#norsea

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When I first started reading The Road...

I pictured it as Denmark and Sealand 'cause I thought of Gutters.

But I've been having trouble picturing it today.

Then I thought of making it Norway and Sealand and it is so much better.

If only the kid would stop being this little ten year old with straight brown hair and a bowl cut alskjfsoaifkjsdfiokjs

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Who thinks I should draw some Nor-Sea? :'D

Everybody say aye.

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Here's the doodle I promised~ /o/

My obsession with the northern lights is yet again apparent.

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NorSea Fic - The Captain and the Boy

The Captain and the Boy

The Captain was a hardened old man. His expression seem fixed in a grim expression, with lines for age settling around the corners of his mouth and forehead. He sat out on deck, like he did every day, and looked out upon the great expanse of the sea like a prison. His only companion was a boy, about 12 years old, and bearing almost no relation to the Captain whatsoever.

They hardly knew each other. 

Not really, anyway. 

It's almost been a year since the two of them had set off to see the world, but both of them were different people then.

Peter still looked the same. Same sandy hair, same sailor uniform, and same (unusually thick) eyebrows. But he felt different on the inside. More mature. He couldn't explain it, and others would probably just say it was his own wishful thinking.

You wouldn't have been able to recognize the captain, seeing him now. The one Peter had set off with had been young, and (though the man would never use the word himself) beautiful. Blonde hair, a little bit too long to be called short, but long enough to pull half of his bangs back in a cross-shaped barrette.

Also, when they had begun the journey, Peter was able to get the captain to smile for him. (And even back then, that was quite a feat.) Now it seems the captain only uses his voice to give Peter the occasional order. But after several months, they both knew how to go about their duties silently.

The Captain steers the ship. Peter swabs the deck. The captain navigates. Peter keeps a sharp eye for land, and the other on their stock. The Captain prepares the meals. They both catch the fish.

"Peter."

The boy raised his head and looked up at the captain with blue eyes. The captain stared hard at him for a moment, but his gaze softened.

"Do you want to learn how to steer?"

Peter's eyebrows creased. The captain had never offered that before. They both had specific roles that each of them had to fill, otherwise the other could not survive. This is what Peter had thought about their roles initially; he liked to feel important. He liked to think that they would both survive.

But their roles have been blurring lately. For months Peter has been helping to prepare the meals. The Captain said it was because his hands were too shaky, but Peter never noticed a wavering of grip when he was behind the wheel. A few weeks ago, he had taught Peter how to navigate properly by the sun and the stars, like how the Captain had done many, many years ago in his childhood.

"Okay, Peter said and dropped his rag in the bucked and climbed the short stairway to the wheel.

"Here," the nameless Captain stepped away.

Peter grasped the knobs and held the ship steady. The captain would watch him carefully, and fix their trajectory several times, and explain calmly what Peter had done wrong and how to fix it, and tell that it was off. 

But most of the time it was silent, and when Peter glanced over at the Captain, he was looking down at the cross barrette in his hand and absently rubbing his thumb over the surface.

Peter quickly looked out into the familiar nothingness ahead and had to wonder: Was this what losing your capital did to you? Did the radical decision of a few suicide bombers in Oslo cause so much damage to the nation's body?

Of course, the Captain had felt it. And he had tried to get back as quickly as possible. But three rapid-fire solar flares killed all of the communication on planet Earth. All of the navigation systems.

And so the pair of them were stranded in the ocean.

Peter couldn't imagine what the Captain was going through. He could still feel his people suffering, but can't do anything about it. It must be maddening.

But just like that, Peter found himself steering the ship. And then he was making all the meals and the deck was ignored. Eventually, the fishing was Peter's job as well.

One day, Peter raised the Norwegian flag. And he was alone.