The sun began to, slowly, fill the windowed cabins of the Phoenix, illuminating the small particles of dust that hovered ever-so-slightly in the air within the ship. It was a reminder that the harsh night was over, with a trying day to follow, however Merche was just thankful that they escaped those coiling flying worms; as impressive as their silver-tinted scales were, they were not pretty to watch, attempting to foil the crew's sky passages. Unfortunately the serpentine's wrath was only the beginning of this luckless saga, as Merche found no other way to escape the beasts other than navigating the ship into, perhaps, even more dangerous territories.
Even as she recalled the events just recently gone and past, Merche sat at her miniature desk in her small quarters, which was only shortened in length by various equipment littering the cabin; from a collection of binoculars to telescopes, maps large and small rolled up messily into the corners of the room, to small tools, such as compasses and ink vials, left organised on the wooden-panelled floor.
In such a small location, Merche creased her wings against her back, in the attempt to save some room and to avoid the feathered limbs from knocking any of her pinned maps off the walls.
Merche sat there, pouring herself into the multitude of maps and diagrams that stretched across the table, all a variation of the same location. These were, for most part, uncharted boundaries, most likely due to the high levels of criminal activities, such as the presence pirate and mercenary islands, islands with the sole purpose of causing trouble.
It was likely that these islands were, once, normal communities of civilians and such, yet had the misfortune to be captured and utilised as a den of ill-doers. As such, none of said islands were officially named on the map, making it difficult during a sky assault for Merche to decide which island to direct the ship to.
Eventually, and perhaps quite hastily, Merche decided on the only
named island written on her maps; the pirate island of Paradieso, an ironic title, considering it was teaming with fish-eyed bandits just looking for a pretty penny.
"At least we do not have to deal with thoughtless monsters..." Merche thought to herself, followed by a tired sigh, her wings twitching ever so slightly, wishing to be spread out in the open. The harpy spent most of the night, trying to find a better route however, at this stage, this was the best that was on offer for them. If the least of their problems were thieves and poison, Merche believed they should be able to survive.
Reaching this bitter-sweet conclusion after all night of internal debating, the navigator slowly lifted herself out of her seat, cautiously exiting her room to avoid tripping over anything. Already out in the corridors, it was nice to shake her plumage, even just a little; unlike her room, which was stuffy and warm despite the provided window, the corridor held a draft, provided by the various open doors it led off to. Time to report to the captain or, at least, take her first look at this city with the light of day. Merche strolled down the Phoenix's hallways, her avian talons grasping the wooden panels underfoot with each step.
At first glance it seemed like an awkward gait, however Merche found no discomfort in it, after living seventeen years as a harpy. She had an unnatural balance, between upholding the wings on her back to carrying her whole body weight in the pair of twigs that were her "legs". Her long, wild hair bounced along with her, constantly being pushed away from her contemplative face, as Merche was still considering her navigational decisions.
There was no doubt in her skills, however her experience failed her; something she attempted to compensate through her rather harsh behaviour. Merche kept reassuring herself within her mind as she walked out upon the Phoenix's dock, met with three other members of the crew; the captain, the engineer and the first mate.
The captain seemed occupied by the elven engineer, as they sparsely talked upon a subject unknown. Aelfric Marickson sat upon the railings, looking worse-for-wear after the battle he had endured. Merche was lucky enough to be pre-occupied with her navigation duties to be involved in any extent of the fighting, although she did managed to kick one of the injured flying creatures off the deck, as little of an achievement one could ever claim. The winged girl decided to approach the lost-in-thought first mate, leaving the captain to his discussions with Ms. Greylight to strike a conversation with the tall fellow.
"Mr. Marickson." Merche began to say, reaching up on the tips of her talons to reach the lower half of Aelfric's back, tapping it in case the Hashari was distracted by the bustling city that lay in front of the Phoenix.
"I do hope that you treated your wounds before this morn'" the harpy commented, noticing the cuts and bite marks the first mate sustained in the serpentine fight of the day before. Although her amethystine-hued irises held a moody look that seemed to be Merche's default expression, there was a hint of a rare suggestion of concern as the harpy hopped, with ease, onto the railing in a bird-like fashion, taking a seat beside the seven foot giant. By instinct her wings began to spread above her head, stretching not unlike how a human would, the slight wind easing the stiffness of her wings.
Despite the comfort she took, being out in the open, Merche's face did not smile or even seem relatively happy as she studied Aelfric who sat beside her.
"I do not recall you wielding a sword yesterday." Merche noted, watching Aelfric sharpening his weapon and remembering the one time she caught Aelfric in the chaos of the attack; he took one of the beast out of the sky, hammering it into the deck below. It was impressive, however notably dangerous, a thought that ran through Merche's mind once more, seeing the wounds that Mr. Marikson sustained a day after.
She began to question whether it was correct, anchoring at Paradieso, a question that she eventually decided that there would be no correct answer to; this was the best apple up for the picking, out of a pile of rotting fruit.
