Fjord, for his part, has spent most of the morning getting a lesson in navigation from Ornna. Better him than Molly. She'd tried to teach him once, but Molly had been less than interested, and anyway, he preferred his navigational instincts rather than the math involved with stars and positioning.
Fjord, apparently, seems to have something of a knack for it.
Good for him.
But now Ornna's sent him on his way, only for Fjord to be intercepted by Jester, and just like everyone else on the ship, Fjord can't turn her away.
"Fjord!" she calls, singsong and cheerful, skipping up to him, her cheeks flush and her hair wild around her face. It's a windy day, and the lot of them are tousled with it and seaspray. "Let me give you a tattoo!"
"What?" Fjord asks, clearly flustered, and Molly supposes he can't blame him. Jester can be a lot to take in at first. Sometimes forgets the conversations she's having in her head, aren't the same ones she's having aloud.
"A tattoo!" Jester beams and tucks her hands behind her back. She circles Fjord as if assessing the best landscape for her artistic talents. "I'm really good at them. I promise. I did some of Molly's you know."
"You did?"
"Yep."
Molly, watching from afar -- a deck higher to be precise -- touches the nape of his neck, where the pyramid she'd done for him sits. She'd been so excited to practice her craft, and Molly had no problem letting her try. She could be very convincing.
"Ah, well, that's nice of you to offer," Fjord drawls, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, finding everywhere interesting to look at but Jester's face. "And it's not that I don't believe you, I just don't want a tattoo right now, if that's all right."
Jester's face falls, but only for a moment, before it's washed away in another blinding smile. "Aww, that's okay. Let me know if you change your mind, okay? You won't regret it."
"I'm sure I won't."
"Shouldn't you be working?"
Molly startles and swallows the urge to leap back into his duties. It's only Yasha, after all, not Bosun or Gustav. His tail swishes, agitated.
"I'm on a break," Molly says as Yasha steps up beside him, leaning on the rail and following his gaze with a tilt of her head.
The corner of Yasha's mouth curves into the smallest of smiles. "You're always on a break," she says, completely deadpan, and Molly thinks he might be the only one who really sees how humorous she is beneath the surface.
"Good point."
Molly watches Jester grab Fjord's hand and tow him somewhere, something she does with ease given that she's freakishly strong. Fjord stumbles after her, token protests falling from his lips, but he looks more charmed than annoyed. Molly doesn't know if it's Jester or the heat which has Fjord so flushed.
Maybe both.
"You were up early," Yasha says, the kind of way someone says 'the sky is cloudy today' or 'there's salt in the ocean'. It's a statement of fact, not really a question, but oh. There's definitely a question in it.
"Mmm," Molly says, which is as much of an answer as Yasha's words had been a question.
Yasha shifts, sword clanking against her back because she never goes without it, not even aboard the ship. "Tell me why?"
The thing about Yasha is that she doesn't judge, and she doesn't push, and if he says 'no' she'll back off and she won't ask again. She doesn't offer advice or commentary unless it's obvious you want it, and no matter what Molly has or hasn't told her, he's yet to make her blink.
She's a stable rock in an otherwise unstable landslide.
Molly sighs and turns his back to the railing, hooking his elbows across it to keep his balance. There's no Fjord to watch anymore anyway. "Nightmare."
"Something you remembered?"
"No. More like..." Molly pauses, twisting his jaw, trying to find words for the formless black, the voice commanding him with single words, but not offering an explanation. "Something is trying to talk to me. But it's using the creepiest, most intimidating way to do it."
Yasha chuckles quietly. "Sounds pretty normal to me."
Molly rolls his eyes and pokes her in the shoulder. "Of course it does. You serve the Storm Lord."
"Maybe it's a god then."
"Maybe." Molly shrugs. Worshipping the gods isn't really something he's gotten behind since he woke up. He's fascinated by the idea of it, but the practice? Maybe not.
Yasha clasps him on the shoulder and offers one of her patented smiles. “The answer will come to you when you need it, I’m sure.” She squeezes his shoulder before stepping back, restoring her usual personal boundaries.
“What about you? What was up with last night?”
"I think it was a test," Yasha says.
"What kind of test is that?" Molly asks, because damn. If that's what it means to serve a god, maybe he's better off as he is.
Yasha rolls her shoulders and cracks her knuckles. "I don't know. But I think I passed." She looks up, into the clear blue sky without a hint of the storm which had rocked their ship last night. "If I didn't, he'll probably let me know."
Damn.
"Between you and Jester, I don't know whose god is sketchiest." Molly doesn't trust that Traveler one bit, and finds his interest in Jester highly suspect. The Traveler is as suspicious as they come, which is saying a lot, since Mollymauk has no memory and makes his living as a member of a sea-faring circus.
"He saved me, Molly."
"Yeah, I know." Molly pushes off the railing, stretching his arms over his head. "Still don't trust him."
Yasha chuckles. "I suppose from the outside it does look a little... wrong. But I do owe him my life, and so I'll pay him back however I can."
"I just hope it's not a price you don't want to pay." Molly scrubs his hands down his face before he gives them a shake. "Anyway. Enough gloom and doom. We have work to do, don't we?"
"Peeling potatoes with Caduceus, if I remember," Yasha reminds him.
Mmm. Mr. Clay. It's a torment that they've put so many fine-looking and charming individuals all on this one ship.
Molly enjoys time spent in Mr. Clay's company, if only because no matter how outrageous and flirtatious he gets, Clay takes it in stride. Just gives him that slow blink, that slow smile which makes Molly's toes curl, and says 'you're very entertaining, Mr. Tealeaf' and ahh, it's rewarding.
"Nice of him to spell Desmond and cook for us," Molly says as he scratches the side of his cheek. "Guess I'd better go help."
Yasha laughs, quiet as it is. "If you were any more eager, your tail would be wagging."
Well.
She's not wrong.
~
"How'd you end up on this ship anyway?" Fjord asks.
Jester shrugs and peers harder at the torn sail. Maybe it'll be easier if she tries the cantrip the Traveler taught her, the mending one?
"I kind of got in trouble," she says, and cuts the thick thread on her teeth before guiding it through the end of the needle. "I had to get away from home fast, and this was the only ship willing to take on a passenger who was in trouble."
Fjord blinks at her. "What kind of trouble?"
Jester laughs. "Well, I kind of played a prank, and even though I thought it was really funny, and everyone else did too, the other person didn't. And he was important, you know. So now if he sees me, he'll uh. Kill me." She shrugs again.
"That sounds a little harsh."
"You're telling me!" Jester exclaims, and curses when the end of the thread avoids the eye of the needle again. Stupid thing. Why had she volunteered to help with this?
"So your plan is to stay on the ship?"
"For now." Jester huffs and holds the needle out to Fjord. "Can you do this?"
He takes it from her with a soft laugh and easily threads the thick thread. It’s unfair. She’s been struggling with that for at least five minutes. "Here you go."
"How'd you get so good at that?"
It's Fjord's turn to shrug, though a flush spreads across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, darkening his skin. He ducks his head, hiding from her question. He's so handsome. Just like Jester imagines Oskar would be, though she’s got the feeling she can’t tell Fjord that. It’d just embarrass him.
“It’s an important skill for survival,” Fjord says, bent over the piece of sail, focused on his stitching though his hands move in an easy, deft pattern that kind of reminds her of a wizard casting spells. “I was taught a lot of things like this as a kid.”
Jester tilts her head. “Isn’t it easier to buy a new one?” That’s what she’d do, and that’s a lot of what they did at the Lavish Chateau. People expect a specific elegance from the Chateau, and having mended linens around didn’t really match their expectation.
Fjord frowns, his forehead crinkling in a way that makes him seem older. “I don’t think it’s that easy, Jester.” He gestures to the sailcloth tarp, which is an amalgam of assorted colors and patterns, and a chaotic mess if you ask Jester. “If I had to guess, they’ve been patching this thing for years. Probably because it’s cheaper than replacing it.”
“Oh. I guess you’re right.” Jester bends over the tear on her side of the sailcloth and tries to stitch it, just like Mama showed her. She’s not as good at it as Mama though. “Maybe I’ll buy them one as a gift.”
“Are you going to stay with them?” Fjord’s stitches are so much neater than hers.
Jester watches him for a long minute, trying to copy the movements of his hands and failing miserably. Drat. Maybe when she prays later, she can ask the Traveler to teach her how to be better at this.
“Jester?”
“Oh, sorry, I spaced out. Um. I don’t really know,” Jester says. She pauses, fiddling with a loose thread within reach. “I want to find my dad, and if staying on the ship makes that easier, then I will. Or maybe I should look on foot? I don’t know what’s better. I’m kind of new to this.”
“This? You mean, ship-life?” Fjord asks.
“No, I mean… um… life-life?” Jester’s not sure how to phrase it in a way that makes sense. “I didn’t get out much when I was little, so I don’t know the best way to do things. I know a lot,” she’s quick to correct because she doesn’t want Fjord to think she’s stupid, “but sometimes maybe not enough.”
Fjord blinks at her. He cuts the thread with a talon and ties it into a neat knot. “You’re trying to find your dad? Do you know where he is?”
“Nope!” Jester pops the word and grins, and jingle-jingle goes the bell she tied to the tip of her tail this morning. “Mama says he’s a dashing man, and he’s very brave and smart, but I don’t know where he is.”
"Do you know his name?"
"Yep. It's Babenon." Jester peers at Fjord, looking to see if there's any recognition in his face, and is disappointed to find blank curiosity. "Guess you haven't heard of him?"
Fjord shakes his head. "Sorry, I haven't. Didn't get out much myself. We tended to keep to ourselves."
"We?" Jester echoes and leans forward, eager for the tiniest tidbit of information about Fjord's past.
"My clan," Fjord answers, distracted by his sewing and answering maybe more than he usually would. "We weren’t very big, and we stuck close to home to be safe, other than going into town for supplies. We knew better than to... uh..." He pauses and coughs into his hand. "Anyway, we didn't draw attention to ourselves."
“Why not?”
“We just didn’t.” Fjord ties off another thread and runs his finger over the stitch. “This should hold for awhile. I’ll get this to Bosun and see what they want me to do next.” He gathers up the repaired sailcloth and stands, a haphazard bundle of cloth in his arms.
Jester knows a hamfisted escape when she sees one.
“Okay, well if you need help with something else, you know where to find me,” Jester calls after him as Fjord nearly trips over the sailcloth in his haste to get away. At least he looks as good leaving as he does arriving.
Sweet ass on that one. Jester whistles quietly, a small grin on her lips, and then she gets up and dusts off her dress. Time to find Caduceus and share the details. He’s as curious about their new arrival as she is, and they’ve made a secret pact to snoop.
Of course, he’s much better at it than she is, but hah. He probably doesn’t know this!
Score one for Jester. Oh, and the Traveler, too.
~
The days pass quicker than expected.
Life aboard a seafaring vessel is never boring, and there is always work to be done. Patching and surveying and cleaning and cooking and peeling and navigating. Fjord learns a little bit of everything, and does a little bit of everything, tucked under the wing of every member of the crew, even Toya.
Klyre is the only one Fjord never sees or interacts with. He spends most of the day asleep belowdeck, and only emerges at night, when he joins the crew for dinner. Family meals are apparently a Thing, and dinner the most sacred of them all.
Dinner and music and dancing and practice. Lots of practice. Fjord is usually ushered to the other side of the ship when they are practicing their acts. Molly insists it's necessary, to maintain the mystery and the surprise. He's usually clustered with Caduceus and Jester, neither of whom are actually members of the crew, but help out as they see fit, to stave off boredom.
"What're you going to do when we dock?" Fjord asks the firbolg as Caduceus sits cross-legged on the deck, a staff laying across his knees, and a small block of wood in his hands. Small shavings litter the deck around him.
"I don't know yet," Caduceus says, and the act of not-knowing doesn't seem to bother him. He just hums to himself. "I've not been told."
Fjord stares at him. "You haven't been told? By who?"
"The Wildmother. She's guiding me toward the answers I need."
"Caduceus' home is sick," Jester says as she leans over to watch Caduceus work with fascination in her eyes. "His whole family is out in the world, trying to fix it."
"Sick how?"
Jester shrugs.
"We don't understand it. But there's a darkness. Something infecting the land." Caduceus' nose wrinkles, a comical sight on a firebolg. "It must be stopped."
Caduceus is weird. Then again, everyone on this ship is weird in some way. Fjord likes to think he's the only normal one, but the full moon is in a week after all. It’ll hit after they dock, but a few days late, and he'll have his own weirdness to show.
"Well, I hope you find an answer," Fjord says.
"Me, too." Scraaaape goes the small knife and another curl of wood flutters to the deck. "What about you, Mr. Fjord?"
He sits back, braces his hands behind him, and stares into the blue sky, the sun beating down on his face. The sails are full, and the flags ripple in the strong winds.
"I don't know. I guess I'm waiting for someone to tell me, too."
"You'll stay and watch the performance though, won't you?" Jester picks the shavings, gathering them up in her skirt.
"I suppose I should," Fjord says.
"It's only four copper a ticket," a voice says from above them. Fjord twists to look as Molly vaults over the railing and lands with a quiet tap-tap of bare feet beside Fjord and into a crouch. "But I might be able to swing you a discount."
Jester frowns. "You said you'd get us in for free, Molly."
Molly drops into a crouch, his tail twitching playfully behind him. "Did I? I don't remember." He grins cheekily, flashing those canines at Jester, who sticks her tongue out at him.
"Shouldn't you be practicing?" Fjord asks.
Molly grins. "And what do you think my act is, hm?"
That's a fairly good question. Fjord has little idea what the other acts are. He knows Toya sings, and Desmond plays music. He hasn't a clue what the twins do, and suspects Ornna does something with fire, though he's not sure what. Yasha is a complete mystery to him.
"Are you the one who tells the jokes?" Jester asks with a giggle.
"No, that's Yasha. She's the charm." Molly plops down on his ass, curling his legs in lotus. He twists his wrists, flicks his fingers, and a deck of cards appears from nowhere. "These are where my talents lie."
Fjord leans in. "What are they?"
"Why, Fjord, have you never had your fortune told? What a sheltered life you must have led." His tail swings around and taps Fjord's shoulder. "Shall I give you a reading now?"
Jester's eyes go wide and bright. "Oooo. Can I be next?" She waves one hand in the air, wood shavings spilling from her dress. She squeaks and tries to scoop them up.
"Hm," Caduceus says. "Interesting."
"Do you not believe in the cards, Mr. Clay?" Molly asks, but there's something sly in his tone and the way he tilts his head at the firbolg. Is he flirting?
"I believe faith is a powerful thing, no matter what you have it in," Caduceus demurs. Very diplomatic of him.
Fjord squeezes the back of his neck. "Uh, why don't ya let Jester give it a try first? She seems more excited than me."
"If you insist," Molly says. "But only the first one's free. After that, you have to cough up the coin.”
Jester laughs. "He doesn't have any coin, Molly."
"There are other ways to pay, my dear." Molly winks lasciviously, and while Fjord's face flushes with heat, Jester laughs as if a salacious flirt doesn't bother her.
Everyone here is so open about the things they do and don’t like. It’s a novelty to Fjord. It’s not that his clan was closed off, but their idea of affection shared was far more discreet, and every one had their mysteries, their reasons for speaking in riddles.
Maybe that’s what led to their end.
Jester scoots forward, until she’s sitting in front of Molly, who’s shuffling the deck with practiced ease, the colorful cards dancing through his fingers.
“What are you wanting to ask today?” Molly asks as he flicks the cards from one hand to the other, his tail swaying cat-like, his blood-red eyes hauntingly focused on Jester. “Your future? Your path? Romance?” With this, his grin turns sly, and his eyes flick toward Fjord.
He winks.
Fjord flushes and wishes he had somewhere else to put his hands.
“Hmm.” Jester taps her chin with one finger. “You know me, Molly. Tell me if my Oskar is out there waiting for me.”
Molly chuckles and rests the deck of cards in front of Jester, face down. He taps the deck. “Cut the cards for me.”
Jester all but wriggles as she obeys before Molly scoops up the deck. He hums a nonsense tune to himself and starts to pull out cards one by one, laying them in front of Jester, face down. There are nine of them, in three rows of three.
“Alright,” Molly says as he sets the deck off to the side. He waves his hands over the spread. “Pick three. And choose wisely.” His words are sing-song, playful, but there’s intent in the way he watches both Jester and the cards.
Jester nibbles on her bottom lip, looking torn. Fjord sneaks a glance at Caduceus, who busily works at the block of wood, but he’s watching the display with keen interest.
Jester hovers over the cards before she picks the three right up the middle, drawing a line from herself to Molly, who grins at her.
“Let’s see what the cards have to say,” he says, as he flips over the one closest to Jester first, revealing a woman kneeling next to a glittering lake, her skin a dusky red and a crown of black curls spilling from her head. She’s smiling as she kneels to scoop water with a plain, brown jug.
“The Star.” Molly taps the shining beacon of light glowing above the woman’s head. “You have a good intuition, I see. A good instinct. You don’t fear to venture into the unknown, but you know well enough to keep your feet planted.”
Jester’s eyes round. She leans forward, her elbows on her knees. "Yeah, that's me but what does it mean about my Oskar?"
Molly chuckles. "I'm getting to that." He drops his voice, as if telling a secret. "Trust your instincts, Jester. You'll know him when you see him."
Jester looses a little squeal of delight. "Can they tell me where?"
"Let's find out." Molly flips the next card, revealing a handsome tiefling, dressed like a wizard, their gender indeterminate. They’re looking upward as seven jeweled cups dance above their head. “Hmm. The Seven of Cups, not a location, but a warning.”
Jester’s lower lip wobbles. “What do you mean?”
Fjord barely hides a snort. It sounds like bullshit. There’s no real information here. Molly’s telling Jester things she already knows, and the rest is vague enough to convince her something mystical is going on.
“Well…” Molly sighs and casts her a look from under his eyelashes. “While you should trust your instincts, you need to be cautious, too. Don’t confuse wishful thinking with instinct.” He tilts his head with a wry grin. “Don’t fall for the first pretty face you see. People wear masks.”
Jester squirms and makes a sad noise. “How am I supposed to tell the difference between what my gut is telling me and what’s not real?”
Molly leans his chin on one fist, elbow balanced against a bent knee. “That’s a good question. I haven’t figured it out myself.”
Jester’s lower lip juts out in a pout before she abruptly reaches for the remaining card. “What’s the last one say?” she asks as she flips it over and releases a giggle of delight. On it, two people embrace, the colors soft and intimate, lovely lines of scrollwork chasing each other around the frame.
“The Lovers.” Molly sounds like the cat who caught the canary, his lips pulling wide into a grin. “It doesn’t mean what you think it means, but it’s still good news. You’ll find your Oskar in someone you trust completely, someone you feel comfortable around, someone who makes you feel safe and happy and brave enough to be yourself. They’ll love everything about you, from the tips of your horns to the tips of your feet.”
Fjord doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a smile on Jester’s face. Her eyes sparkle. She lovingly strokes the card with a wistful, hopeful look.
“Oskar’s out there somewhere,” she says. “That’s good enough for me.” She leans over the cards, disturbing them with the pleats of her skirt, and plants a sloppy kiss on Molly’s cheek. “Thanks, Molly. This was fun.”
“It was enlightening,” Caduceus says as the little knife goes scrape-scrape-scrape and a visible shape takes form in the wood, something with a face and flowing hair.
Molly gathers up the cards, but then he sneaks a sideways glance at Fjord. “What about you? Impressed or not? Awful silent over there, Fjord.”
“It’s a fine skill you have,” Fjord says, trying to be diplomatic without disappointing Molly and wiping that smile from Jester’s face. She believes, and Fjord has no doubt the other people Molly swindled believed, too.
Belief can be a powerful thing in the right circumstances.
Fjord wonders if he believes strong enough, Vandren will still be alive.
“I’m sure you make lots of coin,” Fjord finishes.
Molly rolls his eyes, and Jester shakes her head.
“That’s no fun at all,” she says, and starts digging around in her pouch. “Come on, Molly. Do a reading for him. I’ll bet he’ll change his mind once you answer one of his questions.”
“No, really, that’s not--”
“Save your coin, Jester.” Molly cuts off Fjord’s stammering protests. “If Fjord is truly interested, he can have a reading for free. Consider it a roommate’s privilege.”
“Mollymauk!”
Ornna’s bellow echoes across the ship, despite the splash of the water and the roar of the wind. Molly twitches and ducks his head, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He gathers up his cards, stuffing them in his pocket.
“Coming!” he shouts, and Fjord cringes at the volume of his voice, even as he fights off a laugh.
Sometimes, the whole crew reminds him of his clan, how they may not be blood-related, but they are family nonetheless, circling around their father-figure, deferent to their parental figures, teasing and poking at one another to gauge reactions, willing to step in and step up when duties call, surrounded by siblings of all shapes and sizes...
A sharp ache echoes through Fjord’s chest. He sinks into himself, ducking his head, as Molly flounces off, answering Ornna’s call, shouting something back that’s a rush in Fjord’s ears.
His home is ash and blood now. Did anything survive? Are their homes just burnt husks? Their main hall an ashy ruin? Did any of the others survive? Is Vandren dead? Did Avantika get what she want, whatever it is?
He needs to find out. He almost doesn’t want to find out. Not knowing is better than knowing, in a way, because then he can still hope.
“Fjord, are you all right?”
Fjord blinks and summons a smile for Jester. He’s always been good at pretending. “I’m fine. Just thought I remembered something is all.” He climbs to his feet, dusts off his pants. “Think I’m going to go below deck, see what’s on the menu for lunch.”
“Okay,” Jester gives him a worried glance, Caduceus a knowing one.
If he stays with them too long, Fjord might not want to leave. So he escapes belowdeck to help Toya with lunch -- she practices after -- and tries not to think about what his future will bring.
~
“We’ll reach port tomorrow,” Molly says as they sit up in the Crow’s Nest. He’s looking over the distant horizon, dark night meeting the dark line of the ocean, his eyes glittering in the light of the moon.
It’s a cloudless night, the sky speckled with countless stars. This high up, with the constant lurching sway of the ship, it almost feels like they’re flying. Fjord got a little motion-sick, at first, but he’d sniffed some bag of herbs Caduceus pressed into his hand, and the clench of his belly eased.
That firbolg sure knows what he’s talking about.
“Figured out what you’re going to do yet?” Molly asks.
Fjord licks his lips, tastes the salt of the sea wind on them. “I’ll stick around for the show. Promise. I want to see what you all are keeping so secret.”
Molly laughs, and it’s quiet and genuine, and it makes something warm build in Fjord’s belly. Like the comfort and the easy welcome the whole crew has given him from the beginning.
“You’ll let me give you a reading?” Molly asks.
“Depends on how much it’ll cost me,” Fjord says.
Molly grins and toys with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll do it for free. Because you’re so cute.”
Heat steals across Fjord’s cheeks and to the tips of his ears. Molly is an outrageous flirt, so he doesn’t take it to heart, but still. It’s nice to get a compliment anyway.
"I ain't all that, but I appreciate you saying so anyway," Fjord says. He rubs the back of his neck and stares out at the sea. "You'll be glad to have your room to yourself again, I'll bet."
"Mm. There are benefits to sharing." Molly toys with one of the dangling bits on his horns. "It was nice to have company. Your company as a matter of fact."
“You said I snore,” Fjord points out.
Molly laughs, loud enough for it carry to the deck below if anyone is listening. “You do. But I can get over that.” He leans against the rail, the wind rustling his hair, the starlight glinting off his jewelry. “I think you belong with us. Lost fae from the Faewild would be a good fit here.” He gives Fjord a pointed look.
Fjord chuckles. “Nope. Not a fae.”
“Damn. I’ll figure you out eventually.” Molly stretches his arms over his head, his tunic riding up, baring his belly and the thick, silvered line of a scar before the fabric drops down again.
Fjord pretends he isn’t ogling. “You just might,” Fjord says, coughing into his hand. “Appreciate the offer, I really do, but I don’t think I’m gonna find my answers on the sea.”
“Answers to what?”
“To the reason you had to fish me out of the ocean,” Fjord hedges. “I think those answers are gonna be on land somewhere, and I gotta go back to where it started.”
Molly hums in his throat, and his blood-red gaze focuses on Fjord, piercing enough to make him squirm. “I can’t fault you that. If I knew where it started, I’d go back, too.” He picks at his talons. “Was fun while it lasted.”
“Yeah, it was.” There’s an ache in his heart Fjord can’t really explain. He’s only known these folk for a week or so, but they’ve all climbed under his skin. They remind him so much of his clan.
If he didn’t think Avantika was still out there, if she didn’t need to pay for what she’s done, Fjord might have chosen to linger longer.
Molly lightly slaps Fjord’s knee and abruptly stands. “Enough of this melancholy. Let’s go finish that bottle I swiped from Bosun.”
“Why?” Fjord asks.
Molly swings over the side of the Crow’s Nest as nimbly as an acrobat, and peers over the edge at Fjord with a wink. “Why not?” he chirps, and starts to descend with no trouble at all.
Fjord is a lot less graceful about it.
He misses his last step and lands with a clumsy thud onto the desk. He stumbles, but then Molly is there, grabbing his shoulders, steadying him.
“Maybe you shouldn’t drink, eh? You seem a little unsteady already,” he says with a toothy grin, and a sparkle in his eyes.
He’s beautiful, Fjord realizes in a flash, not that he hasn’t noticed before. There are far too many attractive people on this ship, but Molly is in a league of his own.
“Guess I’m just not cut out to be a sailor,” Fjord says with a little, anxious laugh. Molly’s hands are still on his shoulders, and he’s not in any hurry to shake them off.
“You just need practice,” Molly says.
“Fjord! Molly! What’re you doing?”
Jester’s voice cuts through the night, and Fjord coughs to clear his throat, pulling away from Molly and scrubbing the back of his neck.
“Nearly breaking my neck it seems,” Fjord says as Jester’s head pops into view. She’s peering up at them from the lower deck. Some kind of white powder dusts her cheeks.
“He exaggerates.” Molly hops down to Jester’s level, crouching near the open flap. “What’s up, buttercup?”
Jester giggles and gives them a mischievous look. “Guess what Caduceus made?”
“Mushroom soup?” Molly asks as Fjord climbs down toward them at a slower pace, using the ladder rather than hopping over the rail as Molly had done.
“Not this time.” Jester’s voice is sing-song, her eyes bright, and Fjord would bet all the coin in his pocket, her tail is swishing back and forth. “He made, get this, cocoa and cookies.” She quiets her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve been looking all over for you two so you can have some, too.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, Jester,” Fjord says as he finally catches up.
She winks at him. “Much better than whatever gross liquor Molly was going to feed you, I promise. Come on! Or I’ll eat it all!”
Her head vanishes as she drops belowdeck.
“What do you say, Fjord?” Molly asks as he looks up at Fjord, grinning, his tail whipping out and smacking Fjord on the calf. “Liquor or cocoa?”
“I think it would be rude to turn down her invitation, don’t you?” Fjord grabs the ladder and starts to descend, gripping the rungs tightly. “I mean, she looked so hard for us and all.”
Molly laughs and cradles his chin in his palm. “And Deuces makes delicious cookies. Would be a shame to let her eat them all.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Fjord steps off the last rung, and Molly drops down beside him, landing cat-like and with ease, his bare feet seemingly unbothered by the rough wood decking. Fjord can’t remember the last time he saw Molly wearing boots. Or has he?
“We’ll save the bottle for another time,” Molly says, striding ahead of him, a happy bob to his steps, his tail flicking through the air like it’s inviting Fjord to follow.
“Sure,” Fjord says, as his heart tries to pick up speed, and he tells himself to stop. Stop it now. He doesn’t have time for this.
Molly’s just a friend.
They join Caduceus and Jester in the galley, and Yasha’s there, too, already seated with her hands cupped around a thick mug, a bit of chocolate and crumbs at the corner of her mouth. Jester’s giggling as she tries to peer around Caduceus’ tall frame, her hands behind her back, maybe she’s been reprimanded already. Though it’s hard to imagine Caduceus using any kind of stern tone.
“You can relax everyone. The fun has arrived,” Molly announces as he slides onto the bench beside Yasha and drapes himself against her side like a cat demanding affection. “Hello, my dear. Not on watch tonight?”
“In a bit. I wanted some cocoa first,” Yasha says.
“Here Fjord. Have some!” Jester appears at Fjord’s side, nudging him with a mug and holding out a plate covered in cookies.
“Thanks, Jester.”
He holds the mug and takes two cookies. He listens to the soft murmur of conversation and laughter, and the warmth of the galley. He sits at the table with Molly and Yasha, squeezed between Jester and Caduceus, and he munches on a cookie while he sips at the cocoa.
It’s as surreal as it is comforting.
The boat creaks. The galley is warm. Molly keeps catching his eye and winking, and Fjord flushes, hiding behind his cocoa and pretending to listen to Jester intently. Caduceus occasionally interjects with words of curious wisdom.
Fjord doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they dock. Or what his future looks like anymore. But he thinks if it looks a little something like this, he’d be okay with it.
At least for now.
****
