THE DOCKS | MID AFTERNOON
“It’s either that, or you can get out the back. On your back. Ain’t no middle ground girl.” The older woman said gruffly, before drawing out her little packet of prerolled cigarettes and popping one between her lips. Lighting the stick, she blew smoke forcefully, before gesturing at the hoop again.
“So what’s it gonna be girl? In the air or on your back? Because I got shit I nee—“
“Th’air. Th’air Bridgette. Ent lettin’ some laoso spitch touch me.” Sarinah chewed her lip and looked up at the slowly turning device nervously.
“Jus’ent benny wit’heights, ye chen?” Bridgette chuckled, patting the girl on the shoulder and moving to take her towards the stage. The tavern was empty, save for Robin cleaning glasses at the bar and one really old, really drunk pirate stone cold unconscious in a corner booth.
“We’ll start you off near the ground love. You’ve got to learn to stay on before you take flight. I’ll tell you now. You’ll fall. A lot. And you’ll hurt. But better this than that.”
“Son-of-a-vrunta-kensers-erse!” Sarinah swore loudly, sitting up from where she’d fallen on the hardwood and rubbing her quickly bruising arm. The older tumble chuckled, working the rope to quickly lower the metal frame so the young brunette could reach it again.
“I told you it’d hurt.” She said with a grin, blue eyes laughing even if her own chuckle had stopped. The teenage wick sighed heavily, pushing strands of black hair out of her face.
“I’ll b’need a break. Jus’ f’a pina manna? Oes?” Bridgette nodded, waving her hand at the girl. Sarinah groaned with relief, moving to jump off the stage and head for the stairs leading up and out of the Queen. It was a bright sunny day, the deck almost unbearable to look at as the rays bounced off into her eyes. Shielding herself from the glare, Sarinah walked down the gang plank and began to stroll towards the docks. She couldn’t go far, and even if she did they’d come and collect her anyway.
Reaching the docks, she moved, feet taking her slightly off course till she was standing on the sandy beachfront. Staring down at the sand between her bare toes, the witch sighed heavily, hands on hips and eyes closed. If she stood still enough, if she ignored the catcalls of dockhands, she could almost believe she was standing at the edge of the Arova.
Almost.