“Intentions” (Ep 57 Downtime)

The eirship, as Cyl had come to call it, swayed beneath her feet as she helped Dub climb on board. Over a dozen goa crew members were milling about on deck, trying (and failing) not to gape at the pair. She latched onto the crook of Dub's arm, and couldn't help but stare back at them with grin.
Cyl's people. Her family. She hadn't seen another goa in decades, and now she was surrounded by beautiful, unfamiliar faces. The Goa came in all shapes and sizes, no doubt strange to the local passersby on shore, but to Cyl they were as comfortable and welcoming a sight as the sunrise.
One of the more armored soldiers brushed past Cyl with a shipping crate in their long tapered hands; they seemed much more comfortable walking on all fours but were trying their best to balance. A two-headed figurine, only a few feet tall, studied some sort of rope mechanism from two different angles. Climbing up in the decorative rigging of the ship was the lithe effigy of a dragonborn woman, her pale stone scales edged with forged bronze. A dome-headed giant towered at the other end of the deck, a Goa monument, and seemed to have more skull than body.
The breeze across the lake carried the chill of winter, and Cyl hugged the black fur tighter around her shoulders. Many of the crew also wore simple hats, scarves, and outer garments to stave off the cold. Her mother may have disapproved of "covering one's natural, blessed sculpt", but the realities of "weather" kept most goa from sharing that philosophy.
Just as Cyl thought of her mother, the Eiress Kyne emerged from below deck. Her eirshale robes flowed along her sculpt but not from the natural wind. She clasped her hands in front of her, and kept her chin high. If she was as cold as the rest of the crew, she wasn’t letting it show on her face.
Cyl stepped forward, and her mother's arms opened to embrace her. “Cyl," Eiress Kyne spoke softly. "You’ve returned so soon? Is there something else that requires urgent attention for you?” The words clung to the quiet judgement from earlier about Cyl's lack of patience, but there was genuine affection and concern in her expression as she held Cyl by the shoulders.
“Mother,” Cyl announced, looking back, “This is Dub. He’s a very close friend, and a very important person to me.” She spoke briskly, confidently, but had somehow managed to avoid her mother’s eyes. “I wanted you both to meet before you left the city."
Eiress Kyne studied her daughter’s face, then politely cast her eyes to Dub: a tall, lanky, human, and drowning in a fuzzy black scarf. The young poet had his hands shoved into the pockets of his long coat.
There was a flicker of a smile from Cyl's mother. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Dub.”
He tugged one of his hands out of his pocket and offered it. "Hi."
They didn't speak as they shook hands. Eiress Kyne assessed the boy her daughter had 'brought home'. He kept a polite silence. "Your temperament is refreshingly stoic," she mused.
He shrugged. "Thank you?"
If goa had the need to breathe, Cyl would have sighed. Why did she have to go and get emotionally invested in two people who were so impossible to read?
Thankfully, her mother spoke up and managed a modicum of effort. "Tell me...Dub. Do you have specific aspirations?"
He blinked. Brushing bangs out of his eyes. "Like, what do you mean."
Eiress Kyne smiled patiently. "What is your purpose?"
Dub did what he did best, and shrugged apathetically. "Does anyone really have a purpose? Like, life has turned out to be a flawed concept anyway, so, you know, how can we expect to-"
"Dub is an artist, Mother," Cyl interrupted. "A poet! He sees into the truth of existence and...and he helps other people understand it."
There was a beat, then Dub nodded in Cyl's direction. "What she said, I guess..."
"That is no small feat," Mother said, "It must be a comfort to those with whom you share your wisdom."
Another shrug. "Not really."
"And you are romantically involved with my daughter?"
Dub looked up at that, surprisingly sheepish. "I, uh...I guess." He glanced over to Cyl. "I mean, if she's alright with that-"
"I am." Cyl's grin was bright and proud.
Eiress Kyne watched, wearing that familiar placid mask of hers. That unreadable, polite smile. She could be infuriatingly patient.
Heavy thudding steps echoed from below deck as a large goa, half-sculpted like an ape, wandered upstairs. At first, it seemed as though an inert statue was strapped to their back, until Windsor, pedestal-bound, stretched and peeked over their shoulder. He was one of The Erudite: goa seers and knowledge keepers. He and his counterpart Glint had studied the blight on Cyl's feet earlier that day during a visit.
The heavy ape-goa swung around so that Windsor could see. He nodded at Cyl with open arms. "Ah, the child of wanderlust has returned to us." Windsor's smile was more awkward than warm.
Cyl took a moment to take both his hands in greeting. Meanwhile, Dub's eyes trailed down to stare in fascination at the goa's feet. Or, rather, the pedestal where his feet should have been. His legs had been sculpted together, fused.
"Do you ever feel like having your feet stuck in rock is a living metaphor for the intractable nature of existence?"
Letting go of Cyl's hands, Windsor quirked a bushy, stone eyebrow. "At times."
With a wave of his hand, the goa sage urged his escort to back up more. As he was inched closer to Dub, Windsor stroked his chin curiously. "Tell me, do you have a frame of reference for a lifespan with no definitive end?"
Dub brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Some days feel pretty unending. So yeah..."
The two fell into a shockingly easy rhythm as they delved into the nature of mortality and immortality. Dub seemed resigned that he was being forced to hold a conversation, yet he didn't make any attempt to stop it. Windsor seemed amused by the young man's world-weariness. Amused, yet intrigued.
As moments became minutes, Cyl watched Eiress Kyne politely step away from this meeting of the minds. She followed her mother to the edge of the ship and leaned back against a railing that overlooked city skyline.
“So...what do you think?” Cyl asked quietly, nodding in her boyfriend's direction.
The Eiress chose her words carefully, methodically. “It seems as though my approval is being sought," she said with a smile. "Is that the way of it, child?”
"You were worried I was alone. I'm not. And Dub matters to me. He’s important to me. Like you are. I wanted you to meet."
"Is this the first of the short-lived you’ve grown fond of in this way? Romance."
Cyl dodged her mother's gaze. "There was someone else, a few decades ago," she admitted slowly, "But...it ended. Amicably. We parted ways."
Eiress Kyne's shoulders relaxed. "Then I assume your vows to each other here are sensible. I can’t imagine more than a decade..."
"We...haven’t made any vows, mother."
The placid mask returned. "None?"
Cyl shook her head.
"You’ve created no structure, no time for introspection?" Her mother glanced out at the water. "That is...careless, Cyl. To willfully ignore the limitations of the short-lived; it is unkind, is it not?"
Cyl frowned. "We enjoy each other’s company. And I would like to enjoy it for as long as we have, instead of...I don't know...seeing the end in the distance. There's a saying out here, that we should ‘live in the moment’."
"The mortals are fragile, and their bodies are finite. Are you...prepared to watch the boy fade, day by day?"
There was a long pause, but soon Cyl set her jaw firmly. "We care for our own elders, why would this be any different?"
"He will grow resentful," her mother warned gently. "We will not change. YOU will not change. If you choose to be with him as a partner, it will not be for very long. I do not wish to see you in pain. And he does not deserve such a stark reminder of his mortality."
"We'll be alright.” Cyl shrugged. That casual confidence didn’t quite reach her eyes. “As you said mother, it won't be a very long time."
The Eiress allowed her expression to soften. "That is as I said, yes."
Maker and child turned back to the crowd on deck, milling about their duties in the moonlight. Dub and Windsor’s symposium was still going strong.
Eiress Kyne clasped her hands low in front of her. "My concerns aside, he is...respectful. And measured. Reserved. Very unlike you." She allowed herself a smirk. "Perhaps he will be a tempering influence."
"Pfft, good luck," Cyl quirked a brow at her mother. The two shared a smile across the divide they had come to find charming between them.
"If my approval were required, which it is not, I perhaps would provide it." Mother rested a hand on the side of Cyl's face. "At the very least, he need not worry for his safety with you at his side."
Cyl held the hand to her face. Her maker was made of the same cold stone as all goa, but somehow there was always a warmth to her touch. "Thank you, Mother."
"No need. But you are welcome."

---

The boat ride back to town was quiet but relaxing. Cyl watched the lantern light from her little canal boat ripple across the lake. As she was rowing, Dub spoke up. "You think I'm important?" He met her eyes directly. Odd for him.
The uncertainty on his face made her heart swell a little. He was so young, despite how disenchanted he always acted. It was sweet.
Cyl put aside the oars and scooted next to him. She took Dub's face in her hands. When she leaned in, she met his mouth with hers. She pulled back from the kiss, grinning.
"Yeah. I do."