just the three of us (we can make it if we try)
for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt
Content warnings: None that I can think of
Word count: A measly 444 words
Notes: I don't really like this one as much because this prompt was pretty tricky. I probably could've used better plot points from my WIP for this, but I don't hate it. (Credit to the song "Why Did I Say Okie Dokie?" for the title)
A loud crash came from port side, startling Berenice as she nearly dropped her glass of wine.
The peace of the ship was broken, and the midnight crashing waves seemed even louder than before. She looked from the tower she was standing in to below, where two of the four lights turned on.
Her eyes lingered on the two darkened windows, feeling her heart drop to her feet, before she put her glass on the ground and slid down the rope.
“Where were you?” Marigold hissed to her right away when Berenice showed, like the very lack of her presence was enough to make her snap.
Even then, the concern in her eyes was obvious.
Berenice’s tense expression softened, and she played with a wisp of wavy hair on her shoulder to stop herself from throwing knives aimlessly.
She didn’t want anyone else to get hurt anymore.
“I’m fine. Where did that sound come from?” Isolde appeared and shrugged, holding a candle tightly in her hands.
It was just the three of them, as they stood on the deck that made Berenice seasick. She pulled out a few of her knives and nodded to Marigold, who pulled out her bow and arrow.
It was hard to see anything, especially with their only light being the candle (Berenice hated fire) and the moonlight above them, painting the shadows with a subtle white watercolor.
“Who’s there?” Isolde asked, but her voice noticeably wobbled as she stuck to the back. They could hear some shuffling, and a figure that looked to be even shorter than Isolde appeared, holding a much taller one in their arms. The taller one appeared to be unconscious.
“Who are you?” Marigold asked threateningly as both her and Berenice switched their focus to the two figures.
“That’s not important,” the figure replied. Their voice was hoarse and a bit boyish, like they shouted constantly at anyone who dared disagree with them. “Your friend needs help.”
Friend? Berenice wondered, but all confusion was quickly lost when the figure laid down…
She hadn’t seen him in a month.
The entire sleeve of his left arm was deflated, and his black robes were covered in bruises and blood. Shoved in his pocket was the dreaded black flower.
“What happened to him?!” Isolde dropped the candle, and Berenice had to scramble to pick it up as Isolde kneeled next to him. Her heart thumped in her ears. Isolde looked up at the figure, who looked torn between leaving and staying. “Did you…?”
“Of course not!” The figure looked down at Grigori like they were old friends instead of strangers. “He…”
