Turn the Tides

Sereia has never been good at telling time.

It doesn't know how long it's been aboard this ship. It doesn't know what the pirates want from it. It only finds solace in its fellow Igalyph, who the semiaquatic creature spends most of its time trailing after. They've been learning and relearning their species' ciphers, so the conversation is slow but ongoing. Apparently, the other is the crew's main carpenter, in charge of the ship's upkeep and repair. That makes sense. Their species are known for their mound-building, after all. It eventually also learns that the scarred creature's name is Dreadmane, the Wolfren captain of this motley crew. But how they had convinced an Igalyph to join their ranks, Sereia doesn't know. The other Igalyph doesn't know how to convey that information to it. When they try to have that talk, it usually devolves into a series of confusing finger clicks with no real pattern or meaning. When it seems like they are getting somewhere, it usually gets called away by another crew member, and it goes, with Sereia in tow.

So they never get far in that line of conversation. But Igalyphs are rare above ground. They don't often leave the under-continent of Mausolia. It is said that they only leave their underground homes when something from a past life calls out to them. Sereia wonders what its compatriot has recalled. Because, despite what others think, their species' thoughts aren't as empty as their cores. It would know. Because it remembers things, too...

The crew merely refers to the other as "Igalyph." There's little use in naming a creature that probably won't remember its name. At least, that's the conclusion the pirates seem to have come to. The Igalyph crew member seems to be fine with that. If anything, it's often too focused on construction to complain — not that it would. The ship is a work of art, a carefully constructed watercraft of wooden components intricately linked together. Each piece has been carefully crafted, deliberately placed, delicately fitted. Just like the members of the crew. As Sereia spends more time aboard with them, it notices these things, how they're all cogs in a machine that make the boat run.

It doesn't often understand what they're saying, but they're often communicating with one another through rowdy shouts and bellowing guffaws. However, its receptors twitch at the word "Zyrtur" and wiggle when it hears "Atlasean." It recognizes those words. It had heard them before when its friend would tell it stories. Speaking of its friend, Sereia hadn't forgotten about its search. But how would it get away from the pirates?

As if answering its question, a day later, they dock on the shores of Naeyouk. Dreadmane barks out commands to their crew, and they all disperse. Sereia quietly follows its fellow Igalyph as it floats off into a woodsy area. When they're out of view, the pirate turns to it and clicks. It tells Sereia to go. It doesn't belong on the ship; they both know that. Sereia was never meant to be a cog. The other flicks a receptor in the direction opposite from which they came. If the captain asks for Sereia, it would just claim not to have seen it and blame it on a faulty memory. Besides, it's not like Dreadmane can get rid of their best carpenter. The semiaquatic Igalyph nods. This is goodbye. It begins to slink away. However, before it gets out of hearing range, it hears a few final finger clicks.

I hope you find who you're looking for.

It hopes so, too.