"Most of the Water Ashari are elves and humans and half-elves," he says with a wry smile. He sinks in more, content to let their legs rest together. There's no avoiding it. "There's some dwarves. A handful of half-orcs. Not many halflings, either. And the only family I know is human."
So, he spends most of his time around tall folk, too.
"I didn't meet many other halflings until I started sailing. I did meet the ones in Vesrah, but..." He trails off and looks away with a half shrug. "I didn't grow up there. Even if I was born Ashari, I think it took a while for anyone to see me that way when I came back."
It's a thing that's stuck with him, difficult to shake and difficult to forget.
One thing Orym has learned while traveling in the last couple of years is that it's easy to tell when someone their size, halfling or gnome or otherwise, was raised in a community of their own versus being one of a few in a community of mostly taller peoples. For those like him, most of the world being too big is just a fact of life, something they've long since adapted to. For others, it's an adjustment that doesn't always come easily. So it's not surprising at all, after learning from Ro today, that he's also one of the former, used to being half the size of everyone else in the room.
Ro's struggle with belonging is clearly more than that, though. A disconnect from a people that are his, but who didn't have a place for him when he returned to be with them. Orym's brow knits down as he considers.
"New faces are rare in Zephrah, like they probably are in Vesrah. It's hard to get to, and not a place most people choose to live without existing ties. People are mostly kind and well-meaning, I think, but Ashari culture is...guarded. There's a tendency to treat anyone who wasn't raised among us like they're just passing through, which can be the opposite of welcoming. No one wants to be a guest forever."
"Some of the people there now are sailors that've been rescued over the years. They decide to stay, but it takes a long time until any of them are treated like Ashari. Everyone just waiting to see if or when they move on."
Ro absently fidgets with a small pendant he still wears, turning it over between his fingers. He glances up to meet Orym's gaze and there's something a little sad in his smile.
"I guess I'm proving them right. I lived there exclusively for years, then--I couldn't anymore. I've been going back and forth across the Ozmit Sea ever since."
Orym nods, encouraging, though his heart stings at the melancholy slant of Ro's lips, and the much deeper hurt that must be behind it. Their circumstances are very different, but...he knows what it's like for home to not feel like home. How isolating that feels, and how painful it is to realize that leaving is the only choice left. He knows.
"Sounds like a self-fulfilling prophecy. If people are always treated like outsiders, they'll eventually decide to try somewhere else."
Beneath the blankets, his foot nudges Ro's knee more deliberately this time.
"It's not on you to prove or disprove anything, regardless of what they'll believe. You're just doing what's right for you."
His smile grows a bit when he feels Orym's foot against his knee.
"Are you joking? I was the smallest in a family of six, I'm always proving something." There, he breaks into a brighter grin and he nudges Orym back. "Thanks."
It's not a story he tells often, not one he cares to share, but. Orym understands in ways others won't, he thinks. Not just being a little fellow in a big person's world, but--well. He's Ashari. Even if he's not experienced when Ro has, he knows what the culture is like and can imagine.
"I'll have to get you on a sailboard before you leave Vesrah."
That Ro's smile is so bright and infectious makes it that much harder to see his sadness dimming it. While Orym is certain he's not said or done anything important, he's glad that it's enough for Ro to feel a little better for tonight, at least.
"I'll have to find someone to complain to if you don't," he threatens playfully. "None of my sisters would forgive me if I didn't at least try it." Lita especially. "I have three older sisters. Triplets," he explains. He can relate to having something to prove. "Not blood, like I said, but I grew up with them. I was the smallest too, of course, but that just made me more determined to do everything the girls and Will did."
Sometimes he doesn't even think about it, conditioned by a lifetime spent together. His name just slips out in conversation like he's still here, like he could wander in at any moment. The joy of his existence, of remembering him, outweighs the sorrow of his passing for at least a little while. Though they are rare, these are Orym's favorite moments. He feels closer to him, somehow. His smile has a bittersweet edge, but it's still warm, and his eyes are soft, lids lowering to focus on the blankets between them.
"He loved skysailing. So if I don't leave Vesrah at least a decent sailboarder, he'd really never let me hear the end of it."
"I was the middle. Two older siblings, three younger." And him still the smallest of all of them once the younger ones hit three or four years old. "Don't need blood to be family."
He doesn't miss the more fragile look to Orym's smile at the mention of Will, and Ro wonders who he is - or was - and why Orym speaks of him in the past tense. But he doesn't need to ask now, because the other man looks happy otherwise and that's nothing to spoil with a darker cloud.
"Well, the advantage of sailboarding is it's not as far to fall," he quips. "Can you swim?"
Orym relaxes back into the hammock's hold, hands folded behind his head. Looking at Ro across from him, feeling their legs brush under the blanket, it really does feel like he's known him longer than a day. He's never this comfortable with people right away. But there's something disarming about Ro, and plenty in both their history and circumstances he finds relatable.
They'll have a few weeks at sea for him to decide if his first impression was right.
"Yeah, I can swim. By Air Ashari standards, I'm pretty good. But I've never done it in the ocean." Which has to be a lot different than the ponds and streams where he learned, and even the bigger lakes he's jumped into since. "I should probably give that a try before I jump on a sailboard."
"We'll take care of that, too. You'll be half aquatic before we send you on your way again." Ro grins and rests his head against the side of the hammock where it cradles him. "With the reefs around Vesrah, there's a few good places to get comfortable before we go past them."
The ocean is a different creature than lakes or river, no matter how big they were. He doesn't doubt Orym will find his legs, though.
"My mother couldn't keep me away from the water, and she tried," he says with a little laugh. "Not that she didn't want me in it. Just not on my own. I'd run for it whenever she turned her back long enough."
Since they met, Ro's painted a few different pictures of how he grew up. This one makes Orym smile, reminded very much of Nel trying to keep him out of trouble. "I'll have a good teacher, then." He already has been, letting Orym shadow and help him out since he came aboard.
"Thanks again for today, by the way," he says, thinking of everything he didn't know how to do yesterday. He'll need more practice, but he's learning. "Makes me feel better if I can pull my weight around here. Even if that's less than most people." That kind of humor hits different when he knows his audience gets it from his perspective, for a change. Literally from his perspective. There's no forgetting that they're small in a world made mostly for people twice their size, which just means they have to work twice as hard.
"Sure," he says with a little shrug, then a grin flickers to life. "Every pair of hands count, even if they're as small as ours."
Ro's used to being one of the smaller people around. He's sailed on a lot of crews now, some more varied than others, but the number of halflings and gnomes taking to the high seas is relatively small, all things considered. He's been delighted to have crewmates his size, or smaller, a few times a year.
"Besides, my motivation isn't entirely selfless," he confesses. "It'll be just you and me on the little boat."
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So, he spends most of his time around tall folk, too.
"I didn't meet many other halflings until I started sailing. I did meet the ones in Vesrah, but..." He trails off and looks away with a half shrug. "I didn't grow up there. Even if I was born Ashari, I think it took a while for anyone to see me that way when I came back."
It's a thing that's stuck with him, difficult to shake and difficult to forget.
no subject
Ro's struggle with belonging is clearly more than that, though. A disconnect from a people that are his, but who didn't have a place for him when he returned to be with them. Orym's brow knits down as he considers.
"New faces are rare in Zephrah, like they probably are in Vesrah. It's hard to get to, and not a place most people choose to live without existing ties. People are mostly kind and well-meaning, I think, but Ashari culture is...guarded. There's a tendency to treat anyone who wasn't raised among us like they're just passing through, which can be the opposite of welcoming. No one wants to be a guest forever."
no subject
Ro absently fidgets with a small pendant he still wears, turning it over between his fingers. He glances up to meet Orym's gaze and there's something a little sad in his smile.
"I guess I'm proving them right. I lived there exclusively for years, then--I couldn't anymore. I've been going back and forth across the Ozmit Sea ever since."
no subject
"Sounds like a self-fulfilling prophecy. If people are always treated like outsiders, they'll eventually decide to try somewhere else."
Beneath the blankets, his foot nudges Ro's knee more deliberately this time.
"It's not on you to prove or disprove anything, regardless of what they'll believe. You're just doing what's right for you."
no subject
"Are you joking? I was the smallest in a family of six, I'm always proving something." There, he breaks into a brighter grin and he nudges Orym back. "Thanks."
It's not a story he tells often, not one he cares to share, but. Orym understands in ways others won't, he thinks. Not just being a little fellow in a big person's world, but--well. He's Ashari. Even if he's not experienced when Ro has, he knows what the culture is like and can imagine.
"I'll have to get you on a sailboard before you leave Vesrah."
no subject
"I'll have to find someone to complain to if you don't," he threatens playfully. "None of my sisters would forgive me if I didn't at least try it." Lita especially. "I have three older sisters. Triplets," he explains. He can relate to having something to prove. "Not blood, like I said, but I grew up with them. I was the smallest too, of course, but that just made me more determined to do everything the girls and Will did."
Sometimes he doesn't even think about it, conditioned by a lifetime spent together. His name just slips out in conversation like he's still here, like he could wander in at any moment. The joy of his existence, of remembering him, outweighs the sorrow of his passing for at least a little while. Though they are rare, these are Orym's favorite moments. He feels closer to him, somehow. His smile has a bittersweet edge, but it's still warm, and his eyes are soft, lids lowering to focus on the blankets between them.
"He loved skysailing. So if I don't leave Vesrah at least a decent sailboarder, he'd really never let me hear the end of it."
no subject
He doesn't miss the more fragile look to Orym's smile at the mention of Will, and Ro wonders who he is - or was - and why Orym speaks of him in the past tense. But he doesn't need to ask now, because the other man looks happy otherwise and that's nothing to spoil with a darker cloud.
"Well, the advantage of sailboarding is it's not as far to fall," he quips. "Can you swim?"
no subject
They'll have a few weeks at sea for him to decide if his first impression was right.
"Yeah, I can swim. By Air Ashari standards, I'm pretty good. But I've never done it in the ocean." Which has to be a lot different than the ponds and streams where he learned, and even the bigger lakes he's jumped into since. "I should probably give that a try before I jump on a sailboard."
no subject
The ocean is a different creature than lakes or river, no matter how big they were. He doesn't doubt Orym will find his legs, though.
"My mother couldn't keep me away from the water, and she tried," he says with a little laugh. "Not that she didn't want me in it. Just not on my own. I'd run for it whenever she turned her back long enough."
no subject
"Thanks again for today, by the way," he says, thinking of everything he didn't know how to do yesterday. He'll need more practice, but he's learning. "Makes me feel better if I can pull my weight around here. Even if that's less than most people." That kind of humor hits different when he knows his audience gets it from his perspective, for a change. Literally from his perspective. There's no forgetting that they're small in a world made mostly for people twice their size, which just means they have to work twice as hard.
no subject
Ro's used to being one of the smaller people around. He's sailed on a lot of crews now, some more varied than others, but the number of halflings and gnomes taking to the high seas is relatively small, all things considered. He's been delighted to have crewmates his size, or smaller, a few times a year.
"Besides, my motivation isn't entirely selfless," he confesses. "It'll be just you and me on the little boat."