Imoen sat on a coil of rope above deck, letting the wind blow through her hair while the sun warmed her skin. She'd been feeling good about herself for the first time in months, simply looking over the trackless sea being lazy all day.

"Hey, sleepy head!" Mook called from up in the Crow's nest. "Sure, let the elves do all the work for you, why not? Honestly, we long-ears work and slave from you round-ears' amusement," she chuckled.

"Sure," Imoen giggled, "so, can you set up a shuffle-board game for me on the Lido deck?"

"What's a Lido?" Mook called down.

"Don't know, just made it up," Imoen shrugged.

"Go to the stern and see if the ropes are securely tied, if you like!" Mook called down.

"And what if I don't like?"

"Then I start throwing these pulleys down until I hit you!"

"I'm off!" Imoen smiled and left her cosy coil of rope to check up on the ropes tied to the stern. The ropes appeared to be fastened securely, once again introducing Imoen to a world of boredom. Fortunately for her, amusement was not far away : she grinned as she spotted Rose's sketchbook lying near the wheel of the ship. A momentary inner-struggle took place : An angel-winged Imoen appeared on her shoulder, advising her that a sketchbook would probably be as private as a diary, while a bat-winged Imoen advised her to go ahead and satisfy her curiosity. The argument ended when the bat-winged Imoen kicked the angel-winged Imoen in the butt, and Imoen took the sketchbook to leaf through it.

Rose had an artistic soul and her sketchbook was filled to the brim with pencil sketchings of just about everything : the Swiftwind, the ocean, the sun setting over the ocean, a shoal of dolphins, a seagull sitting on a coil of rope.

'I hope that's not my coil of rope,' Imoen grimaced and checked the posterior of her clothes for any stains before continuing to flip through the sketchbook. She found more sketches of several of her friends, including herself and admired her likeness for a bit. Nobody said great wizards couldn't be vain, after all.

Flipping along, she finally came to the 'Laska' section. Several very life-like sketches of Laska followed : Laska in a battle-pose. Laska standing over the obviously defeated form of a lowlife. Laska laying sprawled on the couch with a sultry smile on her face. Laska with her top off, while crossing her arms over her chest and winking. The one in the bunch that made Imoen giggle, though, was the one of Laska in an elaborate five-part white wedding-dress.

Flipping on, she came to the part of the book containing sketches of Rose and Laska together. Laska holding Rose close to her. Laska and Rose brushing lips. Laska and Rose staring in each other's eyes. Imoen smiled, then flipped to another page.

"Oh, my!" Imoen blushed wildly red. If she had been drinking something, the sketchbook would have been completely drenched.

"Hey, Imoen," Imoen heard the voice of Rose as the half-elf stepped up to the stern. As usual, the kindly half-elf had a ready smile on her face while she strode over to her friend. Imoen noticed she had her hair tied back into a pony-tail today, and had chosen a simple tunic with matching pants.

Feeling as if she had been caught with her hand inside someone else's wallet, the still-blushing Imoen hid the sketchbook behind her back. "Oh, um," she stammered. "Hi Rose! How's Laska screwing? AH! I mean, doing... AH! I mean, how is she? AH! I... I give up..."

"Something the matter?" Rose's eyebrow raised in amusement. "I was just looking for my sketchbook."

"Really?" Imoen asked. "Well, I didn't look at it... AH! I mean, I haven't seen it!"

"So you're not hiding it behind your back right now?" Rose smiled.

"Crap! AH! I mean, ah, no... What makes you think that?"

"It's okay, Imoen, I don't mind," Rose smiled. "Did you like my drawings?"

"Oh, yes," Imoen smiled. "They're very pretty. How'd you get Laska to model a wedding dress for you? When I was young, she wouldn't even come near anything resembling a dress. Actually, she did once wear a kilt, but that was for a costume-party."

"Don't worry," Rose smiled. "I have a very active imagination. Laska didn't have to pose for me..."

"Well, that's good," Imoen blushed. "Because I was wondering how you were able to draw when the both of you were in that position and..."

"You saw that picture?" Rose chuckled. "No wonder you turned so red!"

"I didn't turn red!" Imoen protested. "Nope, not me, not even, never red. Did I mention I hate red? Yes, red is for losers! Only losers and lowlives turn red, yes, they do, and I'm not because I'm not a loser or a lowlife, no sir, but I don't like red, because red is just so red and awkward, because red can be damn silly, because, well, it's RED after all..."

"Girl," Rose grinned, "you could make a lobster jealous here."

"That bad, huh?" Imoen chuckled and gave Rose her sketchbook. "Oh, I've seen pictures of people doing... it... before, but never like that."

"Try it sometimes," Rose winked, "you might like it."

"Ey, ay, woa, no, hey, hey, HEY!" Imoen turned bright red again. "Stop making me feel like a prude!"

"I mean," Rose winked, deciding to tease her a little, "Viconia's still single is she?"

"Hey, hey, we're just friends, and we'll stay that way. I just sleep in her bed because I get lonely sleeping alone." Imoen said. "Besides which, she finds me annoying. I'm surprised she lets me near her."

"Nonsense," Rose nodded. "Believe me, I know a lonely person when I see one. Hell, I've been one myself long enough to know. She's happy she's not alone."

"Vic?" Imoen said. "I like Vic a lot, but... "

"Hey, I was teasing you about the sex part," Rose smiled. "Payback for looking at my sketchbook. But Viconia is glad that you're there, even if she won't show it. Offer her some kindness and you'll break through her shell, if you want to be her confidant."

"I'll remember that," Imoen smiled.

"OY!" Korgan shouted as he emerged from the bowels of the ship. "What be ye two chatterboxes yappin' about? Do ye nay know there be work ta be doin'? Why donnae ye 'elp out Laska in the pantry fixin' me omelets?"

"Okay," Imoen grinned, "you didn't even try not to sound like a sexist pig, didn't you?"

"Nah," Korgan chuckled, "I be a big believer in equal opportunities. I donnay care whether a man or a woman be makin' me omelet, and I donnay care whether I have to slaughter a man or a woman if me omelet be not finished in time! HAR HAR HAR!"

"Hm, Korgan?" Rose asked. "Irylarr is about to raise the main-sail. Are you sure you want to be standing with your foot in that coil of rope?"

"OY!" Korgan roared. "I be the one standin' 'ere, and I will be standin' 'ere fer as long as I please!"

"But Korgan..." Imoen tried.

"Nay buts! I be... OOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!" sounded as the dwarf was hoisted way up into the air and ended up dangling from the mast at the top of the main-sail with his beard in his face, swirling in the wind. "Let me down from 'ere, ye bloody long-ears!!"

"Sorry, Korgan!" Irylarr shouted. "Hold on... I can't lower the sail right now," she snickered, "we're going to fast at the moment, and you wouldn't want the sails to be damaged this far out at sea, would you?"

"Oy, lemme down!" Korgan snarled. "Me own beard be smelly! Urg, I never be knowing HOW smelly this thing be before now."

And that moment, Jan came out from belowdecks and regarded the swinging dwarf for a few moments. "Now, this is a fine turn of events," Jan snickered. "You know, seeing you hang like there you remind me of my neighbor Roddy McNugget, the Beardwalking dwarf."

"Gnome!" Korgan shouted down. "Don't ye be darin'!"

"You see, poor Roddy was born without legs, but actually blessed with a huge and bushy beard. So, he knew what to do. He tied his beard into two large separate pieces and used his facial muscles to manipulate the pieces of hair so he could walk. Unfortunately, he could only do it upside down, and even more unfortunately, the beard completely blocked out his eyes. So, he causes some major traffic accidents in his days by just walking into the road. One day, sadly, he walked right into the river and drowned. A beardwalker he was, but not a beard-swimmer!"

"ARRRGGGHHHHH!" Korgan roared while the rest giggled. "You bastards!"

Laska hummed a song when she rummaged through the gathered bottles of wine in the hold, looking for the right wine to use to cook tonight's turkey dinner for her friends. 'Hmmm, better test this first,' she thought as she put the bottle to her lips and took a long draught.

'Hmmm, good... Better take another test, she thought, closed her eyes and took a second long draught. 'Perfect! I'll use this one,' she thought and opened her eyes... only to stare at an empty bottle.

"Bugger," she muttered angrily and put the bottle down. Then, she turned to the other bottles. "Okay, there's enough bottles left, better test all of those."

'*I bet you're drunk already,*' Ipsiya snorted while the sword was seemingly lounging on a sack of supplies.

"Come on," Laska said, repeating the conversation you had earlier. "You told me yourself! You pulled me and Imoen into that vision!"

'*Nope, not only drunk, but delusional as well,*' Ipsiya chuckled.

"You told me the whole story, Ip!" Laska shook her head. "You... a priestess... Myth Drannor... sending the kids away... Sehanine Moonbow..."

'*What's a Sehanine?*' Ipsiya asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb with me! Every elf knows who Sehanine is! You know, the goddess that turned you into a moonblade?"

'*What's a moonblade?*' Ipsiya tried.

"Oh, just lie there and be self-satisfied!" Laska muttered. "I've got some cooking to do."

Back in the pantry under the stern, Laska resumed her cooking with a generic bottle of wine she had picked up from the hold. It just had to do. After pulling off the cork with her teeth, Laska poured the wine into a soufflé, stirred, and tossed it into the oven. Another part of the wine was poured in with the turkey before it went into the second oven. The remainder of the wine was poured in the large pan of frying sausages laying on top of the fryer. Sadly, there was no more wine left for the salad... and even more sadly, there was no more wine left for her to lap up.

Angrily, she took out a piece of paper and wrote 'They should make these bottles bigger and put more wine in!' on it. Then, she rolled it up, popped on the cork and tossed the bottle out the window into the sea, hoping the wine-maker's customer support would find it some day.

Still moping, she took out a spatula and poked the sausages for a bit. They were turning brown nicely, which she attributed to the choice butter she had been frying them in... and the wine, of course. She just hoped she had enough. Keldorn always ate those things up like a pig, while Korgan would definitely stuff turkey down his gob like there'd be no tomorrow. Imoen, Viconia and Rose she knew would devour the salad... She decided that she would have to make a fourth dish for the others to eat and figured she could make some delicious egg-salad sandwiches in a relatively short time. Immediately, she started to work while keeping an eye on her other dishes.

"Hey, what smells so good here?"

Laska froze in fear for a moment. Times and times before, she had tried to teach Rose how to cook and every single time she had failed miserably, without even realizing it herself. Laska loved Rose to death, but Rose was totally inept at cooking and she knew she was going to ask if she could help... while Laska would rather not see Rose anywhere near her kitchen in fear of explosions, fiery death, gas implosions and generally spoiled meals.

"Well," Laska smiled when she regained her composure. "I hope it's my hair. I've been using this new shampoo."

"Let me smell," Rose leant forward and sniffed Laska's hair briefly. "No, your hair smells like pine-apple today. I think that soufflé smells better, though."

"Ah, I see."

"Anything I can do to help you out in the kitchen?" Rose asked in a well-meant friendly tone. "I'd be happy to."

Laska closed her eyes briefly and suppressed a sigh. "Errm, well, I don't think there's anything you can do for me here..."

"Oh," Rose seemed disappointed. "Are you sure?"

"Well," Laska smiled, "I could made love to you on the kitchen table." 'ANYTHING to keep her away from my cooking...'.

"It's an idea," Rose smiled and briefly twirled Laska's hair between two fingers. "But I was thinking of something more... practical."

"Like your, um, recipe for fried potato-chippings?" Laska gulped. Back then she never had the heart to tell that potato-chips weren't supposed to be blackened... nor taste like a mouthful of salt.

"Oh, yes, I like my own potato-chippings," Rose smiled while Laska's tastebuds all fainted when hearing Rose say that she actually liked those blackened things.

"Well," Laska tried to make a desparate attempt to save her painstakingly well-crafted food, ever keeping the image in mind of Rose standing over an exploded oven asking 'if it's supposed to smoke like that.' "Everything's in the oven already and so... I only need to watch it now... I'm sorry."

"Drat," Rose sighed. "Well, I... I only wanted to spend some time with you, you know. You've been happier than ever since..."

"Me and Imoen had a nice long chat?" Laska smiled. "Oh, we're okay again. We do have some damage control to do, but she's joking to me again and that's one of the best signs."

"Hey, I know something we can do together," Rose smiled. "Did I ever teach you how to dance the tango?"

"Tango?" Laska asked. "What's that?"

"It's a Chultean dance," Rose smiled. "Traditional and very sensual..."

"It's not... pagan, is it?"

"Nah, don't be silly," Rose smiled. "Here, help me set the table aside and I'll show you."

The Swiftwind's pantry wasn't by any means small and contained all the amenities that a home kitchen would provide. If anything, elves loved their luxuries, especially if they had to spend long days at sea. When the main food-preparation table was set aside, there was ample room for the two to move in.

"Okay," Rose said, pressing her body tightly against her lover. "Now, I hold you around your neck because you're taller. Now, you move your right arm around my waist and pull me tight against you."

Laska grinned as their two bodies were tightly mashed together now. "I'm liking this dance already."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, elf," Rose grinned and kissed the tip of Laska's nose. "Now, leave your left hand free and follow my movements," Rose said while swaying into Laska and moving the both of them across the floor. "Don't move so stiffly, Laska, come on," Rose flashed her lover an encouraging smile, but Laska wasn't looking to happy. In fact, she was struggling to keep up with Rose.

"Now," Rose said, "clasp my hand with yours and now," she said while pulled Laska's hand and arm to her side, "turn your head left... no, Laska, the other left, and press your cheek to mine."

Laska complied and was pleased to feel Rose's warm skin on hers. All the while, though, she was minding her cooking. Elven senses were incredibly handy during cooking, though. Her sensitive ears were capable to picking up the slightest discrepancy in the cooking-process by just listening to the sizzles, after all. But she was genuinely having trouble keeping up with Rose, especially when she suddenly started kicking her leg outward a little. Laska tried to follow, but mistimed the moment, so that both ended up sprawled on the floor.

"That didn't go well," Laska shook her head in utter embarrassment.

"Okay, maybe the problem is that you're not used to be being led," Rose said while taking Laska in another starting-pose. "This time, you lead, okay..."

"Okay."

"Um, Laska?"

"Yes?"

"Um, you actually have to move... Otherwise nothing will happen..."

"Oh... Like this?" Laska said and dipped backwards, pulling a yelping Rose forward. Still the two were very close to each other now,even though the shorter Rose was struggling to keep from falling, and Laska caught her gaze as the half-elf stared at her chest.

"Hey," Laska grinned, "get your mind out of the gutter, half-elf."

"You're the leader, Laska. You're supposed to dip me, not yourself!" Rose chuckled.

"Oh, come now, how do you know? Can you tell that when you see people dancing? How do you know who's doing the dipping?!" Laska spoke, a little miffed while standing back up.

"Okay, I'll lead again," Rose shook her head.

The two shuffled along, but Laska was still struggling to keep up. In the meantime, Laska gazed deeplu into Rose's eyes while the sweet smell of honeydew emanated from Rose's strawberry-blonde hair. It was a perfect scene, with little that could spoil the atmosphere...

"OWWWW!" Rose suddenly cried out in pain, and Laska released she was standing on her lover's foot with her full body-weight.

"Crap!" Laska cursed. "Are you alright?" she said, bending down to examine Rose's foot while the half-elf leaned into the table. To make matters worse, Rose was only wearing felt slippers while Laska had opted to wear her steel-toe'd combat boots today.

"I'm sorry," Laska blushed as she removed the slipper for Rose's foot. "I think we need to put some ice on that."

"I don't get it," Rose grimaced as Laska softly treated her foot by holding it in both hands and massaging it softly. "You are so agile, and you can bend your body in every way you like! I've seen you fight, not to mention the many bedroom acrobatics you perform, but when you dance, you stomp around like a clydesdale!"

"Sorry," Laska sighed. "Guess slowdancing isn't my thing... I dance just fine any other way, but I guess the tango isn't for me."

"I can't cook that well, can I?" Rose said out of the blue, still smiling.

"..." was Laska's reply.

"I guess we can't be perfect, can we?"

"Life would be dull if we were..."

As the evening fell, Viconia was already lying in her bed, her tummy slightly upset because she had eaten just a few too many of Laska's spiced sausages at dinner. She grimaced as Imoen came into the room and the light of the hallway shone right in her face.

"Argh, put that out!" Viconia snarled. "Then get into bed, go to sleep and shut up!"

"Hey, check this out!" Imoen bubbled and cracked once with a whip on the floor, almost driving Viconia up the wall.

"What the hell is that?!" Viconia snarled.

"I found it in the hold," Imoen chuckled. "Check me out! I'm Imoen Belmont : Vampire Killer!" She smiled, then whistled an eerily familiar tune.

"Put that way," Viconia said. "That's the whip Irylarr uses to hunt rats. It's probably diseased."

"I dunno," Imoen said while changing into her nightshift. "Maybe I'll make this my weapon of choice and buy a hat."

"Just go to sleep..." Viconia said groggily.

"Sure, Vic," Imoen smiled. "But I know better... You like me! Admit it..."

"I'd like you to go to sleep," Viconia snarled, as she checked if she had closed the blinks in front of the portholes, which she found out she had.

"Come on, you like to have me around! Admit it..."

A long silence fell between them. Then suddenly, Viconia turned her back to her and lay on her side. "Sometimes... I do get lonely... Sometimes... I like having you to talk with."

"Awww," Imoen beamed. "Thanks Vic, I like you too! Come on, group hug!"

"Leave me alone!" Viconia said while Imoen invaded her personal space. Though this time, she did not push her away.

"Aha, you like me!" Imoen grinned.

"Go to sleep. Please just go to sleep," Viconia muttered into her pillow.

"Oh, I know better Vic," Imoen grinned as she lay her head on her own pillow. "One day, we're going to talk all night and have pillowfights, just like Laska and I used to do."

Viconia groaned and stuffed her head under her pillow.

"Grouch," Imoen chuckled.