A Hunt For Treasure
”And thus, in a sweep of bright red feelings and mating debauchery, the cursed Drinker and her starry-eyed thrall were joined in a semi-permanent union of pity and romance, joyfully doomed to wander the cold land of undeath in four-cornered bliss.”
Kanaya read the last excerpt of her book with a plaintive sigh, closing the heavy covers on her lap to properly finish the literary experience. She looked around herself with wide golden eyes, drawn back suddenly into the “real world” after god knows how many hours (or days) of being withdrawn in a lovely extravagant fantasy of romance, mystery, and adventure. She found herself sitting on a carved stump, smoothed and shaped carefully to almost resemble a chair. The wooden throne sat upon soft white shores of the Jadeblood’s private garden home, just on the brink of a rustling blanket of short green grass, and it overlooked the calm tropical sea like the seat of a stoic island guard, ever vigilant. Kanaya, however, was not vigilant. She was Much too busy in her book to notice black sails billowing in the wind and creeping toward her home from far beyond the gentle crests the girl often splashed in.
Kanaya squinted into the horizon and fixed her failing shoulder strap. She never had a visitor before, and was not quite sure what to think of the approaching vessel. The tropical seadwellers who inhabited the eastern ocean around her home left her alone to swim below in the colorful reefs below, quite uninterested in the solitary girl pattering about onshore. But now an imperial engine-less warship was closing in out of the wide blue, and Kanaya froze in uncertainty and fear.
Highbloods from the cold north would have enough sense to keep her alive, right? No profit in killing the ONLY Caretaker of the Brood, right? Such reassurances did little to calm Kanaya’s boiling nerves, and she fidgeted with the book on her lap as the mysterious boat crashed noisily into the pale sand, only a short distance from where she sat worrying and confused.
The ship was large and made of dark wood and brass brackets. It had patches of newer timber that suggested many a previous hull injury, and it’s main sail was black and imposing like a shadow of uncertainty over the small and unaware girl. It bore a small flag of violet and white upon the mast, and the jagged jaw-like symbol upon it caused Kanaya’s discomfort to peak. This was the craft of a seadweller, certainly, No doubt there. And they are unpredictable, at best. The gangplank dropped and Kanaya sprang to her feet, clutching the large leatherbound book to her chest with both arms as if it would protect her from whatever glubbed within the intruding craft.
Eridan checked his map and bearings for the hundredth time that evening, the waning light of the harsh sun giving him little direction to work with until the stars showed themselves in a few hours. He measured his location and raised his periscope to double check what he calculated. Yes, he was right, as usual. His destination was looming on the horizon like a studded blemish on the sea, and Eridan Ampora gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back for his cunning navigating.
The map the Prince was following was no standard seachart, no. This was an ancient map to promised riches and adventure! He had “acquired” the map from his FLARPing partner during a chaotic raid, certain that it was written as a memory of horded gold by his ruthless ancestor, the Orphaner Dualscar. Even if it wasn’t ol’ Dualscar’s treasure, better to have gold in the claws of royalty than some pirate-wannabe harlot like Serket,
Eridan captchaloged what he would need once at shore, including the old map and his trusty weapon, and a bottle of stiff Blueblooded Rum for celebration when he found his destined mark. As his ship met with the sand of the exotic island, the young man laughed to himself in an arrogant and stuffy way.
“Oh ho! If only Mindfang could see me noww! A fist full a’ treasure, an’ all of it for ME!”
Eridan was used to the fists and private treasure being flaunted the other way around, and his long-deserved view from the top was quite spectacular as he lowered the plank for his departure with Ahab in arm.
The low sun caused the Highblood to balk and shade his eyes with his long slender hand as he took in the first look upon the promised island. Trees. Lots of trees. Flowers carefully tended and full hedges shaped to look like quadrant symbols and twisting helixs dotted the soft grass only a few meters away from the white sand, and it was immediately obvious to Eridan that this remote location was not uninhabited as he had hoped. A path of smooth white stones lead deeper into the undergrowth, and an arch of well managed flowered vines stood as a welcoming doorway into the island.
“Aww, FUCK. If there’s any bloody old treasure here, it’s probably been up an’ swwiped by the fuckin’ locals by NOWW!” He whined at his misfortune, taking a late notice to a quaking girl off his port side. The Prince snarled and readied his weapon, marching off the plank to interrogate the poor Troll, and maybe take his disappointment out in a violent way.
“You there! Girl!” He haughtily hissed, standing up tall in front of her with flared fins to assert his blood and superiority. “Wwhat are you DOIN’, just standin’ there wwith your fuckin’ gaper unhinged like some sorta dumb unawware blowwfish? Nevver seen royalty before or somethin’?”
Kanaya took a timid step back and dropped her book onto the sand, her hand fishing in the pocket of her skirt for her lipstick. She applied it with a shaking hand and tried not to make eyecontact with the angry seatroll, knowing her life might hang on a careless word or rash action. She bowed her head respectfully and responded. Her voice was high, yet slow and careful, almost sounding like music when she strung together her long flowery words to appease the HIghblood.
“My Apologies, Your Nautical HIghness. It’s Not Often I Am Graced With Visitors On My Humble Island, And Never Before Have I Been Fortunate Enough To Have Seen The Highest Castes In Person.” She stammered a bit and dared to look her pissy guest over. The symbol on his sweater was familiar, and much like the wavy shape bore upon the ship’s flag.
Eridan lowered his rifle and sneered condescendingly at the girl. Her groveling itched a scratch to be praised that stung deep in his royal soul, and he was all too ready to forget his mission and be worshiped by a pretty young lowblood, as was his role so far above her. He tossed his hand indignantly and scoffed, a mean smile twitching on his thin black lips.
“Wwell, noww you can tell all your little friends that you havve come face to face wwith the Prince a’ Angels, Eridan Ampora! An’ livved, if you continue to play your cards right…” He laughed a dark laugh at the last comment.
“So, wwhat do you knoww about a’ ancient treasure buried somewwhere on this dirty rock?”
Kanaya stood like a stone in disbelief, an eyebrow raised dangerously on her forehead. Of course his insignia looked familiar! She knew this arrogant prick as caligulasAquarium, one of the people she would play games with online or chat to when lonesome. She hesitated to call Ampora a “friend”, but they certainly weren’t enemies, and had a few good times in the past few sweeps gossiping about the more socially active members of their shared friend group.
“Eridan, You Say? And What Would CA Be Doing So Very Far From Hive and Hearth, Among The Flowers And Fear Of The Jadeblooded Auxiliatrix?”
She knew he would recognize her by her unique caste, blood was more important to Eridan Ampora than breathing it seemed.
“Treasure? Of What Kind Are You Referring?”
Eridan Ampora flushed a mortified purple. His dramatic show of threatening authority seemed dumb in even HIS deluded eyes now that he knew he was talking to an old acquaintance, especially one of an important (although still low and dry) caste. He withdrew his gun into the null of his deck and bowed curtly at his thin waist, a sharp sneer twitching below his pointed nose, which flared a bit in equal disgust as the troll forced out a somewhat genuine apology.
“Oh, Kan.” He said as sweet as paving tar “Forgivve me, I couldn’t recognize you wwithout the aid a’ muddy green text an’ maternal condescension”.
He activated the card of his treasure map and presented it proudly, explaining in short but exaggerated detail how he has been following it, and the end is marked plainly as being on “...This vvegetation infested rock, or I’m a thumbeast’s Lusus.”
