Washed Ashore

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|Unknown Island on the Grandline|

The echo of bare feet slapping against stone resonates as Astera, a lavender-haired woman, descends a dark stairwell. The uneven, roughly carved stairs seem integrated into the earth rather than meticulously constructed.

Pausing at the bottom, Astera hoists three large sacks over her shoulder from where they hang on the wall. With her black-clawed hands inserted into a crevice, she heaves the stone wheel overhead, revealing sunlight streaming through the opening. Behind the now open wall lies a patchwork trellis, woven together with flexible twigs and string. Sweeping vines on the trellis serve as a natural camouflage, concealing Astera's secret hideaway.

Squatting at the bottom corner of the opening, Astera parts the shroud of greenery with the back of her hand, stepping forward to the outside. Upon her exit, she lets the trellis curtain back to the ground, ensuring her concealed doorway remains unnoticed.

It's not as if it really matters. Astera has been here since birth, only sharing the island for a short time with another bring. Since her mother's passing over two decades ago, she has lived alone on this tiny, uninhabited island. For as long as she can recall, the critters, creatures, and beasties of the wildlife have been her sole friends and family, providing the only sense of community she has ever known.

Affixing the trellis in place, Astera turns her gaze toward the rising sun. Sunbeams playfully dance through the canopy of towering, serpentine trees, and her dual pupils absorb absorbing all of nature's beauty.

Gathering her cascading lavender locks, Astera weaves them into a large braid that descends to the tips of her toes. Looping the fat braid twice around her shoulders, she adorns herself with this natural scarf, finding safety within the thickness of her tresses. Stray strands playfully escape in various directions, tickling her sun-kissed complexion. As she breathes in the invigorating island breeze, she begins her journey, navigating the meandering trails that guide her to the shoreline.

Astera's island, embraced by the tumultuous sea, remains secluded and hidden. It sits like a forgotten jewel in the vast ocean, untouched by the presence of ships or the gaze of passing sailors.

The fierce and frequent storms play a dual role in shaping the destiny of this land. While they guard the island from unwanted visitors, they also serve as messengers, delivering various trinkets and debris to its shores. The western cove becomes a dumping ground for the ocean's offerings.

In the aftermath of each storm, Astera takes a hike to the western cove. The journey takes her through dense foliage and winding trails beneath the towering trees. As she reaches the cove, the crashing waves reveal the remnants of lost voyages-splintered wood, fragments of sails, and treasures once possessed by those who dared the unpredictable sea. The shoreline becomes a catalog, each piece telling a tale of the struggle between the relentless ocean and its victims.

Astera, with hazel eyes reflecting the hues of sage green and honeyed amber, immerses herself in this patchwork of narratives, her long lavender hair catching the sunlight as she explores the offerings strewn across the sandy canvas. The sea breeze carries whispers of distant adventures, mixing with the scent of salt and the earthy fragrance of the island.

In this serene yet volatile sanctuary, Astera continues her ritual, a keeper of the sea's secrets and the island's silent guardian.

The storm that raged through the night surpassed the usual brutality of ones in the past, closer to a cyclone than a conventional thunderstorm. Astera expects to discover more than the customary artifacts and keepsakes during today's expedition. She hopes to obtain sea charts and maps, yearning for a glimpse of her location within the vast expanse of the world. Despite 30 years spent on this isolated island, none of the washed-up items have yielded concrete clues about her position in this lonely realm of space and time.

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