The cries of gulls and the shouts of sailors fill the salt-stirred air of the Anteronian docks. Miranda stands with her shoulders back and arms behind her, dressed in a seafarer’s coat, leggings, and boots. She looks towards the small sailing vessel that will usher in a new age.
“Everything is settled to your specifications, miss,” says the swarthy sailor, a man of partially elven stock and a bluish tinge to his face.
“Thanks much, captain,” the orcish woman says, turning towards the street. “All we need now is our cargo.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon about this, ma’am,” the captain says, “but may I ask what you plan to do when you make it ashore?
“That, I have no bloody idea,” she admits, sighing as the sounds of screams drown out the calming presence. “But I’ll have to think of something, won’t I?”
“Aye, that you will. That you will. So sorry to hear about it. My old man was a fine sailor, but his mind left him in his old age. Bless my mother for staying with him as he got more decrepit, despite herself not changing since they met. I'd say never was a truer love story than that one.”
“Never saw a sailor who would openly admit being a mother’s boy,” Miranda says, a soft smile emerging.
He scoffs with the enthusiasm of any stout-hearted sailor. “We owe everythin’ to our ancestors, don’t we? Our parents just happen to be livin’ with us for a time.”
Miranda’s mind flashes with a certain pang, the memory of a drunken orc she had only ever met once, clenching her fist as she thinks of the woman. “Please, excuse me,” she manages to speak before she walks out to the carriage.”
The thing rocks violently with slams from the inside. The orderly driving the horses fights to keep the animals calm, and the poor little man apologetically stares up at the approaching noble.
Miranda doesn’t speak to him as she gets to the door, throwing it open and facing the elderly woman, who leaps out in a simple white dress stained with spit and grabs at Miranda’s throat.
The younger orc-kin grabs the woman by her throat and flings her to the ground.
Ognesha groans, writhing about a moment before she calms down on the cobblestones, her breathing quieting.
“Listen to me!” Miranda hisses, showing off her teeth. “I’ve defeated you. This fight is over!”
The old woman clutches at the girl’s wrists through shaking hands, her lips quivering, her eyes shakey and unfocused.
Miranda responds by shaking her once more.
Ognesha blinks and then glances around. “W-where…?”
“Where at the docks, Ognesha,” Miranda says. “And we’re going on a trip. Do you understand?”
“Where?”
Miranda sighs, letting go of the old woman, but still, her hands are ready, twitching.
Ognesha picks herself up and looks over towards the vessel. “Is that…?”
“The Mermaid’s Favorite? Aye, that she is. Not the best accommodation for your pilgrimage, but it's all we can afford now.”
Ognesha snorts. “Poppycock,” the woman says, turning away from it.
Miranda catches Ognesha by the arm and turns her around with gentle nudging, walking closer to the vessel. “Trust me. It’s good enough for a hardened warrior, and the sailors on board are vetted and paid well enough to keep things secret.”
“I can… be myself?”
“As much of yourself that’s left, Oggy.”
“Ugh, must you call me that?”
“As much as you beat me as a lass.”
“I was training you!”
While they bickered, the Captain opened his arms for the approaching two. “Lady Ognesha, being your captain for this journey is a pleasure. If there’s anything I can do for you during our journey, all you have to do is ask.”
Ognesha smiles with a warm charm, holding onto Miranda’s arm for support. “Well, if you aren’t a lovely young man. I hope I won’t be too much of a bother to you.”
“Oh, not at all, madame,” he says, bowing and motioning to the gangplank with one swift motion. “It is my honor to take you to the lands of your people.”
Ognesha’s grip tightens around Miranda’s arm, and the crone grits her teeth. A growl rises from her throat as she stares down the sailor. “And who told you about that?”
“I did,” Miranda says. “I told them, and they’re all paid to keep your secret among themselves.”
“Any sailor who won’t keep his word will be kicked off my ship at sea. Of that, you have a word.”
Ognesha snots. “They’d better. Maybe I should show them all the strength of an orc!”
Miranda offers the captain glare while he offers an apologetic smirk, following the two of them on board.
Sailors mill about doing their business, readying the ship for its departure, while Miranda takes Ognesha to face the sea.
“You’ve never been to our homeland, have you? Miranda asks, guiding the old woman’s hands to the railing.
“Never,” Ognesha says, sniffling, her shoulders stooping. “It was a dream of mine since I was a little girl, but I could never leave. I can’t leave!” she spins around, her back towards the sea. “What would everyone think? They’d call me a monster, a brute!”
Miranda claps her hand on the elder’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Ognesha. Remember, we are not brutes; the desire burns in our blood. We are different from them, and we should be proud.”
Ognesha smiles, a hand resting upon Miranda’s. “Oh, and I am proud, and you should be too. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my ward.”
“Nothing… right…” Miranda says, patting the older woman’s hand, her mind returning to her youth.