Mood
The gentle splashing of water against the Hull stirred the male awake. The storm had come and gone, the harsh sound of waves crashing into the wood gone, the swaying, as though drunken or dizzy, gone. The boat hadn't sunk, and the male hadn't stirred. He'd lay in a peaceful slumber, though he had been rolled around on the floor by the harsh movements of the waves and of the boat. He'd been sound asleep. Until now.
One eye cracks open, him taking in the sight of the barrels and crates, some lids open. An apple is laid by his hand. With a lazy yawn, he pushes himself up, snatching the apple up and taking a bite, his other hand rubbing his eyes. He casts a critical eye around where he had slept, groaning as he stretches. Mental note not to sleep on wood when one can avoid it. Another stretch later, and he's headed for the deck, climbing through the layers of boat until he reaches the top. He strides to the side of the boat. A sprawling mass of buildings are laid before his eyes, people like small ants bustling around buildings that seem the size of a child's toys. Despite that, it's beautiful. That's clear as he nears. Beautiful in the fact it's so teeming with life, even as the day has just begun. Beautiful in the architecture, nothing like the harsh, unforgiving, cold buildings he'd grown up around. Nor was it like the buildings around which he had spent the last few years of his life. It wasn't like the boat, all necessities, it wasn't like anything he'd ever seen, or anything he'd ever known. The sunlight isn't harsh, the cold isn't biting. It's unusual. Maybe he could get used to it. Maybe.
It had all paid off. Sleeping on the back of carts and sleeping in boats. It was worth the meals of bread and butter, it was worth not being able to spend a regal more than he needed. It was worth the pain and the travel and the effort it had taken to get one man to Regalia. The boat gets closer, and he can hear it, the sound of merchants selling their wares and the early morning gossip among tired workers, the smell of spices and of freshly baked loaves.His eyes roam across the people, the buildings. He's close to the city now.
The boat moors, ropes thrown and tied in a frenzy of activity. Orders shouted, a plank is lowered. Take a deep breath, look around. Move across the plank. A momentary pause, then his feet hit cobble, and he sighs. Finally, finally.
He's arrived.
@AtticCat be proud of me
