Who: Rip and Open When: Mid-afternoon Where: Kingswood markets
"Try not to eat anyone!" was called as Rip set his boots on the dock and tossed back his still-wet hair. He glanced back and grinned, giving a shrug of his shoulders that could be read as a maybe. Which was what it was. He wasn't setting out to get lunch, he'd eaten a nicely sized fish before he climbed on board Sapphire Tide, he just wanted to have a look around. Listening to his shipmates as they sailed he'd learned that for some reason, this year was to be a particularly religiously important one to those who worshipped the Creator. He'd teased a few of them who did worship this Creator of theirs and asked where, exactly, merfolk fit into it. They had gods of their own and yet they got along just fine. If the Creator was The god or goddess, he got confused sometimes about the difference between the landwalkers genders, then how did merfolk survive without praying? How did anything that wasn't a landwalker? He'd never heard of a whale who prayed, or a dolphin or a turtle. They were plentiful and yet no prayers.
One day he needed to find himself a priest or priestess or monk or whatever they were - he had heard so many titles for them - and ask them what about the creatures.
The markets were a fascinating thing to him. He had a pouch full of coins on his belt, Holt always made sure to pay him well in hopes that it would keep him from just picking something up and walking off without paying, and a hope that he could find some nice things to decorate the space he had on the ship. However his attention was caught by a vendor with darker skin than his own and a bright collection of bottles and liquids in glasses. Those he recognized. The men on the ship called it wine and said it wasn't as good as the ale they preferred. Rip thought both of them tended to taste foul, but they gave him a swimming feeling while he was upright and that was always interesting. After a few minutes he had a full glass and a bottle tucked into his belt, turning to lean back against the stand while he sipped at the rotten fruit drink, bright eyes studying the crowd as it passed. "Your drink isn't too bad," he informed the vendor. "Doesn't even make me want to throw up too much."