nautical

[aetheling]

Cymbeline doesn't really like boats, but they're the only way to get anywhere in a reasonable period of time, especially when "anywhere" isn't on the mainland. Today he is sailing to Vectis, to oversee the change of governorship; his father the king is needed for courtly matters back home and his mother the queen, despite being the source of his royal blood, declines to involve herself in affairs of state when she can avoid it. Zoyah takes more after Ranae than after Charles in this department. So, it falls to Cymbeline.

Walking on a boat is even more difficult than walking on land, and Cymbeline is no great shakes at the latter to begin with. Unfortunately, neither he nor Kerem, the court magician and Cymbeline's confidante, have been able to figure out how to apply the principles of practicable magic to alleviating princely clumsiness. So Cymbeline is clinging to the railing of the boat, watching the waves, trying to avoid having to walk anywhere.

Comments

[agnatic]

The beach where Zoyah's brother washed up isn't too far from the palace. Zoyah is poking around idly, looking for any signs of a speaking seal or a dolphin with hands or (Kerem's outlandish notion) a mermaid. So far she hasn't found much.

[treasuresuntold]

A woman with green hair and bluish-greenish skin pops her head up out of the water and climbs awkwardly onto the shore.

[agnatic]

Zoyah stares at her.

"Uh, hi," she says, "do you want to borrow my overskirt?" She poises her hands over the buttons.

[treasuresuntold]

She smiles cheerfully and doesn't answer.

[agnatic]

"I think you had better borrow my overskirt," says Zoyah. She unbuttons it - she's got three layers on under it; it's a chilly day. "Here. What happened to you? Did you almost drown like Cymbeline? He washed up here the other day, saw funny tracks in the sand, but I don't see anything weirder than you around. Speaking of which, where did you get those colors transferred from? Who did the magic on them? They're a good look on you."

[treasuresuntold]

The stranger takes the skirt and holds it up questioningly over her unclothed crotch. She doesn't speak.

Then she makes a face, and takes a deep breath, and water flushes out of long green streaks along her ribs. She bundles the skirt into one hand and uses the other to brush sand away from her gills.

[agnatic]

"Youuuu have gills," observes Zoyah. "...Um, the skirt, you wear, it, you step into it and then button it up."

[treasuresuntold]

When she exhales, her gills flutter a little and then settle back into place, just faint unobtrusive stripes along her sides.

She fiddles with the skirt a little, manages to get one foot into it, manages the other, pulls it up around her knees. It is upside-down and covered in damp sand. She is still sitting down.

[agnatic]

"Other way around," says Zoyah of the skirt, gesturing, "And you have to stand up, to get it on right, and you've got sand all over it, don't they have skirts where you're from?"

[treasuresuntold]

The stranger gives Zoyah a look, then throws up her hands.

[agnatic]

"Do you even speak Loegrian?" asks Zoyah. "Um, wave your hand if you understand me?"

[treasuresuntold]

No hands are waved. She fusses with the skirt a little more, managing to drag it up over her hips without standing up, and then she gets it aligned the same way it was on Zoyah, albeit inside-out, unbuttoned, and full of sand.

With the buttons undone, it neglects to cover the crucial area. The stranger does not appear to notice this deficiency. She's wearing a halter top of some kind of grey leather, so she does know how clothes work, but lower-body coverings don't seem to be her area of expertise.

[agnatic]

"Parlis Aquitaniais?" tries Zoyah. "Latinitas?" (She is a well-educated princess.)

[treasuresuntold]

Uncomprehending blankness.

[agnatic]

Zoyah holds up her hands in a nonthreatening gesture and moves to button the skirt for the strange green person.

[treasuresuntold]

The strange green person watches her approach, then shrugs and allows this.

[agnatic]

After the buttons are done, Zoyah says, "Okay, so, um, do you want to come to the castle with me? Kerem speaks like fifteen languages, I bet he knows one you know." She accompanies this acknowledged likely-pointless speech with a gesture and a few steps along the beach.

[treasuresuntold]

She studies the steps eagerly, then tries to get to her feet and follow. Her legs tangle up in the skirt and she falls on her face, then spends a short while cursing viciously in absolute silence.

[agnatic]

Zoyah offers her a hand to help her up. "You must've got, like, really thorough sea legs if you can't even walk anymore. Or maybe you're dehydrated? I hope you didn't drink the seawater."

[treasuresuntold]

The stranger takes Zoyah's hand and, with its help, manages to get up on both feet. She wobbles. She takes a step. She takes another step.

[agnatic]

In this way, they may eventually make it all the way to the palace!

"Mother! Father! Cymebliiiine!" calls Zoyah. "I found a lady with gills and cosmetic transfers and she doesn't know Loegrian or Aquitiniais or Latinitas and I dunno what to do with her!"

[aetheling]

Cymbeline is the first person to respond to this call. He comes out the side door and looks quizzically at his sister and the green lady.

[treasuresuntold]

The green lady beams and waves at him.

[aetheling]

Cymbeline waves back. "¿Habl'Iberiola?" he tries.

[treasuresuntold]

She blinks uncomprehendingly.