Morning Ritual: A Keone Fic
Just in case you were unaware, Keke belongs to the Uber-talented undisputed king of brain-melting art @schmeesky. GO. RUN. THE MEALS ARE FIVE-STAR!!!
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The sun just barely glinted over the edge of the water as Keone made his way slowly down the beach.
The sand was cool underfoot, which he appreciated - knowing that once the sun hit its zenith the pale granules would heat to near-molten temperatures. That’s when Keke preferred to stick to the tree line - letting the verdant green of the towering blue mahoe and palm trees shield him from the worst of the mid-day heat.
A pair of herons stepped daintily through the water at the entrance to the small inlet where Keone kept his boat tied. They raised their long heads to watch as the man stepped closer; so used to this morning routine that once they assessed the figure calmly striding towards them, they simply moved to the side and continued their hunt for the tiny minnows flitting like silver across the bottom of the water.
Keone smirked at the juvenile of the pair as it succeeded in catching one of the small fish, tilting its head high and pausing as if confused what it’s next step should be. The second, larger bird raised its head and gave out a short bark of encouragement as the younger swallowed the minnow down.
Reaching the boat he used for tasks such as this, Keone made short work of tossing the heavy bags from off his shoulder and into the bottom of the vessel. Pushing the boat out into the surf was hard work; but something Keone had done hundreds of times - practice had made him extremely proficient.
When he was searching for fish or diving down into the blue, blue water Keke tended to keep towards the shoreline - going out just far enough to circle a formation of craggy rocks or anchor near a field of slowly drifting seaweed - but today he was going to see someone else, and he needed to sail out just a bit further.
It was easy to see where the safe, clear water of the islands beach dropped off into the ocean - there was an abrupt change in the color of the waves the further out you went; choppy surf changing from a pale blue-green into a deep navy. If the tide wasn’t just right the undertow would pull you beneath the waves - and if you didn’t drown, you better hope you got back to shore before Bella found you.
Dropping his small anchor off the side of the boat, Keke halted his passage just feet before the ocean cliff.
Moving languidly, Keone began his morning ritual.
He removed a large covered bucket from the bottom of the boat, hoisting its contents over the edge and staining the water with a dark crimson.
From his side he pulled a worn thermos, carefully unscrewing the cap and pouring a steaming liquid into the cup. He leaned back on his arm as he blew on the tea, waiting, watching, for movement in the water.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Before he’d even finished his first cup, a couple of slick, grey fins rose from the dark depths, circling the boat and investigating the bloody waves.
Keone grinned, quickly setting his thermos aside in favor of watching the shark glide through the water.
The bag he’d carried with him was pulled closer and opened, letting its gory contents peek with dead-eyes into the orange-dawn sky.
This man had been almost too easy to catch. Some fat tourist lured in by the promise of an unspoiled island paradise, only to very quickly discover that yes - the island was a paradise; but it was already very much inhabited, and its sole resident had no interest in sharing.
He’d done little more that whimper and cry pathetically as Keone had sliced his stomach open with a machete. Hadn’t even made it past the tree-line before he was being gutted and sliced for the sharks the next morning.
A large wave rocked the boat, off tempo from the steady rolling of the waves, and Keone let out a whistling tune as he tossed a clawed hand, just barely movable as rigor mortis abated, into the blue.
He peered over the side just in time to see the last dip of a huge fin slide silently under the waves.
His lady was here.
“Bonjour, Bella.”
The smaller sharks had departed at Bella’s arrival - knowing that they were just as likely to become food for the gigantic Great White as Keke’s morsels.
That suited Keone just fine.
Bella was a tidy lady; she didn’t leave a mess for him to clean.
He began to sing quietly under his breath as he tossed limbs and organs over the side, pausing occasionally to reach down and run a hand across Bella’s smooth hide when she came close enough to the surface. She wasn’t interested in him - she had half a torso to gulp down.
Although a single person was barely an appetizer for a shark over twice the length of his boat.
Once the tourist was fully disposed of, Keone pulled the anchor up and began the trek back to shore; tossing a ‘farewell’ into the water as Bella slipped back down into the depths. She was too large to have any desire to follow him closer to shore.
The sun had chased the orange glow almost completely out of the sky - trailing purples and pinks fading into what would become a clear blue sky in just a short while.
Keke watched as the sand on the shore began to glint in the sun, still singing a quiet song to himself as the shoreline and the small cove grew closer and closer.
Just another day in paradise.