Chapter Text
STACY
Long boat rides are not typically pleasant. Sure, the nicer ones have magic amenities that make them a little more bearable- but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re stuck in a relatively small space that’s constantly rocking.
It doesn’t bother Stacy much. She’s always had a pretty good constitution- always had to- so she’s comfortable leaning against the railing and watching the rest of the passengers go about their business.
Enclosed, crowded spaces are good breeding grounds for misery. The passengers showing cracks are easy to pinpoint, she just needs a good opportunity to swoop in.
With any luck, she’ll have handed out at least a dozen pamphlets before they reach the island. Though, she’ll settle with simply not getting called a heretic and thrown off the boat.
She’s been watching one guy for a while, partially for an opening and partially for curiosity. He practically radiates misery, has since they started the journey. The green sheen of sea sickness is definitely a part of it, as is the delicate elven details of his face and outfit, but there’s another, darker cloud hanging over him.
She’s got enough experience with this sort of thing to know when somebody’s got something on their mind- something that could possibly be solved by a little extraterrestrial help. She finds her opening when he’s distracted looking over the rail and considering puking, and slides quietly into place beside him.
“Not a fan of boats?” She catches him when he startles, grabbing the back of his cloak to keep him from going over. “Easy there.”
He gives her a glare, which is fine. She meets it with her standard smile.
“I’m fine,” he says, but his voice is hoarse.
“Of course,” she nods, seriously, and politely averts her eyes when the rock of the ship has him leaning over the rail and retching again, “but you could be better, yes?”
He pulls himself back, clearing his throat, and she waits patiently for a real answer- he’s not going anywhere, after all. If not now, she’ll see him again at dinner.
Stacy doesn’t know much about elves- just the unflattering rumors and the charmed bullshit- but this one seems strange. Delicate, but not noble. The white hair, too, is odd; like he’d blend in with ice and snow, not islands and cruises.
“I suppose.”
Oh, his voice. An accent comes through once he’s stopped being sick, and the hoarseness has dissipated. Definitely not from around here. Polite, formal- hilarious. She should be more professional but she finds her smile widening into something a little sharper than pleasant.
“Well, in that case,” she pulls a pamphlet with a flourish, hand already in her satchel, “I think you’d be interested in the Far Realms Initiative. It may help your constitution, among other things-“
He holds up a hand, to cut her off. “I’ve heard your... sales pitch, already.”
“Ah, then perhaps some of the other passengers could talk to you about their experiences so far? I know Janet, on the lower deck, has been-“
His hand raises again and she stops for him, not fond of being interrupted but willing to put up with it. Maybe it’ll earn her brownie points.
“I will look into it.”
He takes the pamphlet and, to his credit, does look through it, if with a skeptical frown. Stacy considers this a victory, with most people, but this one seems special.
Maybe it’s the strange symbol on the amulet around his neck. Maybe it’s the way his eyes catch on hers, noticing the red. Maybe it’s the resigned way he stares at the horizon, towards their destination.
Maybe she’ll convert him, maybe she won’t. Either way, she’s certain it’ll be interesting.