The Mission: Charred Colours.
The entire evening had been spent with the Mage silently watching over Mort, Kelliann and Kurel, even those that were brief to walk in and pay their respects, assuring that those who could be found were still alive and kicking.For most of the evening, he’d simply held Gunner’s hand with his own, silently assuring himself that one of the few he’d come to bond with was safe and okay. All of them were roughed up, there hadn’t been a single person by now on the team that was no longer safe and sound, they were all suffering one wound or another.
It had been in the quiet moments of the evening where he placed two and two together, what he had called Kurel out on was proven true, no matter how hard the man tried to deny it, but it wasn’t his place to say anything of it. If asked, he would have simply avoided the subject of what had occurred in the pirate room that evening.
Somewhere in the midst of early morning, before others had begun to awake, Jackary eased himself away from the sleeping female at his side and moved to hobble out of the port, approaching the docks where the last of the smoldering ship drifted pathetically, held in place by blackened cables. The view alone was haunting upon the misty morning, the fog lurking around the ship made it seem as if no life had ever touched the blackened wood.
The view alone nearly tore Jack’s heart apart.
Swaying along the morning tide, The Vengeance groaned in agony. Holes slowly bled the ship with water, the massive claw marks on the side that scarred the ship a sign of recent struggle, a sign of a beast hidden away, running under the colours of Captain An’diel. The ship was in pain, lost without the proud mast that once stood tall. Not but two days ago, Jackary had been up within the yards with Mavas, spending his time getting to know his tag-team partner.
Jackary sat quietly, perched upon the arm of a lantern stand, merely watching the ghost of a ship drift in tired defeat. She looked exactly as her crew did. Mournful, wounded, but deep under the charred layers of ash and soot, there was a strong base to persevere. The foundation of The Vengeance was still standing, somehow still a beacon of hope for the silent dragon. It was in that moment when the faintest of glimmers started to form through the dense fog, the array of warmth and colour cast light through the bleak grays... He almost felt as if he could have seen the sunrise, as if the colours were real to him.
The Sunshine of the East.
“I’m comin’ home soon...” He whispered, a set of dirtied fingers over his bare chest where his necklace usually rested. No matter who he spoke to, through the rough few days, he’d come to wonder how the others were doing, how they were fairing compared to his team.
“I promised them I’d be alright.” Jack finally spoke up in the silence, ears perked at the groaning of the ship before him. “Y’ really saved my ass back there,” he then pipped up again, staring at the deep scratches on the side where claws had dug into for dear life. The flashbacks of such events forced his head to shake a few times to concentrate. “Thanks... We’ll get you back up and running soon...”
The sooner, the better. He and the Captain had a score to settle, after all. It was dangerous to find someone who was just as crazy as the dragon was, who both worked off the same principles and untamed mindsets. Both wanted revenge for the damages to the crew and the ship, it was a burning hatred that something so twisted as Dragon Sickness would ignite within his chest.
They’d ruined something beautiful, he’d only return the favour.
