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[longitudinal]

any and all prompts welcome. gen/smut, etc.

this is a choose not to warn entry - please note there may be nsfw content within

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[oisre]

"I don't have a destination, only away."

She suspects they will think she's fleeing some marriage she doesn't wish to be joined in and she isn't interested in illuminating any of them to the truth. The truth is dangerous and their ignorance will protect them if her father finds her. It's dangerous enough to admit that she's running away.

"Though it would be helpful to simply tell people my destination is wherever you next choose to set port." If anyone asks. She will have to spin a tale of why she must stay aboard if their next port isn't some place she can go to shore, but that is something she hasn't thought so far ahead to fully consider.

[longitudinal]

"You might be surprised to know that most of those on this ship started out that way. No end in sight, just away."

Quentin can feel a pull of something in his chest - maybe the familiar glimmer of a kindred spirit. The type to run unafraid into the next destination. He knows nothing more than the sea thanks to his father, but being landlocked would be a miserable existence.

He finishes his ale, considers her for a moment, then:

"Finish up. I could give you a tour - scope out a cabin for you. Look steady on your feet when the others arrive later. They won't ask any questions if you look like you belong, and something tells me you'll get on fine."

He pushes to his feet and offers her his hand, grinning ear to ear. "Quentin - navigator of the Royal Amphion, and if you fancy a bit of mischief, I can get you there."

[oisre]

She drinks her fill of the ale, not all of it, despite the hunger pangs prison has left her with, hollows in her frame that used to have more of a curve, she can't stomach very much anymore. Usually she grows full simply looking at a meal.

"Pearl." Her hand slips into Quentin's with ease, cool despite the fire. Like a pearl. A name well suited for a woman about to take to sea. Her name is the only thing she can't let go of, despite how foolish it is to forgo an alias.

"I would be grateful for a tour. At least I will keep some dignity if I can cross the deck without tripping over the ropes."

She has nothing to bring with her, no luggage, only the dress she is wearing and the cloak draped over her shoulders. She hadn't even paid for a room at this inn to wait out the night. There is nothing to keep her here and everything leading her to the ship.