When he asked her if she had not trusted him, the first word that came to her lips was no. But she knew better than to say that.
The first mate approached them before she could answer with anything else. She didn’t try to interject, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, the dark waves still pulling and pushing behind her eyes. Their voices were muffled, and she felt isolated. Dangerous situation you got yourself into, pup, she heard her father’s voice. She was playing with fire and it was beginning to scorch her nerves.
Violet eyes stared at her like they would burn a hole into her forehead.
“Through me,” she answered him, her voice strong despite the tightness in her throat. “I’m your map. If you get rid of me, you get rid of your only hope of finding the Sea of Ash.”
Her gaze left his as a few members of the crew approached them again. The captain looked displeased. There was a notch of concern in the first mate’s furrowed brow, and Hera wondered if even she was intimidated by the captain’s demeanor.
Hera straightened. The hammering in her chest was loud. She feared that Killian would try to defend her, knew that he would. She wanted to speak for herself. This was her plan.
“Would one of ye rapscallions like to tell me why I should be worried ‘bout the maps for?” His one-eyed gaze scanned over Killian before shifting to her.
“They’re gone,” she said quickly.
“Gone?” He clenched his teeth.
“I was clumsy,” she said, “I tripped on deck, and the maps fell into the sea.” She maintained a steady gaze into his eyes, masking her nerves with a matter-of-fact tone. Did she have a plan in case everything went wrong? What if they don’t hesitate to throw her overboard and simply set out to find another way? She swallowed to avoid getting her voice stuck in her throat, slowly so that the captain wouldn’t notice. She felt the danger cling to the lining in her stomach, saw it as a phantom waving at her from the side of the ship.
A muscle jumped at the edge of Killian’s jaw. Rage was quickly blooming on the captain’s face, veins standing out on his neck. Over his shoulder, Severine looked at Killian with cold, sharp eyes and a matching smirk.
“Clumsy?” the captain echoed. He took a step toward Hera. “Should ’ave thrown yerself over instead!” he roared.
Killian put his hand up, lightly placing it against the captain’s shoulder. “Easy.”
“And ’ow are we going to find our loot now, love?” Severine asked, unsheathing her voice.
“She may not have found her sea legs, but she has not lost her head. She has the map memorized and will aid me in guiding our sails. Isn’t that right, moineau?” Killian tossed the last words at Hera without so much as glancing back at her.
“If we lose this treasure, yer both goin’ overboard. That clear?” the captain said, grabbing a fistful of Killian’s tunic.
Killian smiled smoothly. Channeling a pinch of aether, he touched his fingers to the captain’s wrist. The captain let out a small gasp, releasing Killian’s shirt and yanking his arm back. He cast a simmering glower at the pair, but the shade of fear in his eyes did not escape Killian’s notice.
“No staging a mutiny, me coves. It won’t end well for ye,” Severine said.
The threat fell flat to Killian. While he had no doubts the first mate would spread such a rumour if she so wished, it would only end in her blood being cast upon the deck. Killian did not fear their attacks. But he still needed their connections. If Hera had undone his years of work…
He clenched his jaw, watching Severine disappear below deck. Once she was gone, he pivoted back towards Hera. The urge to throw her overboard himself flickered briefly through him, but was little more than a bleak thought disappearing into a well. “You better get us to those ruins, moineau.”
Exhausted, Killian was making his way towards the sleeping quarters. They had to be getting close to the ruins by now. The crew was growing increasingly antsy, and Severine was a constant presence, impressing venom into his shoulder blades. He had not felt this wary of his company for quite some time. The others were quiet around him, as if afraid to stir him to violence or mutiny. In truth, he could sense a tension that was growing closer to snapping.
The sound of voices pulled him from his thoughts. In the dimly lit space, the two figures were cast into shadow, but the deep crimson flame of Hera’s hair shone unmistakably. Killian clenched his jaw. One of the particularly lecherous members of the crew was leaning towards Hera, as if trying to pin her against a wall. He spoke in a low voice, dripping with repugnant intent. He reached a hand out towards Hera.
A woman, terrified, crying and screaming. Leader’s hands. The wall biting into Killian’s face. The – His mind burst away from the memory, throwing him into motion.
“Get the hells away from her!” he roared, rushing towards the pair. His hand snaked out, lightning-fast, manacling the pirate’s throat. “You will not touch her,” Killian warned, voice low and dangerous.
“S-she wanted it, mate,” the pirate wheezed out.
Killian’s fingers flexed. He wanted to choke the life out of him. He wanted to squeeze so hard that Lead – the pirate’s eyes would pop out of his skull. He wanted to channel his aether through his fingertips, to line the man’s sinking throat with glacial spikes.
Instead, he leaned towards him, voice slipping from his lips in a growl. “You will not force yourself upon her. You will not corner her. You will not even look at her, or I will tear you apart. Savvy?”
Killian sat cross-legged on a rock, tome on his lap, whispering below his breath as he memorized incantations, the nature of the elements. Aurelie was nearby, giggling as she chased a small bird, which hopped across the ground before finally losing patience and propelling itself into the air, whisking out of sight. “Where it going, Key?”
Killian smiled without looking up from his book. “Home, I would guess.”
“I want it to be my friend!”
He shut the book, fixing his little sister with a look of feigned perplexity, one eyebrow cocked. “Is that so? Why, are you a petit oiseau?”
“No! Help find it, Key. Please.”
Killian sighed heavily, glancing laconically at his tome before looking back towards Aurelie’s big, pleading eyes. “First we sneak into a port settlement and now you want to go look for a bird’s home?” He shook his head. “No, no. I believe that it is far too much excitement for someone your age.”
“Key,” she whined, pouting dramatically.
With a light laugh, Killian sprang from the rock, tucking his book under his arm. “Fine, I shall concede. Now, where did that bird go?”
Aurelie pointed in the direction it had flown. It was likely useless, but Killian saw no point in refusing the request. Saying no to her was never easy. They began to move across the forest floor, the scent of salt-chipped air blowing off the sea towards them, although its breakers were still too far away to hear.
The soft chirping of birds drifted into Killian’s senses. He put a finger to his lips, motioning for Aurelie to be quiet and keep her steps light. They crept forward, pushing aside lichen, and came to a claustrophobic clearing, hedged in by thick brush and an even thicker line of trees. One of the trees disrupted the clearing as it pushed its thumb up through the ground. The birds hopped on its branches, fluttering around a crook where a nest was gathered.
“I think we found them, ’Lie.”
“I can’t see,” Aurelie whispered back, before giving her brother a big, hopeful grin. Killian picked her up effortlessly. She smothered a giggle, nearly wriggling out of his grasp as she leaned forward, placing a small hand on the trunk to steady herself. One of the birds spotted her and let out a chirp before hopping to a different limb.
“They so small and funny!”
“Yes, just like you.” Killian lowered her.
“What are they?”
“You mean what type of bird? They’re moineaux, I believe.”
“My favourite!” Aurelie declared.
Killian laughed softly. “And just how many other types of birds do you know, petite oiseau?”
“I’m not a little bird, I’m a moineau!”
“But a sparrow is a little bird.”
Aurelie frowned at him with the greatest look of disapproval Killian had ever seen on a six year-old’s face. He restrained a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest, leveling a matching stare at her.
“Okay, I’m not mad anymore!” she announced abruptly. “Pick me up again? I want to see better!”
“Alright, alright.”
“Can I ride on your shoulders?”
“I suppose that way you can see the world the way a moineau does?”
Aurelie giggled, clapping. “Yes! You’re so big!”
Just as Killian was about to lift her, something slammed into the back of Killian’s head. Bright light burst across his vision as Aurelie’s shrill scream filled his ears.
Consciousness returned, bringing confusion along with it. Killian blinked dazedly, gaze swimming across his surroundings. He tried to make sense of the dim space, the men standing around them. All at once realization struck him. Aurelie was sobbing and kicking frantically as they pinned her down, tying her wrists behind her back. He stirred, needing to protect her. Just as he started to rise, one of the men grappled him. Another wrenched Killian’s arm behind his back, thick rope in his other hand, preparing to bind him as they had Aurelie. Killian twisted sharply, ignoring the pain, adrenaline taking over. With his free hand, he pulled the scepter from his belt, drawing aether as rapidly as he could. Flames encircled him, scorching the men’s hands. They stumbled away, howling in pain.
Killian channeled his aether into the scepter once more, but before he could finish the spell, a roegadyn ploughed into him, bashing him against a stone wall. He gasped for breath.
“I told you to take away any weapons, you bloody idiots!” one of the men shouted.
The scepter was wrenched from his grasp. Killian glared fiercely at the roegadyn as he moved away from him, crossing the small room towards a fireplace. Fear mingled with hatred as Killian watched the roegadyn feed his scepter to the flames.
“Let us go!” Killian yelled, throwing himself at the man who had spoken. Cold eyes turned upon him. The hyuran calmly intercepted Killian’s attack, jamming his elbow into his stomach. He pivoted, grabbing Killian by the throat, and pushed him backwards until his spine touched the wall. Killian pried at his fingers uselessly.
“Stop fighting, boy.”
“What the hells do you want with us? Let Aurelie go!”
“Got a lot of fight in you, don’t you? We can fix that.” He bashed his forehead against Killian’s. The impact stunned him. “Get the brand from the fire. Help me pin him down.”
The roegadyn reached for something, a long bar of metal that had been resting in the blazing maw of the hearth. He held it aloft, turned towards Killian. Panic jolted through Killian’s chest, his lungs heaving as he stared at the piece of metal, glowing orange from the intensity of the heat.
“You need to learn that you’re never going to be free, else you’re going to be in a lot of pain during our voyage.”
And suddenly he understood. Slavers. He had heard horror stories of them, that city-dwellers were dangerous, that they ran an underground that would put the poor reputation of his own kind to shame.
Killian resisted as best he could, but there was no escape. Not when three men were holding him down.
“Watch little one, see what you have to look forward to this evening,” the hyuran said –clearly the leader of this band of slavers.
“Don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt Key!”
Scalding metal pressed into the flesh of Killian’s left wrist. Searing pain. Screaming skin. He tried to fight against it, tried to keep his jaw clamped shut, his teeth grinding, nearly biting his own tongue. But he could repress it no longer. The cry of pain fled him like a starved ghost. Aurelie’s frantic scream, her sobbing – these were sounds that he could barely even hear over the intensity of the marking.
Breath sawed in and out of Killian’s teeth. They threw him to the ground next to his sister, but all he could think about was the sweltering pain in his wrist. He gripped his arm, ribs heaving, and stared at the furious red image now cast into his flesh.
“Don’t….” he gasped out, looking into the cold eyes of the Leader, his own eyes desperate. “Do not do this to her.”
A smile spread across the man’s face, frost trellising glass. “We always mark our property. But don’t worry, boy. A pretty thing like her? We won’t risk damaging. She’s going to fetch us a fine stack of gil.” The men chorused with laughter.
“You will not touch her!” Killian growled, starting up from the floor.
A boot collided with his chest, knocking him down. The Leader stepped forward, pressed his heel over the screaming flesh of Killian’s wrist. Leader leaned forward. “You best learn to abide by my wishes, or I will find other ways to make you and your sister suffer. Understood?”
Killian glared as hard as he could, but his eyes were wild, his face bloodless.
That night, they moved them to the boat. Killian was too drained to resist, too haunted by Aurelie’s piercing screams. Too devastated by the brand now marring them both.
How had everything changed so quickly? Killian replayed the moment of their capture in his mind. Could he have done anything differently? With nothing to distract him from their situation, his mind wandered, venturing down choking paths. Wishing to be free, wishing things had been different accomplished nothing, he knew that. But it was impossible to do otherwise as they sat in the hull of the ship. The smell of salt and piss. Floor constantly shifting ever so slightly. No sounds save for the murmur of the sea, and the woman softly sobbing in the corner. Aurelie stopped crying a while ago, as if her body had run out of fluids to transmute into tears. She was painfully quiet. It terrified Killian.
“Hey,” he began, his voice quiet, barely breaking the silence. “Aurelie? Aurelie. Look at me. Come on, little bird.” He swallowed and tried again. “Moineau?”
She stirred, lifting her head from her knees, dark amethyst eyes settling on his face, filled with sadness and fear.
“I am going to get us out of here. Just hold on a bit longer. I will find a way.”
Footsteps on the stairs. Killian braced himself as Leader appeared, those glacial eyes locking onto him before swinging towards the woman in the corner, gaze lingering upon her in a way that sickened Killian deeply.
Killian shifted. If he burned through his bonds just a bit more, could he attack the Leader? Could he free both the woman and Aurelie and get off the ship? There would be other men to deal with, but it would be worth the risk. He wasn’t going to be sold into slavery, and neither was Aurelie.
Sensing his movements, Leader turned towards him. Killian tried to wrench away as the man bent down, inspecting the ropes chafing his pained wrists. Nearly singed through. Leader let out an exhausted sigh. “Still have to learn your place, I see. Very well. I will teach you.”
He hoisted him to his feet.
“Let go of me.”
Leader threw him against the wall. Pinned him there by his throat. “Damaged merchandise never sells well, but neither does impudence. You see boy, I can hurt you anywhere but your face and no one would care. Hells, if you had more muscle, I could sell you regardless of your face. Do you know what you’ll be used for?”
Killian wheezed, tried to break free.
Leader leaned in closer; his breath scraped against Killian’s ear. “Labour. Service. Whatever the hells your buyers want. Maybe even your body, if they’re of that persuasion. Won’t matter then if you’re scarred, only that you’re obedient.”
“Don’t-”
His grip tightened, choking. “Don’t what? Don’t break you? But I must. Your defiance makes you unsellable. Bet your parents are glad to be rid of such a bratty child, aren’t they? Not like your sweet sister over there.”
“If you even lay a finger o-”
“Fear not, boy. It’s you I have to break. She’s going to be one hell of a beauty, and that means she’ll be completely unharmed. That one will bring in so much gil we could sail on it.”
“Stop talking about her that way!”
The Leader punched Killian hard in the ribs. He spluttered.
“Even scars are better than defiance. So, let’s see about taming that spirit of yours, before it makes you completely worthless.”
Not long after that, the slavers set sail. Killian’s drive to escape began to wither, the desire to be spared pain beginning to take its place. As long as they do not harm Aurelie. But the way she cried and drew further and further away from him each time he was beaten was far more painful than what the crew did. The kicks and punches to his body and legs when he showed any sign of spirit or rebellion. The micro cuts they gave him, thin little knives, cutting enough to sting more than the wasps near their home, but not enough to cause substantial bloodloss. Just small seepages that began to drain the fight from him. Hearing Aurelie’s cries, he knew he couldn’t give up, that he had to keep resisting them, had to keep trying to think of ways to escape and free her and the other woman. But the bruises on his neck and arms seemed to mottle his brain as well, his thoughts becoming scattered and darker each passing moment. However long it had been. There was no way to tell time below deck, no view of the sky. Killian could only mark the time with the visits of the slave traders.
Just as Killian found himself falling into a deep silence, the steps creaked. Leader descended into their prison; the cloying reek of strong spirits came with him. He walked past Killian, not even noticing his withered glare, traipsing straight towards the woman. For a moment, Killian simply stared, bruised thoughts splintering. And then he realized what the man was about to do.
“Leave her alone,” Killian rasped, his voice a brittle whisper in his dry throat.
“Key?” Aurelie whimpered low, shifting closer to him.
“Leave her alone!” Killian finally managed to shout, but Leader only laughed. Killian strained against his ropes uselessly, desperate to intervene. That woman was kind and beautiful. He had spoken with her in whispered fragments a few times since they had found themselves trapped together. She didn’t deserve this. No one did. He had to make it stop, he had to.
But he couldn’t. He knew he was too late. Leader had forced her legs apart, had placed himself between them. And it was too late for Killian to stop him. The woman’s pleading yells and useless flailing had ceased, replaced by haunting sobs. No matter how hard he tried, Killian couldn’t look away. The taste of hatred and defeat and horror filled his mouth like bile.
“Stop,” he whispered.
Aurelie was hiding her face in his shirt. He finally averted his gaze, closing his eyes, praying it would end soon. That the woman would be spared any more of this desecration. He tucked his chin against the top of his little sister’s head. And the spirit reawakened.
This was not going to happen again. This was never going to happen to Aurelie. If she became a slave…he knew one day, she would be in danger of a similar horror. That could not happen.
Killian needed to free them all.
Time coalesced, an ember eating rotting wood. It was quiet for a while. The slavers did not come below deck. Killian began to wonder if they had docked. The motion of the boat convinced him otherwise, as did the shouts from above. It seemed they were simply too busy wrangling with a violent round of breakers. Killian began to fantasize about the men being washed overboard, hurled into the jaws of the sea. Such images gave him some comfort, and he soon fell asleep.
Footsteps woke him. Leader. The very sight of the man sent an overwhelming wave of hatred through Killian. It was the first time he had seen him since he had assaulted the woman, and the memory of it blinded the boy. It seemed Leader was moving towards her again. The woman flinched.
Killian sprang to his feet. “Stay away from her! You will not touch her again.”
Leader turned towards him slowly, cold eyes flashing. “Slaves don’t make demands. They do what they are told. They give their owners whatever their owners want.” He began to lumber towards Killian, grabbing him by his shirt front. “Have you not learned your lesson yet? You are property. Property does not speak.”
Killian spat in his face.
Anger twisted Leader’s features. “Beg for forgiveness.”
“All I want from you is your death.”
The slap came, hard and fast. Killian staggered. Glared up into Leader’s glacial eyes.
“Face the wall, boy.”
“Burn in hell.”
Leader grabbed Killian roughly, whirling him around, and slammed him hard against the nearest wall, his face colliding with the wooden planks. He shuffled, trying to shake Leader off and get away, but the man had his hand firmly against the back of Killian’s head, pushing his face hard against the wall. The man was far too strong, and with his arms bound behind his back, Killian was helpless.
He heard the faint clink of the man’s belt buckle loosening, the rustling of cloth, just as he had before…before the woman… Fear and desperation ignited with Killian. He fought against the grip pinning him.
“If the small pains you’ve been given weren’t enough, then you’ve left me no other choice.”
“Please, he’s just a boy. If you must take someone, take me instead. I will not fight you!” the woman called out, her voice as desperate as Killian felt. Hearing her plea for him filled his veins with ice, his lungs with panic. His breaths were short, his body tense, internally begging the man to relent, although he remained silent.
Leader laughed. The bastard was actually laughing. “That’s the point, you stupid bitch. This is not about pleasure.”
“Don’t let Aurelie see!” Killian managed to utter, voice thin.
“What are you doing to him? Key?” Aurelie wailed, as if just surfacing to the present.
“Don’t look, sweetie. Don’t look,” the woman urged.
His surroundings disappearing from Killian’s senses as his pants were yanked down. He closed his eyes, teeth grinding, as the man asserted himself. It was incredibly painful in a way nothing else had been. A pain he felt not just inside his body, but in his soul. Shame. Hatred. Defeat. Violation. The emotions were drowning him. He could barely breathe. Helpless, immobile, all he could do was wait for it to be over.
“Beg me to stop.”
Tears began to stream down Killian’s face. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. It hurt too much. Each aggressive thrust shattered his spirit more.
“I won’t stop until you beg.”
“Stop,” Killian sobbed out.
“Beg!”
“Please. Stop! Please. Please.”
It continued for a short moment, less violently. And then it was over.
Killian stayed perfectly still, crying soundlessly. Leader threw him to the ground. He landed hard on his shoulder, but couldn’t feel the impact for how hard his body was shaking, how much he hurt, how broken he felt.
“Key?” How long had Aurelie been calling for him?
Killian couldn’t answer. His tongue was frozen. He just lay there shivering, hating. Himself. The ship. The sea. The slavers. And their disgusting Leader most of all.
If being a slave meant begging, if being a slave meant being violated… He could not bear going through that again. He would rather die.
No. He would rather kill.
The thoughts of escape he had been nursing before twisted, morphing into something sharper, darker. And the thought of Leader’s ice-cold eyes being torn from his head was the only thing that kept Killian from drowning in his pain.
The boat docked. Swaying of the sea had become an ever-present stimulus, to the point where it was blending with the normal rhythm of blood through vein. So when it grew quieter, rocking in an absent way that promised stillness, Killian noticed. He waited. It was quiet. Aurelie was terrifyingly quiet. Pain throbbed deeply inside of him, and he grasped at it, pulling it to the forefront of his senses. It fed him like the deepest well of aether.
“Hey,” Killian called out, voice shaped by the strength of his recovered will. It was the first time he had spoken since Leader had dominated him.
The woman looked at him, weariness dimming her eyes.
Fire hummed through his bonds. He held his arms out in front of himself, rolled his wrists. The woman’s eyes grew wide. A smile flinched across Killian’s lips. Pulling himself to his feet, he ignored the hollowness in his legs, the way everything seemed to tremble. He moved towards the woman, asking her softly if he could remove her bonds. She nodded, fear and determination warring upon her brow.
“How do we get out?” she whispered.
Killian freed her but continued to kneel before her, frowning heavily. He could see that she was in pain, a similar pain to the one that begged him not to crouch, not to stand, not to breathe. “I’m getting my sister out of here,” he said, the rage seeping into his lowered voice. “Even if I have to drain all of my aether to do it. I will tear them apart if they dare to fall into my sight.”
“Do not toss yourself to your death.”
Killian shook his head and turned towards Aurelie. “Moineau, we are going home,” he said, gingerly removing her ropes. He pretended not to notice the way she flinched.
“We’re docked,” the woman began, as if scared to lift her voice. “But…they may be on deck.”
“I’ll take a look,” Killian offered, stroking Aurelie’s matted hair back from her face. She wasn’t even looking at him. He wanted to hug her, to lift her up and carry her out of there as fast as possible. But he couldn’t risk her getting hurt. “You and Aurelie should wait right behind me.”
The woman came to Aurelie’s side, gently took her hand. “May the twelve guide us to freedom,” she said, looking Killian straight in the eye. He nodded soberly and mounted the wooden steps as quietly as possible.
Killian carefully opened the hatch, peered out across the deck. His view was limited, but he didn’t see anyone. The gangplank was lowered to a narrow dock. A sizeable building slumbered nearby, filling the air with amiable smoke and the glow of lamplight. A port settlement of some kind. Killian hoped they were still in La Noscea. Getting home would be hard; he was prepared to fight his way through the town, through any town. Maybe the woman would be able to help them navigate after that.
Killian clambered out and turned towards the open hatch, beckoning for Aurelie and the woman to come. Aurelie wouldn’t move. The woman drew her forward gently and Killian scooped her up into his arms. She clung to him, trembling. Giving her a reassuring squeeze, he pivoted, breathing in the salt-chipped air deeply. Freedom stretched out before them. “We’re going home, ’Lie,” he said quietly, his voice breaking over the words.
“Ay!”
Killian flinched, something cold and dead rolling inside his stomach, touching the pain and reigniting it. The woman drew back, nearly stumbling onto the steps.
“We got runners!”
Killian looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the voice. A man was perched up in the crow’s nest. A sharp whistle cut the air.
“We have to go, now!” Killian urged.
Already shadows were hurrying along the dock towards them. He realized now that the men had been closer to the boat than he had thought. He should have looked around more carefully, he should have - A cabin door opened and Leader strode out. Killian clenched his jaw, swearing frantically. He burst into a run, holding Aurelie tight.
Something whistled past his head, a fang grazing his ear. He stumbled in his stride, shielding Aurelie with his arms as he turned on his heel. The woman was frozen, backing towards the steps to their prison as Leader cornered her. The man in the crow’s nest armed himself with another knife. It glinted dangerously in his upraised hand, the threat clear. Killian slowly set Aurelie down, backing away from her as he began to tug at the aether in the air. He would not draw from her, but from deep within himself, from the very breath of life that rustled around them. It filled him, arcing bold and electric from his fingers, a quick flashing bolt streaming straight upwards. The man hollered, the knife soaring through the air wildly, missing its mark. Other men were stomping onto the boat. Killian twisted towards them, shooting up a wall of ice as quickly as he could. They slammed through the weak barrier too easily, rushing towards him.
And then Leader had him by the throat. Killian tried to gasp, but could merely choke. His throat screamed with the fear of collapsing. His feet hovered above the ground, kicking uselessly.
“Lift anchor!” Leader ordered, his stranglehold relentless.
Killian drew on his aether sharply, grasping at Leader’s in the process. In a heavy burst, he shot out a propulsion of magic. Leader stumbled back, his hand leaving Killian’s throat. The boy sank to the ground, pulling at air desperately. He drew himself to his feet shakily, coughing.
“Did you not learn enough the first time?” Leader’s voice was a viper. He advanced towards Killian, hatred plain in his eyes. He drew the sword from his side. “It seems you need to be taught again. Harder.”
Killian backed up slowly, his world narrowing. I have to get to Aurelie. I have to get her home. I have to protect her I have to –
The flat of the sword crashed against his ribs. Leader made a lunge for him. Killian threw his hands up, a whisker of flame roaring between them, growing wide as he backed up. Leader swung the sword through the fire as if it were nothing but an illusion, and threw himself towards Killian.
Killian threw out all the aether he could muster. A small, concussive blast of flame. It shot Killian backwards through the air, lifting his heels off the ground as it repulsed Leader. Killian sailed over the railing of the ship, falling jaggedly into the waters below. Cold depths rushed to greet him, heavy fingers gnarling in his clothes, tugging him down. He fought against the heavy body that shoved salt down his punished throat. Killian broke the surface, gasping deeply, his entire body a throbbing bruise. Blinking the stinging water out of his eyes, he watched helplessly as the boat began to move away from him. He could hear Leader’s voice rising towards the sky. The flames had not killed him. And Aurelie...
Aurelie!
Killian shot forward, trying to catch the boat. But it was no use. He could not climb it, he could not command water. He could do nothing. He treaded water, trying to breathe past the rawness of his throat, still so shriveled from Leader’s iron grasp. The effort of trying to swim was wearing him out. He turned a frantic gaze towards the shore. A Maelstrom officer stood at the end of the dock, torch lifted. The flame shivered against the darkness as the man moved his arm. Light caught at Killian’s eyes, hurting them, the glint alerting the officer to his presence.
Killian let the fight go out of him. He submitted to the pain just as the officer reached him. He went limp, allowed himself to be hauled to land.
Aurelie…
Snapping to his senses, Killian twisted away from the officer, shooting to his feet. “You have to help her!” he said, his voice a raw blister, coming out in coarse strands. “The men in that ship.” He pointed towards where it was scuttling off into the darkness. “They have my sister!”
The officer looked towards where he was pointing then back at Killian, who continued to tremble, his breath an audible wheeze. The officer frowned deeply. “Come with me.”
Sitting around talking was a waste of time. Killian’s muscles twitched. He gripped the blanket around his shoulders so tightly his fingers whitened. The fire lapped at him, drying the black hair that stuck to his eyelashes. A small collection of Maelstrom personnel were with him, murmuring to each other as the officer that had found him handed him a ship registry. He flipped through it with numb fingers, scanning for the name of the vessel he had been in. Nothing struck him as familiar. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last, his voice leaving him in a panicked whine.
The officer removed the papers from his hands and sat across from him. “Can you describe what the ship looked like? Give us any names?”
Killian thought for a moment, but it was all a blank. He shook his head. “I can only describe Leader.”
“Who?” another Maelstrom officer asked, squinting at Killian skeptically.
“The one who...the captain.”
The Maelstrom officer who had been squinting at him snorted. “How do we even know his story is true? More likely he was trying to steal from them. Filthy duskwight.”
Rage sharpened Killian, turning him hot. “They took my sister, you stupid bastard! You need to find them!”
“He’s crazed. Send him back to the gutter where he came from. We don’t have time for this,” the squinting Maelstrom officer said, spitting.
Killian growled. He lifted his arm, drawing back his loose sleeve. The brand Leader had given him shone pink and cruel in the firelight. The officer who had found him stared at his wrist in shock, horror quietly crossing his features. “Slavers. A particularly notorious bunch, at that.”
“Eh?” the squinting Maelstrom officer exclaimed in surprise. He came over, looked down at the brand glaring on Killian’s wrist. “Ah, my mistake.”
“Twelve-cursed bastard,” Killian muttered acidly, lowering his arm. “Now what can you do to get her back?”
The kindly officer who had found Killian rubbed the back of his neck, averted his eyes. “Little, unless they dock somewhere. We’ve seen the brand before, heard horrible tales…but I fear we have no knowledge of what their ship looks like.”
“You said you could describe their leader?” a female Maelstrom officer asked, stepping forward.
Killian spoke tremulously, flinching from his own description as he offered it to them. They wrote down what he said word for word, had him read it over afterwards to make sure it was accurate. He nodded hollowly. “So what do we do?”
“You go home, son,” the kindly officer said gently.
“But…I can’t.” He started from his chair. “I can’t go home without Aurelie. She’s only six summers. She’s only….” The female officer touched his shoulder lightly, coaxing him back to the chair. Killian clutched at the blanket circling his shoulders, shivering as his gaze grew vacant, staring downward without focus, without sight.
“Take this linkpearl,” the kindly officer said, sliding the small object towards him.
“Sir, should we-” the Maelstrom who had previously doubted Killian began.
The kindly officer silenced him with a sharp look. “I cannot make any promises that we will find them, but if we do, we will contact you. So keep that pearl with you.”
Killian stirred slowly, like a long-slumbering fish ponderously rising towards daylight. He stared at the pearl then finally reached for it, handling it as if it were sacred.
Killian draws the pearl from his inner chest pocket now. For twelve years it has rested cold and silent against his breast. He cradles it carefully in his palm, rolls it forward between his fingers. How many times has he held it, whispered to it uselessly, waited for it to make any kind of noise? Surely the officer has forgotten about him by now, if he even still serves the Maelstrom. He could be dead for all Killian knows. The search has gone cold, painfully so. Yet he remains at sea, he has redefined what the swaying of a boat means to his nerves. It is what will allow him to find her, even after all of this time. Or so he has told himself. He stares at the pearl. The thought that he should release it and watch it suck down into the black ocean depths crosses his mind.
Behind him, he hears a burst of laughter, twined around a shanty. Voices tilting with drunkenness. For a moment, the pain fills him once again, achingly strong. Everything he has done to prepare, the steps he has taken, the connections he has forged…is it all meaningless? As meaningless as this pearl and a promise long dead?
He holds the pearl out over the water, prepares to release it.
Footsteps pad across the deck. He glances towards the sound, but is shielded from being seen in his current position on the head. A glimpse of red hair. He watches the woman walk towards the railing, casting her gaze out to sea, searching for something only rumoured to exist, yet ceaselessly driven, to the point where she’d risk her very skin to stand with a crew of faithless pirates.
Killian looks at the pearl in his fingers, perched towards a fall into the silent sea. A faint smile touches his lips, edged with pain. He curls his fingers around the pearl, rolls it back towards his palm. And holds on tight.
Paladin, Warrior, Dark Knight, Monk, Dragoon, Ninja, Bard, Machinist, Black Mage, Summoner, White Mage, Scholar, Astrologian ;)
Paladin: Does your character have any special belongings they couldn’t bear to lose? The ring from his mentor is the only possession he really values. Even so, he’d willingly part with it if he had to use it as a bargaining chip to find his sister.
Warrior: What’s your character’s biggest pet peeve? The list is long and distinguished. But he hates domineering people most of all.
Dark Knight: Would your character ever act immorally to get what they want? (i.e. Breaking the law or hurting someone?) Yes, he would.. However, he wouldn’t want to hurt anyone innocent.
Monk: What’s your character’s greatest motivation in life? To find his sister.
Dragoon: Does your character hold grudges? How easily do they forgive? He holds grudges and he does not let them go. They usually resolve in violence.
Ninja: Is your character good at thinking on their feet? Pretty decent with it. He’s been in some tough situations where it was think fast or lose everything.
Bard: What real-life song would you say best fits as your character’s theme? This is extremely hard, because I feel I should have a more edgy song, but I’m going to say Quietus by Epica because its sound makes me think of the ocean/pirates for some reason, and the lyrics are pretty fitting
Machinist: Does your character have any interesting or unusual hobbies? He likes playing cards and piracy.
Black Mage: What’s your character’s greatest regret? Not being able to escape with his sister, but mainly he blames the slavers who took them.
Summoner: Does your character prefer to travel alone, or with companions? Alone, but he’s always traveling with a crew.
White Mage: Does your character see themselves as a good person? Not really, no. He does seem himself as being a better person than some - ie. the slavers and the majority of his crew.
Scholar: Does your character think of themselves as being intelligent?Yes.
Astrologian: Does your character believe in destiny? Not really, no. He doesn’t think fate is to blame for what happened to him - he blames the people who chose to do it.
Vesper Bay was bustling with merchants and nobles, many of them gazing upon the grand pirate ship warily. Hera stayed behind Killian as she was told, but tried to peer over his shoulder at the crew before stepping onto the ship. They all looked about as shifty and rugged as she had expected. There was something thrilling about being on a pirate ship again, surrounded by people who were perhaps more dangerous than the Ul’dahn alleys at night.
An old friend of mine. Oh, so this was how it was going to be. Hera smiled at the duskwight woman after Killian handled the introduction, inwardly cringing as she was met with nothing but the other woman’s disapproving scowl. Her gaze shifted to the man who shouted suddenly and smiled at him, ignoring his lecherous grin and travelling gaze.
She watched as the so-called Wolf approached who she suspected was the captain. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t nervous despite her excitement. There were many of them and only one of her, and none of them—not even Killian, perhaps especially not Killian—had any loyalties to her. This time, she had no one like her father to hide behind when the true grittiness of life on a pirate vessel became a little too real.
Hera turned to the woman as she spoke, holding herself straighter despite being under the eye of the duskwight’s scrutiny. The woman evidently knew Killian’s story was bullshit. “Rest assured, I do not plan to impose on anyone. But since I don’t fear for my safety, then neither should you, Madame.” Killian had said his crewmates were not to be trusted, now this woman was claiming Killian was the real black sheep among them. This only made Hera more certain not to trust anyone.
She would have insisted on the woman’s name, but Killian called her away. Reluctantly, she approached him with a map she pulled from her shoulder bag, watching him carefully as he unrolled it and shared information with the captain. She knew what had to be done, although it made her sick to think of it.
Her eyes were a bit bleary, but she continued to study the collection of maps she had brought. She had stowed herself away in the head, accompanied by an oil lantern to light the maps as she memorized them. She had been in there for a couple hours already, redrawing the maps in her mind, quizzing herself, foregoing sleep so that the crew could literally go nowhere without her.
Creeping out of the head, she quietly climbed out onto the lower deck of the ship. She remained under the shade of the upper deck’s shadow, keeping close to the walls so that the captain—or whoever was currently steering—wouldn’t see her. She stood at the ship’s railings and looked into the sea, the waves moving with the moon’s pull. Pulling the maps out of her bag, she gave them one last quick look before stretching her arm over the rails and throwing them into the ocean.
The drinking in the galley was giving Killian a headache. Or, more aptly, his crewmates’ loud, drunken voices were jackknifing his brain. No one else below deck was sufficiently sober enough to play cards with, so he abandoned the endeavor, longing to breathe in the salt-crisped air above deck. As he mounted the steps, the noise faded, as did the clinging odor of strong spirits. Killian rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck, and stopped short when he saw a figure by the railings. Long hair cascading down her back. Arm raised above the water. Rolled parchment in her hand.
“No!” he called out, sprinting towards her. But it was too late. Killian came up against the railing, one hand shooting out to seize Hera’s wrist ineffectually. All he could was watch as the maps were swallowed by the water’s grasp. “Zut alor! Hera!” He turned his eyes upon her, violet eyes flashing, face twisted in a glare that bared his teeth. Realizing how hard he was holding her wrist, he let go immediately. “What in the seven hells could you have been thinking? Do you truly have no care for reaching the ruins before they are hopelessly pillaged?”
“What’s goin’ on here, coves?”
Killian sighed. It seemed he had reacted a bit too loudly. He took a step closer to Hera, lowering his voice drastically. “You best have a way to get to the Sea of Ash without those. Did you not trust me to keep our end of the deal?” He had meant it when he vouched to keep her safe. He knew how the crew could get. But now...how could he defend her? He turned to face the first mate as she appeared, staring at him challengingly, like she knew he was about to lie to cover up for the historian. “Hera and I are just having a bit of a row, Severine. There is little need to concern yourself.”
“Then ye won’t mind showin’ me the maps, will you, love?”
Killian locked gazes with Severine, violet clashing with icy grey, and knew he could offer no further lies. He tightened his jaw, watching as she walked away, undoubtedly to report to the captain. Killian turned towards Hera. “Tell me how you intend to get us to the Sea of Ash. Quickly. The crew will all be on deck soon. If you want your boots to remain on this vessel, you must give me a reason to defend you.” Not that he had any intentions of letting the crew throw an innocent overboard, but he would rather not have to make a bloody mess of the deck when he still needed their assistance.
♦ Financial : wealthy / moderate (he makes pretty good money doing what he does, but falls short of wealthy) / poor / in poverty.
♦ Medical : fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged.
♦ Class or Caste : upper / middle / working (is piracy considered working class?) / slave / unsure.
♦ Education : qualified / unqualified / studying
♦ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet (in the “underworld,” so to speak, he is known for his violent reputation and those he has killed, but has not been formally charged or identified by authorities)
FAMILY
♦ Marital status : married - happily / married - unhappily / engaged or betrothed / partnered / single (for now…) / divorced / separated / widowed
♦ Children : has a child or children / has no children / wants children / does not want children
♦ Relationship with Family : close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased.
♦ Filiation : orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s).
TRAITS + TENDENCIES
♦ extroverted / introverted / ambivert (seems extroverted, but this is a mask)
♦ disorganized / organized / in between
♦ close minded / open-minded / in between
♦ calm / anxious / in between (tends to come off as calm unless moved to emotional extremes - which can happen fairly easily)
♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between
♦ cautious / reckless / in between
♦ patient / impatient / in between
♦ outspoken / reserved / in between
♦ leader / follower / in between
♦ empathetic / not empathetic / in between
♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between
♦ traditional / modern / in between
♦ hard-working / lazy / in between
♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown.
♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown.
♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown.
BELIEFS
♦ Faith : monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic.
♦ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.
♦ Belief in an Afterlife : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.
♦ Belief in Reincarnation : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.
♦ Belief in Aliens : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.
♦ Religious : orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious (magic requires a certain respect for the elementals but that’s really as far as it goes for him)
♦ Philosophical : yes / no
SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION
♦ Sexuality : heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual.
♦ Sex : sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable.
♦ Romance : romance repulsed / romance neutral (he’s somewhere between the two - he wouldn’t turn down someone if he truly cared for them, but he wouldn’t let anything distract him from his aim) / romance favourable
♦ Sexually : adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious / uninterested (for personal reasons)
♦ Potential Sexual Partners : male / female / agender / other / none (if ever he were to, it would be with a romantic partner who is female only) / all.
♦ Potential Romantic Partners : male / female / agender / other / none /all.
♦ Drinking Alcohol : almost never (he likes to keep his head clear and his wits sharp - partly because of how distrusting he is) / sometimes / frequently / to excess.
♦ Smoking : trying to quit / never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.
♦ Other Narcotics : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.
♦ Medicinal Drugs : never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.
♦ Indulgent Food : never / sometimes (when his crew gets celebratory meals, but he doesn’t really care about food) / frequently / to excess.
♦ Splurge Spending : never / sometimes (for nice clothing or better scepters, but mostly he saves his money) / frequently / to excess.
♦ Gambling : never / sometimes / frequently (he loves cards) / to excess
A hand fell upon the documents she was organizing, interrupting her work and her train of thought. She looked up into Killian’s piercing violet eyes, wary of the threatening look that crossed his features.
“And am I to expect that you’re a straighter arrow than your crew?” she narrowed her gaze at him. She wasn’t sure why she had initially thought Killian was the captain of his crew, but she now quickly realized he wasn’t. It was unusual that the navigator, if that’s what he was, would make arrangements on behalf of the crew. There was something else going on there that she would have to discover, perhaps whether she chose to or not.
Hera straightened after the pirate finally moved away. “You will be paid the price you would receive if you sold the artifacts to us, but nothing more. Of course, that amount all depends on what we find, and if we find anything at all.”
She studied him as he leaned against her desk and looked upon the artifacts. His features were striking, as expected of a duskwight. It amused her to think how her colleagues would react if they found out she was going on the highly important excavation with a duskwight pirate crew. She would just have to not tell them.
It wasn’t the duskwights she didn’t trust, even despite the bad reputation they’ve earned in Eorzea. She had helped a small group of duskwight researchers in Gridania to recover artifacts special to their culture. They were trying to survive in this tumultuous land like everyone else. Relying on duskwights to help her find the artifacts was nothing; relying on pirates—she almost laughed at the thought of it.
“If we can agree to one another’s terms, then I believe we have ourselves a deal.” She smiled, and held out her hand to him. He wouldn’t ever be allowed to know it, but she had every intention of ensuring this excavation would go according to her terms, and hers alone.
A thin smirk rose to Killian’s lips as he accepted Hera’s extended hand, giving it a firm shake. “Prepare what you need. I will lead you to our ship as soon as you are finished,” he announced, the smirk disappearing just as quickly as it had arisen. He eyed the various artifacts she had collected while he waited, respectfully refraining from touching any of the valuable relics.
Once they arrived in Vesper Bay, Killian directed Hera towards the large ship belonging to the Scarlet Waves. “Keep one step behind me,” he instructed in a murmur before walking onto the gangplank, keeping his pace relaxed as he ascended its slope.
His crewmates were arranged across the deck, scattered in little pockets of activity. A few were dueling in games of triple triad, using overturned barrels as tables. Others checked the rigging or else engaged in conversation, their voices rising jovially. “The Wolf’s back,” one of his crewmates announced.
The first mate – the only other duskwight in the crew – lowered her hand of triad cards, her sharp gaze switching towards the pair as they stepped onto the ship. She frowned as she spotted Hera. Killian did not miss this expression, and immediately lifted his voice. “This is Hera Nevaeh, an old friend of mine and a fellow navigator. She has the means to see us arrived at the ruins before any other thrice-blighted crew.”
“Then she’s welcome abroad!” one of the men shouted.
Killian ignored him, meeting the first mate’s pointed look before seeking out the captain. Spotting him near the wheel, he nodded to the man and moved towards him, leaving Hera behind. As the two exchanged a bandy of words, the first mate rose from her spot by the barrel, card game decidedly abandoned.
“Killian didn’t mention a friend in Ul’dah,” she stated, looking Hera up and down. “You look about as comfortable as a featherless dodo, love. Don’t know why ’e’s vouching for your safety, but I think you should know, ’e’s far more dangerous than the rest of my coves. With Killian the Wolf protecting you, the crew wouldn’t dare lay a ’and on you, would they?” She leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Just a warnin’, love, but if you don’t know why ’e’s called the Wolf, it’s best you don’t do anything to find out.”
Killian smiled as the captain gave him a slap on the shoulder. “Then let us make haste,” Killian agreed, pleased to have the go-ahead to shove off. He turned, lowering his gaze to the lower-decks, frowning as he spotted the first mate speaking with Hera. He narrowed his eyes, instantly flooded with suspicion towards his fellow duskwight. “Hera,” he called. “Bring me the map. We are leaving.”
omg ur rlly dumb if u think ur gonna get a disease every time u do it. so ur a germophobe is that why u a virgin
“I am not a germophobe. I live on a pirate ship; if germs were a concern I would have thrown myself overboard long ago. That is not the reason why, no.”
yikes, well I hope you're right cuz it sounds like you don't have a plan B. how does it feel to have your entire life hinging on one thing left completely up to chance?
“It...Do you think I am frightened of chance? Cards, vagrancy, the danger of being betrayed. These are all present in my life. Chance is a constant. I am prepared to do whatever I must to find her, and I will. I will not fear what lies ahead. I will not believe she is lost.”
