In the Tremulous Hands of the Sea

-ˋˏ ༻5༺ ˎˊ-

After what felt like centuries of silence, she presented me with a pair of specially tailored slacks. I was honestly somewhat upset that my time in her quarters was nearing an end, but I was completely unwilling to admit it. It was fairly comforting to have her company. I was growing rather fond of her light hum and scrunched face as she concentrated. And her scent— sweet jasmine filled her room and flowed from her body. I was missing home, so I was probably a little more sentimental, but she was genuinely sweet when not poking fun or being a tease. This version of her was soothing.

As I slipped behind the rather cumbersome changing screen— one that I hadn't noticed until now— I heard Laurent purring and circling Kalina's legs.

"Hey there little guy," she giggled quietly,  "aren't you a sweetheart?" she mumbled. I smiled at her saccharine tone. Her voice with him is adorable, I thought. Giddily slipping the pants on, I addressed her quietly, "Are you fond of cats?" I asked, approaching her quietly.

"You could say that. Haven't had 'em around too much, but they're sweet enough. How long have you had this guy? And what's he called?"

"My father brought him home as a surprise after a particularly upsetting argument between him and my mother. I was only around five. He had begun sailing with the defences, and I'd been alone more often than not. I was taking rather poorly to the servants and nannies, and I think he was feeling guilty," I sighed, "He's called Laurent. I named him after my young friend who'd recently passed. He died of smallpox before he could spell," Kalina sympathetically frowned.

"What was the boy to you?" she asked.

"He was my nanny's youngest son— a mellow young boy. We weren't technically supposed to play together, but he was the only child I'd ever grown fond of."

"Why'd your father go so far out of his way? Forgive me for assuming, but he doesn't seem like much of a generous or caring guy," her reluctance to ask the question caused her to scrunch up her face a little.

"As infrequently as I compliment my father, he recognised that my childhood was beginning haphazardly, and it doesn't do anyone good to let a royal struggle so early on— trauma makes for erratic ruling later in life. He tried to express his concern, but my mother didn't see any use in changing things. Royal affairs had stiffened her for the worse, and I was looking to be more a burden to her than an asset. She was also struggling with his absence as much as I was. They had a fierce argument, and I'd witnessed their verbal tiff. Soon after, my father's anxieties got the better of him and he requested a feline be shipped from Eastern Asia."

"Nice man, that cat certainly cost him a fortune,"

"I'm sure."

We sat in silence for a good while, and I found her gaze drift to my pants.

"The slacks look damn good if I say so myself," she beamed proudly, "but part of that has to do with the dashing model,"

"Oh come on, I get enough of that from lofty men in powdered wigs," I rolled my eyes, but a soft grin of flattery persisted.

"Ah, but you don't reward them with such a dopey little grin," she smirked, "now come on, there's still some preparation to do. Not to mention, you have yet to meet the crew," navigating her room with backward steps, she led me out of the cabin area. 

-ˋˏ ༻*༺ ˎˊ-

The dining hall was as chaotic as they come, a crowd of men sat haphazardly gathered around a poorly kept table. It surely wasn't a minute past noon, yet the table was already littered with bottles of alcohol. It smelled of body oils, not rancid body odour, but a musky and dank scent of human skin. There were seven people surrounding the rickety table— men vastly differing in appearance and age. As I looked around, I couldn't help but listen in on their aimless conversation. Its sheer volume was too great to ignore.