Tillek Hold – Wharf

Branching out like tree limbs off of the main wharf are the many slips that hold various fishing boats. Each of the boats has a unique look to it, either by paint or by sail color. It is obvious that the sailors of Tillek Hold take a great deal of pride in their vessels.

The wharf is wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side and the wooden planks show much wear from the constant traffic on the wharf. At the end of the pier, is a place set aside for the youngsters of the hold to fish from, wheting their appeitites for the day when they too will head out onto the open sea to catch "the big ones".

The Candidate trip to the seacraft hall is underway, the group having departed in Fort's winter chill into numbing *Between* dropped from the bone-chilling cold there into… clothing-penetrating damp, frigid sleet. Leaving the high elevation of Fort's mountains and dropping to sea level at High Reaches Tillek Hold had done nothing to improve weather conditions, has it? At least they've all been warned to dress in their warmest rough clothing and to pack overnight bags with long underwear, wool socks and sweaters. The group has been dropped off in the courtyard and herded down to the wharf, where they're huddled together awaiting their guide. The Weyrsecond is with them for this trip, looking as miserable as some of them, with hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and nose buried in his scarf.

Borodin was in a bad mood even before the frigid part. He's been glaring at whatever happens to be in front of him - at the moment, an ocean with hunched shoulders and gloved hands shoved deep in his pockets. Hnf. Borodin stops glaring out over the sea (far too peaceful) and stares down at his feet instead. Oh look, there's a knot in the wood. Sort of a rounded twirl. Like a target. So he kicks it. … not satisfying enough. He kicks it again.

So, not only are they going on another candidate trip, this one is going to be an over nighter. But it can't just be any old over nighter, oh no. This one is the seacraft, in Tillek, in the freezing cold. Polana is not pleased, and that is putting in lightly. Huddled up among the other candidates she looks a bit like a marshmallow, in a great puffy coat with a scarf wrapped around her face. And, judging by how she keeps glaring at the old, stained coat, it is not her first choice of clothing. As Borodin kicks the wood she pulls the scraf back from her face by a few inches to ask, "are you sure we can't come back on another, non-freezing day?"

Ezra is in a good mood? Maybe that's because he's not a Candidate, or maybe it's because that pesky essay he's been working on got an extention because he was asked on this trip by the Weyrsecond. Shuffling over to D'ani, adjusting the pack on his shoulder, Ezra pulls up the hood of his new jacket, grinning. "This is going to be great." Right? Looking around at the others, he smiles but is quiet for the moment.

Rayathess did not take the warning lightly and dressed in the warmest clothing he could scrounge up and find with the time he had on his hands. Regardless of the many layers he's bundled himself into, the sleet and frigid weather in Tillek has his mood souring by the time they land in the courtyard. Dismounting and giving the rider who conveyed him his thanks, Rayathess pulls his hood a little more snug around his face, adjust the pack he carries and then trudges after the Candidates and his younger brother as all are herded down towards the wharfs. He says little, though he'll nod a greeting to those he recognizes among the group and a more respectful nod is given to the Weyrsecond before his eyes drift out towards the bay and it's difficult to tell if it's eagerness on his expression or apprehension. How he managed to escape Harper Hall is no doubt part good luck and part bargaining and there may be an underlying reason why he's there. Maybe he has a paper to write too and the poor Candidates are his unknowing subjects. But he's there! And maybe having second doubts about it.

Ahh, but if these were pleasure-trips, those white knots would have been exchanged for a good deal of marks instead of being freely given. Education comes at a premium, the sacrifice of sleep and comfort for the once-in-a-lifetime-experience (one would hope). D'ani isn't really… thrilled with the weather, but he's looking about the harbor with interest, noting the docking of one ship on the far side, squinting to keep his eyes from watering in the harsh wind off the water. Boot-thunks on wood draws an idle glance towards Borodin, then over at Polana. "Don't think they have those here," he says of non-freezing days. It is, after all, the High Reaches. Rayathess gets a nod and a faint smirk. Yeah, some weather huh? Ezra sidles up and D'ani leaves his hand stuffed in that pocket, but nudges his friend with his elbow. "You wore that one, huh? Oh well. It'll get broken in on this trip." And maybe even ruined.

The wide wharf they're on is a-bustle with activity, men in coveralls and boots hurrying to and fro, some hauling nets, ropes, and boxes to load on other vessels, others attending to runner-drawn carts positioned under nets swung on booms to empty the silver cascade of fish into them before they are trundled off to worksheds. The knife-like wind is pervaded by the scent of salt air, snow and fish. "I thought you Fortians were a hardy lot. You look half-frozen already!" a booming voice at the top of the gangplank hails them, the burly, bearded man waves a thick arm that beckons them to board the vessel. "Come aboard then, mates! We'll get your gear stowed."

Thunk. Another kick to the wharf. Maybe it'll give way and send Borodin plunging to the frigid waves… or is that the sharp rocks below? He's not actually sure which part they're over, just now. He doesn't actually care, either. Thu- he pauses, looking up at Polana. "Why? Doesn't make a difference." -nk. "Humh." That's to D'ani, for his comment about the weather. It's almost amused. Almost. Borodin's gaze starts to sink toward the boards again - despite all the interesting educational observations he could be making - then lifts at the voice hailing them. On a ship. He probably shouldn't kick a hole in that. "…it's not so bad," mutters the guy with the extra insulation. "Just keep moving." So he does, heading up the plank. Even if he still has his scowl.

To say that Polana is curious about the presence of the brothers would be an understatement. Rayathess made it very clear that he is not going to ever be a candidate or impress, and as far as she knows neither is Ezra. So both of them get a curious glance but she does not say anything other than a quick greeting. Yet. D'ani's comment gets a groan and a mutter of, "awesome." Suddenly fish! The silver cascade of fish gets a look of horror from Polana followed by a look of desperation to D'ani. Please tell her they aren't going to be doing that! And oh Faranth, the fish smell! It makes her wrinkle her nose in distaste. A voice cuts her out of her various flashes of horror, a gigantic man commenting about how frozen they look. Suddenly he's beckoning them aboard. Wait, they're going on that? The look of horror is back and well. But she does slowly plod on, misery in her every step. She is hopefully trying to joke in a grim situation as she mutters, "if we end up getting fish gutting lessons I might just try to swim for it."

Ezra glances down at his new coat, thickly lined, and then back at D'ani, returning the nudge. "Yeah, I did." Though now he seems doubtful. Oh well. Too late to change it now, and he can always commission another one if he needs to. "We are," he calls back to the bearded man, tone firm despite his smile as he strides boldly forward to walk the plank onto the fishing vessel, following after Borodin. "It's a good skill to have, Polana," Ezra says to her with a grin, once he's aboard and looking back for his brother, making sure he makes it on as well. And D'ani. D'ani is coming too…right?

Some weather, indeed! Rayathess pulls his gaze and attention away just long enough to give the Weyrsecond another lingering look, one that definitely reads as 'you sure about this?' but he's not about to say it outloud. He trusts D'ani and trusts the men aboard that ship, though he grimaces for the man's hollering welcome. "Off to a good start." he mutters, pausing to check on his pack again and then fidget with his hood. He'll note the mood of both Borodin and Polana as they pass, until he's distracted as some men bustle past with boxes and cargo. He's seen enough though to add to his earlier muttered comment. "And everyone is so cheery!" At Ezra's backward glance, Rayathess motions for his brother to continue, as he'll slip to the back of the pack, hesitating only briefly when his boot first steps on that plank. Easy does it, one step at a time!
D'ani returns Borodin's look with a faint smirk. Yeah, this isn't what he'd define as optimal sailing weather either, but he approves of the upbeat attitude, even if the poor wharf has taken a toe-beating. The fish smell doesn't seem to bother him and Polana gets an odd look for even noticing it. What? This is fresh air! But then, D'ani grew up in a fishing hold. "Dunno if we'll be gutting fish or not, Polana. I'm not in charge of this venture." But he is in charge of them, so behave? He outright grins at Ezra's pride in Fort. "Get 'em Tiger!" he says in an undertone before hefting his pack and falling in, returning the long look Rayathess gives him with a shrug. Sure about this, uhh no? But then, he's likely following orders.

The burly man introduces himself, "I'm the first mate - Number One, jus call One." He laughs, his own dark humor clear as he points to a missing eye. Yeah, no patch hiding the scarred depression where it ought to be, either. Then, at total ease on the gently moving deck, leads them across the deck and down some stairs. "Pick out a hammock, stow your gear in the cubby and pull on a pair of coveralls over your coats and meet me topside," he says casually, pointing to the wall where the cubbies are and brown oilcloth coveralls hang. He heads back up to his duties. Thumps and clunks can be heard through the hull as the ship makes ready to sail.

Fishing Vessel

There's really nothing graceful or beautiful about this hulk of a wooden ship. Battered and bruised by both north seas and the wind, reeking of fish, it's just a working vessel that serves it's hard-bitten crew well. The teak upper deck is scoured clean, overshadowed by tall masts, sails, ropes and rigging, nets bundled along the side and rough ropes coiled neatly. The deck directly below is divided into galley dining room and simple sleeping quarters - one long room where hammocks are hung. The hold is for the catch, dumped through hatches on the upper deck.

Borodin nods to Ezra's comment about the fish-gutting, then adds to Polana, "We probably will." Only, he smiles at the prospect. Not because it's a joke. Because he thinks it's true, and (while it's not his idea of fun), he's done worse. Turns of working in the kitchen saw to that. "What else do you do with them after you catch them? They probably don't have livetanks." See? Cheery mood and upbeat attitude, at least if you count going so far into sour it comes out the other side. His shoulders unhunch a bit as he follows Number One (isn't that telling?) onto the ship, stowing his gear as directed before reaching for a fashionable and attracti- wait, no. A well-worn, battered, stained and probably fishy-smelling (though he can't tell over the rest of the smells) coverall. On it goes!

Polana can't help but let out a faint, joyless laugh at Ezra's comment. "Good skill or not I don't fancy smelling like fish, plus I'm not very good with a knife. I'm picturing blood and fish guts everywhere." The frown was already on her face to begin with but it certainly doesn't leave when D'ani says that he doesn't know if they'll be gutting fish. And then the man is introducing himself and… oh Faranth he's missing an eye. For a moment terror passes across her face before she thinks to look away. It is in a rush that she heads down to pick a hammock, relieved to escape. The coverall she pulls on gets a wince, but it's nothing compared to the alarm on her face. Her voice is a hiss as she asks, "his eye, you don't think he lost it doing something that has to do with the boat, do you? L-like a hook to the eye or something? Shards, what if that happens to us?"

Ezra glances around, and then studies One closely, peering at his missing eye for a moment before he looks away and follows after. Why is he here again? Stubbornly clinging to his optimism, the Heir stows his gear and pulls on the coveralls as directed, tightening his boots and walking back up, shoulders hunched against the cold and the wind. Glancing at Borodin, the teen offers a little grin. Looking over at Polana, the heir considers for a moment before gently offering, "That's why you learn."

Rayathess pales a little at the burly man's dark humor, pointedly trying not to stare at his missing eye. Ugh. He suppresses a shudder, managing a polite enough nod to the man and a hastily spoken word of thanks and then he's hurrying after the others. "Of course there would be blood and fish guts everywhere. It's… gutting fish? Not a clean task." he drawls with a smirk to Polana as he overhears her comment. The smell of fish or the idea that they may be partaking in some unpleasant duty doesn't seem to bother him much. He too has seen and done far worse. He IS glad to get below deck though but his relief is short lived and with a low exhale he goes to find a hammock, stows away his pack and obediently dons those oilcloth coveralls. "Nothing is going to happen to us," Rayathess mutters as he finishes with a few last adjustments as they head back out into the miserable weather. Nothing bad, right? Never mind the pointed look he gives Ezra, though his gaze sweeps to the other Candidates as well.

D'ani stuffs his pack in one of the cubicles and reaches for one of the taller, er, longer-looking coversuits with something akin to eagerness. Cheerfully to Polana as he dons it, "That's… pretty much what-" But Rayathess speaks up before he does and so he nods confirmation. Blood. Everywhere. See why those coveralls are a good idea? But to encourage her, "Don't worry about being good. The knife is only used to cut off the head. You use your fingers to remove the entrails. Now filleting is another story. You won't be doing that." He's confident about that one. Why? He doesn't say. Despite the foul weather, he's looking more and more elated as the moments pass. Their guide is topside, so he offers her one last reassurance, "Don't think he got a hook in his eye. That'd be stupid and he'd get canned,not remain as first mate. Probably lost it in a barfight or something." Equally as stupid, but who's keeping track? He also heads up the stairs.

On deck there's the rattle of chains and the squeak of wooden pulleys as the sails are hoisted. Shouts of the first mate directing the crews in the rigging to set the sails and thunks of running feet as men on the wharf cast them off and men on deck begin to haul lines. Each Candidate is pointed to the side where a long thick rope lies down the deck, "Grab that rope there and haul overhand," One commands - not asks - them. What? This isn't a pleasure cruise! It'll be heavy exertion for them, but the ship will begin to drift along the wharf towards the waters of the bay while overhead the sharp cry of seabirds punctuate the sounds below.

Oh, so Polana has seen what gutting fish looks like? Borodin has a small smile as he nods to Rayathess's comment on the matter. He's just as glad to be wearing the coverall, really. It's more protection against the wind. "Well," he says at D'ani's comment about the first mate. "Unless it was a storm." Just how windy is the weather today? And are there any clouds overhead to go with Borodin the ray of sunshine? "It's infection you've really got to worry about," he observes to Polana as he passes her. "I mean, once it, uh, sets in…" He trails off into a shrug, then heads on up to the deck. Reporting for duty? And here's the duty! Borodin nods and takes a hold of the rope as instructed. Heave-ho, off they go!

Polana does visibly relax a bit at the words of the others. Ezra gets a small smile, and Rayathess a shutter at the talk of gutting fish not begin a clean task before her also give him a bit of a grin at his reassurances. However, it is probably D'ani that helps the most. Well, not with the talk of removing entrails with fingers, that receives a look of only the purest horror. But what he says about him probably not losing his eye on the boat gets a relieved sigh from her. Sure she has no idea how one would go about losing an eye in a barfight but she has absolutely no intentions of getting into one of those. Then Borodin opens his mouth and she can't help but take a step back from him as he passes her. Perhaps she thinks he learned from experience? Then someone is ordering her around, making her pull a rope. As Polana walks over to grab the rope she looks annoyed, and once she grabs it and feels the layer of slime that has grown on it she looks about ready to kill something. So she lets out her anger at touching dirty stuff in an okay way, by yanking on the rope with all her strength.

Ezra hesitates at the top of the stairs, gazing around until they're ordered about. Another hesitation - the heir is not really used to being ordered around - but he steps forward with a stubborn eagerness and bends to grab the rope, hauling it overhand as directed, glancing around at the others to make sure he's doing it right. "Amputation?" Ezra calls to Borodin, having caught some of their conversation.

Rayathess pulls a rather disgruntled and disgusted face when D'ani takes over the elaboration of the fish cleaning process and though he's no stranger to having to dress or clean a kill, it's probably not very high on 'things I want to do today' list. Especially now that he doesn't entirely rely on it to eat. Leave that work to the uh… well, they are sort've pseudo-fishermen now? "What's this about amputation?" He's a little late on the conversation too, having paused to watch as the crew sets to work by the first mate's orders, one of which is directed at them. Grim expression set in place, Rayathess takes position with the others, likely trying to stick close to Ezra, Polana or Borodin. The rope is gripped, any slime or unpleasantness ignored as best as possible and he begins to haul overhand with the rest.

It's true they say that gale-force driven rain can splatter your eyeballs right out of their sockets, but whether that's true or not, D'ani knows better than to give credence to it. He merely levels a flat look at Borodin instead. Not helping here. He takes the spot directly behind Polana and encourages her with, "Cheer up, this is the cleanest thing you'll touch today!" Is he kidding? Who knows? "Enucleation," he answers over his shoulder to Ezra. Uh, oh. He's… familiar with the eyeball-removing? Heh, don't ask, please! At least, not with Polana in earshot.

The ship begins to rise and dip on the gentle swells, though the stiff wind speaks of bigger seas beyond the breakers where white water washes and foams over them. Above the cries of the gulls and men their roaring can be heard. Behind the group of candidates, someone is coiling the rope in a neat, flat circle. "Less gab and more grab! Put your backs into it mates!" shouts One from wherever he's gone. He may have only one eye, but it misses nothing and for some reason he's eyeing Rayathess as he says it. Well, he's the most hardy-looking of the lot, so he must expect more?

Borodin is helping! He's helping with getting the ship away from the dock so there's no escaping. Whatever else would he be supposed to help with? He shuffles off at D'ani's look, but by the time he's pulling on that rope, he's smiling again. Oh, yeah, Borodin is positively cheery now, despite the hard labor part of things. "Might be," he agrees to Ezra. "Depends how bad. Sometimes it just oozes for a while." D'ani's proper technical term gets a glance. "Huh." But no time for questions! Time to get out on the open waves. He shuts up and works as instructed.

Oh, wonderful. Now they're going to talk about infections. Polana winces even more as she pulls, trying her best to ignore the talk of amputation. But a good deal of the time when you try to ignore something you end up doing the exact opposite, and so she hears every word. Ah well, if they're going to start talking creepy she might as well get in on it. To Rayathess she calls, "they're talking about amputating eyeballs I think, though D'ani says that enucleation is the correct term. Either way, it sounds awful." D'ani them gets a odd look and a question of, "this is the cleanest? What exactly are we going to be touching here? Aside from fish and… entrails?" The demand of silence gets a small huff from her and a glare up at the sky, as if something should swoop down and rescue them right this instant.

Ezra blinks at D'ani. "What's…enucleation? I meant…what Borodin was saying. When the infection sets in. It's a different word when it's the eye?" This is fascinating conversation and the teen heir is eager for more. But at Cyclops' yell, Ezra silences to haul on the rope. Does it ever end? He grins at Borodin though, in that teenage boy 'you said ooze and that's disgusting and awesome' look. Looking at Polana, Ezra snorts, but grins. "Are you not used to hard work or something?" Glancing at his brother, the teen just grins. Inland born and raised, he savors every chance to be on the sea. Even if it's…this chance.

Rayathess shoots D'ani a look for the fancy term, almost peering at the Weyrsecond. How'd he know about that? "Do they have a term for everything?" he mutters, most of his breath being saved for the task of hauling that slimy rope and almost drops it when his mind envisions eyes beneath his fingers instead. Oozing, infected eyes. The apprentice Harper isn't looking a bit green, is he? "How'd we even get on this sort of talk? Isn't there something a little lighter—" And less disgusting? Not that it matters, as One-Eye there is shouting at them to quit with the gabbing. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he darts a look only to see the burly man eyeing him and promptly ducks his head and works harder, though he scowls now. Why him?

"Shh! That's-" D'ani looks past Polana towards Borodin, then back over his shoulder to Ezra, "gangrene. Which requires-" he nods at Polana, "amputation. Different body part." He grins at the question from Rayathess and shrugs a touch sheepishly, "Probably." At One's bellow, he faces forward and madly hauls…rope, faster. Polana eyes the skies and D'ani warns her, "Watch out for-" SPLOT!! Too late? "-birds." Sigh. There is the swooping, not so much rescuing. Did it get her? Because if so, that's one of the asides she'll be handling. The rope is suddenly light, then end passing by them all with a zip! of motion. It's so unexpected that the Weyrsecond staggers. So… this would be why One said to shut up and pay attention, maybe.

Overhead the seabirds keep pace easily with the ship, the snap of the canvas and the creak of timbers as the wind stiffens and they pass out of protected waters and into the open sea. Here the waves are bigger, and while they're not towering combers, they are enough to have the deck underneath them all rising and falling, the motion at least regular enough that they can anticipate it. One is back, "Alrightie, mates! The schools are out there and we're gonna lure 'em to our nets by chummin' the waters. Follow me and we'll get started." He beckons them to the front of the ship where a large plank serves as a table, a tub of glistening baitfish awaits with small-ish cleavers in a wood block. "Cut 'n throw, cut 'n throw," he says demonstrating with deft strikes of the cleaver, divides a fish in four parts and tosses it overboard.

"Oh. Yeah, uh. That," Borodin says to D'ani with a shrug. He's not an expert on anatomy stuff - ask a healer! (Or a beastcrafter?) Borodin grins back to Ezra, but… yep. Hauling. He grunts, putting genuine effort into it, and they should be making progress… right? Unless that seacrafter making the coils behind them is secretly looping it through somewhere to make them haul it up all over again… which for a moment seems possible, but… nope! It's over! Borodin stumbles back a step as well, eyeing the rope suspiciously. "…huh. Done." With that, but there's more. He shuffle-lurches up to the front of the ship, still definitely working on his sea legs, then glances over the table. The instructions get a nod, and Borodin reaches in to get to work. Thunkity-thunk. (Goop.) Toss. A seagull swoops after one of the falling pieces of bait, because hey. Free lunch!

In response to Ezra Polana says, "herd work, yes. Manual labor? Not really." She then offers Rayathess a look of helplessness and a shrug. But hey, if you can't beat 'em might as well join 'em. Then D'ani's warning comes a moment too late. A pile of bird…excrement… lands on Polana's head. She managed to move fast enough that it doesn't hit her face but it is covering her hair. An enraged shriek leaves her before she spits, "that's it! Before he leave this ship that bird is going to die!" She doesn't even seem to be happy when she gets to drop the rope. They might be instructed to cut and throw, sure, but as soon as she has the knife she is paying attention only to the seagulls, her eyes flicking from one to another as she dares them to get too close to her. It is sloppily that she begins cutting the fish, a scowl on her face and the knife only just missing her fingers each time.

Ezra glances over at his brother with a little brother grin. The kind of grin you get before throwing a worm at someone. Alas…the boat itself is providing all the slimy things, so Ezra doesn't even have to bother with the worm. At the end of the line he steadies himself against the coil of rope, grinning as he rides the swells. So far, so good. Moving over to his brother's side he grips Rayathess' elbow and grins. "This is so fun," he hisses as they move to the back. Eying the fish and the cleavers, he steps up and takes a wide stance. Cleaver! Small or not, it's a cleaver and it's fun to slam it into fish, rendering them asunder. And then they're throwing fish too? This is the best trip ever and he eagerly gets to work. "What's the difference between hard work and manual labor?" And then he's flinching. "How will you know what bird it is?" Practical. "Are…you going to clean your hair?" Because that's gross.

And then there was no more rope! Rayathess steps back, trying not to look too relieved that that task is done and gives Borodin a crooked smirk in response to the obvious statement he makes. Unaware of Polana's fate concerning the seagull and D'ani's attempt to forestall it by warning her, her shriek of protest startles him, having him stumble back but luckily not trip over his own feet as the ship begins to rise and fall in it's steady rhythm. "How will you even know which one—" Ezra beats him to it and so he hastily amends. "There's hundreds!" he grumbles at her, not quite snapping as he reigns himself in at the last moment. He's nervous and edgy enough! No need to throw random screams in too! If Ezra had gone through with his plan, there'd be a good deal of shouting going on but as it stands, Rayathess is content enough to simply give his younger brother a light nudge with said elbow. "Figured you would get a kick out of this. Just watch your fingers, alright?" A sentiment that he likely extends to all silently, as he peers at Polana and Borodin as they set to work. Grimacing, he is silent while selecting his knife and joining the rest. Chop, chop, chop and throw!

"Nice, ah, reflexes, Polana," D'ani compliments the girl at her duck. It could have been worse? "It'll dry," he says likely knowing that's probably cold comfort for her. He moves with the others, following One to the bow of the ship, his hips loose to accommodate the pitch and heave of the deck. It's an unplanned reflex resulting from turns spent on the water. He turns a disbelieving look when Polana says she's done herder work. His skepticism is kept to that silent look before he notes Ezra's ginsu-knife enthusiasm and chuckles. Though one look at Rayathess and he swallows that down, ambles closer to peer over Polana's shoulder and acks at her carelessness. "Hey, hey, easy! Do you want us calling you Nine?" He gives her an easy smile. "Do like Borodin is. See how easy he makes it look?" Ignore the seagulls landing behind you on the rail. Ignooooooooore!

One is not looming at the moment, he's stalked back the way he came. After all, they can hardly mess up bait - the more mangled the better! The fish aren't picky whether their meal is fish or human and if they lose a body part, he's none the worse off for it. Out here it's sink or swim, gotta be tough! He's off towards the back of the ship where they're unrolling voluminous nets into the seas.

Borodin snickers at Polana's fate with the seagull. Only briefly, but… yeah. He's laughing at her. This probably doesn't help her mood in the slightest. "You, uh, asked." What's worse than slimy rope? Nooooow she knoooows. As for Ezra's question about her cleaning it, he shrugs. "Fish won't care." Because guess where the seagulls crap the rest of the time? …hint. They just pulled up a rope that was dangling through it. Who wants to go to the beach after this? Borodin might care more if he was right next to Polana at the chopping station, though. It is kind of… white and dribbly. Except the parts that are solid colors and chunky. The fish-chopping's easy for Borodin, given that time in the kitchens, and his cleaver moves readily - until it pauses as he sees how Polana's chopping. "Uh, yeah. You should be careful. Your knife technique sucks." He's so encouraging? "Slow's better." Unless you're good, then you can go fast. There's a squall of feathered fury in midair as two seagulls argue over who gets a morsel, and then a particularly daring gull goes straight for the source - he swoops in to try to steal a fish directly from the table! Right in front of Polana. So much for ignoring?

There's the brothers, asking how she'll know which one is which when it comes to ending the birds. Polana's voice is a growl as she replies, "trust me, I'll know. And they will have some place for me to clean it off." Oh, they'd better. D'ani's compliment on her reflexes and comment that it would dry gets both a half smile and a small sigh. Then he's warning her about her fingers, making her freeze. That combined with Borodin makes her voice a high squeak as she says, "no, I most certainly do not want to be nine." So she starts chopping much slower, or at least she is slow until the gull lands in front of her. Then in a flash her knife is covered in blood and a decapitated gull head is rolling into the ocean, followed closely by the body. "There," she mumbles, "told you I'd get it." Apparently she's good with a knife and blood when it comes to avenging her hair.

Ezra nods, "Hundreds," he agrees. "She'd have to kill all of them. And I will. I like my fingers." They're useful and stuff. "You okay?" he asks quietly of his brother, pausing in his cutting for a moment. Eyes flick to D'ani, and then back to what he's doing, before he flicks a fish head at the seagulls with a grin. And then Ezra is staring at Polana. STARING at her. "You…just…" And then he's fleeing to the edge of the ship to throw up.

Rayathess is perfectly fine, aside from the nerves and edginess. No where for him to go now that he's trapped on a ship, but he'll get over that. All the work, even if disgusting, is proving to be ample distraction. So is the conversation, even if he's muttering about it. Borodin's blunt comment on Polana's technique has him snickering under his breath, head bent and hopefully masking the slight grin that's curving his lips upwards. "Oh yeah, they do have a place," he drawls to Polana, looking up at her only as he throws the chopped and hacked fish into the water and then promptly juts his thumb towards the ocean. "Plenty of water there." Smirk. Can she swim? He may regret joking about it in a few seconds but he's turned his head to Ezra at his brother's quiet prompt. "Yeah, I'm fi—" Cue the arrival of a gull and Polana's quick dispatch of it and Rayathess can only gape, horrified and then looking alarmed as Ezra flees… to be sick. The Harper apprentice can sympathsize as his stomach flips and rolls but he simply grits his teeth and focuses instead on glaring heatedly at the girl. "What was that for?" he exclaims, almost emphasizing with a point of his hand… only to realize the knife he was using is still holding it. Bad, bad idea to wave that about! So it's set aside and now he gestures freely with his empty hands. "What's wrong with you? It's just a shardin' gull!"

Perhaps the urea and residual fish oils will work as a hair conditioner? In that case, Polana's red-dyed hair will be luxurious when she does wash the dried goop out later and they'll all gather 'round to run their fingers through it? Except, probably not. The Weyrsecond chokes down a laugh at Borodin's comment, more appreciative to have him teaching Polana how to use a cleaver safely. His eyes flick to Rayathess when Ezra asks his brother that low-voiced question, but he looks fi- WHACK His attention snaps back to Polana. And there's a seagull left wondering where his head went. He sighs. And then steps forward, holds out his hand for the cleaver. "No more knives for you young lady. You may throw the bait others chop. And dispose of that poor bird." His eyes roll skyward. What next? The sound of retching reaches his ears. Won-der-ful! His gaze seeks Rayathess, significantly roll to Ezra in a silent, ‘See to him for me please?’

Oil, for a luxurious sheen. And… dead gulls for… Borodin stares at Polana. "You, uh." He gives his head a shake. "Girls." It's muttered under his breath. They're crazy, they are! This just proves it. He's glad to see D'ani taking that knife away from Polana, and gives Ezra a sympathetic glance before resuming his chopping. Good thing he's competent, because right now, it seems he's the only one left doing bait-chopping. The seagulls call to each other, several of those on the railing rising into the air and… circling. Are they watching Polana? …how do you tell, with those beady bird-eyes?

Meep! The seagull that landed on the railing will just sit here and watch quietly for awhile. And poop in the ocean.

Polana doesn't have that strong of a stomach, but when she's mad and needs a way to take out her anger it vanishes for a moment. And then, as she stares at the gull body, it begins to vanish. Queasiness turns in her stomach, and her face begins to turn green. She does not stay anything to anyone else, instead handing the knife to D'ani in silence. Polana glances over at the bait again aaaaaand… she reaches her limit. Cupping her hand over her mouth she runs over by Ezra and joins him in sickness. Once she finishes she whispers, "sorry, the gull kinda became a target for my anger over… everything on this boat."

Jastre was being quiet and doing his job, though complaining under his breath. He was here the whole time, he's just been too cold to talk. That's it. When Polana kills the bird though, he eyes her askance. Really? And then she sees the dead bird and pukes? Girls indeed. Geez.

Ezra edges away from Polana when she joins him at the railing, the teen having mostly emptied his stomach and straightened a bit. "You're crazy," he whispers warily as he eyes the girl. Scoot, scoot, scoot.

Rayathess is very much with Borodin and Jastre on this one. Just ask how his reunion went with a girl he liked! Girls, indeed! He'll go quiet again, though looks a touch smug when Polana ends up having the knife taken away by D'ani. No sympathy given for when she's sick though and when the Weyrsecond silently asks for him to tend to his brother, he'll nod and do just that. Walking to the rail, he places a hand gently against Ezra's shoulder when he begins to scoot away from Polana, bending his head forward to murmur a low spoken. "You alright?" to him, though his eyes never leave the Candidate.

The Weyrsecond sighs as Polana bolts. A look is shared with both Borodin and Jastre. Yeah girls! Don't turn your back on her, Rayathess! Do they have anger-management classes back in the Weyr for Candidates? If not, guess what he's going to suggest to Th'ero when he gets home? The Candidates can thank Polana for that one. He pitches the dead bird - and its head - over the side. More chum! He then takes over her spot in the bait-chopping. "You tried," he says to Borodin with a crooked grin. "I was actually thinking of having her chores rotated to the kitchen as sous chef for the practice, but now I'm having second thoughts." Poor Polana. She's the only girl on this little chore on a ship full of men.

The ship rides the waves more or less gracefully- Well no, it lumbers, it plows, it lunges through them to be honest. And it's made a huge circle while the bait-chopping has gone on and the crew dropped all the nets. One returns in time to spot Ezra and Polana upchucking over the side. He stops behind them and peers over their heads. "Nice work chumming lads (never mind that Polana isn't… a lad). Some of the fish love that." He claps them roughly on the back with a meaty hand to each and then checks on the bait tub, which is almost empty. "Alrighty mates! When that's done, lunch? Who's hungry? Bet you two are runnin' on empty." That's to Ezra and Polana.

"Putting us in the kitchen might cause the whole Weyr to starve." Jastre speaks up for the first time, then snickers. "They're empty now but I bet if you try getting them to eat something you'll just have a repeat."

Sure, Borodin tried. He shrugs to D'ani, continuing his chopping even with the motion. "I, uh, don't think that's what she needs practice on." A glance to where Polana's at the rail, in between chops, and then he nudges a stray feather away with his cleaver before chumming up another fish. "She, uh…" He shakes his head. "…well. It wouldn't hurt, I guess. But, uh, I'd make her eat it. Next time." Or at least he'd say that now - but Borodin's eaten what-he-could-catch for dinner. Maybe he does mean it. It might make Polana think about her actions first and prevent knives from ending up other places. When One returns, Borodin glances up at the mate. Food? "Yeah." That actually sounds good! "Lunch sounds good." Chop, chop, chop the bait to go with the regurgitated breakfast special.

Ezra's words and Rayathess' look get a small sigh from her. They just wouldn't understand, they haven't grown up trying their best to keep their hair clean and avoid muck. They aren't girls, real, proper, girls. In fact, she doesn't think she's seem a single one on this ship. Sigh. Suddenly One is upon her, and man can he move quietly for a man of that size. He claps her roughly on the back, says they did a good job, calls her a lad, and asks if they are hungry. Polana shakes her head wildly before responding, "no, no thank you. But do you have a place where I can clean off by any chance?

Ezra leans into his brother's comforting hand, muttering something to him. Then he jerks when One is smacking his back, looking a bit queasy. "Uh…" Empty, yes. Hungry? Notsomuch. He glances over at D'ani and the others, clearing his throat and looking a bit embarrassed. Well /that/ was manly.

Ezra mutters to Rayathess, "… creeps me… she…"

Rayathess would definitely not understand the girly girl way of thinking. At all. Tilting his head a bit as Ezra mutters to him, he grimaces and grips his shoulder a little more firmly to reassure and steady his brother. Manly? Maybe not so much. But too late now! He'd say something, only One returns and he has to resist backing away from the burly man, even though the first mate has proven to be nothing but harmless. Right? "Food might be a good idea. Just some bread and water." Though even at the mention of bread Rayathess is looking a little pale. At least they'll be out of the cold and wet?

Chop-chop-pause. D'ani glances at Borodin. He glances at Polana's back. His dark eyes pong back to Borodin. Aversion therapy? "It would have to be force-fed," he speculates. "And I think it would come right back up, but I'll keep it in mind for next time?" Next time? Not really, he's being facetious, says the quiet little curl of his mouth. Back to chopping, his eyes are upon Ezra's back when his young friend turns that glance over his shoulder at them. D'ani kifts his chin in a silently casual, 'S'up' and goes back to chopping the last bit of baitfish from the bin. There! Now lunch?

One has other things to do besides standing around yakking. "Downstairs," he says of lunch and he starts back towards the stern, only makes it a step when Polana asks for…squint… a bath? "There's a bucket on a rope you can lower through the john to get seawater." Cold seawater. He points. "Downstairs. Beside the galley." Ahh, the john. There's just the one, a closet, really, that has a shelf overledge and a seat-shaped hole where folks can go. Into the ocean. Like the seagulls. Ain't the sea grand?