Decode // Chapter Three, Dried Flowers
Dracule Mihawk (opla) x OC (female reader)
Rating: mature
Story Contains: live action characters, related and non-related one piece plots, unspecified religion, OC is a nun on sabbatical, trauma, violence, age gap (40 v 23), insecurities and self doubts, possessive / protective behavior, kidnapping, true loves, eventual smut
Note: WOW its been awhile I am so sorry
Masterlist
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SEVEN YEARS AGO
The sounds of pattering feet against ivory tile echoed in the empty halls of the Saint Mana Monastery- a line of veiled nuns walked towards the temple. Angelic chimes rang through the air from the chilled breeze. Soft murmurs of prayers left the lips of bowed heads that never wavered formation.
A year had gone by since Sabine's father shipped her off. How her hands still shook with anger when she thought of him- his hideous face with the larger than life mustache. A weak, pathetic man who cared for nothing more than himself and booze to hold him over another day. Oh how she prayed at night he'd receive his karma, or wonder if he already had. As her head bowed and her breathing quick, she felt herself grow angry thinking about him.
The shining midday sun glittered through stained glass in the temple- an expansive room with little pews for the nuns knelt on the cold tile floor. Dressings dragged as perfect rows in front an altar formed. Prayers, both in silence and echoing unison, rang out over the monotonous hour. Like a choir of singing angels existed in the holiness as glittering colored light shone, chimes and lovely words alike breathing life into stale air.
Each day was of strict routine, monotonous repetitions asides the holy day of Sundays. Early mornings causing early nights. Constant prayers and studying. Chores. Prayers again. Then little alone time which caused little individuality to flourish between sisters; a purposeful thing, intended to create to create pliable female worshipers,
Before 'silence time' however, there was a waiting stack of dishes needed to be ready for dinner.
Which was how Sabine found herself in the kitchens with other girls her age. Her eyes had grown heavy with each passing minute. Her brain all foggy from a restless sleep and racing thoughts that felt like a knife stabbing her chest over and over. This wasn't what she saw her life being at sixteen– washing dishes in a neat assembly line with water all splattered on a nun's habit she wore each day. The closet of her room was filled with dozens of the same fabrics, it seemed.
Normally one for conversation when able, it was quickly noticed when she wasn't partaking. Sabine looked at each plate she rinsed as if it were the devil, glaring eyes and pursed lips.
"What about you Sister Mary Sabine?"
Sabine's head jerked to look towards the other girls assigned to dish duty, whose eyes bore into her, "Huh? Sorry, wasn't listening."
"What would you want out of life if you weren't a nun? Sister Mary Ellen says she'd work in a brothel! Can you believe it?"
"We all want what we can't have," Another Sister said, "Life of temptation always seems so fun."
"So, what about it Sabine?" Continued interrogation from the ever-chatty blonde, Sister Anna Lea.
"Yeah, what's your deepest darkest desire?"
Sabine stopped, held the sopping wet plate in hand as she hummed to herself for a moment. She didn't want to say the first thing that popped into her head but she couldn't think of anything better to say-
"I want a husband," Sabine then said with a dreamy look in her eye, "Someone who meets me and knows I'm the one. I don't care about having kids, I just want to be loved and in love."
A few snickers followed her reply but most hummed in an agreement of solidarity, "Genuine question, why do priests and cardinals get to marry but not us? Sexist that we have to marry ourselves to the Father."
The group of girls Sabine spent her time with were of like age- teens to young twenties, most hadn't taken permanent vows like herself. So it was no surprise their talk turned to gossip about outdated ways. As much as Sabine agreed she tried to never engage even inadvertently, you never know who's listening, and she preferred to bide her time with her head down. Good behavior, as if she were a prisoner waiting for an early release.
"Ladies."
As if on cue— The matriarch, the most feared one of the elder nuns who sat on top, stood in the doorway hands on her hips. Most girls had shocked, wide eyes as they stammered apologies or turned back to their duties.
Sabine could only shake her head, feeling nostalgic thinking about a life she'd probably never have. Daydreaming as the hours ticked by, her stomach filling with butterflies and chest tightening as she thought about scenarios of loving encounters with a man.
It was 9:00PM when an intrusive knock jolted her and her dorm-mate, Sister Therese Sienna, up from their beds. Half-awake they looked at each other before Sienna crept to the wooden door. Their room was small and plain, not expected of two teenage girls. Peeling white walls with crosses hung on each surface. Simple wooden wardrobes and a centerpiece rug. Windows that had to be glued stuck, with pilling curtains covering them.
Sabine rubbed her eyes as she looked around, shifting in the primarily uncomfortable bed, "Who is it?"
Sienna, with a huff, opened the door revealing Sisters Anna and Lea, "Oh the chatty squad is here,"
"Don't be like that," Lea shrugged, "You two aren't asleep."
"Neither are you two?"
The two uninvited visitors pushed their way in, with Lea marching proudly to Sabine's bed side to strip her of her covers. She recoiled from the sudden chill in the air and attempted to shield herself.
"Get dressed, we have plans."
"Plans we didn't agree to," Sabine murmured, grabbing a lone shawl across the chair at her bedside. Yet she wasn’t willing to sit this out, not the way Lea had a smug confident look on her face.
Neither of them were fond of the idea of being out past curfew, especially without an in depth explanation. Only by the light of oil lamps and scattered candles could they move about, footsteps echoing in the cavernous monastery halls. They were like little scurrying mice, constantly looking over their shoulders and around corners, fearful. But growing in certainty as they entered a more desolate area of the monastery.
"Oh hurry up," Lea spat under the moonlight that streamed through a cracked window as they hurried by it.
"You're being ridiculous."
An eerie silence amidst their footsteps as they descended an older flight of creaking wooden stairs, made Sabine internally cringe. This wing of the monastery was creepy. Old. Worn down. Probably disease ridden in the air they breathed. Old paintings that collected dust amongst the broken cement walls, doors boarded up, and relics discarded haphazardly.
Rumors said a prior cardinal died here after performing a ritual, or an exorcism, the stories are different depending who speaks them. That afterwards series of misfortunate events began to take place, sudden deaths and great grievances that would plague their church for years. After a nun took her own life in the tower, it was officially regarded as dangerous for use and locked up. But all locks could be broken.
Sabine felt unsettled. A pit in her stomach made her more on edge than past times they’d snuck into the abandoned ward. It felt like the eyes of the people in the paintings followed their every move with starch judgment, it filled her with shame. But the adrenaline to have say over her life that was unjustly ripped from her, was too tantalizing to say no to.
“Good, we’re all here.” An older girl with long blonde hair spoke as they all formed a circle in a dimly lit room. It was further down than Sabine had been before, no windows and the air was heavy and moist. Her pulse began to hike.
Thin papers with messy scrawl were passed around. Eight girls in total were present around scattered petals that gleamed a color unknown to her. And eight goblets of burgundy wine were handed out next.
“All of you are girls that have shown interest in men, disdain for the unjust rules thrusted upon women in our situations. Women in this world in general. I found an old book, which appears ancient and during my time studying it, I have found a ritual that when done correctly, will bring you to your true love during your lifetime. That someone is meant for us all but there is no guarantee to meet them.” The blonde said in a serious tone, a fire behind her words that had Sabine hanging on to each one.
“How.. Will we know? If we meet them.” A Sister asked.
“It says- you just know. That it’s like your world changes, that you don’t think you’ll be able to survive without the person, that it’s more than love, that they compliment you, cherish you, protect you. It may be foolish, may not work, but there should be no downsides to doing the ritual. Harmless to try it right? Especially on the off chance it is real.”
Murmurs sound. Sabine knows she’ll do it. Not a bone in her body willed her to leave. It seemed all the Sisters were in agreement, that the ensuring possibility of meeting your soulmate through a ritual made perfect sense. What was there to lose besides never crossing paths with them?
Or they all knew it was a form of child’s play. A fun little thing to do as girls who wanted something more than the Sisterhood. Their way of rebelling.
“Now do what the papers say, we’ll all speak together.”
Sabine bent down to gather the flower petals into one hand, the other holding the directions the older girl wrote out. Her fingers trembled.
"I cast this circle of flowers round, in calling for a love meant for me, to find me."
She sprinkled the delicate petals in a circle in front of her. She felt chills run down her spine, a disheveling cold gust she swore was her imagination.
"Forever will my true love bind.”
Next each girl drank their goblet of stale communion wine, the raunchy taste making Sabine shudder. Was it stupid to feel anew? A fluttering in her chest as her extremities tingle in and out of numbness. The tips of her fingers down to her toes, up to her head tickled in a glittering daze and immobilization while she stood stuck staring at the circle she made.
At sixteen she didn’t have the capabilities of forethought or critical thinking beyond that of her generalized life experience. How foolish to smile like an idiot as she made sure every drop of the wine was drained. The girls were all too giddy. Definitely too loud with their giggles and conversations that would have normally had a matriarch descending on them like a hawk. But feet below the surface in a desolate room of an abandoned wing, they were undisturbed to gossip through the night.
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PRESENT
"Father, please help Zoro through this storm. Provide him the strength and courage to conquer this obstacle. I put my trust and submit my ways unto you to seek help for his battle. Amen." Sabine's mouth was dry as she spoke, hardly above a whisper. Tears stung her bloodshot eyes as a faint throbbing numbed her face.
Seeing him like that— all clammy, skin as if he'd see a ghost. Bandages peeking from his shirt where a pink tinge of dried blood stained as a reminder of what'd taken place. Sabine, in such a short amount of time, had grown fond- protective in her own way- over the crew. All younger than her, so she perceived them as her dear kids in a sense.
"Why do you feel so bad?" Nami whispered, a cold tone masked behind the question, "I went to leave, to leave the crew. And you feel guilty because you'd been flirting with that Warlord?" The redhead frowned, seemingly answering her own thoughts in her mind as her eyes widened, "Oh- cause you haven't experienced-"
Sabine held her hand up, signaling for Nami to stop, "I think I'd surprise you. It's not necessarily guilt, I don't quite know what it is really. Responsibility maybe? Or the fact I've spent hours listening to those who want to be saved, and act like I'm some saint? Maybe this is all I can do to offer help."
"I think I'd surprise you too." Nami shuffled in place.
"I don't think you would. I can tell from your far away gazes and survival skills. I know you're hiding something." Normally Sabine wouldn't talk out of turn like she just did. Taught to always nod in understanding, listen intently while carefully thinking through a response. Taught to never interrogate but gently lead in the direction they point.
"What are you profiling me? I'm not some drunkard, abusive marine stumbling into a church to repent."
"I never said that," Nami was right with her implications, Sabine needn't play her role as a nun with them. And she wasn't with her harsher than normal words as this was what she felt was a final chance to intervene. Nami was bubbling up, "Maybe hiding wasn't the best word to use. I know from experience when there's more to a story. I'm not judging, nor am I asking you to share. But we're all supposed to be a crew, yeah?"
If Sabine could see Nami's face from where she stood with her back turned, grand line map in hand, Sabine would see the troubled tears in her friend's lash line. And she'd see how Nami's moment of pain fell to a blank stare, determination suddenly dancing in her eyes.
Sabine frowned as Nami left, her footsteps echoing as they sounded further and further away. She let out a heavy sigh, chest deflating as her shoulders slouched. Guilt about how harsh she'd been, but nevertheless she wanted to speak her mind.
Her legs screamed from soreness as she stood, carefully moving closer to Zoro's sleeping form. Standing over him, she let her fingertips graze over his clammy skin. She wiped the sweat from his brow-line with her thumb, reaching for a cold moist towel that rested on his left bicep.
"Oh Zoro," Sabine whispered, "You kids are just too much to handle sometimes I swear." Not that she was much older than them, almost five years she thinks. A smile cracked on her lips about how Usopp never failed to mention her elderly age.
The reality of it all wasn't that Sabine nor Nami were inherently evil due to pieces of themselves they kept hidden. It only further justified how complicated life is— how complicated people are.
Sudden commotion, beyond what Sabine was told to expect, made her hesitantly leave Zoro and head to the Going Merry's deck. Her heart palpitated in her chest with each slow step, hand gliding along the walls for any sort of balance. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears as the banging intensified like muddled water swirling. Crouching down, looking over the bannister, her stomach sank.
Hand clamped over her mouth to silence herself,
"No!" She still managed to stifle out watching Arlong toss Luffy into the sea. Quick relief washed over her as Sanji jumped into the sea to go after him immediately. Splashes of torrent aqua blue. Technicolor drowning within her chest like trying to scream underwater. But curiosity shimmered in Sabine's eyes as she watched Nami leave with the fishmen.
But as much as Sabine wanted to be shocked or angry like others of the crew— she wasn't. A level of understanding grew in her chest as the minutes went on allowing her time to think. Little growing vines crept into her head as she recalled Nami's words and body language alike. Arlong would have torn the ship apart to find the map- would have torn Sabine and a recovering Zoro to pieces after taking down Luffy, she was sure. So Sabine stayed quiet even as Zoro woke and the others shared their uncertain opinions— she knew Nami did it to protect them. That she'd been right to assume the younger girl was nursing a secret. A searing sensation made her gasp, as her legs gave out, causing her to go down onto the ship’s deck. She clawed at her chest, at the clothes that adorned her and covered the necklace hidden beneath.
On the dainty chain was the ring. Mihawk’s ring. Why it felt as if it burned her skin she did not know. The suffocating sea air swirling into her nostrils and intoxicating her mind with its musk and scents from the restaurant.
It was a gorgeous piece. Sabine could not tear her gaze from it as she studied it. Too large for any of her fingers. Eclectic yet manly, clearly worth more berry than her life would ever be. Truly, it was a piece of him. She could recount the deep vibrations of his voice settled within her core, how his calloused fingers bruised along her skin. And how his lips were on her forehead. She could feel it. Feel his intense aura that warmed her insides like it was wrapping her in an all encompassing, protective blanket, to keep the outside world from laying a finger on her.
Terror instilled itself, this wasn’t supposed to be happening to her! Close encounters with death. Pirates. Life itself! She should have stayed locked up in her isolated palace that was the monastery.
But then Sabine realized something. That the terror she felt was from her thoughts. Thoughts that leaving her Sisterhood was the path she needed to take. And that was terrifying, the thought of giving up what was comfortable. All this time sailing with the crew and she wasn’t any closer to coming to a decision, not until meeting Mihawk.
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posted: july 12 2024
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