(1310-08-29) Brief Encounters
Summary: Desarae encounters Uncumber after the latter has been for a swim in the docks.
RL Date: August 29th, 2018
Related: None
desarae uncumber 

Port - Marsilikos

Fortune laid the foundation for the grand port of Marsilikos; look how the arms of the land spread wide to embrace the setting of the sun, welcoming a bay of still waters rendered all the more peaceful by the presence of a small island to the south, on the flanks of which the waves cut themselves into powerless ripples as they move in from the sea. But what Fortune gave the D'Angelines their cunning and craft has improved to a hum of efficiency and culture. The natural bay has had its curved shores sharpened into straight edges bolstered with ridges of heavy stones on which the tides have left long mark when the waters are low, algae and barnacles hung onto the rugged stones. Then stone foundations have been piled out into the harbor to hold up wide wooden pillars and the great treated slats of the piers and boardwalks which extend into the bay, now at wider intervals for massive trading vessels, now at shorter intervals for private fishing and pleasure yachts.

The southern arm of the bay is reserved for the great sourthern fleet of the Terre D'Angan Navy, which is headquartered here in Marsilikos, and is ever a hub of activity, the giant slips outfitted to haul the massive warships up into the air for repairs, while further inland on the southern peninsula a forest of masts rises into the air where new ships are being built and old ones repaired in full drydock. Between the naval slips and the drydock rises the stately edifice of the Southern Naval Headquarters, glistening with huge latticed windows on the upper floors. Beyond the headquarters rises the massive fortified promontory of the Citadel, with bleached-white parapets and fluttering banners.

Markets and vendors throng the plaza at the innermost fold of the harbor where civilian and military seamen alike might find a bite to eat, supplies for their next mission, a good drink or a little bit of companionship. Far in the bay, that little isle sports a lofty lighthouse to guide the ships in by night.

The evening has spun itself to a close, the skies that lie across the seas to the west of the Port of Marsilikos having melted through a gamut of shades from oranges to purples and from there into darkness. Stars lace the heavens, and far out across the bay, lights on ships that ply between the harbour and lands unknown, wink like fae that dance over the waves. The inns and taverns that cater to the rougher elements of the city are ablaze with light and noise, but they hold no attaction to the young woman that sits upon the sea wall that divides the edge of the cobbled square from the rocky beaches below. Her legs drawn up, her cloak falls loose from her shoulders and spills across the edges of the wall in inky darkness, and the astute would notice that she's watched over by the bulk of a man dressed in Cassiline grey. Four further guards are also in attendance, for this is Desarae Mereliot, recently returned from Chavaise, and reaquainting herself with the city on one of its warmer nights. "Have you ever left Terre d'Ange yourself Florent?" she asks of her Cassiline, face turned towards him with the asking of that question.

The water would stir beneath her feet. A dark hand would thrust up from below the docks, the fingers glistening wet and dripping with sea water as they clutched upon the edge of the dock to pull up a bronze skinned woman with wet, black hair spilling about her frame. It was either an impressive or shocking feat, as they docks were elevated several feet above the water. None the less.. the acrobat emerged with a late gasp for air, lifting herself up onto the edge of the dock. While usually draped in vibrant colors, today she was clad in a plain brown garment that clung tightly to her bronze frame. She lifted her hand over her face to push the wet black locks from it, giving a look around. "Hello!" she chirped.

Desarae gasps — but whether from the shock of the appearance of a woman from the water, or the surprise of it, it'd be difficult to tell. It's not something that a person generally expects to see this late at night, and her eyes widen even as Florent steps between his charge and this person unknown. "Stay there, my lady." It's a command that brooks no resistance that's given the young heiress, his tone brusque and unforgiving whilst his attention remains fully focused upon the woman now upon the docks. "What manner of person swims in the docks at this time of night?" Desarae's voice is akin to cut glass as it slices the air between them, her shoulders stiffening as she drops her knees down and lowers her feet. She's a fae-looking creature, and tonight she's left her hair unbound so that dark as polished silk it hangs to the small of her back. "What is your name?"

Uncumber gave another stroke of her bronze hand against her face, swiping off the heavy droplets of water from it. "Why Uncumbers do!" she stated, as though it were obvious. "Who sits on the dock with such an entourage?" she asked, giving a confused look between them. She leaned forward on her hands to give a curious look at Desarae. "Uncumber to those…" she gestured around her. "But you could call me Cumby" she mused in answer, giving her a smile.

Brilliant green eyes darken a touch at the name that's given, and there's a lifting of Desarae's chin. Either she's not heard the question that she's been asked in return, or she simply chooses to ignore it in favour of asking more of her own. "Uncumber. Cumby. An unusual name, and certainly not one that's d'Angeline, especially given your looks." She looks harder at the girl, her focus sharpening. "You are a traveller here in the city? I heard that there were a group of artistes in the market here yesterday. A sword eater and some others." Word has certainly spread quickly, and the show that they'd put on has already made its way to Desarae's ears, though perhaps not all to the good.

Uncumber looked down at herself as her looks were called into question. "Because I am wet?" she asked, descending to the rather unusual conclusion. "Oh yes! I just swam here from across the sea" she lied with a bright grin. She pursed her lips to ponder the question. "I do swallow swords on occasion…" she said, glancing to the side. "I can also juggle and stand on my head, but an entourage… I do not have" she says with a frown.

Desarae shakes her head to Uncumber. "Not because you are wet, but because your skin is too dark to be of pure d'Angeline blood. You have the looks of someone whom claims their roots in Aragonia, or…" She pauses, her eyes skipping to Florent and then back to Uncumber. "…Bhodistan…" The word catches in her throat before it's spat from her lips, and her jewel-slippered feet slide fully to the ground as she pushes to a stand. "Is that where you're from? Bhodistan?" There's a chill in her voice, her shoulders squaring behind the bulk for her Cassiline whom stands between them, but there's something else to be found in her too, a knot of apprehension that's shown in the clip of her words.

Uncumber blinks "Aragonia? I know some from there that are just as pale as you" she grins, reaching out to poke Desarae's nose with a wet finger, or perhaps falling short as the shy girl kept herself so far away. "Bhodistan I have been to, but am not from there… or at least I wasn't born there" she said after tilting her head in consideration. Aragonia is a good guess… not that I lived there for long. I traveled the coast and beyond" she said waving her hand in a wave like gesture. From Helene, to Menekhet, even to Bhodistan!" she said with a grin. "I fancied to make it to Chi'in once.. but was shipwrecked before I reached it" she said with a meek shrug. "Have you been out of D'angeline?"

Florent is quick to cut off any potential threat to Desarae that's made by Uncumber's approach. "Keep back." His voice is a growl, his words a threat at the very least, though a little of the tension that's built ebbs from Desarae when there's a denial at having arrived from Bhodistan. At least directly. Slender arms fold about her middle, and though there's still a degree of anxiety to be found in her tone, she holds her composure well. "No. I have never been out of Terre d'Ange. I grew up here, in Marsilikos, and have spent the majority of my time here." She offers nothing further than that, though does go on to say, "Why are you here?"

Uncumber gave a lazy jab at her finger in the direction of Florent's nose. It was even more feeble and out of reach than the one made for the young girl's as the foreigner didn't even bother to stand from her seat on the edge of the dock, but it was still an amusing gesture. "Never?" she asked with a blink. "I have been to Marsilikos a few times, but always in passing. This is the first visit I have spent any time here." she admits with a smile. "I came on a long journey to bring a feeble old countryman back to his home to die." she said with a sigh. "I used to travel with a rather talented troupe, one he was apart of, but he was the glue that held us together. With the talents divided, I thought it a fair tribute to bring him back home."

Uncumber's further efforts are rewarded by a flat-mouthed stare from Florent, though it's Desarae that continues to address Uncumber. "No. Never. It is not that unusual for someone of my age and upbringing." There's a quietness to Desarae's tone now, as if she's suddeny bored by the aquatic woman that sits dripping on the edge of the dock. She pulls a purse from the folds of her skirts, the chain that loops it securely to her girdle glinting where it catches reflected light. A coin is fished from within, and she she gives it to one of her guards. "For the woman's story." A turn towards Florent. "I'd like to return to the palace now, Florent. I am tired." And so, it'll be one of her guards that'll offer the coin towards Uncumber when the turn to leave, because leave they now do, the slender girl walking in the lee of her Cassiline, and protected from all by the accompaniment of the Mereliot guards.

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