At the dock, the boatmen were reluctant to give Seren a ride. They are aware of her famous luck, or lack thereof; ferrying her means instant death, adding with the horrible weather. The strong wind was picking up, almost taking Seren’s petite body up in the air, Theon anchoring her to the ground. Her face was wet with the rain, she could barely make out anything under the downpour. She hugged the statue to her chest, hoping the water won’t wear it down; she decided she must hold it close all the time than risk losing it, it was not that much heavy anyway.

              She knows the hesitancy of the boatmen, with the weather it was indeed suicide to try to ferry through. If she waits until the heavy rain calmed down, it would take three to four days, at most five. Then she could swim it out, but her stamina thinks otherwise.

              Theon tried beseeching every boatman, pleading to take his sister to the mainland. Seren stood behind him silently, knowing negotiating was not one of her strong points. She could feel the cold rainfall heavily on her sore shoulders, her feet damp inside her boots.

Under the heavy downpour, she could make out a tall figure of a man in a black cloak standing at the dock, with his head bowed slightly. His face was dripping wet from the rain, his pale eyes steady, his face pale white. The strong wind suddenly picked up, pushing his hood away, making his hair wet with the rain; there was a small stud earring visible on his right ear. His dark raven hair gleamed under the streetlamps from the dock. The man was talking to an old man who was tending to his small boat.

              “I need to get to the mainland right away. Could you please take me there?” The man was also trying to persuade the boatman to take him to the mainland; his calm voice even.

              “Yer trying to kill me, son? ‘Can’t ya see the storm brewing in them ocean could destroy me small boat?” the old man coughed slightly as he fixed his sail.

              “I understand, but I have important matters to attend to—”

              “Ai, ya pesky child. Ain’t yer life important too?”

              “I’ll pay you however much you want. I just need to—”

              The old man shook his fist at the young man, annoyance visible on his face.

“Ya think money runs the world, eh?”

His white hair pasted on his skull, the bushy brows in a snit. He sat languidly inside the boat, resting his eyes shut, deciding to let the storm wear on while waiting for his next move. He was already having the worst of luck, having been kicked out of the pub that afternoon for blasphemy against their esteemed Wind God. His tongue was begging for the taste of alcohol as his mind was clearing up from the hangover from the evening before. He was not in the mood to sail that evening, no matter how much money was offered.

              Seren watched the exchange with interest, the old man’s face looks familiar to her as the old man she met at the temple the day before. She approached them and offered what was inside the small flask she was carrying. “Would this change your mind, sir?”

              The old man’s white hair whipped as the storm surged on, he cracked open his eyes and watched a small lady reach her offered hand carrying a flask at him.

              “It’s wine.” She brought it with her for emergencies, but this could count as one if she could ask for a ride.

              The old man snatched it faster than she could move, losing her balance. The surging wind didn’t help and she swayed slightly, almost diving headfirst into the water. The young man beside her swiftly held her arm and the small of her back to steady her; his cold fingers lingering on her wrist involuntarily.

She stood astounded, staring at the young man’s unfamiliar face. His pale eyes were framed by thick eyelashes, thick and straight eyebrows hovering above. There was a small scar under his right eyebrow, faintly concaved, white; which makes him look a bit rogue. Rain washed his face in the heavy downpour, water dripping from his straight nose, his pale pink tightly pursed.

Thunder echoed in the sky followed by sparks of lightning. She instinctively held onto his strong arms, her heart beating loudly inside her chest.

“Be careful.” He whispered, his voice calm. 

“Thank you.” She meekly answered as he let her go. She stumbled as she steadied herself, her face burning.

              “Home-made, eh?” the old man observed after taking a swig. “Did ya make this? Not bad, girlie.” He took a look at the pair before him and decided, “Aight I’ll take you both there. This is enough for the fare.”

              “Thank you, sir.” Seren beamed at the old man. She beckoned for Theon to come over and tell him that she got herself a ride. Theon stared at the dainty boat with judging eyes, wondering if it could maneuver safely. He grudgingly helped Seren up the boat repeating the same line over and over again, “If you get lost, ask for directions. If you’re not back after three days, I’m taking you back whether you fulfilled your mission or not.”

              Seren wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at her brother’s petulant face. “Theon, I’m not a child. I’m going to be alright.”

              Theon reluctantly let her go, watching as the old man prepared to take sail under the raving storm. The young man joining them helps him dutifully. The small boat moved with the waves; a nauseating feeling started deep within Seren’s stomach. The last time she rode a boat out of Mistral was when she went to university; the sea was calm then, not a speck of rain. It was the first time she rode it in the storm and the novel experience was not for everyone.

              Theon scrutinized his sister as the boat drifted off; his heart heavy with worry but understanding the circumstances. With his sister’s temperament, it would be impossible to convince her to stay. He just prays that she gets to the Central City safely and finishes her mission as soon as possible.

              Seren focused her eyes on the dock, watching Theon’s figure fade under the mist of the storm. She swallowed heavily, trepidation creeping inside her. Her wobbly legs tried to stand up from sitting on a bench inside, but she slipped and almost hit her head on the side.

              “Ah!” Her vision slipped and she was once again on the young man’s arm as he caught her. Not again, she thought, this is the second time. She felt his arm tighten around her waist, steadying her; his other hand held her head. She had her eyes shut and upon opening her eyes, his pale eyes watched her curiously.

              Pretty.

It was the first time that Seren saw such pale, clear eyes. A common trait among inhabitants of the island of Mistral was having fair-colored eyes. It was common in the mainland to have dark eyes, especially among the nobilities. After attending university in Central City, and seeing a lot of them, she got used to it.

              But the young man's eyes were different. The color was uncommon for inhabitants of the island. A westerner?

There was a sense of familiarity, as though she had laid her eyes before them. Inside the light abyss of its depth, a magnetizing connection hung between them. It unsettled her, and yet the man before posed no threat to her which confused her.

              “If ye two lovebirds don’t hang onto somethin’, these waves will throw ya off me boat.” The old man observed with a smirk, watching the two with mirth as he swung Seren’s flask and gulped a large amount of the wine.

              The two quickly let go and moved at either side of the boat, while anchoring themselves. The old man chuckled at the youngsters’ antics; it was the most entertaining evening he had in a while.

              A big wave came crashing at the boat, Seren’s wet hands slipped from where she was holding onto, rolling over to the tall mast. She clung onto it for dear life, her fingers turning white, the wind picking up violently.

              The young man watched her silently until dawn after reaching the Central City, not once letting her out of his sight.