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Solitary, the figure crouched just out of sight; watching and waiting, the hooded being observed as the late night goers promenaded across the harbor dock. Just on the outer edge of the desert continent of Farah'deen, the seaside city sat with its mixture of ships with crews of so many different shades. Light skinned Ailor humans from the Holy City of Regalia laughed as they hung off the railings of their cargo ships, while darker skinned Songaskia sailors could only watch them in distaste as they murmured to their neighbors. Smoke from tucked away hookahs and siggs tasted the breeze around the ships as the midnight crew relaxed. A rare thing was relaxation found for a sailor, though they often were given a short break when they finally hit land for the first time in weeks or months. Though, with the close proximity of Regalia compared to the harbor, the former was more likely.The hooded figure peered around the corner of their hiding space, cloak pulled high around their throat to hide the dulled metal that curled around it. Suspicious enough would they be, wandering through a sunburnt city with a cloak and hood, but one could always blame the sea breeze and high moon for any chill. Slowly, bare, and deeply tanned, feet slid into the dim light that covered the dock outside the alley that the being that hid in. Despite the rather unholy appearance of a shadow dressed folk crouching in the corners was, the feet were small and light- nothing impish or demonic to be seen. Soundlessly, the dark figure lopped through the shadows of the dock, their hands hidden beneath the fabric atop them, making their self as small and compact as possible as if that would shelter them from any wandering gazes.
Nevertheless, a gentle whistle rippled through the otherwise still air. Though, it held none of the qualities of a flirtatious sound, more so the type one uses when beckoning to a dog. The figure paused against the returning nightly stillness, hood high upon their head and cloaking any identity of whom they were; save for the bare skin of their toes against the grainy cobbles of the docks. Sharp, soft breathes escaped the hidden shadow as they considered their options, listening to the approaching footsteps of the whistler.
"Hello?" The greeting was more questioning then truly friendly, words in the sharp tongue of a Songaskia. Fluent unlike most could manage, the realization causing the quiet being to tense beneath their darkness. "Where are you going about in the night?" The man continued, raising his hand slowly towards the hood and just curling his fingers around it when the sneaking figure bolted forward. "Hey!" The man cried, startling by the sudden surge forward, but not releasing the cloak.
The hood flew off, along with the rest of the long shawl, curled between the fingers of the man as the wearer bolted along the cobbles. Long tendrils of jet hair whipping behind the girl as she scurried along the planks after twisting towards one of the many ships that lined the docks.
"Stop it, get back here!" The shouted followed her along, panic seizing at her while the cogs in her head spun uncontrollably, threatening to break their axis and fly off the hinges. Thus, in her moment of uncertainty, she threw herself towards the gangplank of one of the grand Ailor ships, whispering across it and vaulting over a crate to hide in its shadow just as the footsteps thudded closer across the dock. "I won't hurt you, you silly Qadir," the Songaskia called in softer tone, comforting like a mother- if that mother would soon hit her child the moment they appeared.
Rather than forgo her space by the crates, the girl curled into a tight ball, papers crushed to her chest. Muttering of anger escaped the man, looking about before there was the footsteps of him receding away, likely giving up so easy from whatever he had been smoking with his Songaskia crew. As soon as the footsteps vanished, a sigh escaped the girl, who then pressed one hand against her eye to press hard against it as if that would release her fears- the other hand still clutching to her wrinkled forms.
She noted the new pair of footsteps before she saw the man causing them, or heard his voice, though she was given hardly a moment to find another shelter. The man appeared in front of the girl, though his clothes were different from any Songaskia she'd seen, not to mention his skin was more like sun bleached sand than long shadows. His voice was strange to her ears, rough just as any Songaskia, but his language flowing much smoother than any Sofaal ever had- which reminded her distinctively of her mother tongue, with its melodic tone rather than coarse clips. Nevertheless, she didn't give a reply to his strange song of words after he'd spoken, more focused on examining the stranger before her and his strange words. His brows furrowed at her silence and then he glanced up, searching around before waving towards someone else out of sight to the crouching girl.
Not a moment later, another eccentric figure appeared for the darkly tanned girl. The second man smelled just as much as alcohol as his friend, but both held a curiosity in their gazes- whether on who the girl happened to be, or how she'd managed to get aboard, as they more than likely had forgotten about the set out gangplank. The second man smoothed his shock of Dragonflower orange hair with his just-as-bleached palm, crouching besides the girl.
After a moment of hesitance and murmuring between the men, the crouching, orange-haired man clasped his hands in front of himself while his elbows rested upon his knees. Slowly, he asked in that language of the Qadir's mother and father, that melodic Faraddi, "Your name?"
It wasn't hard to see that the girl swayed in place, not from his voice- for his accent was as terrible as they came, like a Songaskia attempting to sing a Faraddi tune- no. Instead, she nearly collapsed onto herself due to the fact that this man with skin like sea foam somehow spoke the same tongue as she. Her hands automatically reached to grab onto his, supporting herself onto his arms as she stared into the strangely colored eyes he had. Eyes like nothing she'd seen before, and that sent a shiver down her back as it seemed just as unnatural as his lightness.
"Azra," she breathed out, the teenager still in awe of the two Ailorian sailors. The men shared a look before the man with Dragonflower colored hair slowly unclasped his hands and aimed to take one of Azra's, turning it over to look at the curled paper between her fingers.
"What this?" He asked in his thick accent, his fingers curling around her own to attempt prying the page away. Azra's brows furrowed, but, put at ease by the fact that it'd be best to hide nothing at this point, she allowed him to take the slip and examine it. "A… servant? Indentured?" He asked, lifting a brow towards her.
"Yes, for…" Azra paused, examining the men before her and the flags of the ship cracking above them before she answered, "Yes, for Regalia. Needed for there." The Qadir's head nodded as she spoke, wiggling her fingers nervously. The man turned towards his friend, the two murmuring a moment. The first man shook his head, his hair- the color of Azra's skin- rustling. Her flower-haired friend gave him a sharp look before continuing his murmuring until a sigh finally escaped the first and he shrugged. With a grin, the man with orange locks returned his gaze to Azra's, the strange color sending along uncomfortable feeling in her gut, though she returned the smile.
"We have a cot that's empty. But.. you work and help us a little, and you stay. Fair?" The pieced together words, no matter how rough, brought a smile to Azra's face. She nodded and throw herself onto the sailor, hugging him unlike she had with anyone in years. He patted her head, giving an unseen look of satisfaction towards his brunet friend.
And such, the girl found her ship away from home- to a new home. Despite her insistent mental nagging, Azra never did ask about the man's eyes, afraid that he might be plagued with some old disease and get offended. It wasn't until they reached Regalia, weeks and weeks later, that Azra was leaning over the railing of the ship, examining the approaching city. Over the edge of it, that same color rustled over the isle, and so the young Qadir ran to her friend's side and pointed towards the vegetation marking the shore- so many leaves that she could hardly describe, the color she never knew the name of shining right before her eyes.
"What color?" She asked in her simple Common, learning from the men aboard.
"What do you mean?" Questioned her Claith friend, leaning the name of what he was not long ago.
"What color!" She cried, more insistently as she poked her finger towards the shoreline. After a moment of pondering for what she could mean, the man's gaze brightened and he gave an amused laugh.
"Green, Azra. Is there no green in Farah'deen?" No answer came though as the girl had leaned herself against the rail, staring into the vast green before her. So this was what it was like to finally see a color she'd only heard about.
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