Waverider Expedition - Coralwyn
The Waverider glided into the lagoon like a tired beast returning to calm water. Coral reefs glimmered beneath the hull, fish flashing like coins in the sunlight. Onshore, palms swayed in a slow, lazy breeze, and laughter drifted from huts of woven fronds.
Solonex stood at the rail, studying the pale curve of the shore. “Beautiful place,” he said. “Let’s hope it’s friendly.”
Otto the Dwarf snorted. “Friendly or not, we’ve got a cracked hull strake and half a rudder gone. She won’t make open sea till she’s patched.”
The Coralwyn elves met them at the shallows, garlands of flowers in their hair, their eyes bright as sea glass. One of them, lean, sun-browned, and smiling, raised a hand in greeting.
“You’ve scraped your belly on the reef, yes? Don’t worry. The sea forgives.”
Before Otto the Dwarf could object, three of them dove cleanly into the water. Moments later, they surfaced, laughing and calling to one another in their musical tongue. One gave a long whistle toward the deeper water.
From the blue depths, figures rose, merfolk, pale and sleek, their tails flashing silver and jade. They circled the ship, clicking softly, assessing the damage.
“By the forges,” Otto muttered, crossing his arms. “Fish-folk fixin’ a ship. That’ll be the day.”
One of the merfolk broke the surface near him, grinning with a mouth full of small, sharp teeth. “Better day than yours, dwarf,” it said, the words carrying that slow, liquid cadence of the sea-folk, before diving again with a flick of its tail.
The Coralwyn elves laughed, already passing down tools and ropes. Solonex just shook his head. “Let them work. They seem to know what they’re doing.”
Otto the Dwarf grumbled something about watery nonsense but fetched a hammer anyway. By sunset, the hull gleamed with fresh coral resin, sealed tighter than pitch, and the new rudder made by Otto the Dwarf was in place.
That night, the beach came alive with fire and song. Torches flickered between palms, drums echoed off the water, and the scent of roasted fruit and rum hung in the air.
The crew of the Waverider joined easily. Phaedros played his flute, Selene danced barefoot in the sand, and Otto was liberally trying the local alcohol, though he swore every sip was “fer medicinal use only.”
Gato sat apart at first, watching the Coralwyn elves dance. Their movements were fluid, full of laughter and effortless grace. Two young women noticed him, one with hair the color of copper coral, the other dark as wet sand. They whispered, glanced his way, and giggled.
When he finally looked up, they were standing before him.
“You look lonely,” said the dark-haired one.
“I... no,” Gato stammered.
Her friend smiled. “Then come with us anyway.”
They took his hands and led him toward the trees, laughter trailing behind like the tide.
By morning, the beach was quiet except for the sound of gulls and the soft hiss of waves. The crew stirred slowly, heads heavy with wine and smoke.
Gato appeared from the palms, barefoot, his shirt half-buttoned, hair full of sand and flowers.
Severin looked up from where he sat mending a strap. “Good night?” he asked, tone perfectly casual.
Gato flushed crimson and stammered something unintelligible.
Kethra smirked. “Leave him be, Severin. He’s earned it. You’re just jealous.”
Severin laughed, a real, full laugh that startled even Solonex. “Guilty as charged!” he said, still chuckling.
Kethra shook her head, hiding a smile. Gato caught her eye and mouthed a silent thank you.
The sea shimmered beyond the reef, calm and blue. The Coralwyn elves were already swimming again, their laughter mingling with the cry of gulls.
For a moment, there were no storms, no wars, no whispers of gods, only sun, sand, water, and laughter on the tide.