The Sword Saints

31. Colors of Discontent

(Yuna)

"Beware the winds, for they can bring you blessing and can give you a swift journey. Or, they can blow you off course."

- The Book of Order: Ch. 17: verse 9.

Rainy days at sea are always dangerous, and that particular day proved no different. Yuna huddled in her cot, swinging back and forth as the ship swayed violently with the waves, pitching every which way. She thanked every Virtue that she wasn't seasick. If she was, well – she wouldn't have had any fluid left to vomit.

The storm raged on and soon boredom gripped her. She sat up and threw her legs over the side of the cot and got up. She figured that Sybill would have something for her to read, anything that could help pass the time. Grabbing her cloak, she threw it on and left the cabin. Char went to follow her, but she made him stay. It was likely too dangerous above deck for him. It's probably too dangerous for me, she thought dryly.

Yuna scampered up to the top deck. She emerged from the hold and into the storm, met by howling winds and ice-cold rain that dug into the very fiber of her being. She clutched her cloak tighter around her. She took one look at the crew and immediately felt silly. Most of them were shirtless and going about their business, as if there wasn't a storm brewing all around them. In fact, they were smiling, with jaunty songs accompanying their work.

The princess took it all in, her mouth ever so slightly agape.

She spied Padrick sitting to her left atop a barrel. He sat beneath the awning of the poop deck, out of the immediate assault of the rain. She scuttled over to him and took shelter, not appreciating the rain at all. She'd never liked the rain. It wasn't just because she hated being wet aside from when she bathed, but because rain reminded her of too much. It had rained when her parents were killed. It had rained on the day of their funeral. Rain was the symbol of her sorrow, and she liked to avoid it as best she could.

That alone made her question why she'd come up top.

Padrick knew that much about her, so he questioned that too. "What are you doing up here?" He was bundled up in his coat, doing his best to shield a small leather-bound book in his hands from stray drops of rain.

Yuna again closed her cloak tighter around herself. She shrugged, "I tried to get some rest, but the constant swaying wouldn't let me sleep."

"Yeah, sleeping through storms like this is nigh impossible unless you're a seasoned sailor."

She grinned. "That sort of makes you sound like one."

He shook his head but couldn't hide a slight smirk. "I've sailed twice before, and I can tell you with confidence that most people don't get used to such storms. Honestly though, this isn't even that bad as far as storms go. Imagine being in a hurricane..."

She snickered. "I'd rather not." She took a seat next to her friend and bodyguard. From there she contented herself with sitting in silence, watching the men work and the rain pummel them all. Occasionally she had to swipe her hair from her eyes, the wet strands sticking annoyingly to her forehead. Before long, her thoughts turned darker as she naturally turned to thinking of the prospects of the grim mission she was embarked upon. Though her mind as of late had been more at peace with the moral questions she long pondered, the issues of her killings and future deeds still plagued her and were rushing back.

Yuna didn't want to think of such things. The day was perfectly suited for such thoughts, but that didn't mean she had to comply.

She tilted her head up; Pad sat quiet and still, back to reading his little book. She watched as his eyes moved back and forth, gliding across the pages and turning the words to thoughts in his head. That made her smile, though she couldn't place why. She screwed her face up at him. It took her a moment to realize that she'd never seen him read before. Yuna knew he could read, or at least assumed; he was palace educated after all.