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Thread: From a Distant Shore[M]{DamoniquexLycoris}

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    Default From a Distant Shore[M]{DamoniquexLycoris}

    Rated M for strong language, drug/alcohol use, violence, sexual themes/situations, and love triangles.

    Laeron stood silent on the prowl of the Windrunner, holding on to one of the mast ropes for support as the long carrack listed this way and that, careful to avoid rocks and reefs as it neared the beach.

    Once they settled into the shoals, the boatswain shouted a command and a swarm of men piled off the deck into the shallows, driving stakes into the sands and securing the boat to them with ropes. Starboard, the sailors off the great cog Lady Aselei we're doing the same for that battered vessel.

    Once they were securely docked, the discipline born of necessity that had gripped them all, soldiers and sailors alike, these last few days broke down. Some men walked ashore and kissed the sand, others broke down and wept, still more prayed to whatever gods they thought might be listening. Laeron did not join them, Hiding his own sorrow behind a composed mask. "A king must be strong" he could almost hear his father saying, and so strong he was.

    He was distracted from his reverie by the Runner's first mate, now captain, an older, balding man who'd spent his entire life at sea, explaining what needs be done to get their wounded vessels truly seaworthy again. It would be a weeks labor at least on repairs, and before that, the men would need food, rest, and fresh water.

    "No reason to beg my leave, you have the command, Captain. I'd only get in your way." The prince answered, somewhat more harshly than intended, and the captain bowed low and set to bellowing orders, leaving his prince the his brooding.


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    Today started off like a usual day for Layla. After waking up, she got moving going on her usual morning walk around the island. She enjoyed the feeling of the soft, white sand beneath her bare feet.

    As the day went on, the young girl was scavenging for food as usual. Carrying a small basket she had weaved from some sticks and plants, Layla went to one of the bushes picking some small berries. As she had collected to fill her basket, some unfamiliar noises caught her off guard.

    Looking around, voices could be heard coming from the area of the coast. Hesitantly, the girl approach slowly still staying hidden by the forest not too far away from the shoreline. Holding onto a trunk of a tree, Layla slowly peaked out from behind the tree seeing an unknown group of men arriving on the island.

    Tilting her head, she found some of their reactions to coming onto an island quite odd. Their clothes were also very odd . Although probably to them hers would seem odd as well. Since she outgrew her clothes that she had wore when she arrived, she had used a bunch of fabric she had scavenged over the years such as old pieces of sails that she had sewn together in a form of a dress. She probably looked like a mess compared to how nicely they were dressed compared to her.

    As she observed the men, one person stood out to her in particular. One man stood off from the rest, his face somewhat serious as he showed little to no emotions. His clothes also seemed much nicer than the rest. Something about him in particular drew Layla to him. Part of her wanted to approach the group, but another part of her told herself to be cautious as she had no idea of the men's intentions coming here.

    The girl hesitantly took one step closer, but instantly froze as she stepped on a stick as it snapped loudly. She looked like a deer in the headlights as she quickly tried to decide whether to stay still or run away to somewhere safe.

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    While the men finally recovered enough to be set to their duties, the prince simply watched from the background, trying to look as if he were not sulking. One group was sent with several empty barrels, to follow a narrow stream into the forests to the spring that had to be it's source, another took up spears, bows, and baskets to go off in search of food, while the rest began offloading and taking stock of their remaining supplies and provisions.

    Above all, Laeron felt useless, a despised that feeling. While he was more than willing and eager to set his own hands to work, but the men seemed reluctant to allow him to share their labors, someone always stepping in to replace him before he really got the hang of anything. And even if he were to order one of them to show him how to do something, that would just be wasting the time of someone with actual skills who was needed elsewhere on their under-crewed vessels. He reached up to feel the rough, puckered scar on his face, and not for the first time thought it might have been better if he had fallen to the blades, rather than his uncle Aeric...or any of the three other men who had guarded his royal person at the cost of their own lives when the corsairs descending upon them.

    Such thoughts were not becoming of Royalty, Laeron knew his father would say, but he couldn't keep them from coming to him nonetheless. Suddenly in a foul mood, he walked off from the ships and men, studying the tide-line, now and again stopping to study a crab or shell, and then watching the jungle....something moved in the corner of his eye, but was gone when he turned to look at it. Some animal, he thought. Hopefully that was a good sign, many of the men had gone lean and weak since much of their provisions had been lost, living on a diet of stale hardbread, salt mutton, and whatever they could fish from the sea as they made slow going. Fresh meat would be a godsend.

    As he wandered closer to the edge of the jungle, he turned back towards the ships and crews, finding them too busy with the tasks at hand to notice that he was gone. His father or uncle would mislike that, even in the capitol, Laeron was rarely allowed to go anywhere without at least a few men-at-arms on guard. But one of them was halfway across the sea and the other dead, so he shrugged and stepped gingerly off into the underbrush. He still had his rapier and dagger on his belt, and wouldn't be going far. And the time alone would give him a chance to think.

    He found himself in a small clearing around a low hill, where the trees parted to let in the wan light of the setting sun, and unfurled his cloak over the springy moss and sat, propped up on his elbow. Only now could the tears he had been holding back for the sake of appearances fall, though he refused to sob, letting the droplets fall silently as he stared up at the sky. Deep down, he couldn't help but feel as if it were all his fault...this voyage, the misadventure of it all had been his idea, not realizing that the seas were cruel and men crueler beyond the gilded cage that was the palace....what had once seemed a grand adventure had become a feast of woes instead.


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    Staying a good distance away, her eyes followed the one man as he moved around on the beach and approached the jungle. Moving quickly as he turned looking in her general direction, Layla could feel her heart starting to race as goosebumps began to raise on her fair skin. Why was she was she nervous all of a sudden?

    Biting her lip, the young girl watched the stranger curiously as she wanted to see what his next moves would be. Looking like the outcast of the rest of the group, he seemed the most interesting out of the rest. For Layla, it had been very long since she had seen another person. No one ever came even close to the island. The first couple of days when she arrived at the island, she always hoped that someone would come looking for her. After spending countless days just staring out at the ocean's horizon, the girl quickly gave up any hope of anyone coming here.

    If she were to be honest, Layla had lost count of the days she had been here. She used to have a running tally, but was forgotten long ago ruining her count. If she were to guess, she would have to say it had been at least 5 years since she had washed up here. After all this time of waiting, Layla would never imagined that someone would actually come here.

    As the man moved through the jungle, Layla followed him very cautiously wondering where he was going. Following him to the clearly, she made sure to stay just out of sight for the time being. Looking closely upon his face, something reflected off the light as they looked like some sort of droplets. Tears. He was crying? The man that acted like the strongest out of the bunch was now crying alone.

    Slowly, she moved closer slowly to the edge of the clearly. While he could possibly be dangerous, her curiosity got the best of her as she wanted to get a closer look. Taking another step, her foot got snagged on a tree root that came out of the ground the girl to fall with a loud thud into the clearing. She was there in plain sight with nowhere to hide. The berries that once were in her basket were now scattered all over the ground.

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    Laeron was staring up at the sky, trying to reign in his emotions before he returned to the ships when a loud crash off to the side startled him from his reverie, just acting on instinct, by the time he turned towards the noise his slender blade was half out of it's sheath, and his dagger already out by time he could even assess the situation. He had been expecting some animal....tales abound of great cats prowling these southern jungles. Failing that, perhaps one of the men from the ships had seen him forge off on his own and come to ensure his safety.

    What he didn't expect was another human being...at least not one that looked so much like himself. The peoples of these small island chains were supposed to be ebon-black, naked and fearless.....and this girl was none of those things, fair of skin and dark of hair, dressed in a short dress of roughly-sewn rags and tatters, and seeming much more afraid than threatening. The prince left his sword loose in the sheath but kept the dagger at the ready as he took a step towards her, keeping his eyes out for anyone else that might be creeping through the brush.

    "Do you live here? Are there any more of you?" He asked, careful not to make any sudden movements as he regarded the young woman with impassive, grey-blue eyes, wondering what to make of her. All he got in answer was a blank, fearful stare and a slow shake of the head...which he realized could be an answer to her question, or just a sign that she didn't understand a thing he was saying. Kneeling down, to put them closer to eye level, he noticed the berries scattered along the forest floor beside her now-broken weaved basket, and nodded softly, picking up one of the small red berries and eyeing it suspiciously.

    "The berries, are they safe? Food?" He inquired, pantomiming the act of eating and thrusting the berry out between them for her to take. If the wild-woman and whoever her people were knew how to survive here, they could prove invaluable. If there were many of them, any men, perhaps they could even trade a few of their gifts for their labor.


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    Rising to sit on her knees, Layla looked over seeing the man had seen her and now was approaching her. Her eyes followed the movements of his hands as he held a small object that looked to be sharp. Biting her lip, she decided if she looked scared and didn't make any sudden movements for him to attack her would be the best option in this situation.

    Staring at him, her large ocean blue eyes looked fearful as she shook her head in response to his question. She had recognized the language he had spoken for it was the same one that she had spoken years ago. It had been years since she had ever needed it, thus she had lost a lot of the grammar and vocabulary. If she tried to speak it now, she would mostly sound like a child just learning how to speak for the first time.

    As he knelt down in front of her, her body was trembling slightly as she did not know this man's intention as he got closer to her. Her eyes followed his gaze to her now broken, weaved basket with berries scattered all around them. By following his gestures, the girl nodded figuring out he was asking her if the berries were safe to eat. Food. A word that seemed so familiar and yet so foreign. How much could she had forgotten of a language she used to know before arriving here?

    Cautiously, the girl reached out gently taking the berry from his outstretched hand. She kept her movements slow as to show that she non-threatening to him. Slowly the girl raised the berry to her lips before placing it inside her mouth as she chewed on it for a few minutes before slowly. This act was to ensure that the berries were safe to eat as he may not trust her just by nodding to him. Looking back down to the ground, the girl quietly picked up a couple of berries and cupped them in her hand before she reached out offering them to the man. "F-food." She said softly using the word he had just used with her.

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    Laeron nodded when the girl took the offered berry and ate it slowly, and then offered more to him. The prince relaxed then, lowering his dagger and accepting the gift. He tentatively popped one of them into his mouth and began to chew. The berries had a tartness to them, but the juice inside was sweet to the taste, and he found himself devouring the whole handful greedily. It had been over a week since he'd had fresh fruit of any kind.

    "Thank you....do you have a name?" He asked her, after licking the last of the red juice from his lips, recieving only the same blank stare he had gotten before. Now the prince finally had the opportunity to examine her more closely....she was young, of an age with himself, and her fair skin, only lightly tanned by her time in the sun, and sea-blue eyes would have marked her for a Celvitan herself, or perhaps one of the related peoples of the neighboring kingdoms in the west. She was also quite pretty, even in her unwashed state...and, with a blush, he noticed that her ratty, homemade dress left little to the imagination. Flustered, he stood and sheathed his dagger, eyes suddenly askance of her.

    "Me. Laeron." He stated calmly, and then pointed towards her. "You...?" He asked, hoping those words and gesture's would be easy enough to understand as the question about food had been.


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    Seeing the man relax a bit as she offered him the berries, put her a little more at ease as they both seemed to calm down a bit realizing that the two of them meant no harm to one another. As he greedily ate the berries from her hand, she began to wonder where he had come from and when was the last time that he had something to eat. By the way he ate, it seemed like it had been a while since he last ate.

    As he spoke once more, she blankly stared at him blinking a few times as it was quite clear she hadn't understood him. She tucked a strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear. By the way he examined her made her feel a little self conscious. It felt as if she weren't truly human like he was. She hated that feeling, they were the same but yet so different. Would she always be seen this way? Would everyone on this island treat her as someone less than human? She certainly hoped not. Just because she was much different from the rest didn't mean that she isn't human like the rest of them.

    Mimicking his movements, the girl slowly rose to her feet as she stood in front of him. She followed his gestures as she believed to have understood what he was trying to say to her. Gesturing to herself, the girl spoke. "Me. Layla." She said hoping she had understood correctly to what he was asking.

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    Layla, she answered, and the prince muttered it a few times, committing the name to memory and wracking his brain. It was a familiar enough name, and definitely proved his suspicions. She hailed from the same lands as himself, be she Celvitan or of the neighboring kingdoms, perhaps Lanun, or Illvetan....so how had she come to be here, of all places. Laeron began working out a way to ask, but before he could, there was a ruckus in the bushes to the edge of the clearing, and two men appeared.

    One was a common sailor, burly, bald, and square of jaw, who the Prince could not begin to guess at the name of, likely just a oarsman off the Aselei, the other one of the few of his uncles sworn men to survive the storms and pirates, bedecked in the same silver-and-blue of the Royal Household that Laeron wore, the longsword at his hip out in a flash when he saw his prince was not alone, lowering the tip only slightly upon realizing the stranger was only a woman. He moved quickly to place himself between them, giving his prince a questioning glance.

    "Ser Davit, no need for all that...she's only a young woman, and frightened. And if you look, she seems a lost one of our own, or near enough as makes no matter. Her eyes are blue, so she's not eastern, and the islanders are not near as pale or comely as this, if tales are to believed." Laeron said in answer to the unspoken question, and stepped past him to the side of the terrified girl, moving slowly with both hands up to show he meant no harm. Both men took the chance to examine her themselves and see the truth of their princes words, and relaxed some.

    "Comely, aye, she is that...now isn't that something." Said the sailor, taking a step nearer to take her in fully, and clearly noticing the threadbare state of her dress that Laeron had, but his immediate reaction was not embarrassment, as Laeron's had been...but something else. It had been a some time since he, or most of the other men had seen a woman, and Laeron misliked the clear hunger in his eyes. He was glad Layla herself seemed unable to comprehend what it meant....and that they were not alone in this moment. Prince he may be, but royal word and person could mean little and less to a common man with his blood up, and it could have come to blows. And skilled as Laer was, the man had twenty stone and years both on him. But Ser Davyt was there as well, and he and his Prince shared a look.

    "Ser, my cloak, if you please..." Said the prince in the clear, authoritative tones he had been taught to command men in, gesturing to where the garment of blue silk and silver foxfur trim remained where he left it, and the knight moved quickly to hand it to him, and Laeron gently draped it over Layla's shoulders. It was more than just something to cover her provocative appearance, but an old rite. To wear the blue and silver was a privilege allowed to few, proof of either high blood or royal favor....and would assure her safety.

    "She has a name, Layla. And I would appreciate if you would both step off for a moment, to allow Layla and I a moment to converse. Your steel frightens her." He stated in that same tone, and the sailor mumbled something under his breath that seemed unlikely to be kind before shuffling off, and Ser Davit moved to the edge of the clearing but didn't take his eyes off of the both of them for a second. Laeron smiled and stepped a respectful distance off from the wild girl.

    "It's okay, these are my people. Friends." He stated gently, hoping she understood, and began to help her gather up the rest of her berries.


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    Hearing the rustle of the bushes, the girl was startled seeing two more men appear from the jungle. Before she had the chance to do anything, one of the men moved quickly between her and Laeron pointing a large sharp object at her. Scared, the girl took a step back as she wasn't sure what exactly was going on for him to be provoked to be defensive of the other person. Unfortunately for Layla, she wasn't able to follow their conversation so she just stood there very confused as she watched Laeron hoping he may give her some sort of sign of what was going on.

    As the two new men inspected her, Layla stood their kind of awkwardly not understanding why she was getting so much attention from them both. She didn't liked that they kept coming closer, but did nothing as she wasn't sure what she should do. The girl was pretty clueless about how the sailor looked at her and what indecent thoughts he had of her. The girl hated feeling so lost like this. She never knew exactly what was happening or the reasons for how they looked at her. It was truly frustrating for her to try to figure everything out without knowing the language anymore.

    Luckily for Layla, she saw Laeron as someone she could trust. While she may not know him that well, something about him gave her a nice feeling as if she would be safe if he was with her. Deciding to trust him, she would always look to him specifically as to figure out what was going on and what she should do. Layla watched him curiously as his knight retrieved the cloth on the ground that had been forgotten whenever she had fallen. The foreign cloth was then draped over her shoulders covering up herself leaving no sign of her dirty, tattered dress underneath. Looking down at herself, the girl gently felt the fabric of the cloak. It was much nicer than any fabric she had felt before. Although the only fabric she had felt was some canvas sails and some old rags. Most fabrics would feel better than the ones she was familiar with.

    The two men backed off away from them for some unknown reason as Layla assumed Laeron did it in order to make her feel better. Seeing his smile made her feel a bit more at ease as she couldn't help but give a small smile in return. "Friends?" She asked softly tilting her head slightly. That word seemed familiar, but at the moment she didn't understand the meaning.

    Seeing him picking up berries, she quickly moved to help him pick up the berries she had dropped.

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