FATED TO PRETEND / decorating sails

[bubblegum]

[Kian.]

The Irishman did not envy his captain the task she set to.  Often enough, he found his thoughts drifting to a particular ex-comrade of his -- one who made a home for himself in the Pitt, of all places.  He hoped the two did not butt heads too much, though he doubted his cousin particularly enjoyed the pirate captain sticking around.

The thought to check up on things crossed his mind more than once.  Concern for Goldenluxury and for his family enticing him but he didn't want to make things worse.  Gael may still be sour from the last time the two saw each other.  If improvement was being seen, the faerie did not want to push it back.

When the small feline spotted the captain on the shore, his eyes brightened.  Things felt slow and strained since the raid and Kian longed for more social interaction and fun.  Quickly, he began trotting down the beach, offering Goldie a gleeful, lopsided grin.  This looks fun.  "What? No trees?" The pirate clicked, his musical voice clearly teasing.  Christmas aside, decorating sails sounded much better to him as the enthusiastic sailor he was.

That said, Kian set to work tying down a sail of his own.  He could already picture the wind tearing the great billowing cloth away, traversing the sky, never to be seen again.  He continued to grin, narrowing his sea-colored eyes on the paints available to him.  The faerie had always been more musically inclined than artful.  Where's Gael when you really need him?  A Pittian, sadly, he supposed.  He feels inclined to wait, for some reason, wondering if it may be more fun to insist on Keona or Raziel's assistance with his sail; insist on creating family project.  "Anyone see Raz or Keona?"

© LEXASPERATED

[Keona.]

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keona sibéal ní faoláin.
the typhoon.
privateer.
information.

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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #5c90d0; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 3px;"]✯ — Tá mé i dtiúin

Sails.  Sailing.  Honestly? One of Keona's true loves.  The wind through her fur.  Salt on the breeze.  Born on a ship in the ocean, the tiny faerie hardly feared the rocking of a boat.  Even if there was little for her to help with.

Good intuition perhaps.  A keen nose for storms.  The one fear of the ocean.  The clap of thunder. 

Decorating.  Taste of paint in the air.  Petite paws carried the Privateer forward, ears perked at the sound of her name.  Her father.  She followed the sound on instinct, pale hues flickering.  A nervous flame. 

Painting, she lacked enthusiasm for.  Keona doubted it would surprise anyone to know.  Even if she could paint something fairly decently, she couldn't see it.  She preferred working with her paws when it came to the arts.  Sandcastles.  She could tell then, feel, the shapes and patterns and crevices.  Know it was good.

But her father wanted her.  She shifted back into a sitting position close to the pinned sail.  Her tail twitching.  Eyes attempting to 'locate' her father.  Be attentive.  "What do'ya want me to do?" Soft and curious.  Not unhappy but not entirely understanding why he'd seek her help in decorating a sail.

And her sail... How would she go about that one?

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© MADI