New Beginnings (The Arcana)

Setbacks

Later that night, I had become comfortable in my spot above the world.

... Maybe a little too comfortable.

I awoke from my stargazing perch early in the morning. Unfortunately enough for me, "early" was around noon. I hastily sat up from being curled around the mainmast, and peered out from the nest and to the scene around me.

I was overtaken by panic. There was so, so much blue. The sky blended into the horizon, giving the illusion of endless waters as far as the eye could see. I turned around, and saw the same from every angle I could find.

The ship that I had only boarded for exploration purposes the night prior, the ship that I had no idea where it'd come from or where it was going to go, had left Nevivon. And what did that make me? A stowaway. A nineteen-year old vigilante, already on my unintended seaward mission towards the unknown. I could already picture the disappointment on Mama's face as I thought about how to get myself out of the impossibly sticky situation I'd come into. I took a deep breath, gripping the edge of the crow's nest as I attempted to calm my rambling thoughts.

Think, Ian.

"Most stowaways are hung." I thought aloud, voice a low whisper. "Then again, most stowaways are also thieves... they're going to think I'm here for the booze." I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. "Maybe, uh- maybe I could just maybe slip off of the ship when they're not looking?"

I had convinced myself that the situation would resolve itself. So, I swung my satchel around my shoulders and descended as quickly and as gracefully as possible on a rope ladder. I finally made it back to the ship's deck and hopped off of the ladder, landing with a soft thud on the mahogany floorboards. I dusted my hands on my pants, relieving a little bit of the stinging pain from the climb in relief.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

I jumped, startled. When I turned to face the stranger, I was met with the piercing sapphire eyes of another magician. What I assumed to be her familiar, a small ferret-like creature, had been resting in her arms. The cinnamon boop noodle made a small grunt, and leaned over to sniff at me with wonder.

"Oh! Well, I- uh, I'm..." I scrambled to find the right words.

"Can you cook?" She asked suddenly.

I stared at the woman, bewildered, but answering nonetheless with a soft, "Yeah."

She clapped her hands in delight, already more passive at the response. She pointed straight at me, a seemingly knowing look in her eyes. "You must be the traveler Mazelinka had mentioned! Nova, right?"

Mazelinka?

"Oh, yeah. Yep. That's me." I nodded hesitantly, lying through my teeth as my hands wrung in nervous fiddling with the strap of my satchel bag. My light accent was rivaled by that of her soft new-speak, and I sounded more and more like an outsider compared to her.

She stuck out a strangely welcoming hand, which I took with a smile, "Genevieve, Genevieve Rosequé! I hope you don't mind, but since you're here, would you be able to manage the meals for the weekend? I am really not looking forward to having any more of Julian's chef-ery." She asked politely, glancing around and leaning forwards. She covered her mouth from the side, "Just between you and me, he's a terrible cook." She giggled. Her expression instantly lit up with laughter, which was almost contagious, and it pulled a small chuckle from the depths of my chest.

Amidst the brightness, I noticed a group of three talking about the destination behind Genevieve. The first person was a small elderly woman, dressed with bright red and blues. The second was an impossibly tall man; a lanky redheaded fellow, who looked like he just rolled out of his quarters. And the last was another man around the same height as me, fair and sporting a pink and blue haircut.