Lynne
Shipsman Orwen Windrow | Onboard the "Vesper "

He stood firm on the bow of the ship, confident that his men behind him were fast and efficient in their duties bringing the ship into port. The sun roasted elder belched out his working calls, and the men called back rhythmically in their labor. The sound brought him great comfort. It was one of the welcome feelings that only sailors knew. 

As he surveyed the coastline, He felt watched. Turning his head, he saw her. A red figure bobbing in the water, not far from the shore near the temple. Yet she was farther from shore than the rest of the throng that waited behind. 

Silently, he touched the hand of his lame arm to his breast, which took much effort and discomfort for him, and raised the other, open palm towards her. He was not a very religious man, no more than the superstitions every sailor held, yet he knew a visit to the tide bearers temple was well overdue. 

Letting his hands fall, he grunted a sigh of relief. His one arm was mostly useless, but he could still force it to do some things. He rolled his shoulder a bit, trying to work out the pain for the moment. It would subside, it always did. 

The ship slowed as the crew hoisted the sails up into their place, and expertly pulled the long vessel up to one of the open Deepwater docks that protruded from the cities shoreline.
Rhonda
Ollie
The Temple of the Tides, Tonate Proper

He bristled. 

"I am a faithful servant of his Grace, yes," He cleared his throat and looked around at the group of priests, "As are we _all,_"

He believed in the Tides Barer the same way he believed in the sun or the waves. He was real, yes, but he could not save you. He had lived and he has died, and it was possible that a man was just a man and a whale was just a whale. In their own temples they could talk of treason, but not here, not behind the walls of Tonate Proper. 

"At any rate, no. I am not here to worship," _you,_ he could have added, but held his tongue, "The King sends his regards, but unless you would like to meet him at his estate, he is occupied with other royal matters. He does apologize, and he does recognize that he has been absent from these meetings before, but he extends his hospitality to you and yours, should you want to join him for dinner on the hill." 

A hollow gesture said with a polite smile. Just as the King was no fan of the priests, the priests were no fan of him. Whereas the Tides Barers of ages past were warlike and vengeful, Bradai Maith's rule had been mostly peaceful, more interested in trade than terror. 

"If that suits _you_, of course," He leaned in at Tethys. Surely she should reject the offer and they both go about on their way.
Deborah
***Tethys
Outside the Temple of Tides***

The man on the ship's response, a small wave of an arm that seemed almost pained, brought a tiny smile to Tethys' lips before she turned away. No doubt the sailor would come to the Temple - the Tide had brought them in so surely it would finish returning them to the heart of the Tide-Bearer's temple. Nonetheless, she turned slightly back toward Ollie - her mirthful sea-glass green eyes only growing starry with amusement at the man's crumbling composure," Oh yes, we're all King Bradai's boys. Some are just closer to him than others; such as yourself, Kingsman." 
 
Crossing her arms over her breast as she listened to the invitation, the Leviathan Orphan's eyes flickering toward the rolling tropical hills just behind the city where the King likely sat in the shade of a large-leafed palm. Her bright grin faded somewhat in thought whilst her gaze shifted toward the temple. By now, several red-blue-green robed holyfolk had begun to slowly filter through its great columns - still clearly searching for *Something*. It was the perfect opportunity to escape.

" Well *Of course* I'd love to meet Bradai-" Tethys all but swooned dramatically, focusing back on Ollie as she gestured toward the port they would no doubt have to mount to reach their destination,"- for supper and productive conversation of course." And before the poor, unfortunate Kingsman could argue... The young woman had set off across the sand toward the pier, white sand clinging to her feet and calves as she left a trail of silvery droplets of water. The confidence with which she strode was that of an individual untethered by extensive consideration, not thoughtfulness; no it was the stride of one very much about to meet the King... Whether he liked it or not.
 
Thus, if Ollie kept up with the young woman, they would soon be mounting the creaking wooden stairs from the beach onto the bustling pier - all manner of folk wandered here, carrying cargo or navigating the chaos. They had mounted the pier not far from the landed *Vesper* - the Whale-Child's focused gaze flickering to the newly arrived ship and ultimately changing direction rather abruptly toward it instead. After navigating the chaotic tug-of-war to the base of the *Vesper's* Gangplan, the red-robed woman paused and raised a hand in greeting to the arriving sailors... As if the appointment with the King had been forgotten, but more than likely having expected poor Ollie to follow in her wake.
 
" The Tides brought you in friends! Welcome, welcome!"
Lynne
Shipsman Orwen Windrow | Vesper Mooring

As the men disembarked the ship. They gave the expected reverence to the woman who greeted them. All knew her as the whale child, the obsession of the monks of the Temple of the tide bearer. Unlike the sailors around them from other vessels, these men disembarked their vessel and began to form a rough line to one side of the narrow plank connecting the ship to the pier. 

Each man in line seemed to wait, many wore no shoes and sported hard, calloused feet and hands from days at sea of hard labor. 

After a brief moment, what they were waiting for was made apparent when Orwen began his slow descent from the ship. His lame arm hung freely beside him, his one good foot stamped heavily against the wood. When he was firmly on the peir, the sailors scattered from their waiting and off in a dozen directions, whooping and carrying on the way sailors in port often did.

Orwen turned to meet her, bending only slightly in a sign of respect. 
"Miss'ress, you need no have come all de way from tha temple to 'ave met we" His smile was warm, a contrast to his gruff, scarred and sun beaten face.