The calendar in Vallo was chaotic madness, with its constantly varying months and starting the year in the dead of winter, but it seemed the weather and oysters still went together in the same way. They’d be spawning for the summer soon, fattening up, getting watery and no good for eating if there was anything better to be had. The waters were still cold enough to keep them firm for another few weeks, though, giving Daud a simple source of income while he spent the rest of his time getting the boat ready for shrimping.
It could easily have become an entirely solitary existence, but oddly enough, it hadn’t. Kate dropped by to talk at him, Syd came ‘round to practice blinking around rooftops and share a glass of whiskey, Thor reliably said hello when he walked through the village, and a host of insistently friendly sorts would chat when they bought oysters from him at the market. Daud had never expected to meet so many people who seemed completely unbothered by him being a grouchy old bastard.
There were even some other grouchy old bastards (and the occasional grouchy young bastard) who were no work at all to be in the presence of. This afternoon, for instance, Daud had set up at the end of the pier to fish (oysters were work, fishing was just for dinner and a bit of quiet reflection), and when that giant oak of a man with the war paint came along a few minutes after, neither felt the need to disturb the peace. Kratos set his bucket and bait without any chatter, exactly as Daud preferred to do himself, and now they were perched in place waiting for the bites that would come as the evening set in and the tide started moving.
In the meantime, Daud opened a bottle of cider and offered it in his compatriot’s general direction.
Said compatriot eyed the offered bottle for a moment, then reached to accept it without a word. He knew this other man briefly, having bought the full load of oysters he had remaining the other day - it was good supplements for the creatures resident at the Sanctuary. Plus he didn't mind them very much, either, so it wasn't as if any of it would go to waste.
Kratos took a long sip of the cider, then looked at the bottle a bit with a grunt of approval before setting it down on the pier next to him. He wasn't a man with many friends, but he certainly appreciated people who could get tasks done without a bunch of needless chatter just to fill space. Daud seemed like that kind of person, so he hadn't had any worries about setting in to fish near the man.
With a exhalation of breath that almost sounded like relaxation, Kratos start slowly reeling back his line to entice his next catch.
Daud opened another bottle of cider for himself and let the ocean take care of the movement for now. The pier was good for a variety of saltwater fish, he had discovered. He didn’t actually recognize most of them–the animals were largely different in Vallo than they were in the world he’d come from–but in the usual “Vallo is more pleasant than the Empire of the Isles in every possible way” fashion, the fish were mostly good eating. A damn sight better than the hagfish of the Wrenhaven River, that was for certain. He picked up plenty of bait fish near the oyster reef, and he’d quickly developed a taste for the silver ones with the big spots by their eyes, quickly fried and fileted on the plate as he ate.
As he gazed over the water, Daud noted a hawk circling above. Birds were always a good sign of fish to be caught, naturals at spotting them from the air. Rather than comment on it, he assumed Kratos knew what he was about and would also notice that they’d clearly chosen a good fishing spot with no need for discussion.
After sparing a glance to ensure the circling bird wasn't Jöphie, Kratos had noted the same. He'd noted the fishing in Vallo had always been fairly sufficient, whether that be from the magic surrounding the place or maybe some herding from their allies in Atlantis, he couldn't be certain. Originally, he would've questioned a 'good thing' that he encountered that seemed out of place, but the time he'd spent here had perhaps conditioned him a bit on expectations. Vallo tended to lack subtlety when strangeness was occurring.
Satisfied that his lure was in a good spot, Kratos reached to take another sip of his cider and raised his head to look at the sky. It was a good, clear day, just cool enough to encourage the fish to stick around for a while before looking for colder waters. There was, of course, an unspoken competition to see who would get the first catch.
Following the competition for first catch, there would of course be a competition for largest catch, fastest catch, most unusual catch, and tastiest catch. That was the nature of fishing alongside another person. Neither Daud nor Kratos was the sort of person who needed to discuss any of it; honest men who were confident in their own skills didn’t have to advertise or crow, and whatever flaws either of them had, a fear of the truth was not among them.
No bites yet, but that was fine. They’d come along soon enough, and in the meantime Daud would enjoy his cider and the near-cloudless sky.
Enjoying the quiet, or as quiet as sitting in nature could be, was one of the perks of fishing - and also why Kratos never brought Mimir along. He did, however, believe one turn deserved another so he reached over and removed a sealed container from his pack with his free arm. Tupperware, likely the only invention he had grown fond of in his time here.
He popped it open and sat it within arm's reach of Daud, with the clear interpretation that it was open to share. If anyone were to have a quick look inside, Kratos had carefully created something of a charcuterie assortment of dried meats, fresh-cut fruits, and light cheeses. Nothing that would require more than fingers to scoop and eat.
Daud nodded his thanks and took a chunk of cheese, a slice of meat, and a few pieces of fruit he didn’t recognize. They looked like the ananas he remembered from his youth in Serkonos, so they seemed worth a try.
He popped one in his mouth, and momentarily froze in the midst of a sense memory taking him by surprise: the sharp-sweet taste of the fruit, the fibrous texture of it, the juice running down his fingers, all connected to the experience of wading through the sharp leaves to pull the fruit from the top of the plant and tucking it under his arm to run for home before he was caught stealing. If this fruit wasn’t ananas, it was so close as to be indistinguishable.
Daud was pulled from his thoughts by the delicate movement of a bite on his line. His focus returned to the present, giving the pole a sharp tug to set the hook and beginning the process of reeling it in.
Without a word, Kratos glanced at the taut line and nodded slightly. He continued watching his own line, but peripherally watched as the other man worked the line to bring in his catch. As he pulled the fish to wear it out while also knowing the strength of his line, Kratos felt comfortable knowing he wasn't fishing with an amateur. He'd already gauged that, but it was good to see it in action.
Still, he grabbed the extended net, ready to either pass it to Daud or use it himself once the catch was close enough to scoop up. Too many good catches had been lost once gravity took over, so a catcher's net worked wonders if you had enough free hands to use one.
Daud appreciated the extra hand. He stayed focused on the fish as he pulled it in; it wasn’t huge, but it was a wriggly one, and he hadn’t any doubt that Kratos would be ready with the net when he got it in. The man obviously knew what he was about, so giving instructions would just be insulting, and Daud was trying to make a nice quiet life for himself here.
The fish cleared the water–one of those silver ones he tended to catch the most of. Not a particularly impressive showpiece, but two or three more of them would make a nice dinner. Right into Kratos’s waiting net it went, and Daud gave him a nod in thanks.
Kratos simply returned the nod and passed the net over to Daud. The whole thing had been efficient and simple, just the way he preferred most tasks. Part of him was curious to see how the other man maintained his catch - did he string them up and let them stay in the water? Or place them in a catch basket? Kratos himself had considered bringing along a large cooler to keep them contained with some water for keeping them alive, but had decided that would been too cumbersome to deal with.
So he continued to watch out of the corner of his eye, but returned to his own fishing. And only slightly determined that the next catch would be his.
Daud was the catch basket type—a small bin filled with ice, actually, as though it were aspiring to be a cooler but didn’t know about lids yet. Someone would undoubtedly tell him of the wonders of Igloo and Yeti before long, but that day had not yet come.
It wasn’t as if he were going far, though. His home was right off the pier, and he just needed to catch enough to make himself dinner. Daud wondered if Kratos was doing the same, but kept his idle curiosity to himself. Minding one’s own business was a consistent path around most trouble.
When he had his fish off the line and into the makeshift cooler, Daud placed the catch net back between them, where either of them could pick it up as needed. More bait for his hook then, and on to casting and waiting.
And he could be sure it wouldn't be today, because Kratos had no interest in discussing coolers or cooling technology - though to be fair, he had come to appreciate some of it. Quietly. In his home. In the same place where he had learned to use a computer for educational purposes. He'd grudgingly admit he'd been learning a fair amount of good information in the process. Plus all the other students seemed to like him, for some reason he couldn't fathom.
It was these meandering thoughts that were the reason he liked to fish. Mental topics just chasing one after the other with no clear goal. No need to dwell on anything in particular. As far as Kratos knew, this is what relaxation was all about.
However, as they often did, those thoughts were interrupted as a large tug caught his line and Kratos instinctively jerked the rod to secure the catch and began reeling it in methodically, a pleased grunt escaping his lips. This felt like a large catch.
Daud glanced over at the sound–things were getting interesting. Any fish that could make a man the size of Kratos work was going to be a big one. Daud shifted almost imperceptibly toward the net, ready to grab it up and help out as soon as the fish cleared the water. Kratos was undoubtedly stronger, but Daud was fast; he didn’t have any doubts that he could be there when the fish was. In the meantime, he watched.
One of the things that Kratos appreciated about fishing, aside from the quiet, was that in most ways, his strength and size really only mattered as much as the pole and line did. And getting enchanted items was cheating, so he'd had to master fishing the proper way - with standard gear. This also meant that he had to actually work at it when a fish latched on. Too hard, line or pole could snap. Too soft, the fish could tear itself loose and escape. It was a dance, in a way.
Reeling the line and pulling in the direction that the fish wanted to go helped tire it out, meaning less stress on the line, so he didn't put himself in any hurry to pull it up, though he did notice Daud's reaction and while he didn't nod (he was busy), he did mentally approve of the other man's willingness to work in tandem. And, after a few will it or won't it moments had passed, Kratos hauled a large catch out of the water and gestured with his head that he was ready for Daud to help with the net.
Daud was there with the net right on time. In the fish went, and another catch was processed.
They carried on like that for a few hours, catching a few fish and having a few bottles of cider. It was, Daud thought, the nicest afternoon he’d had in some years. Exactly how many years, he couldn’t be sure–time was funny in the Void–but it had definitely been a while since he’d been able to sit around outside comfortably with another person.
As the sun began its descent, Daud pulled his empty line in and began packing up to go. Soon the weather would be good for dawn and dusk fishing, but for now the fish were biting when the sun was high. He nodded politely to Kratos as he stood; there might not be honor among thieves, but there was courtesy among killers. Besides, they’d now spent an entire afternoon together without punches thrown. To Daud, that counted as friendship.
Kratos nodded as well, but reached into his kit and pulled out another, smaller tupperware container and passed it over to Daud. It had more of the meats and fruits he'd packed (he honestly always brought extra, never knowing how much he'd want) and he gestured for Daud to take it with him. The other man had seemed new to some of it and it seemed like a genuine way of saying thanks for not being a giant pain in his ass this afternoon without actually having to say anything.
But at the same time, Kratos wasn't ready to leave just yet. He could use another fish or two for the animals he needed to feed back at the Sanctuary -- and he wasn't going to try and leave at the same time, that'd be weird.
Daud took the container and gave Kratos a nod that came at a slightly different angle. A “thank you” nod was different from a “see you later” nod, any gruff silent type knew that. He’d bring an extra snack and return the container next time–because if you found a good fishing spot like this, of course there’d be a next time.