Sailing the Clouds: Remnants

Unrelated stories that take place in a setting besides Star Wars...

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"KHOKHA!" -Blarny-
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Sailing the Clouds: Remnants

Post by Auladan »

Pale green eyes scanned the vast sea of clouds stretched out before them, bringing a roguish grin to Loakans lips. The horizon was masked in healthy white billows, though the sun setting over the Northing sky cast its sleepy glow over the fringes of the nimbus ocean, turning the artful skies into a heavenly tapestry of translucent pinks, oranges and whites. A gentle arctic wind swept through the dusk air, filling the giant sails of the airship with cold, effortless propulsion. The breeze caught Loakans cloak and nearly sent him over on his stomach, though a quick foot assured him his balance. His head was tilted in silent admiration, and his mind was set at ease despite the chill that gnawed at his bones.

“Cap’m wants that break fixed ‘fore midnight y’know.”

The youthful boy wrapped up in his cloak turned to find Jola staring off into the intangible ocean, holding a long handled mop and bucket. The front of her baggy clothing was darkened with water stains, and her long auburn hair was tied up into a messy bun. The captain had given her swap deck duty for the week; he couldn’t resist a jestful grin. “The moon’ll be out all night. I’ll get it done.”

Jola smiled softly, resting her hands on the end of her mop handle, her chin on top of them. “Sure you will. Later. You always do things later. Why not just get it over with?”

Loakan turned away from her to face the brilliant sunset. The green of his irises shone in the tapering light, sparkling teal. The falling suns crest rested on the shoulders of the horizon, and lingered only minutes before disappearing entirely below the clouds. His sandy hair continued to dance over his neck and ears as he faced the broad of the winds front. He propped one foot up on the port railing. A month in the highseas and he still wasn’t acclimated to the thin air. He was a newblood onboard the Hopper, and he had yet to befriend the cold. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve an entire deck to mop anyway.”

A calm, silent moment passed before Jola responded. She’d been staring off into the blanket of stars stretched out over the world. Her eyes sparkled a dazzling blue, though Loakan, attention still wayward over the ocean of painted clouds, couldn’t see them. “Mmm… Ever get the feelin’ you’re alone up here?” she mused. “Cap’m says no matter where y’sail, you’re never quite entirely alone. The clouds talk to a sailor, if y’know how to listen. Guides a ship on her way even…” Her voice was melodic, like a storyteller who captivated a small audience.

Loakan kept still, save his regular shivering. The view was worth the discomfort of the evening chill, he often said, and he more than gladly paid the price. Not everyone got to watch the heavens like Cloud Sailors did, or view the earth as something distant. He’d never seen anything so serene, so passively wonderful.

“I’ve heard that sometimes cloud beasts follow the trails of airships like ours, and that sometimes they even brush up against the hull like they’re trying to guide us, or even push us away. You can hear them you know, when they choose to talk to us. I’ve heard their song before… I doubt you’d believe it. Odd thing is I’ve never seen one.” Jola continued, finding herself a few steps closer to Loakans side. “No one has.” His shivering had caught her attention, and she placed her hands on his upper arms and slowly began to rub them. “Still not used to the cold, huh?” The clouds had begun to darken into a deep blue, yet the far seas still held the wonderful pastels of setting sunlight. Loakan hadn’t noticed how cold he actually was. Her hands on his arms reminded him, and a tingle ran up his spine. “I guess not… What do they say?” His eyes flicked out over the port side of the ship into the endless reaches of the ocean, almost hoping to see something out there, something other then their own shadow playing over the clouds.

“Maybe they’re asking why we’re here; what we’re doing up here in the sky. We weren’t made to fly, you know.” Loakan nodded, eyes squinted to keep the winds from them. “Maybe they were singin’ just for you…” His words were whispers, muted by the breeze. He drew a long breath, nearly freezing his lips and throat. “You’re right though, we’re not meant to fly. At least, we weren’t meant to. But… Look at that,” his hand spread at arms length, directing both their attentions into the untamed seas, “Someone has to appreciate that, and whatever else is out there… I want to see them.”

“The cloud dragons?”

Loakan curled his fingers around the wisps of a passing clouds tendril, watching as it parted around his hand. His eyes penetrated the depths of the skies, searching. He barely nodded his head in answer.

“Maybe even touch one…” Jola raised a brow, and tapped his head with her mop stick. “Maybe you should stop dreamin’ and fix that breach?”

The boy jerked away instinctively, though gave a playful grin as he turned around to face her. For first time that night he looked her up and down, bringing amiable laughter from his lips. Her hair was a mess, her cloths were soaked, and the mop bucket, full of water and soap, was easily too much weight for her to properly lug around. “Y’’likin’ swap deck duty much?” Jola glared at him, her eyes sharpening like icy daggers. Loakan quickly cleared his throat and stepped away to ready himself for the task he’d avoided until now.

----

Loakan had coiled a dark-leathered utility belt around his waist after another lasting, wishful stargaze, having gathered the equipment he’d need to perform his duties. I long, taut rope snaked through several pulleys and metal clamps that was fastened to his belt, tied at both ends to a brass knob protruding from a section of the starboard railing. His knee-length windrobe fluttered in the breeze like a skirt pulled snug around his neck, showing his calf long leggings. The end of a rough wooden sheath was visible, home to his only dagger. As he’d been preparing to fix a known puncture in the ships hull, Loakans eye had landed on a shadowy figure that had recently seemed to haunt the deck at all odd hours. He’d never talked with her before, though knew better then to go bug her about who she was.

“You know her?” He piped to Jola, who’d again begun to mop up the deck, if only to appear busy to anyone who actually cared about it. The captain seemed to be the only one concerned. The hopper was a bloody Harvester. Her deck was mess no matter how often it saw a mop.

“Of her. She’s a gunslinger.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he had to fight away his piqued curiosity to keep from staring at the woman. The moonlit figure stood at the very fore the ship, peering over the railing and foremast--which was broken not ten meters off-ship--looking as if she was an immoveable statue. “A Gunslinger? Here?”

Jola flopped her mop against the deck after thoroughly soaking it in her bucket of soapy water and flinched as speckles flung up into her face. “I don’t know why she’s here, but cap’m said she’s gonna be with us for a while. Hell, I don’t even care why she’s about… I just feel safer with her around. Maybe we’d see less a’ them damned pirates if they knew we had the likes a' her around.”

Loakan worked his mouth, which had run dry. He’d grown around fantastical stories of Gunslingers and Cloud Dragons and was often judged a fool for believing them. All his attention fixed on the statue Jola said to be a Gunslinger; he never imagined he’d see one; he didn't get to for long. With a cynical bellow of laughter, one that belied her typically sweet voice, Jola pushed Loakan over the bow of the Star Hopper. The young man tripped over the wooden railing too quickly to allow a responce and fell overboard, disappearing into the majestic cloudseas.

“Damn newblood…”
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