Open The Tides that Bind (with tentacles)

[Anemone]

Anemone rested on her knees on the bow of the Vagrant Breeze, a small schooner bound for a port on the mainland. Her eyes were entranced, fluttering, seeing all of the currents of the air. An angry stormcloud in the distance, she lifted a finger, swirled it so, to tell the captain to adjust their course. And when the sails caught their wind and brought them far from the storm's wrath she relaxed, her shoulders softening. She blinked, the lightning of her eyes leaving as she was brought back to this world. Brought back, with all of the creaking planks and shouting of sailors going about their business.

It was too much, the goings on, but she had her ever present companion beside her. She reached out, her thumb rubbing that scaly snout as he wiggled to be closer upon the deck of their small ship. A thirty-hand long crocodile, the crew of this ship would never allow such a thing, lest it were storm season, and they needed one such as her, unbargaining, to guide them through it.

She drew in a deep breath, scritching her croc between the eyes (to which he closed his own happily). "The way is clear, smooth sailing on this course!" She cried out to the wheelman. He winced with doubt as the sky so suddenly grew black and the waves grew in their swell. Anemone herself panicked. "No, no... this is not .. this..." it was not the natural flow of the wind or the current of the sea.. it was wrong, all wrong!

 

[Moina Iasis]

The boneknitter had booked aboard a Kharsagan vessel going back toward the free states because it was said that Kharsagan ships provided the smoothest travel. The skilled seahands able to read and cross the ocean without problems and for someone with which sea-travel was never pleasant, she'd done what she could to at least relieve some of the pressure. Still she'd spent the first day or two clinging to the side of the ship releasing the contents of her stomach into the ocean. She'd finally managed to achieve some state of calm, able to stomach water and bread when the skies grew dark.

The woman groaned. They were supposed to be avoiding the choppy seas. The healer was just considering going back below to her birth when she heard a panicked voice as the wind began to pick up. She had a sinking feeling that this trip was about to get very unpleasant. One hand to her stomach, she moved on unsteady feet toward a woman who was staring out at the rising storm as if it was an affront to her personally.

"It's just a storm isn't it?" She asked, her face pale from the feelings over the last few days. She prayed to the silver moon that it was just a storm. She could balance herself if needed with the shroud, but that was draining to constantly upkeep, which is why she'd been just dealing with the feelings over the last few days. She felt awful from the rocking of the vessel, but it wouldn't kill her. At least she hoped not.

 

[Anemone]

"It's just a storm isn't it?"

The voice fell upon her ears as so very distant whispers as she grasped the railing of the ship's rail, her nails digging into the wood, testing if it or her fingernails would give first. She was in a cold sweat of purest fear as the winds protested, screamed, lashed out at her for existing with purest malice. They whipped through her with hurt, with pain, this was all so very wrong. She opened her eyes, pale white and seeming to glow for a moment, fading as they met Moina. "Yes," she lied. The way her shoulders rose and fell with the deepest of exhales would give every bit of her deceit away. "It is only a storm. But a rather unkindly one, you... should be away to your bunk now, only to be safe."

As she spoke their boat rose and slammed upon the sea such that they were both lifted from their feet before crashing. Anemone grabbed the railing and offered a hand to the traveling healer to steady her. Below them both and on either side of the small trade ship tendrils crested the water and made themselves known, white pustules shining in vile display of corruption on that slick cephalopod flesh.

"What happened to you?" Anemone felt this creature's hurt, and at the same felt its intent. It was here to destroy them, though it did not choose such, its corruption led it to no other purpose. The creature righted itself, its tentacles bursting from the raging sea.

 

[Moina Iasis]

She may have been sick thanks to the violent rocking of the sea as the storm grew nearer with quite a bit more speed than she hoped, but she still could tell the woman was lying from a mile away. The pale face, the nails digging into the wood, the sweat that beaded on her forehead. The Knitter gave a grumbling sigh, only to bolt to the edge and lose her lunch, or rather lack of lunch, over the side. She had just straightened up to scold the woman for lying, when the boat suddenly crested a large wave, only to crash back down into the bottom sending Moina into the air. For a moment, it was like she was floating, but all too quickly she tumbled back onto the rough wood of the vessel, slamming into the railing for which she thanked all the moons for it not sending her spilling over the edge.

A hand appeared in her vision and she took it, finding her feet as best she could in the rocking. There was a shout from the helm and it was at that moment, Moina vowed to never set foot on a ship again. A long limb reached from the water, high into the dark sky. The strange woman next to her, talking to the thing as if it was a poor hurt dog. While the Knitter just looked on with wide eyes. Her bow was below. All she had were the pair of knives on her hip. She did not want to have to knife fights a giant squid. Moons above be merciful.

"I don't think it feels up for a friendly conversation..."