The Dark Crystal: Sifan Charms

ACT IV

Plans For A Treasure Adventure! Prepare to Set Sail!

As they entered the rear area of the establishment, the thick, salt incrusted curtains draped behind them silently, dampening the noise from outside. Although it was only a thin wall, the cries and cheers soon become completely muffled, casting a sullen atmosphere inside the room. The area itself seemed to only be made of curtains, crimson in color, with matching handwoven carpets, stained with dirt and seaweed from years of thoughtless, sea hardy boots. On the walls were various tapestries with many different pirate emblems. At their base sat stacks of moth eaten books and wrinkled maps. One candle flickered on a small wooden table, lonely and steady, casting a warm tone through the darkness. 

There was a distinct smell in the air. The unmistakable scent of musky, pungent Dousan incense. Tavra's nose could immediately distinguish the bizarre aroma; an array of rare spices and herbs from the desert. With each one she remembered, another distant memory flooded her mind. Another emotion, thick like the haze before them.  With mild shock, both Tavra and Onica immediately realized that the room's darkness was not due to lack of light, but the blanket of smoke that covered their eyes. They coughed and waved the clouds away from their noses and mouths, scanning the room for their host. 

"Please, sit down," Athyra's voice called out from the shadow. Another candle burst to life beside her, releasing the small room from it's shade. 

As Tavra and Onica turned toward her, they could now see a silhouette taking a seat in a rather large, plush arm chair with wooden carvings protruding from the arms and spine. They searched the area around them, and discovered two old rum barrels, one which was still half full, with two soft decorative pillows placed on top. The fancy design seemed very out of place inside this dank environment. Most likely theft, Tavra imagined. But she and Onica took their seats and awaited the Captain's next move.

But instead of speaking, Athyra simply slouched in her chair, reaching for her hip into a small leather pouch, worn and tied with pieces of ropes. She removed a long, wooden pipe--a device that appeared too large for the pouch it was in--and began to smash the head against the arm of the chair. Tavra and Onica watched as tiny bits of black ash and plant matter burst from the bowl and scattered onto the floor. Tavra suddenly felt bad for whoever was tasked with cleaning this room, if in fact anyone did. 

"It is so good to see a pure Vapran again," Athyra finally spoke, blowing two bursts of air through her pipe. Her beauty seemed to disappear among the shade and smoke. Her black eyes took on a new life in the dark, enveloping her with a malevolent energy. "Hair as white as the snow," she sang, "skin as fair as the Silver Sea, wings as radiant as the skies." 

"Poem of the Painted Sky," Tavra remarked with a smile, identifying a old Vapran poem of friendship and welcome. But in this moment, it was unclear to her if Athyra was truly attempting to befriend her, or simply attempting to win her affection.

"I see you've done your reading," Athyra nodded to her. She placed a fingerful of dried green flowers into her bowl, packing them tight with an ash-black stained thumb, cracked and hardened like the tip of spear. 

"My sister, actually," Tavra confirmed. "Brea has not left our library since she was born. She's even started a book of her own. She knows that poem well. We all do,"

"Ah yes, a royal," Athyra sat forward with interest. "A royal in my service."

"Let's not overstep, Athyra," Onica interjected, waving a hand in her direction.

Athyra nodded thoughtfully and slouched back into her chair once more. With a snap of flame, she sparked a small device for lighting her pipe, and drew in the orange tail. As she exhaled, a blue wreath of smoke surrounded her head, like a crown of waves wafting above her. "Indeed," she finally said.