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 Posted: Tue Dec 12, 2017 11:51 am
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Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 10:03 am
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Posted: Thu Dec 14, 2017 10:53 am
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Posted: Sat Dec 16, 2017 11:10 am
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Posted: Sun Dec 17, 2017 10:39 am
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Posted: Sun Dec 24, 2017 12:13 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 31, 2017 4:02 pm
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Posted: Mon May 07, 2018 1:11 pm
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Posted: Sun May 13, 2018 10:30 pm
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❧ A Course Once Charted ❧
The tavern smelled wet.
It was an odd scent, not because Ozzrick was unfamiliar with it in general himself, but rather because of the peculiarity for its location. ‘Wet’ did not usually describe Oban anything, aside from the shoreline itself, and certainly fresh, dank rain smell was far from a typically desert aroma. And yet, here it was, wafting in the entryway when it opened and then warming and becoming a humid presence in the room as bodies in varying stages of drying shuffled about, a number leaving tracks on the wooden floorboards.
Many patrons were soaked, having come in more recently, and it was a source of passive amusement for Oz just to watch. Obans, like cats, were almost as unaccustomed to the weather as their land was. And, also like cats faced with the concept, they seemed twitchy, and confused—huddling together and muttering about the oddity in hushed tones as though more than that would further upset some balance already tipped askew in nature.
Ozzrick wasn’t as concerned, but he couldn’t pretend to be immune, and the uncertainty in the room was palpable. Most relevant to him, however, was the practical hold up: no tradesman wanted his ships out in this weather, and worse still, many of those he worked under were Oban themselves, and spooked by the oddity, only further tying him down. He had come to this establishment to unwind and stretch his legs with a few of his crew. Now here, though, he found he was the only one of them not properly relaxing.
“-and that’s of course when I told him if he was going to be that way, he could take his hands off me that instant…are you listening to a word I’ve said?”
The change in inflection suggesting an inquiry drew Oz’s attention, and he glanced over to the woman at his side. He had initiated their interaction, with her welcoming it, so there really was no excuse for his mind to have wandered afterward as it had, and at any earlier date, he didn’t imagine it would have. Yet, here he sat without the faintest idea what she had been saying, and on top of not knowing, he didn’t care as much as he probably ought, either.
He tapped a finger to the side of his mug, and gave her a quick, apologizing smile. “My fault,” he said. “It seems my thoughts are more meandering and persistent than I gave them credit for this evening. But-” He leaned, nudging the crewmate to his right to pull his attention, “-have I introduced you to Jokart?”
And so, after a brief interlude of artful misdirection, Ozzrick successfully extricated himself from the social weave. As he did, his thoughts turned reflexively now back to his work: his ship, his crew, the course ahead and the complications that came with the weather and mindsets that arose in its wake. Not so long ago, the chance to let loose and make the most of whatever revelry he could find would have been his top priority. A hedonist in its purest form. Somewhere along the road, however, since the attainment of his ship in his own right, responsibility had crept in on him, like the long fingers of a swamp beast gradually winding around his limbs as growing vines and tethering him to certain patterns.
Then, as if summoned by the thought itself, a figure collided briefly with his shoulder, he looked—and stalled. “Tivis…?”
The young man stopped, and turned, and in the instant familiar green eyes locked on his, he knew he hadn’t been wrong, even before recognition lit in Tivis’ face. “Oz,” he blurted with what sounded like genuine surprise. “Well, there’s a face I was never sure if I’d see again…” An unreadable look crossed him then, and after a moment, he gave a smaller smile. “I’m sure you’re busy. I’ll let you get one with-”
“No, I’m…” Ozzrick wasn’t sure what inspired the immediate reaction, and found himself surprised by his own tongue, stalling an instant as he tried to decide where to go with what he’d begun. “I’m not, actually, at this moment…” His eyes scanned the other Talean, struck by the visual reminder that time had passed in his absence, the world he’d left behind continuing to roll along without him. “It’s been a long time.”
“Years,” Tivis said.
A handful of them at that, at least. Tivis had been a long time friend in the troupe before he’d left it, a staple in Ozzrick’s life for most of his youth. But he had last seen him when he was seventeen. Now a grown man as he was, he felt both familiar and a world apart. “Let me buy you a drink?”
He had intended to leave, since socializing hadn’t previously been sitting well with him. But now the moment felt different. New. And ripe with an opportunity he might not be provided again if he let it slip now. When something in the set of Tivis’ shoulders relaxed, Oz felt his own posture ease and a grin stretch into place. So it was that Oz found himself at a separate table from any of those he’d come in with, talking away the hours of evening as the both of them traded stories of what had occurred since their last parting.
Tivis still traveled with the troupe, which wasn’t surprising given his talent and passion for performing, though their crowd had shuffled several members along the way, losing one here and gaining another as was the way of things. At some point, one of his crewmen approached to report they were retiring, to which Ozzrick replied that he would be following later and they could return without him. He lost track of how long it was after that that his and Tivis’ conversation began finally to soften and pull longer pauses. The once-lively crowd about them had thinned to one or two stragglers and nothing else but emptiness save for the bartender.
Outside, the rain still poured, some of it dripping in through the roof—designed to withstand heat, wind, and sand, not wet.
“Do you enjoy what you’re doing?”
The question, which came after one of their more extended pauses, drew Oz back to the moment, and earned a blink. “I…suppose I do, yes,” he said after more thought than perhaps should have been necessary. Tivis seemed to notice, and waited. “It’s different than I once imagined it, I think,” he admitted. His finger drew a circle of moisture on the tabletop before them, spreading the perspiration from his glass around like a swath of paint. “Daring adventures, exhilarating sword fights, impressive dames fawning eagerly at the sidelines, possibly sitting atop buried treasure…” At Tivis’ look, he cocked an eyebrow. “What, I had reasonable goals…”
“As ever.”
“It’s given me one good sword fight so far to date, I think,” Oz said. “And far more paperwork than I ever thought I’d be trusted with. Do you know captains have to log everything? Not only what’s on board, but how much, where it’s from, when we acquired it…and if you think the Yaelians are skeptical of outsiders themselves, I welcome anyone to take on their customs officials and policies for importation of foreign shipments…” He trailed off a moment. “And people managing, even among your own crew—or especially so. Nobody tells you bein’ in charge means having two wrong options, no course out, and having to take responsibility for whichever one you pick. Not all the time, but…” He tapped a finger to the table idly. “More often than I used to think.”
Tivis studied him for a period, and in that pause, Oz couldn’t have said what he was thinking. Until he spoke up. “Have you considered leaving it?”
Ozzrick looked up, surprised. “It?”
“This shipping gig…” Tivis waved a hand vaguely. “Packing up, trading in your post to the next person, bagging whatever you’ve earned and moving on to your next thing?” A brief pause ensued. “Or coming back? You got your sword fight. And you never were one to stick with something after it outlived the expiration of your interest…”
Ozzrick frowned, feeling that there was more to the words than appeared at face value. But he couldn’t deny the twist of contemplation they inspired. Growing up, he had always lived in the moment—and in many ways, that had carried forward. His decision to travel by sea and learn a shipman’s trade itself had been an act of spontaneity. Desire to break free from those roles he had played to date and try something new to entertain himself. But even then, he hadn’t necessarily considered it a permanent life choice so much as an experiment and test of appeal.
He had been ready to forge his own path and see where that lead.
Now that he had, the option was ever open to him as it had been before to shift tracks, leave behind what no longer interested him and test new horizons. There was a certain appeal to it, and Ozzrick thought he could feel a part of himself drawn to the concept—that lure of shucking responsibilities and living like an anomaly outside the system. But short on the heels of that thought came, as some surprise to him, the thought of a certain doctor who had never even intended to make the trip to Oba, now under his responsibility. He thought of his crew and the plans he did have for the coming months, and after a long moment, shook his head.
“It’s…not everything I first anticipated,” Oz admitted. “But it’s other things that I never expected, and even if it’s more work and ‘duty’ than I thought I’d be saddling myself with…I did take it on, and I don’t think I’d feel right dropping it. There’s a bit of satisfaction that comes with grinding your way up the hard way…” His eyes moved over Tivis, “…and not dropping out the moment things seem less interesting or too complicated…”
The other man snorted softly. “I suppose I should be glad you learned that eventually, and not frustrated you didn’t sooner…”
The corner of Oz’s mouth curled up. “I’m still learning?”
Tivis opened his mouth, but any further discussion was cut off by a call from the front counter, where the bartender announced that they would be closing down shortly and all partons should either move to their rooms or make their exit. Ozzrick stood to pay their final tab, and upon exiting, there was an uncertain pause outside the door where the now unmuffled night rain made a dull rush against the muddied dirt streets and otherwise, silence hung between them.
“How long are-”
“You’re certain?” Tivis asked, at approximately the same time Oz had begun his own question. He stopped, however, at the repeat of Tivis’ inquiry, and looked down. “You’ve been missed, you know. People miss you. Your mother misses you…”
Ozzrick eyed him.
Tivis breathed out with an eye roll. “I sometimes find myself in a state of delusion and make the mistake of thinking very temporarily that I miss you, until I come to a clearer state of mind of course.”
Oz grinned. “I’m touched. Really. And yes,” he said, “I’m afraid I’m certain. But…” He reached, butting knuckles lightly to Tivis’ shoulder. “Who knows, hm? We never know what fate has in store. If you find yourself stuck in one of those delusions of yours for too long, you could come with me instead and try your sea legs on for a spin.”
Tivis looked for a moment openly startled, as if this option hadn’t even occurred to him. Then, he looked somewhere between abashed and amused. “I’ll…keep that in mind, thank you. For now, though, I think my dancing belongs on land.”
After that, it was easier to say their goodnights. Long after he went his own way though, Ozzrick’s thoughts lingered on Tivis, on how much each of them had changed since their last meeting—and how his own reaction to challenge and change had shifted even very recently. Moreso than he had when he entered the bar that evening, Ozzrick felt committed, accepting as relatively permanent the role he had taken for himself.
It wasn’t just about the adventure along the way: he was part of this life he had made, and for once, he would follow that through.
Growth Summary: Ozzrick has always been a free spirit, very difficult to pin down, and in many ways shy of commitment and responsibility. In his last growth, his attainment of captain status on his own ship for the first time and choice to move more fully away from what had been his family showcased his steps towards full independence and the taking of his life into his own hands, though he did not yet at that point have a cemented sense of direction so much as general aspirations of adventure and grandeur. This growth solo is meant to focus on Oz now, several years after having become captain and experiencing the full gamut of what that entails, as he reflects on how it has changed the way he thinks and makes choices. In this solo, Oz is offered the opportunity to again break from what he's doing and set himself a new course, either back where he came from or separate entirely, and it tempts his more carefree self particularly given all the complications his current work has given him of late - but in the end, he chooses to stick with what he has for the good and bad and shoulder that responsibility.
Word Count: 2,099 |
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Posted: Wed Jul 04, 2018 1:15 pm
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