@wolfhymns said: Blaez: “Everything is going to be okay. Just hang in there.”
Meme: Blood & Bruises starter meme
“Goin’ to be okay.” Tyler repeated the words back to her despite having very little awareness of what was going on. God, her head hurt. She put her hand up to the source of the pain and found that touching it made her fingers wet, the acrid smell of cambion blood making her nose wrinkle. Oh. That meant she was bleeding. Right. That made sense. “...Okay.”
There were ghosts on the ship. Captain Simeon knew this first hand. He had seem them himself, time and time again, starting from when he was a young babe, up ‘til now, at his current age of fifteen.
They were back in Pineshore, his crew had already hurried ashore to see their families or grab some land food they’d been deprived of during their voyage. Simeon had told Barius, his first mate, and Blaez, the lookout and his other close confidant, that he’d be a while. He still had something he wanted to do.
This ship had been his father’s, bless his soul. It had survived the attack that killed his father and most of his crew, and it had survived being sailed by a young lad through stormy, rough seas and around sea creature dens. She was a strong one, the Inquitatis, and Simeon loved her dearly, especially now that he knew how to sail her properly.
She sailed smoothly through the waves, almost gliding atop the water when the weather was clear. she was a good ship, Simeon thought as he headed below deck. A very good ship with very interesting inhabitants.
The steps creaked underfoot as he made his way down, his hand trailing the wall. The wood grew colder under his fingertips the farther he descended. The air, too, grew colder, and he heard a soft sound, like wind, though the air was still. Goosebumps formed on his skin. He heard a bristling sound, as if someone was sweeping.
“We’ve come ashore,” he said to no one in particular as he walked through the lower rooms of the ship. He received a hum in reply, a low whistle – someone was whistling an old sailor’s tune.
“Back t’ Pineshore, are we?” The owner of the whistling asked. Simeon was in the storage area now. Empty boxes, bottles and old hay lined the walls and shelves. It should have been hot down here but it was cool, as if a breeze was coming in. The storage room had no windows to speak of.
The voice hummed again. The voice was coming from the far back where they stored the wine and food during voyages. Simeon slowly approached, peering around a half empty shelf.
There it was. There he was, with his transparent form and obviously paled skin (even with his skin being browned so by the sun as it were), tinted with blue. His right eye was a glassy hazel and the other was covered by an eye patch. He wore a tattered, unbuttoned brown vest with a somewhat dirty black and white stripped shirt. His trousers were a dark brown, as were his ratty boots. The only splash of colour was the old red bandana tying back his dark hair and the red sash around his waist. He looked as if he needed a bath. He always did, Simeon thought fleetingly. He probably did too, honestly.
“I do like Salia. She chats wit’ me often.”
His blue eyes darted to the floor, the spot where the ghost was still sweeping. The floorboards were stained dark red, like it had been splattered a long time ago.
Sometimes, during particularly rough nights when the seas were raging and the ship was being tossed around, chests would get loose from their straps and buckles and would fall from their shelves. It was hard to hear screaming from the storage room during those nights. And certain chests were too heavy for a young man to stop from falling.
“You c’n come ashore, Maxine. Please, join us.”
Maxine smiled. He looked up from the spot he was sweeping, gazing at Simeon as if he were a small child, though physically he could not be more than a few years older. Nineteen. Twenty, at most. “Perhaps later, lad. The storage room’s a mess.”
Thump, thump!
Knocking along the side of the ship. Simeon glanced in the direction it had come from but Maxine didn’t bat an eyelash.
“You c’n do that later,” Simeon said, still looking at the walls. The light was very dim down here. There was only one lantern lit. “Come. Your sis–”
“‘nother time, Captain. Later. Promise.” Maxine had turned his back. The boards were still stained red but he was moving onto other areas. Simeon watched him in silence for a few long moments. He nodded and left the storage room, left the ship. Salia was waiting for him on the pier, as was Blaez and Barius.
“Ayo, Captain!” By the way she was grinning, Simeon knew she was had stored their treasures somewhere safe. A professional thief, she was. And a thief always hid her treasures properly. He was blessed to have her on his crew. Blessed to have her as a friend.
“Tell ye boyfriend t’ stop wand’rin’ off!” Blaez growled as Simeon stepped onto the pier. Barius said nothing. He had his back to them and was gazing longingly at the town.
“Ain’t m’boyfriend.”
“No Maxine?” Salia asked, brushing off Blaez’s complaints as nothing more than a child’s whines.
Simeon shook his head.
“Tcha. What a shame.”
They headed back into town, Simeon holding onto Barius’s sash, Salia and Blaez going on about how pleased they were to be home, to rest, yet eager to return to sea. They met up with the rest of the crew, enjoying a lovely dinner, some going off to the brothels for a good night, others heading home or to the inn. Simeon simply returned to his father’s house with Salia and Barius, discussing their next voyage. Perhaps they’d return to Mu, or venture to the underwater city of Atlantis. Salia adored Atlantis, her homeland.
“Ah, there he is.”
Salia was at the window. Her hat was off and she was only wearing a light pink chemise. Barius was on the bed, gazing up at Simeon’s painted ceiling. It was of the ocean, with a great ship and mer-creatures visible on the rocks and peeking out from under the water. Whoever had painted it was quite the artist.
“Who?” He asked quietly.
“Maxine.”
Simeon entered the room. His waist length blond hair was free of its usual ponytail and he wore a ruffled dark green nightgown. He felt warm from his bath, his tanned cheeks rosy. Barius, he noted, had only made it halfway out of his clothes – he was clad in his vest, sash, and shirt. Nothing from the waist down.
“He’s outside?”
“Right there. Come ‘ere.”
He went to stand beside her, his bare feet padding across the sea-themed carpet. Salia was right. There he was, wandering down the street. For once he didn’t have his broom with him. He looked lost, as if he wasn’t sure where to go. Salia clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Poor fella.”
“He don’t leave the ship often.”
“Maybe let ‘im in,” Barius murmured. He had sat up and was untying his dark blue braid. His fingers moved slowly. Simeon and Salia glanced back at him and all they could think was he looks so exhausted.
Barius never really seemed to fit in too well on the ship. He and Simeon had an odd relationship, as Simeon had decided to spare the teen after discovering he was the son of the man who murdered his father and most of the crew simply because Barius had only been following his father’s orders–he never meant for death. But even if he had spared Barius, given him numerous chances to prove himself–which he had succeeded, time and time again–Blaez and many of the others refused to accept him. They didn’t view him as a first mate, they viewed him as a captive. All except Salia and a handful of the others. Those who didn’t like him only listened because they knew Simeon would throw out severe punishments otherwise. And Barius knew all this.
Simeon headed down the stairs. Salia opened the window, letting the cool night air blow in, and watched as Simeon called for Maxine to come inside.
“Ye think he’ll ever move on?” She leaned against the windowsill, eyes half closed as she gazed out at the town. There were people still milling about. They could hear snips of conversation, but it was all too far away to hear properly.
“How long is been?”
“Heck if I know. Long ‘fore I was a part’a the crew, tha’s f’r sure. Prob’ly back when Sim’s Papa was captain.”
Salia didn’t see–her back was turned–but Barius cringed at the mention of Simeon’s father. He always seemed to.
“‘sa long time. Maybe he likes it here. Cuz is all he know, all he got.”
Salia hummed a bit. Seemed logical. Why leave the only life you’ve ever known if it still kept you happy?
“Hullo, everyone.” Maxine greeted as he entered the room. The temperature dropped, just a little, and Salia and Barius shivered for a moment.
“Fancy seein’ ye off ‘a the ship.” Salia said, though her eyes were closed and she was resting her head against the windowsill. Simeon carefully lifted her in his arms and, with little more than a hum that may have been a small protest, he placed her on his bed and untied her braid, letting her long pinkish-brown hair loose. Barius pulled the covers over her, his movements lethargic. He was fading fast as well. Simeon couldn’t suppress a yawn as he got in beside Salia.
Maxine smiled, at the window in a flash (Barius would have jumped had he not been so drained). He sat on the sill, leaning against the pillows. “Goodnight, m’friends. Goodnight.”
