Rope the South wind; Canvas the Stars

[coldsong]

There is an ocean in the Nexus--at least one, maybe many--that comes and goes. It has been seen frozen over in the winter, laced with sand and amusements in the summer. Sometimes it's within sight of the Plaza, but more often one has to seek it out in the Wilds, tracking it by the cry of the gulls.

Today, it's close enough to smell the salt-spray.

No one is called, no one is compelled to wander closer, but should the adventurous depart the main Plaza and follow a pebbled path through long grass and winding trees, they will come to a place where the ground rises into a gentle dune, then drops into an expanse of sand and rock sketching out a sort of cove. Indigo water laps the shore there, low waves splashing froth onto the shore. And in the water there is something that could be called a ship, if a ship could be made of ice and bone; if a ship could be strange and hard to look at, if it could stretch up so tall toward the sky it seemed eldritch and unbalanced.

The prow is sharp as a blade, and when the wind sings in the ropes, the noise is high and sweet, like siren song.

Loki is on the shore, and his children are with him. Agnarr and Una are playing in the sand together, the elder stacking rocks and building castles for the younger to knock down. Sigrid and Eindrid, though, are on the Ship itself. A casual observer can see the form of Loki up there with them, guiding them gently as they explore, but he is also below, seated on a heap of driftwood to observe his other two children. Bilocating.

He glances up and nods at whoever wanders close, polite, if protective of the kids.

"Do you believe in birthright?" he asks. "Something beyond the gift of existence itself, to which a person is entitled just by entering the world?"


((ooc: Just to warn, my tags will be VERY slow!))

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[housejudgement]

Variks tilts his head as the girl approaches, and remains near the waterline in an easy crouch so as to not loom over her. The mechanical limb holds the spear upright so that the pointy tip was out of her reach. He doesn't mind her presence. If anything he's both amused and curious. All four eyes look at the shells she is showing in her outstretched hands and he offers a pleased rumbling hum.

"Such pretty shells, yes? Many stories hold a thread of truth, young one." He said finally, enunciating this with a series of clicks. His head tilts up though as Loki comes over to join them. The Eliksni sighs a little at the question as he considered his words.

"Hm...hard to say." He mused. "My people went from one extreme to another. From a blessed civilization of prosperity to an age of suffering, survival and violence." He shook his head, clicking mournfully. "Variks wishes for middle ground. A home and peace for my people. It is good to work hard to earn things, yesss? But...not at the cost of Eliksni lives."

Holding out one of his hands to the girl called Una, Variks at least offered a sign of human greeting that she might be familiar with. Humans tended to shake hands when greeting each other. His hand had two fingers and a thumb; each tipped with short claws.

"Velask, Una. That is how my kind says 'hello'. I am Variks." He trilled softly, inclining his head.

[coldsong]

Una knows no fear. Or, rather, she's been through fear and come out the other side, and what's left behind is a sometimes-aggressive determination to enjoy herself and do good. After her, Agnarr, the oldest boy, comes closer. He's looking at the spear in Variks' hand, with an expression that speaks more of interest than fear. He's more of an archer, himself, but ranged weaponry of all kinds earns his attention as a matter of course.

"I like the ones with purple stripes," the child says. "Purple and pink are my favorite colors. Do you have a favorite color?" These are the pressing questions to a small child!

"I agree with you," Loki tells Variks. "A middle ground is the ideal. Status quo tends not to linger; in fact, sometimes it must be disrupted, but there is nothing wrong with desiring peace and safety."

Una doesn't hesitate to shake hands, but her grasp is gentle, because she's not sure how strong he is. "Velask," she repeats with a smile, and curtseys when she lets go.

Behind her, her brother bows and offers his hand, as well.

"This is Agnarr," Loki says, gesturing to his son. "He does not speak aloud, but uses a form of sign language. My other two are up on the ship right now."

[housejudgement]

Variks nodded up at Loki's words, clearly on the same page. "There has been things that Variks has done...that Variks sometimes regrets. Things, not proud of. But everything Variks has done, and what is done now, is for the betterment of my people. In the name of that hope that peace and a home can be found." He looked at the younglings. "And safety for Eliksni hatchlings to be free to live and play and not have to starve."

He picked up the edge of his tabard, showing it to the girl. "This deep dark green, Variks likes. It is the color of my House." He clasped her hand gently, for it was much smaller than his own. "Velask, yesss. You say it well." After he lets her hand go, he looks to the male child, who also appeared to be curious about his spear.

"Agnarr." Variks repeats, trilling the r's as he inclines his head in greeting. "Velask to you." He reached out to the offered hand, grasping it gently. He uttered a rumbling hiss, his version of a chuckle.

"Such a ship, Variks has never seen." He gestured. "It is bigger than the biggest Ketch."