05-29-2022, 02:59 AM
Where storms at sea had once filled him with the irrational bravado of a man prepared to do battle with the heavens, Fintan McKenna was no longer that person. Having nothing to lose made him a dangerous man indeed, but it had also made him foolhardy when he spent many of his early sailing years boxing for coin in seedy pubs during brief reprieves on shore. There was even that one incident with explosives...
But Aurore had blown into his life with a storm and as though she commanded the very winds and waves of Poseidon herself it was a call to shore. To home.
The Ascalon sailed the channel easily, her captain having cut his sails on tropical storms and ocean waters. A callous stretch of icy water was practically a pleasure cruise. His quartermaster was born and bred on French waters and Fintan trusted Zac more than any man alive or dead to safely steer them homeward. But even as the sky grew black in their wake the gnawing anxiety in his stomach brought out the old bosun habit of checking each and every rope a dozen times over as the hull practically leapt from the water from the wind that had whipped up.
They anchored in port with the sky like a bruise at their backs and the crew made quick work of unloading cargo to make for the pub before the storm hit. Fin's specialty had never been numbers but he dared not turn in an incorrect manifest, and carefully combed through the cargo list and invoices until both sides broke even and he tucked his handiwork safely away in his satchel and made for the deck.
There she was.
The wind blowing hard and kicking up spray off the water, and there was Aurore on the dock weathering it like she had the first moment he met her. It was a quick descent from the gangplank and he was by her side.
He looked at her with all the affection of a man so hopelessly in love and with so few words in his head that whatever intimate proclamation could have adequately conveyed the deepest feeling in his heart came out of his mouth only as: "Quite the sight." as he turned toward the storm that was now mere minutes away.
But Aurore had blown into his life with a storm and as though she commanded the very winds and waves of Poseidon herself it was a call to shore. To home.
The Ascalon sailed the channel easily, her captain having cut his sails on tropical storms and ocean waters. A callous stretch of icy water was practically a pleasure cruise. His quartermaster was born and bred on French waters and Fintan trusted Zac more than any man alive or dead to safely steer them homeward. But even as the sky grew black in their wake the gnawing anxiety in his stomach brought out the old bosun habit of checking each and every rope a dozen times over as the hull practically leapt from the water from the wind that had whipped up.
They anchored in port with the sky like a bruise at their backs and the crew made quick work of unloading cargo to make for the pub before the storm hit. Fin's specialty had never been numbers but he dared not turn in an incorrect manifest, and carefully combed through the cargo list and invoices until both sides broke even and he tucked his handiwork safely away in his satchel and made for the deck.
There she was.
The wind blowing hard and kicking up spray off the water, and there was Aurore on the dock weathering it like she had the first moment he met her. It was a quick descent from the gangplank and he was by her side.
He looked at her with all the affection of a man so hopelessly in love and with so few words in his head that whatever intimate proclamation could have adequately conveyed the deepest feeling in his heart came out of his mouth only as: "Quite the sight." as he turned toward the storm that was now mere minutes away.
