Velin groans and leans over the side, watching water whip by. It doesn't help much. It's better than standing at the prow of the boat, but...
"Can we take an airship next time?" he asks, plaintively. Lyse claps him on the shoulder, and Velin swallows roughly and makes a face.
"It's not that bad, is it?" she responds, grinning at him. Velin starts to respond with a vigorous nod, then reconsiders halfway through as his gut tries to squirm up his throat.
"It's that bad," he says instead. "I'd take another break on yol-back, but..."
At this point the up-and-down motion of flying will be just as bad. It's weird, that he can normally go for as long as he wants in flight without feeling sick, but a little time in the ocean and he's wrecked for any kind of transportation.
Velin drapes despondantly over the railing. He's being a little overdramatic, sure, alright, fine. But look. What do you expect when you drop a cat in the middle of the ocean? He's never been surrounded by this much water in his life.
Lyse shakes her head a little in disbelief. "How did you ever fight Leviathan?"
"That was closer to shore!" Velin shudders slightly. "...and I emptied my stomach while they were towing me in." Both ways, though he didn't really have much left the second go-round.
Lyse squeezes his shoulder, sympathetically. "You'll get used to it if you hang in there," she offers. Which Velin knows is true, but it's not keeping him from misery now. He grimaces at her.
They stand together in silence for a while, watching dark shapes move under the clear water. The wake the ship leaves behind mostly keeps wavekin away, but now that Lyse's reminded him of Leviathan - Velin keeps thinking he sees a huge, long shape following them. He knows it's just his imagination, but every time the corner of his eye tricks him again, it sends a pulse of adrenaline down his spine.
"You grew up next to Doma, didn't you?"
Velin hums softly, and discovers - to his relief - that humming helps his stomach. A little bit. "Closer than to Eorzea, at least - but I've never been. I followed the other side of the river when I left home, and then headed toward Dalmasca." His tail lashes once, and he huffs, softly. "If I'd known what the Garlean Empire was like, I'd probably have run the other way. They've never really bothered with the Steppe."
Devout as the Xaela tribes are to Azim and Nhaama, no one in living memory - or in other tribes' oral history - has summoned a primal. If they were ever taught by the Ascians, it's been hundreds of years; and besides, few tribes believe they have a connection special enough to one of their gods that they'd be chosen over the other tribes.
(Though Velin wonders, sometimes, about Bardam -)
Abruptly, the Mi'qote remembers that unlike him, Lyse hasn't had the luck to have her homeland left alone by the Garleans. He winces to himself, and abruptly starts up again with "But I'm getting distracted. We had visitors from Doma sometimes - traders..."
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2 - Sway
"Can we take an airship next time?" he asks, plaintively. Lyse claps him on the shoulder, and Velin swallows roughly and makes a face.
"It's not that bad, is it?" she responds, grinning at him. Velin starts to respond with a vigorous nod, then reconsiders halfway through as his gut tries to squirm up his throat.
"It's that bad," he says instead. "I'd take another break on yol-back, but..."
At this point the up-and-down motion of flying will be just as bad. It's weird, that he can normally go for as long as he wants in flight without feeling sick, but a little time in the ocean and he's wrecked for any kind of transportation.
Velin drapes despondantly over the railing. He's being a little overdramatic, sure, alright, fine. But look. What do you expect when you drop a cat in the middle of the ocean? He's never been surrounded by this much water in his life.
Lyse shakes her head a little in disbelief. "How did you ever fight Leviathan?"
"That was closer to shore!" Velin shudders slightly. "...and I emptied my stomach while they were towing me in." Both ways, though he didn't really have much left the second go-round.
Lyse squeezes his shoulder, sympathetically. "You'll get used to it if you hang in there," she offers. Which Velin knows is true, but it's not keeping him from misery now. He grimaces at her.
They stand together in silence for a while, watching dark shapes move under the clear water. The wake the ship leaves behind mostly keeps wavekin away, but now that Lyse's reminded him of Leviathan - Velin keeps thinking he sees a huge, long shape following them. He knows it's just his imagination, but every time the corner of his eye tricks him again, it sends a pulse of adrenaline down his spine.
"You grew up next to Doma, didn't you?"
Velin hums softly, and discovers - to his relief - that humming helps his stomach. A little bit. "Closer than to Eorzea, at least - but I've never been. I followed the other side of the river when I left home, and then headed toward Dalmasca." His tail lashes once, and he huffs, softly. "If I'd known what the Garlean Empire was like, I'd probably have run the other way. They've never really bothered with the Steppe."
Devout as the Xaela tribes are to Azim and Nhaama, no one in living memory - or in other tribes' oral history - has summoned a primal. If they were ever taught by the Ascians, it's been hundreds of years; and besides, few tribes believe they have a connection special enough to one of their gods that they'd be chosen over the other tribes.
(Though Velin wonders, sometimes, about Bardam -)
Abruptly, the Mi'qote remembers that unlike him, Lyse hasn't had the luck to have her homeland left alone by the Garleans. He winces to himself, and abruptly starts up again with "But I'm getting distracted. We had visitors from Doma sometimes - traders..."