And if the wind is right

[golder]

WHO: Cella & Theon
WHERE: Heropa
WHEN: Backdated to July 8th!
WHAT: Sailing, lunch and Theon being himself.
WARNINGS: Probably none, but it's Game of Thrones.

( Around 10AM, Myrcella stands just offside of a skiff she's rented for the day. The sun is already warm, the air humid, so her sandals are off, and her toes dig into the sand. A nice feeling to take away from the plethora of not-so-nice emotions she's been feeling since she'd learned of the deaths of Trystane and his father.

She's wearing a long loose summer dress in green today (don't tell her father uncle, please) and her hair is braided back for practicality's sake, though a few errant golden curls escape. On one arm, she's slung a cooler filled with food she most certainly didn't make, thank the gods. In the other, she idly checks her phone, having discovered upon accident a game she's taken to playing in her spare time.

So engrossed is she that she barely hears his approach. Looking up, she smiles faintly. )

Good morning, my lord.

Comments

[reek]

My lady.

[ Theon has missed the sea terribly, and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the smell of brine is enough to lift the dark mood that’s become a near-constant presence in his life. That same mood is what had initially hindered him from visiting Heropa’s beaches. He doesn’t want to be reminded of Pyke, or of his father, his uncles, his sister, or the embarrassment he suffered at the hands of them and his crew, but the water somehow always calls him back. Myrcella’s offer had been difficult to pass up.

Miraculously enough, he returns her smile with his trademark smirk. It’s sly and amused, but somehow genuine at the same time. ]

I might have paid half of the fee if you had waited.

[ He tips his head toward the skiff, silently relieved for something that doesn't need a full crew to begin with. ]

How long do we have it for?

[golder]

A fine day, by the look of it.

( For which she is heartily gladdened. The salt is so heavy in the air that she can taste it on her tongue, and the breeze is brisk and warm. Not only is this beach much more beautiful than Blackwater Bay, but the smell of any kind of filth is absent. Myrcella digs her toes further into the sand, and finds herself smiling, still.

This place is doing good for them both, and it's impossible not to feel her spirits uplifted as a result. )

I was quite eager to leave as soon as possible, you see.

( Glancing over at the vessel, she inhales deep of the sea air. )

Until midafternoon, though the man I rented it from is eating ice cream over there if you care to take her out longer.

( She helpfully points in his direction, and then holds up the basket. )

We won't be wanting for lunch, in any event.

[reek]

[ Theon shifts his gaze toward the man, just in time to see his ice cream drop into the sad. He smirks, barely managing to keep his laughter to a quiet snicker. ]

I’d say it’s best not to trouble him.

[ A light breeze ruffles his hair, and it only serves to lift his spirits further. He hasn’t felt such relief from the weight of his burdens since arriving. In fact, it’s easy to say that he’d forgotten what it feels like to live without such heavy guilt and pain. ]

Midafternoon should be long enough, if the winds are kind. If you’re ready to set sail, we should waste no time.

[golder]

( Oh, dear. Myrcella's brows rise, and she shakes her head with a faint smile as she nudges his arm with her free hand. )

I think you're probably right.

( As the breeze catches her hair, too, she closes her eyes and seems to visibly relax. When she opens them to regard him again, it's to see him appearing more at ease than he's seemed since they'd first spoken. It makes her glad, and she shifts to offer her hand properly now. )

Then I shall hope they will be, my lord. Would you be so kind as to assist me?

( With a basket in one hand and while wearing a dress, maneuvering around isn't the easiest task in the world. Once she's stepped into the skiff, though, she'll seat herself readily. )

[reek]

[ Theon as he is now is an entirely different experience from the furious young man on the network. It’s reached the point where even Theon doesn’t know who he really is. Is he this man, smiling and charming and at peace, or is he angry and bitter, fated to be dragged beneath the waves until he drowns?

Perhaps it’s not the best time to dwell on it. Not when the water calls to them and the wind is in their favor. Without complaint, he helps Myrcella up and makes certain she’s settled into the skiff before he climbs in himself and begins to make the necessary preparations. ]

The Dornishmen are good sailors.

[ He smirks good-naturedly as he begins to hoist the sail, feeling more at home than he has in months. ]

But the ironborn are better. The sea is all we have. You can’t live off of salt and stone. I've no doubt some have tried.

[golder]

( Though she's seen small glimpses of how unsettled he is beneath the surface, this morning he truly does seem charming and carefree. As much of a balm for her hurt as the sun in the sky and the endless blue of the water sparkling beneath its rays.

Myrcella shoots him a little smile as he helps her in, murmuring a soft word of thanks. )

They are, indeed.

( Amusement tugs at first one corner of her mouth, then the other. Until she grins back at him. )

Oh, no doubt to both those things. Why not show me your skill, my lord? I've never sailed with an ironborn before. I would remember it.