Slowly, Urcea untangled herself from the pile, which was inset somewhat in the floor. Without the pillows, the air struck her as less mild. She fished a blanket from the bedding and wrapped herself.
She waded, half tripping, to the edge and stepped out onto the floor, which was of fairly smooth, red sandstone. It was warm on her feet, though the air around her had somewhat of a chill.
She walked to the edge of the room in a few short strides. From here, she had a vantage over a wide, low desert country, bathed in the moonless dark.
While the air was cool, waves of heat rose from the sand and scrub, distorting the far horizon, rippling the low mountains.
Why had her majesty shown her the vision of the Rainbird? It left Urcea empty and aching to think about it. Never had a dream been so beautiful.
To think that all this-- all of it-- could be born upon, be the very flesh of, a thing so magificent... Even should she disbelieve it, and at the moment she could not dream of how she might come to truly believe it, still she could never look at the world in quite the same way again.
Though she love Highseat above all other things, yet it was a small thing against the vastness...
At that moment, a great creature, very like in aspect to the Rainbird descended out of the night, and landed away in the desert. The bird-creature was, Urcea supposed, several fathoms tall and its wingspan looked to be nearly half a stadium tip to tip, dwarfing its elegant body. Its face shone with a gentle light. It was arrayed in feathers of every color which glistened with moisture.
It had landed with an easy grace, and shed a feather as it settled. This feather was just like the ones she'd seen at the bazaar early (she thought) that day.
Then a figure dismounted from the bird. From that distance Urcea could see the form was female, and she began to walk, slowly, each step measured in the sand, toward Urceas pavillion.
As she came, the great bird folded its wings behind her and settled into a hollow. In the darkness its shimmering colors became indistinct.
Urcea could now see the figure was a young woman. She felt no unease at her approach, for there was something familiar in her, as if Urcea knew her for an old friend. She had a graceful way about her, that though she came forth on bare feet, yet she also moved sinuously.
No great breeze came, but as Urcea watched, a chill went across her in that warm place. She stepped out into the night, which might have surprised the approaching woman, for she stopped about a hundred paces out. But Urcea went purposefully toward her.

Dumb stuff, gotta work on it still

A little forward motion and lots of little bits of cleanup... falling asleep now, though . : )

Urcea awoke, in her undergarments, in a pile of pillows. She batted her eyes and looked about. The room, dark, lit only by mostly melted candles spaced about the edges of the room, was unfamiliar to her. The shape and colors of the room, the inlays of cloud and bird, led her to believe she awoke within Noctylatl's demesne.
She felt fresh and rested, calm.
As she took in her surroundings she saw that the room was not closed, but the darkness beyond the low arches surrounding her were open to the air, and beyond, the moonless, cloudy blue night played tricks on her eyes.
No sounds reached her ear, and only the faintest breeze caressed her or the dying candles.

Urcea awoke, in her undergarments, in a pile of pillows. She batted her eyes and looked about. The room, dark, lit only by mostly melted candles spaced about the edges of the room, was unfamiliar to her. The shape and colors of the room, the inlays of cloud and bird, led her to believe she awoke within Noctylatl's demesne.
She felt fresh and rested, calm.
As she took in her surroundings she saw that the room was not closed, but the darkness beyond the low arches surrounding her were open to the air, and beyond, the moonless, cloudy blue night played tricks on her eyes.
No sounds reached her ear, and only the faintest breeze caressed her or the dying candles.

So many spoilers. Can't post anything. no tags either.

Tired.

Rocked it!

"How does one live? By blood and brain and heart and guts. If these four can be kept, a man will live long. But, to save a life is not as simple as a bandage. To mend a fractured skull, or suture an eviscerated abdomen, or save a bleeding heart. The best redeemers work in the Imperial Arenas, and they are wonders upon the land." --Excerpt from the Introduction of Wounded in Arena Combat: Treatments by Hildquock Pasweh

"I work for the Gazette."

He frowned at her. "You were following me, after all."
She could feel the color rising on her neck, but she held his eyes. "Of course, but not for the reason you thought."
"And that makes all the difference! So what's your scoop?"
"Highseat County Press already scooped us. They proposed that your father's rail is merging with Westerly. Anyway, that's why I'm passaging on the Airelighter instead of taking the, frankly, quicker steamer--"
"But less luxurious--"
"Granted."
He surveyed the men around them, "My father didn't tell me about this. I'm to survey the lands about Westerly Bay and see what negotiations would it take to start our own line... from across the desert. But it's plausible... as a back-up he could just buy out Westerly. Not a merger exactly, but a merger of sorts."
"And Westerly's lords could stand to lose quite a bit."
"Exactly! You think like a capitalist! That's their game, though I wonder now what father's might be."
He looked thoughtful. " You said you'd be on a steamer? So I'm not the only story?"

"Ma'am! This area is restricted to guests." He looked to Torvus for reassurance. He nodded.
"It's my fault she's out here."
Then both men offered hands to help her rise. Her face lined with creases. For a moment she stared at Torvus, hoping his head would catch fire. At that, she might have forgiven him. As it was she smiled at the sailor and took his proffered hand, shakily, and wrapped her arm in his. He was only a little taller than she.
Torvus was all business. "There could be more men. This is something more than mere business."
Urcea found this an incredibly odd thing to say. "You've been shot at before?"
"Several times. It comes with the work. Can't bring civilization to the world without angering certain interests. Ma'am... Excuse my manners. I'm Torvus Smithy-Stelton..."
"Janeu Wainbright."
He laughed, "Come now, you've nothing to fear from me. My father owns the Airelighter. We're under strict scrutiny at all times. So you know who I am. I apologize for my behavior early, I must look a right brute.
"I'm afraid I got a bit suspicious of you when I heard you spoke to a man we caught trying to get at the passenger manifests. When you spoke to the wait and then got up shortly after glancing at me, I thought I should act first."
He looked at her sharply. "So there's no Wainbright in the manifests..."
Urcea sighed and extended her hand. "Urcea Whitemoat of Highseat."
"Whitemoat... Whitemoat..." he turned the name around in his head for a while.
"My father is the governor of Highseat," she offered.
"No, no... I've heard it somewhere..."
She cringed, knowing he'd remember eventually. He studied her expression, puzzled. She signed a final time

"With the exception of nearby islands, there is no land beyond the ice and oceans. Endless water awaits, unless one ventures to a point known as The Ridge. This vague 'ridge' separates those who explore and those who disappear. It is an imaginary line that swallows ships that cross it.

Does the Ridge move? Does it waver or slant? What causes these ships to disappear and why? Do waves engulf ships that tempt the gods' wrath? Sailors have oft contributed great sums to the Sea God, Drakenocsis, only to disappear after venturing to The Ridge.

The ship's size nor belief nor crew competency alters the result. The Ridge swallows everything it encounters. What is it? No one knows. It exists though, more assuredly than you or I."

so tiiiiiiired

"Sir Torvus!" he cried. "Are you alright, sir?"
Urcea just stopped herself from inhaling sharply. Over the wind, she was sure no one had noticed. So this was Torvus Smithy-Stelton of Aurumdale, the heir to the Aurumdale Freight Line.
Torvus grunted and nodded. He swept their environs, taking special note of the rigging and fold-down walks above them.
"Doesn't appear to be any damage."
"Who do you think it was, sir?"
"Well, this one wasn't involved, I know that."
The sailor turned to where he motioned and started. In the dark, in her dark dress, in his haste to (check on) (it was now clear to Urcea) his boss.

"Who sent you?" the young man called to his assailants, but he was only answered with a mocking laugh.
He leveled his pistol and fired. One of the men was sent cart-wheeling over the railing in a spray of dark blood. Urcea watched the body fall a long way, cringing; she all but wrapped herself around the railing, grabbing it as she was with both arms and her body pressed against it.
She looked up in time to see the other assailant flee. In the confusion, she couldn't tell which man it was.
The young man tucked his pistol into his coat and approached Urcea where she (crouched) against the rails.
As he did, an armed sailor came from the door behind them.

Mostly dialogue, reactions, etc. All spoilers, sooo...meh. Can't post lol.

on phone, cant paste, i guess