchis realization that she was not far from the coast came when an odd waft had filled her senses.

Whilst she knew the sent as familiar to the same inticing smells that filled the air whenever they had bought smoked fish from a traveler who had crossed their paths in the heart of the Kakias Desert, this smell was different, fresher.

The vegitation had grown bushier the closer she came, the air damper until finally she saw it. A great, unending body of water before her with large boats and small figures busteling at its feet.

Here she would continue on her journey, put smells and tastes and touch to the literature she had scavanged over the years.

An hour or two had passed before Bocchi reached the harbour, her satchel growing heavy on her shoulder and leather bound notebook sweaty in her olive palms.

"
Ek wil Illica toe, hoeveel en wanner?"
The nomad asked a nearby fisherman and about six more afterwards.

But it seemed her luck had finally run out, there were no ships crossing the Boiling Ocean into Illica.

"All's well that floats well!" Bartels said, slapping webbed hand on the boat as it passed on.

"Cheers Bartels!"
"You aint going anytime soon, are you Bartels? I actually get out there way quicker with you checking on us!"
"Yeah you should stick around, you make things go real smooth around here!"
"Yeah! Less time spent holding our breath clearing barnacles and patching, and more time drinking, right fellas?"

A ripple of laughter from the fishers as Bartels made ripples in the water. His wide mouth in a pondering smile some might mistake at first as being insipid. A sign of not much going behind his frohoggin eyes. But the people of this harbour quickly discovered his face was honest as they came. Slow blink and reply from Bartels now, a wave from his smooth webbed hands as he said goodbye to the vessel. A wave returned by those with rough hands well weathered to ropes, rigging, nets and handling slippery scales.

"Til next time! Be safe!" Bartels said, and let his legs push stroke himself to others who needed his eyes. His head going under the water, rising up, with all the bobbing motions that were common to his peoples.

He passed a few others who knew his eyes upon their boats. Gave nods and little slices of chit chat, promising that the next batch of smoked fish would be even better than the last they had given him in thanks.

A wild bearded one, peppered and salted like so much of their catches, did clear his throat to address the frohoggin that did pass.

"Say son," he said, warbling voice of one who had better sea legs than land legs, legs that dangled now over wooden planks.

Bartels turned to the call. Bartels felt that even if he himself were this one's elder, this sailor would still call him son.

"Captain?" Bartels croaked out easy. Bartels gave more respect than most entertained giving him on land.

A thumb in a direction away from the Captain, a lean of the bearded head.

"Someone was asking questions, someone from out of shore. Seemed landlocked or something, I didn't catch their meaning. You might understand 'em better than I could son. Would be mighty rightful if you-"

Bartels nodded twice, understanding.

"On it Captain!" Bartels croaked, giving a little salute as he did. He swam on in the direction of the Captain's thumb.

"You're a good lad, Bartels," the Captain said, itching his beard with fingertips course as the sandpaper that worked the ships around this harbour.

As Bartels did pass by the fishermen who had been asked questions from Bocchi, Bartels asked a few questions his own. Made measured speed to find the new comer to this place he had called a place of rest for the last month himself.

Bocchi would soon see the swimming head of pale blue, mottled and contrasting with the egg like yellow and shimmer black of his eyes approaching from the water. He did swim in little movements, making polite approach as not to startle.

He stilled as he drew close enough to chat, face emerging from the surface of the water. His voice croaking out his best introduction.

"Het is leuk u te ontmoeten! Hoe gaat het?"

A quick blink. An addition.

"Hope I said that right! Long time since I learned how!"

He smiled broader than he had with the fisherman in their thanks and goodbyes. Introductions were always a fond time for Bartels to enjoy. And the chance to use a language in his studies of the manners of Peace and diplomacy was far more a thrill and satisfaction than any maintenance on fishing vessels.

@Bocchi

Bocchi had near given up hope, her mind already churning ups foolish ideas involving thievery or boarding the next vessel to depart and praying to the moon it would guide her onto the next phase of her journey when...

When a creature akin to the amphibians of her home soil appeared, swamping the brown and yellow shades of their skin for a more aquatic appearance.

Her eyebrows raising as he opened his mouth, the dialect cousin to her tribal one - small differences between the two tongues in pronunciation though if spoken slow enough, communication would be easy.

Shoulders slouching in relief, Bocchi removed her scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face.

"
Yes. Yes. Good."
Her accent thick, common tongue not being the desert nomads primary tongue clear.
"I go..." She looked around for some indicator of a landmark for the boiling sea, the beading and jewllery on her maroon coloured skirt chiming as she moved. But with no indicator in site, the decison to mime presented as most logical.

Bocchi took two steps back and pointed at the nearest ship, lifted her skirt above the ankle and pointed her toes then began moving them in a dipping motion followed by a sounds that can only be described as cat who's most prized posession - his tail, had been stepped on.

With hopeful eyes she looked to the froghoggin.
"dan Illica?"

Aseblief laat hy verstaan. She thought to her self, eyes hopeful satchel at her feet and bracelets for once hanging heavy on her wrists.

@Bartels