DEAR FRIEND as you know,  your flowers are withering
your mother's gone insane, your leaves have drifted away.
but the clouds are clearing up
and i've come reveling, burning incandescently,
like a bastard on the burning sea.

One thing was for certain: the captain could not return to her home.

Only to cook for her children, watch over them while they slept, otherwise, during the day, she would busy herself on the archipelago they inhabited. That was her real home. The hut only reminded her of death, only brought forth the memories so fresh, cut into her chest, an aching loneliness making its own home within it. Her anchor had been cut away, stormy seas pulling her all around, farther and farther from the shorelines. But she'd lived without it before. The pain was fresh, but she had her means of dealing with it on her own. Anyone who'd known Goldenluxury Roux for a long time would know that her insistent pace, constant work was all part of the process. There would never be enough distractions, though to take it away completely.

Her soothsayer had gone, a reaver as well, and it was her job to fill in those holes. To host sage tryouts, find a new one to take his place. But every time she goes to gather the books, all she can do is stare. And so she fills in herself, traversing the jungles, collecting the herbs she'd gotten to know long ago. She was not a healer, did not ever want to be, but it was something for her to do, and it was something she knew how to do. So she would do it. And so she did.

Though with such a specific task in mind, it was difficult to focus, mind buzzing, noise becoming louder and quieter. The plants she searched for turned to simple colors and shapes, headaches forming and leaving within seconds. The captain was tired, and she had to keep moving, basket in her maw as she collected. Paws pushing forward, moving from the heavily planted jungles to the beaches. They contained their own shares of roots and remedies. And so she moves, paw landing, though without watching its own movement, it lands upon a particularly sharp stone. She drops the basket, lifting her paw in pain instinctively. Shaking it out, she looks down, a fever rushing into her mind. Her paw drops once more, this time pads curling around the stone, and using her grip to throw it. The female watches the stone bounce across the shoreline, eyes narrowing. She moves to pick up the herbs that'd fallen from her basket, when her eyes land upon another stone nearby.

And so another little distraction, little time filler begins. Basket now at her side, the captain simply tosses each rock she finds, watching one bounce farther than another across the water before it finally dips. It was childish, a trick she'd learned a long time ago, has not used since she was much younger, but for now, it worked on her aching head, shaky legs.

If I fall, get knocked down, pick myself up off the ground

✯ — keona sibéal ní faoláin. female. dealer of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

DEAR FRIEND as you know,  your flowers are withering
your mother's gone insane, your leaves have drifted away.
but the clouds are clearing up
and i've come reveling, burning incandescently,
like a bastard on the burning sea.

Funny, that Aphra would be first to approach the female in her activity. What came next was predictable, to be expected. And the female didn't seem to mind it all too much at this point, sticking to her task, allowing others to make their own comments. The outburst from Keona was surprising - she knew the small dealer had more than enough power to fight, but she didn't expect her, too, to lash out at Aphra in Goldie's defense. It was almost endearing, they'd know each other their whole lives, but didn't talk much outside of business and general public interactions. Still, the tigress keeps focused on her activity. Aphra's opinions had never much mattered to her in the first place, and while she was usually one to fight back regardless, today she didn't feel like it. Didn't desire feeding into the female's need for attention, good or bad.

The others, clearly, were speaking enough to fill that necessity anyway.

The more family that did approach, the easier it felt to breathe. The distraction felt easier. Lawkit's shelter under her wing would cause her to shift, pulling it closer. "Is' an ancient time-waster known as skipping stones," Goldie answers Seapaw first, offering a slight tease at the edge of her tone. Then, was her aunt asking how to do it. "Jus' gotta throw the rocks a certain way," she answers lightly to Roxie's question - the type of rock mattered too, but she wouldn't bother mentioning that unless someone tried to throw a pointed rock expecting it to bounce. "They need t' spin when you throw them, n' keep 'em as flat as you can." The female explains further with a nod.