The sounds of well wishes, joy and laughter coming from the Solhaven Celebration Barge could be heard even at this distance. Further up the shoreline, Jaysehn Ranshai, Commodore of one of the largest private fleets in the region, Master of the Order of Voln, Sentinel of the Ebon Blade, Defender of Mist Harbor....was doing laundry.

Small clothes, in fact, for small ones. He tried not to think about the unanswered letter he had sent to Lady Kasendra. He tried to convince himself of what he had known to be true. She was a great Lady, with matters of great import before her. Still, the lack of aid, of even a reply of any sort, stung. Surely even he could not anticipate just how quickly everything would escalate on the island, but still...

Fate. He reminded himself. Fate decides.

He was no stranger to laundry, especially aboard a ship. The first duties Aetheri had given him in his education on seafaring were how to keep a ship clean and well ordered. The last time he had spent this length of time aboard the Silver Sun, he had been ferrying refugee Caligosi off of their doomed island. Now, his carrack was filled with the sound of children. For the moment, those sounds were full of the energy of youth, excitement at new things and speculations about what lay behind the walls of the great city of Vornavis that they could all see from the docks.

Jaysehn finished hanging the last of the children's clothes to dry. He noticed one of his Caligosi crew bring another basket full of clean clothing to be hung. He just nodded and left them to carry on the work. He had other promises to keep.

Snatching up a large bag he had at his feet, he proceeded below decks to where the 'Crew Quarters' were. The orphans, all that had not elected to join other avenues of escape from Mist Harbor, were all above decks. Most were somewhere in the rigging, having climbing contests. A few were playing 'pirate' by pretending to fire the battery of ora cannon he had on board. Down here, in what he had given over to them as a communal bedroom, he stared hard at his recent work.

It was obvious to him just how poorly he had executed it. He had painted the place to try and replicate the bungalows he had made them almost nine months ago now. The paint was still wet, but looked odd on the naturally grey-white mistwood planking of the hull. Light here was mostly by lamp, even in the day. The bunks were neat and offered the children plenty of room to sleep, but they were also sterile and continued to feel more like the naval accommodations they were rather than the cozy independent spaces he had secured for them on Mist Harbor.

His last addition was housed within the large bag he had in hand. Dropping it on the floor, he began to remove the contents. He pulled them out one by one, trying his best to remember who had favorites or in whose beds he had found each of them originally. He placed them with care, trying to make each of the little things convey a spirit of welcome, warmth and home.

As he stared into the eyes of the dozen or so stuffed animals he had delivered around the room, he reminded himself that his ships were HIS home. And as long as the children were here, Jaysehn was determined to make sure it was their home as well. At least...until he could win back theirs for them with edge of his sword.