Great Spirits

∆ Fourteen ∆

 Wren stared at his worn map down in his spacious captain's quarters. He had many maps strewn across the floor and walls with his anecdotes and scrawling, written with diluted ink, off in the margins. The floor was no better. Old books with pages falling out of the binding littered the floor along with random logs of long past travels, clothes from many days ago, and soon-to-be molded beans and sea biscuits on his mahogany desk speckled with knife marks that served as unwanted markers for each time he grew stressed. 

Little beads of sweat journeyed down his cheeks and dripped onto the damp map adding to the acrid stench. His hair drenched in sweat stuck to the sides of his head and forehead no matter the amount of swiping he did. His clothes attached to him like a second skin, but he was too into his thoughts to worry about washing up now. He was Yali and this was as natural as the sun. His people thought of it as the impurities rising out from under the skin and coming to the surface. At night they would bathe and cleanse themselves before prostrating themselves to their god, Tamanuiterā when the sun rose. He sank his nails into his thick frizzy mane of auburn hair and scowled. It was hot and humid and he could not think properly. He needed to focus, but his head filled with fog. 

Altipa laid more than a few weeks out with a week already being traveled. They would have to stop for more provisions. The fruit and fish they were gifted from Yalawii would be gone in a matter of days. All they had left was what was molded on the plate beside him, beans and sea biscuits. Perhaps some dried salted meat, if lucky. That was not what truly bothered him, though. It was where they would dock simply because any Yali caught commanding a ship would be tried and hanged.  Then there was the unwelcoming attitudes toward their presence, in general, and they had to—must— keep a low profile lest they find the eye of another person like Tyvis. However, that was the true nature of his job as captain: Diplomacy. He would figure it out. He always did. 

The door opened, bringing with it much needed fresh air and sunlight.  Wren shielded his eyes from the rays with his arm. It did not help the need to squeeze his eyes shut and wince. From the sounds of the person's footsteps Wren knew exactly who they belonged to. He never stayed away for long. That much he could ascertain. 

Wren scooted back his large wooden chair and slumped inside it with his head resting against his hand. His head throbbed. He was in need of some water. As if answering his prayers, Silas sat a pitcher of water down by his side, scooting away his unwanted food. Soon he placed a cup nearby and stepped away as if taking him all in and figuring out which part of him had gone awry.

"I must look like a dandelion," Wren muttered, sipping his water. If his hair looked like this, Wren could only imagine how Calla's looked. He snorted at the thought. 

Silas gave him a soft smile but no more than that. Not even words which was unusual. Giving him space was unusual in of itself now that he thought about it, but he had no time to worry for him. Still, like his throbbing head pain, he had to pay him some mind.

He looked at him seeing how neatly his long dark hair was brushed back. A handful of braids was sprinkled in, making Wren wonder if he let Calla play in his hair. She had a knack for doing extravagant hairstyles. He wore one of Wren's simple brown trousers and a creme cotton shirt not bothering with the buttons. If he was anywhere else, Wren was sure he would not feel compelled to even wear one.  

"Thank you for the water," Wren said as he gazed deep into the brown of his irises. They seemed darker, more morose, and empty of the naivety he first found him with, which made Wren want to take a closer look.  

"You should rest." Wren heard it even if Silas did not meant to come off that way. The authoritative undertone. It came off more as a command than a suggestion. His words also  lacked the warmth and playfulness that often came with them. Wren was not sure whether Silas himself noticed it or not.