Eryshae

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Sam
Ocean City

Sam held her close in the hush of the carriage, the velvet curtains drawn and the world momentarily stilled beyond the slow creak of the bridge. Vael lay curled against his chest, her body warm, her breath still unsteady. He'd wrapped his arms around her after; not out of obligation, but instinct. As if every part of him needed to keep her here, to press her to the slow thud of his heartbeat and say nothing for a while.

Her hair smelled like cedar and wind. Her thigh was slung over his lap. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his ribs, and Sam would've stayed there, in that breathless bubble between chaos and arrival, if time allowed it. But the carriage rolled forward again, and Malrick's voice rang down from the driver's bench. "Gatehouse up ahead."

Sam exhaled through his nose and shifted Vael gently, smoothing the hem of her skirt, brushing her hair back into place. He felt her smirk against his chest. "Think I'm presentable?" she murmured. "No," he said, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "But close enough."

The carriage came to a stop with a soft jolt. Through the slit in the curtain, Sam saw a silver-plated gate warden in a tight-buttoned uniform step forward, parchment in one hand, inspection wand in the other. His expression was bored. His nose twitched. Malrick drew back the front drape. "Visitors from Ichi," he said lazily. "One merchant-class permit, one diplomatic exemption."

"Names?" the warden asked.

"Sam Faeloc and Vael…" Malrick paused. "Of Ichi." Sam watched the warden's eyes flick to the side of the carriage, narrowing. Then his nostrils flared, ever so slightly.

He stepped closer. Sam shifted his posture, not aggressively; just enough to fill the window with his broad frame. The warden tilted his head. "Bit of a scent in the air." Vael, behind Sam, went completely still. "Raccoons," Sam replied flatly. "Spent the last two days pissing in their own harnesses." The warden raised a brow, unconvinced. His gaze drifted toward the closed curtain. "And you two smell like;"

"We bathed in citrus oil last night," Sam said. "You know how that lingers." A quiet beat passed. The warden clicked his tongue, scribbled something onto the permit, and tapped it with his seal. The silver seal flared briefly, then cooled. "You're cleared," he said. "Welcome to Ocean City. Watch for pickpockets and do not swim east of the docks. Something's been dragging pets under." Sam's eyes narrowed slightly. "Noted."

The warden stepped back, and the carriage began to move again. The bridge gave way to the glittering expanse of Ocean City, towers rising from sand and stone, rooftops glazed in shells and sunlit glass. Gulls shrieked overhead. Vendors cried out from boardwalks lined in polished bone and salt-bright silk. Inside the carriage, Vael leaned forward and pressed her lips to Sam's ear. "You covered that well."

"I always do," he murmured, slipping an arm around her waist again as they rolled past the gate. "But next time? You're sitting on my lap before the guard gets within five paces." The carriage wheels clattered from bridge to cobblestone, the ocean glittering to their left, the vast wooden boardwalk stretching ahead like a ribbon lined with shells and sails. Sam drew the curtain back just enough to get a better look as the gatehouse faded behind them.

Malrick clicked his tongue and leaned toward a robed attendant who'd flagged them down with a polished driftwood rod marked with city runes. "South lot?" he asked. The attendant gave a sharp nod, gesturing toward a sloping lane that veered right, skimming the curve of the coast. "Merchant and guest carriages are directed to the South Shore Stable Yard. You'll see the flags."

As they descended the lane, the sea wind grew stronger; warm and briny, tangled with the scent of dried kelp and roasted almonds from some far-off vendor. The noise picked up too: street musicians tuning strange sea-harp instruments, gulls shrieking overhead, children laughing, someone loudly hawking "Pickled Siren's Tongue!" from a cart shaped like a whale jaw.

Then the lane widened, and Sam saw the South Lot unfold before them; a broad, multi-tiered terrace of packed sand and weathered stone, flanked by stables, feeding stations, and a covered bay for aquatic mounts. Banners marked each row: red coral, blue trident, gold shell, silver eel. Hundreds of carriages and wagons were parked in neat aligned rows, some already being emptied by uniformed valets.

Raccoons chittered around the feeding troughs near the coral row. A few pangaroos snored in the shade. Malrick pulled the reins tight and guided them toward the Silver Eel Row, following the attendant's gestures. "Not a bad spot," he muttered. "Close to the tram stations."

Sam opened the side door before the carriage had even fully stopped. He jumped down first, boots crunching against the salt-crusted stone, then offered his hand up to Vael. She took it with the faintest smirk, her skirts already straightened, her posture and clothing impeccable. From the outside, you'd never guess she'd come apart in his arms less than ten minutes ago.

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"Are you staying in Ocean City?" Sam asked Malrick.

Malrick shook his head. "They've got a permit office here. I'll register your spot and head out later. It's the least I can do for all you have done, saving my life and all." If you ever need my help, I will be heading to the Sapphire Straits to follow a lead. Maybe I will see you there?"

The tram gave a soft jolt as it pulled forward, the rhythmic hop-thump of the pangaroos; those towering marsupials bred for both endurance and strength; echoing against the wooden slats of the boardwalk. Sam adjusted his arm around Vael's shoulders as they took their seats on the open-air bench. The salt-crisped wind tangled in her hair, carrying with it the scent of fried shellfish, caramelized sugar, and brine.

Vael leaned into him, her expression dreamy but alert, taking in everything. "There's a bakery with octopus-shaped scones," she murmured, pointing to a colorful storefront where enchanted pastries hovered just behind the glass, rotating gently as if caught in an unseen tide.

"Looks delicious," Sam replied. "You'd love it." She snorted softly, the sound lost to the shrill cry of a gull overhead. He traced his thumb along the curve of her upper arm, memorizing the way the light painted gold into the wisps of her hair.

As the tram continued northward, the boardwalk widened. The spindly towers of coastal rides spun in lazy circles, one shaped like an open clamshell, another like a pearl diving platform suspended over a shallow pool of illusions. Further up, ocean-glass merchants hawked polished stones with veins of silver running through them, and a puppet vendor animated deep-sea monsters in theatrical shows for passing children.

"Puppet krakens," Sam said with a nod. "Now we're really on vacation." Vael raised a brow. "One of them winked at me."

"That one's trying to unionize," he said gravely. "Revolution's coming." She laughed, turning into him, her voice lowering just enough to feel the warmth in it. "I can't believe this place exists." Sam's gaze swept across the horizon where the pale blue of the ocean met the pastel skyline. A pair of twins painted in glimmering body art juggled eels near the seawall. Someone was selling saltwater taffy by the foot, hand-pulled by gloved locals behind a glass screen. And overhead, the woven banners of Ocean City fluttered, the image of a mermaid kissing a sailor silhouetted in seafoam green.

Sam leaned down, brushing his lips near Vael's ear. "Tell me if you see a stall selling cursed mirrors. I'd love a matched set." Her smile faltered; but only for a moment. She squeezed his hand in her lap, thumb stroking the pulse beneath his wrist. "Not funny."

"No. But you smiled anyway." The pangaroos clopped forward, their long ears twitching at a gull's call. The tram rolled past a stone stage where a trio of gothic vex singers, veiled and clad in layered mourning silks, crooned a dirge-like ballad over a cello's haunting resonance. Their music followed the tram like a memory, even after they'd passed. Vael rested her head against Sam's shoulder, her voice low. "I want to stay here forever." He didn't say anything at first; only turned to kiss the crown of her head. But as the gleaming white spires of Windspire Spa appeared in the distance, framed by windblown palms and enchanted mists rising off the nearby dune gardens, he whispered, "Then let's make the most of it."

The tram rocked gently as it rolled along the northern stretch of the boardwalk, the salt-sweet air mingling with sea spray and roasted nuts. Sam shifted in his seat, one arm slung lazily around Vael's shoulders, fingers idly stroking the edge of her collarbone. Her damp hair still smelled faintly of lilac and tide.

Up ahead, the pangaroos pulling the tram gave a bouncy hop-step, their thick tails swaying behind them like rudders. Each one had the burly fluff of a panda, the powerful haunches of a kangaroo, and slick, shimmering fur patterns that gleamed like fish scales in the morning light. Sam squinted at the beasts and cocked his head. "Alright, I give up. What in the seven tangled hells are those?"

Vael's lips curled into a smirk. "Pangaroos. Ocean City commissioned them about a century ago; back when the peninsula was trying to put itself on the map."

"Pangaroos." Sam blinked. "You're telling me someone looked at a panda and a kangaroo and said, 'Let's make that swim'?"

"Almost exactly," she said with a laugh. "The city partnered with a zoo research guild out of the Ni City-States. My grandfather; back when he was still Vice-Chief under his father, my great grandfather, approved the program. They added a bit of sea lion to the mix to help with water tolerance and balance." Sam glanced at the tram's lead pangaroo, who snapped its rounded jaws at a seagull flapping too close. "That's… horrifying. And weirdly adorable."

"They were meant to symbolize harmony and balance; land, sea, and air. But mostly they're just used for heavy hauling now. Good traction and they don't spook easily around ocean storms."

"I still can't believe those things exist."

"Believe it," Vael said, her fingers sliding along Sam's thigh, tracing idle circles. "They're the pride of the city's bioengineering. There's even a fountain dedicated to the first successful litter; three kits named Bounce, Drift, and Sir Snuggles." Sam snorted. "You made that last one up." Vael just winked.

As the tram rolled past games booths and fish-shaped balloons, musicians with obsidian flutes played a haunting melody under the shadow of a weather-worn statue of a mermaid gazing seaward. The glint of wind off spires in the distance told them the Windspire Spa was near. Sam leaned in and kissed the side of Vael's neck. "If they bred those monsters just for convenience, I can't imagine what else this city's willing to create when it comes to pleasure." Vael tilted her head, eyes smoldering. "You'll see soon enough."

As the tram slowed to a graceful halt beneath a tall arch of spiraling sea-glass, Sam stepped off and offered Vael his hand. The Windspire Spa rose before them like a sanctum carved from ocean dreams; its towers curled like waves frozen mid-crest, balconies dripping with flowering vines that shimmered with dew and mist. The air was thick with steam, lavender, and promise.

Vael leaned in close, brushing her lips near his ear. "Everything here is designed to strip you bare." Sam chuckled low, the sound catching in his throat. "Physically or emotionally?" She gave a sly smile, the one that always made his pulse thrum. "Both. If you're brave enough." He didn't answer; just laced their fingers together and led her toward the wide doors of glass and coral, the hum of warm water and whispered secrets waiting beyond.