To her relief, Théadan was swift to point out the reasons she need not worry about where the ship next docked. He had faith in Risho and Navia did as well, so she knew Théadan was right to point out Risho would have their safety in mind whenever he decided they needed to stop. He was also right to point out they wouldn’t have to get off the ship if they did end up in Mes’Mo’Tan again, but Navia sincerely hoped that was not the case. A break from spending so much time in such small places would be most welcome, even if was only for a few hours. And after a brief kiss that made her smile, Théadan appeared to share her sentiments, voicing the same hope she had that they would stop in a place they could relax and leave the ship for a while. Nodding her agreement, Navia dropped her head down to rest on his shoulder with a deep sigh. “I hope so too,” she told him, her gaze drifting over to Wyndagar, “I hope we stop long enough to let Wyn off the ship for a while. He looks like he could use the earth beneath his feet for a few hours.”<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>The storm was soon behind them and once they had returned to their room, Navia had spent the rest of the evening sleeping heavily to recover from the turmoil the riotous ship had caused her. When she woke early the next morning, the nausea was completely gone, as was the soreness and general malaise from being sick. Eager to see what had caused the loud crash the night before and to hear Risho’s plan, she had extracted herself from her spot curled up next to Théadan in the tiny bed and dressed quickly. Though he was far better and rather close to full health, she had grown used to rising before him in the mornings to hide the sickness that tended to come when she woke. So she’d slipped out to go find Risho, but not before checking in on Wyndagar to see how he’d fared the night. He had seemed well enough, if not a little perturbed he was still stuck on a ship.<br/><br/>Risho had been easy enough to find up on the top deck and he’d grinned at her once setting eyes on her. After explaining how sick she’d looked to him the night before and thanking the gods that his suspicious drink had helped her, Risho had turned and pointed out the damage the<i>Uttarana </i>had endured. The tiger and leopard sails still rose tall over the ship, full and proudly carrying them onward, but the boa was hanging limply to one side. The thick wooden beam meant to hold the sail tautly in place had snapped in the wind and was resting beside the base of the mast, one end of it ragged from its break. It would not be difficult to fix, Risho had explained, but they would need to find a port where they could repair the sail.<br/><br/>“It’s called Terlingua,” Navia explained, having gone back down to wake Théadan after speaking with Risho. She’d convinced him to leave the warmth of their bed and join her up on the main deck, "Apparently it's an island we should reach within a few hours that belongs to no country. Some people live there, but it's mostly for the sea's travelers, so a whole number of different people visit." Many of the sailors had been given time to rest after such a difficult night and the deck was relatively quiet, giving them free rein until land was spotted. The sun was warm upon them, the air not nearly as chilly as it had been. Navia was comfortable in the deep blue gown she’d bought before leaving Mes’Mo’Tan without a cloak, much to her inner excitement. Before long, the thick dress would be too warm as well. Fingers loose on Théadan’s, she gave them a small tug while drawing closer to the railing keeping them separated from the sea.<br/><br/>“He said we’ll probably be docked there for a night, two at the most,” Navia continued, only for a couple crates left near the railing to catch her eye. Dark eyes curious, she wandered over to them, noticing how they made a natural little staircase to the wide railing. It was all too easy to step up and up until her boots were thudding on the wooden beam that made up the side of the ship itself, her hand tightening on Théadan’s for support. The sea was calm, the ship giving barely a sway, and Navia was confident she would not go tumbling into the gray-blue sea over a dozen feet down. Black hair catching in the slight breeze and swirling behind her, the skirts of her gown ruffling as well, Navia’s expression was one of wicked mischief when she looked back to Théadan and began to inch down the wood, one foot after the other. “What would you do?” She asked, extending her free hand outward for balance, “What would you do if I fell in? Would you save me?”