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Splintered Light Chapter 2.1: The Black Beacon

There were a number of reasons why Dr. Christine Brownell disliked sea voyages. Among the obvious ones was the fact that she was a homebody who preferred her small, quaint little cottage practice in the town of Vallara back on the Eastern boarder of Lehsunia. There was also the concern of disease running rampant in close quarters, the dangers of floating atop a mass of water deeper than one was tall, and, of course, the matter of sailors having a universal dislike of females serving aboard seagoing vessels. All of that aside, she couldn't help but smile; she was having a fantastic time!

The Wave Rider had been out of port for the better part of a week and her traveling companion was finally overcoming his sea sickness. Although Dr. Brownell had a bout of stomach discomfort the first day aboard the vessel she had conquered it quickly enough; Tobias was not quite as fortunate and it took him another three days. There was something endearing when it came to caring for an ailing Prong Horn scholar who could describe nausea in as many ways as a poet could describe love but she had to admit that the prospect of kissing him when he smelled of vomit and bile was less than ideal.

In order to present suitable and polite propriety, the two had arranged genial sleeping quarters that did not place them together. Although the two rooms shared a wall they were otherwise entirely separate and that thankfully kept the comments from the crewmen to a moderate level. Even so, sailors were sailors thus it wasn't out of the ordinary for one to let loose a particularly brazen or impolite quip now and again. Sadly, Tobias was a gentleman and such comments sat poorly with him; he took offense to each and every remark. The Mouse smiled as she considered her paramour.

Tobias Severna was a tried and true adventurer who spent more time on the road exploring the wilderness as he did attending his studies at the University... even so, the poor sheltered Prong Horn still had some very sensitive sensibilities. There was something quaint about such a delicately-minded man from a city as large as Newport. Not only that, but he was a scholar who didn't automatically discredit her for being a woman. Her smile grew as she leaned on the rail overlooking the passing waves and she reached up to brush an errant lock of hair back into place behind her ear. "One of the rare ones."

Christine had many reasons to smile; aside from enjoying the opportunity to adventure and having fine company for it, the Mouse was being given the opportunity to practice her craft aboard the Wave Rider, even receiving a commission as the ship's surgeon. Despite the crewmen having a dislike for women aboard a ship they all treated her appropriately when they were in the sick bay. She went so far as to chortle quietly into one paw when she realized the difference a few scalpels and needles had when it came to sailors respecting a woman.

Of course, aside from finally having the chance to be taken seriously, Dr. Brownell also couldn't escape the joy of such an ideal voyage. The ship was cruising along at a brisk pace, and she marveled at the sensation of being carried along by the wind; although she could tell there was a powerful gust blowing the area above the decks was completely calm. Rolf, Tobias' brother had told her on more than one occasion that a well-manned ship often kept pace with the gusts thus, despite cruising along, there was no sensation of that movement like the whipping of wind past one's face while in a carriage.

The morning itself was beautiful and, despite being unable to feel the wind, she could still revel in the warmth of the rising sun. She'd learned during the first few days out at sea that the midday sun was often unpleasant without some kind of shade but she truly enjoyed the golden rays that were cast out along across the ocean, and her smile only grew as she took in the picturesque beauty of the scene sprawled out before her on the horizon. There was something magical about the experience and she resolved to capture all of it so she could remember it fondly for years to come.

The gentle rise and fall of the ship as it crested the waves was almost hypnotic and it wasn't long until her breath mimicked the motion. She watched the glimmering waves as the ship passed them and admired the gentle wake that spread out behind the vessel. The soft sparkle and shimmer that rose from the water reminded her faintly of a dream she'd had the prior night but it was so nebulous and ephemeral that she couldn't quite latch onto it and it continued to escape memory... but it had been a good dream, that much she knew.

Her attention was pulled back to the present when a sleek, gray body crested the waves and then sprang nimbly out of the ocean; Christine had heard of dolphins before but she had never had the opportunity to encounter one in person. Her smile only grew as the acrobatic display was quickly picked up by another, then another-- each breaching the surface and arcing through the air before slipping gracefully back beneath the waves. It was a show that felt as though it was just for her, and she was intent on being a most gracious audience. There was scarcely a moment after the first display that she wasn't politely clapping her gloved paws together in joy at the ongoing performance, eventually even laughing at the most wonderful antics.

A smooth, mellow voice with the hinting of an Ilysean accent eventually helped Christine realize that she was not alone when it spoke up from a short distance behind her and to the right. "A ballet that costs nothing to attend, is it not?"

At first Christine thought that it was the Captain, but, she realized before she'd turned all the way around, the voice was just a little too mild and a little to faint of accent. A Fox stood facing her and so she addressed him. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

The Vulpine sailor approached from behind and to the side, engaging her as he stepped up to the railing a respectful distance away but still within talking range. "The dolphins, Doctor. In Trevosee they call this behavior 'La danse des dauphins.'-- the dance of the dolphins. I noticed that you were watching and I was curious as to your opinion of it."

The Mouse's attention left the water and stuck with the newcomer. While she had originally classified him as a generic Fox sailor there were some distinct differences. Other than his fur being immaculately kept, the man also didn't seem as frantic or as engaged as the other seamen on deck. He had a ready smile on his muzzle and he watched her intently with a receptive and almost welcoming gaze; that was when Christine took notice of his eyes: one eye was amber and the other was emerald. She hadn't realized that she'd been staring until he clarified his question. "Are you enjoying your time with the dolphins, Doctor?"

Ever since boarding the ship Dr. Brownell's contact with the crew was limited to alternating playing the physician and suffering through snide comments; she hadn't really talked to anyone aside from the officers or Tobias. Frankly, his pleasant demeanor and welcoming expression caused her to cease mid-thought because her brain needed to recalibrate. In the end she used a canned answer. "It's... new."

The Fox smiled, still leaning on the railing as he turned to face her more fully. Like other sailors he went bare pawed but she could tell that his tunic and britches were of a finer quality than what the rest of the crew wore. His vocabulary and word choice also hinted at an education, or at least a familiarity with the upper class. "Well, Doctor, some people may argue that experiencing one new thing a day is the best way to live one's life."

Christine was fast enough on the uptake that the quick exchange was more than enough to kick her brain into functioning and she had a ready reply. "Some people? And what is YOUR opinion on the matter, Mr....?"

The man didn't miss the invitation for an introduction and, in fact, he seemed to accept the invitation as surely as an open door beckoning him to walk in. The Fox slid closer still and placed a paw on one of her's. Rather than bringing her gloved digits to his muzzle for a kiss, the sailor surprised her by taking it in his grasp and providing it a firm shake. "Salvatore Vopello, Dr. Brownell. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

The Mouse had encountered all different kinds of people in her life but she was not usually one to experience such a gender neutral greeting... that wasn't to say she didn't appreciate it, but she kept her response simple. "Indeed. I haven't seen you in the medical bay."

Salvatore's carefully manicured paw let go of her own gloved one as he took a courteous step back to his prior position, but he gave her a wink that almost toyed with the idea of familiarity as he did so. "Well, I am neither unhealthy nor accident prone, good Doctor, so I suppose it only makes sense that you wouldn't encounter me on a regular basis."

He had a way of dancing around a conversation that she found refreshing after being around so many blunt crewmen, but it was also difficult to actually get any information from him. She resolved to use a more direct route. "But you ARE a crewman aboard this ship, yes?"

He smiled pleasantly. "Indeed... among other things."

Just when she thought she'd received a direct, one word reply he went and added in three more. If nothing else, the Fox knew how to prolong a conversation. "And what 'other things' might those be, Mr. Vopello?

The smile never left his muzzle but she was able to pinpoint the moment it spread up to his eyes, and a faint glint of mischief joined it in his return gaze. "That would depend on who is asking, Doctor."

She turned to face him more fully, uncertain as to whether she was intrigued by his evasions or put off by them. Either way, she resolved to at least make up her mind in regard to that quandary. "I am asking."

The smile slowly faded and his eyes took on a much more attentive, almost critical gaze as he likewise turned to look at her directly. Although there was no hint of menace or threat, Dr. Brownell was unable to avoid the nagging sensation of being observed, not unlike a bug caught beneath a glass. When the Fox next spoke his almost accusatory words were disconcertingly accurate. "A beautiful woman who likes being called neither. You are a doctor, so you have a great amount of intellect, but you are sensitive to the thought that most men will not acknowledge your brain because you are of the fairer sex."

She opened her mouth to stop him. "I hardly--"

He continued nevertheless. "You lost your father at an early age, and you gained an interest in healing from your mother... a small town herbalist, I believe? She made enough to scrape by, but when she saw the riches of a visiting doctor she resolved to have you married to one so your life would hold more meaning. Am I close?"

Christine quickly interjected. "Money doesn't give life more meaning."

His smile returned, but only a hint of it. "I did not say it does, Doctor-- I only proposed that your mother--"

She interrupted again, this time with a little more verve. "She thought the only way I would ever succeed in life was to have a man take care of me."

He nodded patiently, the morning sun gleaming in his amber eye. "And so you became a Doctor to show her and others like her that a woman could be successful and independent at the same time... bravo."

Only once Salvatore had finished his recanting of her history did the Mouse realize that, despite not ever having met the Fox, he apparently had some familiarity with her. "Did you check up on me before Captain Jacksoni hired me? Is that it? Are you the hiring steward for the Wave Rider?"

The Fox exhaled a long breath, turning so he was facing the ocean again. When he spoke up his voice was back to a tone of jovial conversation. "We all have our talents, Doctor. In my case, I am quite perceptive. Although we have not spoken I took notice of you on the ship and your demeanor speaks much about what you speak little. What I do NOT understand however is the toy Dragon."

The comment caught Christine off-guard and she didn't know what he meant. She told him as much. "I have no idea what you mean, sir."

He leaned on the railing, dolphins all but forgotten. "There are many out there who can see with more than their eyes and hear with more than their ears. As a graduate of the University of Progressive Understanding my first inclination was to take you as a cynic but, as we talk more, you and I, something else entirely comes to mind, and I wonder, perhaps, if you might believe me when I tell you that I, like many others are able to sense in a way that escapes most individuals... that I am a Seer."

Christine had heard of Seers in the past, and she'd built up quite a preconceived notion of what to expect of one; honestly, the Fox didn't look or sound the part. Aside from the fact that Seers were essentially con-men preying on the gullible and unenlightened, even the well-meaning ones were far more theatrical than the sailor who stood before her. Regardless, she resolved to humor him. "A Seer is it, then? Pray then, proceed. What was it you were saying about a toy Dragon, Mr. Vopello?"

The Fox returned his eyes to the sea as he spoke, shrugging as he clarified. "Not a toy Dragon, specifically... much of my sense is based on impressions, and my impression of the situation is a Dragon with clockwork components... red scales... a red, clockwork Dragon. I happened to assume it was a toy. A gift from a family member, perhaps or--"

Salvatore continued speaking on his perception of the situation but Christine had stopped listening. Only one word came to mind... a name from her recent past: a literal clockwork Dragon. "Kesst."

Kesst was hardly a toy, however; he was a real, honest-to-goodness Dragon... very nearly full grown, and yet he'd had no idea that he wasn't a flesh-and-blood being. She first encountered him back in Newport after his allies had brought her there to provide aid to the royal family. She knew nothing of him before that night, but had come to gain a plutonic familiarity with the Dragon since. Salvatore had continued speaking, but, during her recollections it appeared that he'd fallen silent, and when he spoke up again it was to regain her attention. "Doctor?"

It snapped her out of her thoughts. "Mmm?"

He smiled, running a paw down the length of the small rat tail in his fur on the back of his head as he laughed at himself. "You must think me foolish to talk about such things."

Unable and unwilling to make an assessment of the situation she took a page out of the Fox's book and offered up an evasive answer. "There is little difference between a fool and a genius until their ramblings are put to the test."

Salvatore laughed whole heartedly at the comment, even going so far as to slap the railing with a paw, smiling throughout his reply to her quotation. "Ah ha-- no truer a comment has ever been spoken, Dr. Brownell."

Christine was ready to add to the comment and provide even more feedback-- anything to help guide the conversation into topics much less personal than the Fox had originally brought up but before she could say anything a shout came down from the crow's nest. "Wreckage, off the port bow!"

The Doctor straightened up and gazed around the ship before her companion cleared his throat and pointed, offering a playfully chiding comment. "That way, Doctor. 'Port' means left and the bow is the front."

Rather than respond, she simply gazed in the direction indicated and saw that, indeed, there was something amiss. Although it was far too distant to make out clearly, Christine could tell that there was something on the horizon and it was on fire. The plume from it rose high into the air like a dark portent that indicated that the pleasant trip had come to an end.