Volanta

Oliver didn’t do well with sea travel. The slight sway of the ship was enough to make him nauseous, and he spent most of his time at the top deck in the fresh air so he wouldn’t puke his guts. The cabin room he was staying in felt so small, but everyone was staying in the same cabins so he wouldn’t complain. He already felt as if the crew had little respect for him, and he didn’t need to make it worse.

Peter, above all, treated Oliver like a child. While Peter was the first mate aboard the ship, Oliver was still the boss. He had the information and the coordinates, and their job was to just take him there. Still, Peter didn’t treat Oliver with much respect. He would look at him and chuckle, simply because of the way Oliver looked. Oliver found himself making a point to fix his appearance so he looked less disheveled, but texture of his hair mixed with the salty sea air and wind always put it out of place. Meanwhile Peter would flounce on by with his perfect hair and clothes without wrinkles and the stupid white smile Oliver wanted to punch right off his face. Not to mention how he spent most of his time trying to get Pippa’s attention instead of his job.

Oliver just stayed away from where the rest of the crew was gathered, leaning against the railing with his eyes closed, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his uneasy stomach. He jumped slightly when someone came beside him, opening his eyes and seeing Pippa there. He’d made a promise to Nigel to keep an eye on her, but he felt guilty that he’d handed her off to the sailors so they could entertain her with the technical parts of the ship for a little while. It didn’t seem like they were going to hurt her, anyways.

“You startled me,” he grumbled.

“You haven’t moved for an hour now,” she said. “And you’ve had the same distressed look on your face.”

“Thanks for caring.”

“Are you going to be this sassy the entire voyage?” she huffed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, closing his eyes again. “It's the ship swaying. I've never done so well with swaying.”

“Is that why you don't dance?”

“What?”

“Nothing, nevermind,” she said. “Everyone is going to the lower deck after supper tonight. Supposedly there's a few talented musicians on board.”

“I wasn't invited,” Oliver sighed. “Big surprise there.”

“Oh,” Pippa frowned. “I'm sure you were, it's just that no one got the chance to tell you. Anyways, I'm inviting you. As if you even need an invitation.”

“We’ll see,” Oliver shrugged.

“You are absolutely hopeless, Oliver Theo Lambert.”

Oliver just smirked and leaned back against the railing as she walked away. He wasn't alone for very long before someone new approached him. He'd never seen the boy before. He appeared to be in his early teens, with blonde hair in tight curls and big, green eyes. He looked nervous to be speaking to Oliver. That was a first. At least someone knew that Oliver had authority. The boy eyed Oliver, cradling his right wrist to his chest.

“Dr. Lambert?” the boy said.

“Yes,” Oliver said, turning towards him. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Preston,” he said. “I'm the cabin boy. I was just wondering if you could help me.”

“I can certainly try.”

“I was moving crates below deck,” he explained. “They were a little big and heavy, and I accidentally stumbled and fell on my wrist. I know there's a medic on board, but he doesn't seem to like me very much, so I was wondering if perhaps you could help me instead.”

“Oh, Preston,” Oliver sighed, shaking his head. “I apologize, but I'm not that kind of doctor. I have a doctorate in History, you see. It means I've studied it in extreme depth. It still gives me the title, even though I'm not a medical doctor.”

“Oh,” Preston said, turning red with embarrassment. “I'm sorry, I didn't know that. I didn't get to finish school.”

Oliver felt his heart sink as Preston started to turn away. The boy reminded him a lot of himself, when he was younger. He was smaller than normal and too shy for his own good. All he ever wanted to do in life was be as good as everyone wanted him to be. And now, he still felt like he wasn't good enough.

“Wait, Preston,” Oliver said.

“Yeah?”

“I've read up on first aid,” he said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and leading him towards the stairs. “It's probably a minor sprain. Why don't we go down there? I can take a look at it, and then I can help you with the boxes.”

“Okay!” Preston said, perking up and following Oliver.

Oliver found a first aid kit and let Preston take him down to show him where he'd hurt himself. There was no one down there, and there were a lot of crates for one boy to move around. It was no wonder he got hurt. Oliver sat Preston down, and like he suspected, the wrist wasn't hurt too badly. In the worst case, he'd be sore for a day or two. Just to ease the boy’s mind, Oliver bandaged it anyways.

“How old are you, Preston?” he asked.

“I'm fifteen,” he said. “How old are you? You look kind of young. When they described the guy leading the expedition, I thought you'd be a really old guy with a beard.”

“I know,” Oliver chuckled. “I get that a lot. I'm twenty-two years old. I finished my education earlier than usual.”

“How'd you do that?”

“I sacrificed a social life.”

“I learned to read and write and stuff,” Preston told him. “When I was ten, my ma pulled me out of school so I could start working. I have six younger siblings. I work mostly in the shipyards. This is the first time I'm actually sailing on one of the ships, though. It’s kind of neat. Kind of scary, though.”

“I don’t think any of us know what to expect,” Oliver agreed.

“Well, I’m just staying on the ship,” Preston shrugged. “The captain says it’s too dangerous, so I’m just going to sit here and wait for you guys to come back.”

“By yourself?” Oliver frowned.

“I guess. I wish I could go. I’d like to go on an adventure.”

“Well, it’s a long trip to the island,” Oliver said. “Perhaps the captain will change his mind. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Dr. Lambert,” Preston grinned.

“You can call me Oliver,” he said. “No need for formalities.”

“Okay, Oliver.”

“Come on now, it’s almost seven. We can’t be late.”

Preston and Oliver just barely made it to the table before dinner was served. For the most part, Peter was the one who did the talking. He claimed the seat right next to Pippa, and was mainly trying to impress her with the stories of his greatest adventures. He’d certainly been around. Every scar Peter showed them had some kind of heroic story behind it, whether he had wrestled an alligator or single-handedly battled an entire band pirates.

Oliver had tuned out most of it, only snapping his attention back when he suddenly realized that everyone was looking at him in silence. He sat up sort of suddenly, glancing around for help and saw Captain Sorenson giving him an unamused look.

“I’m sorry, I was a little bit lost in thought,” Oliver said quietly.

“I asked about your former experience with such expeditions,” Captain Sorenson repeated.

“Oh, um,” Oliver mumbled, shifting awkwardly in his seat, “Well, this is my first time. I’ve been researching the myths of Volanta and the disappearance of the Nthuri people in depth for quite a while now.”

“But you’ve never been out in the field itself, have you?” Peter asked.

“No,” Oliver said slowly, sending his coldest stare towards Peter. “No, I haven’t.”

“Oh, not to worry,” Peter grinned. “We’ll protect you from the harsh wilderness.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Oliver said defensively.

He caught Pippa giving him a look he couldn’t quite read. She looked like she wanted to say something, but held back. Everyone finished their dinner with little talk past that. Captain Sorenson and a few others retired to bed after that, but like Pippa said, everyone else gathered in the lower deck. Oliver tried to get out of it, but now both Pippa and Preston insisted that he go, so he trudged on down there. It was a lively scene with drinks being passed around and members of the crew displaying their musical talents.

Oliver stuck around the back of the crowd, up until Peter approached him, downing what looked like a shot of vodka. Oliver rolled his eyes, but Peter clapped him hard on the shoulder, making him impossible to ignore.

“You drink?” he asked.

“I better not tonight,” Oliver said.

“Can’t hold your liquor, I understand,” Peter chuckled. “No shame in that.”

“I can hold my liquor just fine, thank you very much.”

“Come on then,” Peter said, putting the glass in his hand. “I hold the record around here. What do you think about that?”

Oliver caught Pippa giving him a stern look, but he let someone pour the shot out for him anyways. This time around, Oliver was sure he could win this game.