(2021-05-12) Boat Blues

Details

Author:	Luridel
Summary:	On the boat to Theramore, Elohad is having a difficult time adjusting to the trip, fighting against old memories. Dane, Cressidha, and Oranna talk about Cressidha's origins as a tailor. Cressidha makes Dane a shirt. ~2000 words. For Dane and Elohad's subsequent conversation after this one, see 'Apple Boy'. For Cressidha and Oranna's, see 'Dresses and Family'.
Rating:	T for Teen

+ Show additional content warnings

discussion of PTSD

Cressidha has a different book open in front of her than usual - a sketchbook, not a journal. She's drawing a dress for a dwarf-sized or gnome-sized model.

Elohad sits belowdecks with a thousand-yard stare, not saying much.

[Oswald]: Mrrrp.

Oranna is murmuring quietly to Oswald, petting him gently.

Dane swings open the door to the galley just as thunder claps outside, rattling the ship with a boom. Lightning strikes, briefly and ominously silhouetting the warrior before stomps off his wet boots and shoves the door closed behind with a slam.

[Dane]: Mm… bloody storm …

[Oranna]: Is it still goin' out there?

Elohad shivers once, but otherwise doesn't even seem to notice Atley's entrance.

Cressidha looks up. "Has the captain said we're in any danger?"

Dane turns and nods at Oranna, grunting, dragging a bare wet forearm across his lips. "Aye. Some of the lads needed an extra hand haulin' ropes or sommat'."

Dane looks from Cressidha to Elohad at that.

Cressidha also looks at Elohad. She tilts her head.

Elohad continues staring into the middle distance, seeming lost in thought, or something.

[Cressidha]: … Sir?

Elohad turns his attention to Cressidha. "Hm?"

Oranna nods at Dane, looking over at Cress and Elo, a small concerned frown on her face.

Dane lofts a bushy brow, peering at Elohad just as the ship tilts. He stumbles forward, bracing a massive hand on a chair to balance himself and ride out the wave.

[Cressidha]: Is everything all right, sir?

[Elohad]: I'll be fine.

Oswald digs his claws into the wood rather than slide.

Dane squints, nodding faintly at Oranna as he pushes a sheet of dark wet hair out of face, looking back at Elohad. "…Aye."

Dane pushes off of the chair and stomps up to the ale-table, boots thudding heavily and wetly all the while.

[Cressidha]: Is it the storm? The boat?

Elohad watches the candle flame flicker; the fitful light is reflected in his eyes.

[Elohad]: Just… lot of old memories.

Oranna makes a soft sound at that, her face full of sympathy. "Aye…stirrin' up old ghosts?"

[Elohad]: Yeah, you could say that.

Dane pauses, hesitating as he glances over his shoulder. "Any f'you lot want a drink?"

Oranna shakes her head. "None fer me, thanks."

[Elohad]: Probably not a good idea for me tonight, but thanks, son.

Cressidha looks like she might be considering it, but she shakes her head. "Not in this weather."

Dane grunts. "S'right weather for it," Dane growls idly, raising the mug to his lips and taking a heavy drink after twisting the keg shut.

Dane stomps over and drops himself down in a chair, settling back comfortably in the warmth and dryness of the galley, grunting with catharsis.

Cressidha looks down at her sketchbook. "Oranna, would you like a dress?"

Oranna looks up in surprise at Cress. "A…dress?"

Elohad runs a hand back over his thinning hair, and smiles faintly at Cressidha's question without quite looking at either woman.

[Cressidha]: I don't know that I've ever seen you wear one.

[Oranna]: I…dinnae, lass, I've…ne'er had a dress afore.

Dane glances between Oranna and Cressidha before he double-takes the former. "Where'd you get that, then?" he asks, gesturing with his mug.

[Oranna]: Get what? *she looks down as if she's expecting to see a dress*

Dane grunts, up-nods. "The shirt. 'Ranna Stormbreaker becoming a proper sailor, mm?"

Cressidha starts on a second sketch.

[Oranna]: Oh, this is my chore's shirt. It's been o'er mended an'…well. No' a lot left ta th' fabric. I only ha' th' two shirts, so…I thought, well. I didna wan' ta wear th' nice one.

Elohad idly catches a drop of wax that has begun to run down the side of the pillar candle.

[Cressidha]: You've only two shirts?

Dane nods slowly, smacking his lips for a moment before he glances over at Elohad, staring faintly.

Oranna looks over at Cress. "Aye? It's all I really need. I mostly wear armor o'er this one." She shrugs.

[Cressidha]: I suppose… if you don't attend a great variety of social functions, no one will notice…

[Elohad]: Cress, you should make the lady some more clothes, hm? *His tone is gentle, not commanding.*

[Dane]: 'Ve only got the one, m'self.

[Elohad]: And the gentleman.

Dane confesses blandly, raising his mug again.

Dane slowly lowers it, wiping a hand across his chest. "Not that I's asking," he adds cautiously.

[Cressidha]: I think I just might.

Oranna blushes a little. "I'm…well, I…I'd be willin' ta try a dress. An' I'd love another chance ta see ye work, lass."

[Elohad]: I'm asking. *That gentle smile again.*

[Cressidha]: Mr. Atley, what color would you say you prefer?

[Dane]: Mm. White. Don't much like having my arms bound tight.

Dane takes another drink. "Most of'm in town 'er too small. Had to cut off the sleeves to this one here."

Elohad laughs softly.

[Elohad]: Do you know, she can take your measurements, son.

Oranna chuckles a little, still petting Oswald.

[Elohad]: She can make a shirt that has sleeves the size of your arms. That's sort of what tailors do.

Dane catches his mug before it slides off the table. "'Ve never been to a tailor."

Cressidha hums thoughtfully. She's sketching.

Oranna smiles at Dane. "I've ne'er either. How do ye take measurements, lass? I've ne'er seen ye do more than look a' folks an' then they always ha' wha' fits 'em."

[Elohad]: You're looking at one. *He gestures to Cress. The wax is still stuck to the edge of his forefinger where he caught it before, like a tear.*

[Elohad]: "Maybe she just has a good eye."

Cressidha reaches into her bag and produces a measuring tape.

[Elohad]: "And one of those."

Oranna nods. "It wouldna surprise me ta here it's a bit o' magic, though." She smiles warmly at Cress.

[Dane]: Aye, with those hanging needles, threads, n' wotnot'.

[Cressidha]: It's a little bit of both.

Dane takes another drink despite the endless tilting of the boat.

[Cressidha]: Mr. Atley, if you would please stand up and hold your arms out to the sides for a moment?

Dane idly gnashes his teeth, working his square jaw before he downs the rest of his mug. He pushes himself up, and unintentionally slams it down in the chair he'd just left vacant.

[Dane]: Don't mind this'n, honest.

Dane does as instructed, however.

Cressidha flicks her fingers. The measuring tape floats over to Dane and begins to take measurements.

Oranna is clearly barely restraining herself from clapping.

Dane leans back, frowning dubiously at the measuring tape as he watches it go about its business.

Cressidha does have to actually go over and note them down in her notebook, though.

[Dane]: D'you learn this, lass?

[Cressidha]: I had a very good tutor.

[Dane]: Who's that, then.

Oranna looks over at Elo, a slight question in her eyes.

Elohad smiles at her in "answer."

[Cressidha]: Ms. Martha Granville.

[Dane]: Stormwind tailor, or sommat'?

Dane asks, still watching the measuring tape.

Oranna leans in a bit, and keeps her voice low. "Ye ha' tha' kind o' look ta ye, tha' if ye were someone else, I'd ask if ye wanted ta go ligh' a firework."

[Elohad]: Thank you for remembering that wouldn't help. *He smiles at her again, warm, but his eyes a bit sad.*

[Cressidha]: And mage. Indeed.

[Cressidha]: I've a limited amount of fabric on board with me, but I think I've got enough to put a shirt together…

[Cressidha]: You'd prefer loose in the arms?

Oranna smiles back, but there's clear concern in her eyes. "Do ye…ha' yer things tha' migh'? Ah…tea…or…books?"

Dane grimaces faintly, raising a hand as he grunts. "I'd — nothing fancy f'me, lass." He plucks at a suspender. "This fits just fine."

[Elohad]: I just need… maybe a couple of days before I'm on this boat. You know? And not the others. It'll be all right. Being here with all of you. It'll overwrite the old memories, like scraping an old parchment clean.

[Cressidha]: Very well.

Oranna sighs and closes her eyes, understanding clear on her face. "Aye. I do know tha'. It…it was like tha' fer me an' Ironforge. Stayin' there…I wasna all there, in th' here an' now a' first. Had ta practically close my eyes walkin' ta th' tram."

Dane frowns inquisitively at Cressidha before jutting a nod towards Elohad, unseen.

[Elohad]: But it gets better, hm?

Cressidha takes out her fabric, and her scissors, and her thread, and floats it all in front of her. She follows Dane's gaze and shrugs.

Oranna opens her eyes and smiles gently at Elo. "Aye. It does. An'…well." She pats her pocket where her journal is. "Someone gave me some verra good advice on how ta help tha' along." She raises her eyebrows at him, still smiling gently.

[Elohad]: "It helps that this time I'm not a refugee from anything." *He gives Oranna a lopsided smile.*

Oranna tilts her head a little. "A refugee?"

Dane pushes his tongue around the inside of his mouth, briefly frowning back at his empty mug before he looks to Oranna.

[Elohad]: "Yeah. First time I've been on a boat that wasn't carrying me away from something awful."

Oranna glances at Dane, and flicks her eyes back to Elo.

[Dane]: Happened twice.

Dane 'quietly' stomps around the table and leans back against it, folding his arms.

[Oranna]: From th' wars?

Cressidha conducts her tools, cutting and pinning and sewing the fabric without ever touching it.

[Dane]: First Stormwind. N' Lordaeron.

Elohad glances over his shoulder at Dane, and then suddenly his expression sharpens, a light going on in it.

Oranna pales a little, and looks between the both of them. "Twice?"

Dane mainly glances between Elohad and Oranna, though he regularly glances at Cressidha and her work.

[Dane]: Aye. Never did love sailing.

[Elohad]: "You must've taken the same path. Maybe not on the same boat."

[Elohad]: "But yeah."

[Elohad]: I'm sorry, never occurred to me. *He squares his shoulders, perhaps trying to match Atley's apparent composure.*

Dane nods, harshly meeting Elohad's gaze with a stern look. "Aye. Second time, to Kalimdor, damn things sank."

[Elohad]: And for me, the third time, I was broken all to pieces. Half out of my mind. Kicked out of the army.

Dane shakes his head idly, dismissively at Elohad's apology, a deep frown on his face.

[Elohad]: So… this journey's better.

[Dane]: …Third time, Ser?

Oranna looks at both of them, her eyes sympathetic, and filled with a small touch of horror. "Aye, but…aye, it makes sense tha' with all this…yer mind wants ta go back on those old paths ta wander them."

[Elohad]: Yes, they sent me back, right after Hyjal.

[Elohad]: I got hurt bad, and even after they healed me I… wasn't right, for a bit. No good.

Cressidha plucks the finished shirt out of the air. While the design is fairly plain, the fabric is nice white silk. She folds it and offers it out to Dane.

[Elohad]: So they sent me back. I barely remember that trip.

Dane looks down at his boots and grunts. "Mm. Aye —" he pauses, looking up and accepting the shirt from Cressidha.

[Dane]: Bloody hell, t'was fast.

Cressidha nods. She goes to collect her sketchbook.

Oranna nods at Cress a little, gesturing to maybe leave. "Maybe we should go get my measurements."

Dane promptly removes his shirt to tug the new, dry fabric over his torso.

Cressidha smiles at Oranna and nods. "How's that?" she asks Dane.

Dane turns left and right, as if stretching out his arms. "S'dry. Good. Thankee'."

Atley flexes his muscles. Oooooh so strong!

Cressidha nods. She gives them a gentle smile and follows Oranna.

Elohad gets up from the chair in an extremely normal fashion.

Elohad looks out at the rain, leaning on the doorframe.

Dane leans off of the table and marches off, casually following him.