#oss excerpt

[druzydabbles]

I started at the peels of raucous laughter that shook the frame of the wildly grinning woman beside me. The Phoenix returned the fearful concern in my gaze with a childish glee in her own, chest heaving.

“It’s GLORIOUS. This‘s gotta be me best one yet, aw I LOVE IT.”

What good is it having a pyro character if you don’t show off their skills at some point? This passage from Chapter Seventeen: Beacon of One Siren’s Soul does just that~

A Legend’s Name - 546 word excerpt

“‘Aight, time t’ go!” Phoenix had laid out the rope across the floor from under the powder keg to just beneath the lantern on the wall. She grabbed the back of the keeper’s shirt, slinging the woman over her shoulder–who was so far into her shock she didn’t even seem to notice–and gestured for me to follow her down.

We made it halfway down the stairs before she held a hand out towards me.

“Pistol?” I drew one from the belt across my chest, about to pass it over before I noticed the frighteningly wicked excitement in her eyes, her dark gaze pinned on something out of my view on the second floor. She looked down with questioning at my hesitation. I quickly placed the gun in her palm. “I’ll give ye a headstart–there’s an outcroppin’ of rock I picked up on just down the ridge from here. I’ll meet ye there.”

I gulped, nodding a few times, and shot out of there.

I glanced back just as I reached the entrance.

Phoenix braced against the railing as she aimed the pistol. With a click of the gun and a puff of smoke around her hand, the sound of glass shattering broke the silence, a fwoosh of flame alighting starting the scent of burning oil.

She had shot the lantern.

Time to go.

I vaulted over the rocks with little difficulty. She joined me a few moments later, setting the near unconscious keeper down gently beside us.

And then the blast sent tremors through the ground, reverberated through my bones, tousling and tossing my curls forward in the force that slammed into us, the flattening of the grass before me showing its outline as the shockwave raced inland. Even from fifty yards away, the flames’ heat was near overwhelming when it hit us, the brilliant light released into the night coating everything in a vivid orange.

The inhibitor gone, active magic surged through my form, jolting my blood hot and shocking my hair raised and electrifying my eye wide. A stunned smile spread itself across my face. Shivering from the adrenaline of it all, I very, very slowly twisted around to peek over the stone barricade.

A crack, a series of snaps and pops and blaring bangs screeched out at the night sky against the roaring of the wind and the roaring of the fire as the shadowy silhouette of the lighthouse’s skeletal remnants leaned, leaned, leaned too far and fell amidst a cloud of coal black smoke and smoke gray ash and ash gray embers and ember red sparks.

I started at the peels of raucous laughter that shook the frame of the wildly grinning woman beside me. The Phoenix returned the fearful concern in my gaze with a childish glee in her own, chest heaving.

“It’s GLORIOUS. This‘s gotta be me best one yet, aw I LOVE IT.” I blinked, in a daze.

Ah.

That’s.

Why they call you that.

“… Okay.”

“You blew up my lighthouse.” The keeper’s voice barely made it over the din behind her. She gaped down at the grass at her feet, lost. Phoenix had calmed down a fair amount now, but her breathing came in short pants, her manic smile still splitting her face.

“Aye. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Quill likes writing about fire. Should you be concerned about this?

... nahhhh.

Also! This passage actually takes place simultaneously as this other one I posted!

OSS Taglist; @scottishhellhound​ @mvcreates​ @half-explored​ @waterfallwritings​ @runningonrain​ @bookish-actor​ @bookenders​ @mouwwie​ @onfablesandfictions​ @anaestheticdisaster​ @yearlyaquariace​ @elizabethsyson​ @your-local-imagination-station​ @imaghostwriter​ @orphicodysseywrites​ @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric​ @elisabethrosewrites​ @lookslikechill​ @fuyuuki513​ @purpleshadows1989​ @fiama-l-hernandez​​ @tenacious-scripturient​ @mackerelwrites​​ @writingwitherebus​ @lady-redshield-writes​ @bloomseey-writes​ @livvywrites​ @planets-and-prose​ @halfbloodlycan​ @penzag​ @sunlight-and-starskies​ @pen-in-hand​ @scribe-the-write-thing​ @leave-her-a-tome​ @royalbounties​ @ardawyn​ @klywrites​ @dogwrites​ @semblanche​ @tricksexual​ @writingnosefreak​ @nicxtii-ine​ @hecataes​ @dove-actually​ @kriss-the-writing-nerd​ @vhum​ @writinginslowmotion​ @wrenegade-writes​ @wildswrites​ @kowlazovdi​ @weathershade​ @thewritinggodmother​ @ettawritesnstudies​ @belles-library​ @emdrabbles​ @iced-ginger-tea​ @griffinwriting​ @aepreall​ @milkyway-writes​ @writeblrbraindump​ @dowings​ @evelyn-paine​ @eluari​ @mavenbarrow​ @rainydaydarling​ @reeseweston​ @surroundedbypearls​ @septemberliterature​ @romildas​ @books-of-lunacy​ @stardustscribes​ @cirianne​ @authoressasusual​ @velvetinewitch​ @crystallized-ink​ @drowsy-quill​ @the-writers-blocks​ @wildswrites​ @wiseauthorowl​ @peepos-prose​ @cabaretofwords​ @dreamsofbooksandmonsters​

[druzydabbles]

“D-Dione...?” Wysote’s tone was timid, filled with a fear that did nothing to quell the anger---the fear, the fear, the loss, the injustice---how could this be FAIR!?---boiling deep within me, boiling to the surface, boiling over.

Have some delightful angst from Chapter Sixteen: Storm of One Siren’s Soul~

Unbreakable/Broken - 540 word excerpt

I slipped my compass from my belt, unclasping the cover to reveal the swirling needle beneath. It drifted back the way we had come, resting on somewhere that… was certainly not our target. I furrowed my brows, tapping gently on its side. I understood that [spoiler] had powerful magic, but it would be nowhere near levels that would rival those of the Siren’s Soul, of an artifact left by the Goddesses. The direction shifted just to my left. I released a sigh in relief.

The room was small, acting as a location to keep excess rope, chain, and other various miscellaneous equipment. I surmised that the table along the left wall was new, temporary for the violet velvet pouch that rested on its surface, just to the side of a rather familiar book cover.

With smug satisfaction I slipped the spell tome back into the inner pocket of my cloak, providing the weight I had yet to overcome the missing of. I would admit, the obstacle the guard had presented had been difficult, but this hardly seemed anything near the challenge I had expecte---

“A-AH!” The compass and pouch flung outwards at the burning sensation that jolted through me like white-hot lightning, a split-second connection between the two when I attempted to touch the velvet. I stepped back, rubbing the pain from my palms in wild confusion. Wysote whined, worry filled with the same bewilderment I felt. I gave him a glance of uncertainty.

Taking a breath, I lowered to where the compass had fallen, the cover snapped shut. Apprehensively, I reached out a hand. I winced when I set it over its surface.

But there was no shock, no pain of any kind. I lifted the object and myself to my feet, opening to the needle. To freeze in horror.

This compass was an heirloom of my family. The sole object left with memories of my mother. It was so flooded with magic charms and covered with protection runes that it was unbreakable.

That it was impervious to damage.

That it was unbreakable.

It was unbreakable.

It should have been unbreakable.

The jagged scar stretching across its shattered face, the fracture splitting the base thoroughly and undeniably in half, SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN THERE.

A massive, muffled blast quaked the entirety of the fort’s structure. Dust dislodged from the bricks above, clicks of small stones clattering along the floor as gravel slipped forth from nooks and crannies. In the distance, the reverberating rumbling signified some tunnels had caved in under the force. I snapped the broken compass closed, hooking it back onto my belt in a daze.

“D-Dione...?” Wysote’s tone was timid, filled with a fear that did nothing to quell the anger---the fear, the fear, the loss, the injustice---how could this be FAIR!?---boiling deep within me, boiling to the surface, boiling over.

He could speak. My translation spell was active again. Phoenix had succeeded in destroying the inhibitor.

I tore the copper pin from my sleeve, whirled around to fling it at the other wall. It pinged off the bricks and clinked to the ground. Rolled a small distance. Rung to a rest, just as white-hot lightning surged through my veins.

But this time it was mine.

Hi! Fun fact! Dione has a temper! When your OP sea witch has a temper, it’s pretty bad! And kind of scary! I wonder if this has anything to do with her guilt! She’s certainly not feeling very guilty right now! But she definitely will, later!

OSS Taglist; @scottishhellhound​ @mvcreates​ @half-explored​ @waterfallwritings​ @runningonrain​ @bookish-actor​ @bookenders​ @mouwwie​ @onfablesandfictions​ @anaestheticdisaster​ @yearlyaquariace​ @elizabethsyson​ @your-local-imagination-station​ @imaghostwriter​ @orphicodysseywrites​ @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric​ @elisabethrosewrites​ @lookslikechill​ @fuyuuki513​ @purpleshadows1989​ @fiama-l-hernandez​ @tenacious-scripturient​ @mackerelwrites​ @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes​ @bloomseey-writes​ @livvywrites​ @planets-and-prose​ @halfbloodlycan​ @penzag​ @sunlight-and-starskies​ @pen-in-hand​ @scribe-the-write-thing​ @leave-her-a-tome​ @royalbounties​ @ardawyn​ @klywrites​ @dogwrites​ @semblanche​ @tricksexual​ @writingnosefreak​ @nicxtii-ine​ @hecataes​ @dove-actually​ @kriss-the-writing-nerd​ @vhum​ @writinginslowmotion​ @wrenegade-writes​ @livingthelovelylife​ @wildswrites​ @kowlazovdi​ @weathershade​ @thewritinggodmother​ @ettawritesnstudies​ @belles-library​ @emdrabbles​ @iced-ginger-tea​ @griffinwriting​ @aepreall​ @milkyway-writes​ @writeblrbraindump​ @dowings​ @evelyn-paine​ @eluari​ @mavenbarrow​ @rainydaydarling​ @reeseweston​ @surroundedbypearls​ @septemberliterature​ @romildas​ @books-of-lunacy​ @asherscribbles​ @cirianne​ @authoressasusual​ @velvetinewitch​ @crystallized-ink​​

Dione darling, you of all people should know there’s a rule against holding more than one Ascendant Artifact at a time...

[druzydabbles]

She did this, you know. But not on her own.

The consequences of the runaway’s regrets are finally falling into place. 

Deadzone - 939 word excerpt from One Siren’s Soul

From Chapter Fourteen: Capsized

(CW for described pain. Not any blood or anything, just... plenty of pain.)

I touched the ceiling of the captain’s cabin as I raised myself to my feet, leaning down to peer out the porthole towards land. Little torchlights danced along the coast towards the Hydrangea, mirrored and warped by the churning waters below. Curious, that they had not been extinguished by the approaching storm’s winds.

Although still disoriented from the interruption of my trance, the urgency of the situation was clear enough from Wysote’s unrest. Something else struck me as odd, however: why had Solarin not responded to this?

A tug at my cloak drew me further towards consciousness. I pushed the offender to the side, not yet finished in my rest. Without enough time reserved for proper circulation of the magic throughout my form, my spells would not function correctly, including the one sustaining my animation.

The distraction returned, this time more determined. I again ignored it, drawing my crossed legs tighter together.

Sharp pricks on my palm jolted me awake.

Wysote whined beside me, guilt in his eyes in response to my glare as I rubbed the hand sore from his teeth.

“I-I’m sorry I just---” He bounded towards the cabin’s door and returned, lifting his paws to pace in place, ears swiveled back, wide eyes flickering around, agitated, nervous. He could not stop moving. “There’s---Dio there’s people coming I could see their lights and I don’t think they’re friendly and I didn’t want to yell or bark I guess because that would let them know I saw them and I didn’t think that was---I didn’t know what to do you weren’t waking up and---” I set a gentle hand on his head to attempt to calm him, the action only partially succeeding.

I touched the ceiling of the captain’s cabin as I raised myself to my feet, leaning down to peer out the porthole towards land. Little torchlights danced along the coast towards the Hydrangea, mirrored and warped by the churning waters below. Curious, that they had not been extinguished by the approaching storm’s winds.

Although still disoriented from the interruption of my trance, the urgency of the situation was clear enough from Wysote’s unrest. Something else struck me as odd, however: why had Solarin not responded to this?

I replicated this question in gestures for Wysote to see, using a sign for fire and a bird instead of spelling out her name.

“Wh---But… but when I tried to stop them Phoenix told me you said she and Allison could head off in the night and we would join up with them when they finally infiltrated the fort I---” Of course they had left. Of course. I prayed the Goddesses would let the two imbeciles live long enough through their rash judgement to still help with retrieving the spell tome.

The Hydrangea shuddered, my hand flying out to catch my balance on the cabin’s table. A glance through the window revealed the silhouette of the land, the glowing outlines of individual wharves and ridges closer than they had been before, growing gradually larger. The Hydrangea was being blown into shore, the gusts brewed by the storm too strong for the anchors to defy. Far too strong for me to direct away, even through charging one of my charms. Another tremor jolted through the wood, through my frame, the chains tethering the ship straining with disjointed, grating, booming echoes as they finally caught stable ground.

I released my white-knuckled grip on the table’s edge, stepping back with a deep breath, an attempt to calm my flurried nerves. 

A normal storm should not be powerful enough to dislodge an anchor, not on rough shoals. What had caused the tempest to accumulate such strength, as if it had been focused?

I shook my head. Wysote was rambling without direction; he required guidance to leaven the concern in him. The ceaseless fidgeting, the worrying energy to his words and movements. None of it aided my own anxiety.

“When?” My tone was harsher than I intended. The inquiry paused him momentarily.

“It was I think it was---it was a few hours ago? Phoenix told me not to wake you up I-I-I didn’t think that she would---Why, why are there people coming down to the ship why i-” My eyes widened. Wysote had not stopped, his gaze flicking erratically between the door and my face, his ears pinned back to his head. But his words had.

The high-pitched whining of a dog filled the cabin instead, the rapid shift disconcerting. Frightening.

Why was my translation spell no longer working? He was right here, it should not have---

Everything lost sound for one second. Wysote’s panic, the howling wind, the beating waves, the creaking timbers of the ship. Muffled. Gone.

A beam of light pierced my eyes from the porthole. But the Hydrangea was anchored just outside of the lighthouse’s range, had we truly moved that far into th---

My ears burst with a blast of ringing, the pervasive din drilling agonizing thorns into my head. My hands slammed tight over my ears. A futile attempt---it came from inside.

Wysote watched in horror when I fell to my knees, my body curling forward as the pain twisted down my spine in waves, radiating out through my veins like barbed vines, blocking and constricting each individual blood vessel, each time-frozen cell. Tears blurred my vision, my mouth wrenched open in a soundless scream.

The affliction subsided to leave me shaking against the cabin’s floor, spasms raking through my frame, my forehead pressed to the cold wood. Even as they quelled, I was unable to respond to Wysote’s fearful barking, or the shouts and gunshots from above deck.

The door screeched on its hinges, slamming into the inside wall, a gust of storm-choked air sweeping through the cabin.

Wysote fell silent.

“Lovely to see you again, princess.” Her words dripped with malice despite the sweet honey-dipped tone she said them with. I tiredly forced myself to lift my eyes. Acharya stepped down on one knee, her fingers soft as they hooked underneath my jaw.

She inclined her head, her lips parting in a venomous smile. “You’re not getting away from me. Not this time.”

I... I don’t think I like Rose anymore...

Something magic’s going on. Or rather... not-magic. “Deadzone” is such a fascinating word, isn’t it?

OSS Taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!); @scottishhellhound @mvcreates @half-explored @waterfallwritings @runningonrain @bookish-actor @bookenders @mouwwie @onfablesandfictions @anaestheticdisaster @yearlyaquariace @elizabethsyson @your-local-imagination-station @imaghostwriter @orphicodysseywrites @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @elisabethrosewrites @lookslikechill @fuyuuki513 @purpleshadows1989 @fiama-l-hernandez​ @tenacious-scripturient @mackerelwrites​ @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes @bloomseey-writes @livvywrites @planets-and-prose @dcdarrells​ @halfbloodlycan @penzag @sunlight-and-starskies @pen-in-hand @scribe-the-write-thing @leave-her-a-tome @royalbounties @ardawyn @klywrites @dogwrites @semblanche @tricksexual @writingnosefreak @lost----souls @penumbrics @dove-actually @kriss-the-writing-nerd @vhum @writinginslowmotion @wrenegade-writes @livingthelovelylife @wildswrites @kowlazovdi @weathershade @thewritinggodmother @ettawritesnstudies @belles-library @emdrabbles @iced-ginger-tea @griffinwriting @hermiones-writeblrr @milkyway-writes @writeblrbraindump @thewritinggodmother @dowings @evelyn-paine @eluari

[druzydabbles]

Escaped only to recognize she had nowhere else to go but back. Back to her fears for refuge, refuge from the strangeness of a port unknown, from the bounty hunter that almost caught her, from the whirling clouds overhead that threatened to trap her in their torrent of malice.

But shelter does not always mean safety.

Weathering the Storm - 805 word excerpt from One Siren’s Soul

“... I work fer the Royal Navy as a high rankin’ first mate. What need would I have fer some reward?” Her tiny frame shuddered with her heavy breaths. She lowered her head, her dark brown curls slipping forward to hide her face.

“Because all humans are plagued with greed,” she paused, her voice softening to a whisper, as if she was ashamed to ask, “Why would you be any different?”

A couple decks of stairs up and I was at my cabin. I was genuinely surprised to find the girl still inside when I opened the door.

From her seat on my bed, her bare feet dangled a good distance from the rug, her hands clasped stiffly in her lap. I glanced down to the side to see the leather boots she typically wore, kicked loosely off beside the door.

“So ye decided to stay the night, then?” Allie did not return my gaze, glaring at the floorboards. I grabbed the back of my desk chair, the seat creaking under my weight as I set myself down. “... Storm doesn't seem like it's gonna be a particularly gentle one. Prolly a good plan to shelter it out somewhere familiar.”

“I'm leaving in the morning.”

“I figured as much.” I paused. “Ye get yer seawater fer the day?” She nodded. Silence.

I swiveled around in the chair, fixing the tips of a few dreads from where they had started to unravel.

“... You knew who that was?” She was talking about the cloaked woman from earlier. I lifted my eyes at the question, her voice barely audible in the creaking of the ship’s timbers and the pattering of the rain at the window. The wind was beginning to pick up, whistling through the chinks in the wood. But I knew the Compass would carry us through the storm. She always did.

“No,” I replied simply. My hair needed a wash at some point, the locks weren’t twisting properly. I sighed, “Thought I did, but… nah.”

“You know why she was after me.” This was said more like a statement than a question.

“Can’t say as I even knew she was, really,” I said, glancing back over my shoulder at her. We made brief eye contact before her gaze flickered away. “Was more of an assumption.” She narrowed her eye, that same anger in the alley returning.

“You must know. You have to!” Her hands unclasped, gripping tightly at the fabric of her dress. “Why else would you be keeping me around, being so nice to me, if not because you wanted the reward!?”

Here we go. I made sure to keep my tone soft. Calm. No answer would give her what she wanted in this state, but I didn’t want to escalate this any further. She had been hurt enough.

“... I work fer the Royal Navy as a high rankin’ first mate. What need would I have fer some reward?” Her tiny frame shuddered with her heavy breaths. She lowered her head, her dark brown curls slipping forward to hide her face.

“Because all humans are plagued with greed,” she paused, her voice softening to a whisper, as if she was ashamed to ask, “Why would you be any different?” I tilted my head, my expression neutral.

“Ye say that as though yer not human yerself.” The girl shuffled back from the edge of the bed to place her back against the wall, hugging her knees. She made no reply, so I continued, “... What’s yer real name, lass?” She didn’t stiffen, or freeze, or anything. She knew I would ask eventually.

“Celestine Martínez.”

“Ah, now, that name is familiar. Ye were talkin’ ‘bout The Scientist’s Contract, aye? That thin’s over two decades old, no one’d believe the reward hadn’t expired by now.”

“Your lookout had a different opinion.”

“Rose was one ‘a His Majesty’s most successful bounty hunters before joinin’ our crew. The experience got ‘er popped right up to the rank ‘a second mate within the first three years.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, presenting her a gentle smirk, “But that was more’n half a decade back, now. Her info’s outta date.” Celestine refused to return my gaze, her shoulders lifting in a small shrug.

Silence again fell over the cabin, though it was softer this time, less tense.

“... Celestine’s a pretty name.” She raised her head in indignation, the dark blush across her cheeks obvious as she opened her mouth to retort. She was cut off by a quiet knock at the door.

“First Mate Solarin, ma’am? Captain Io requests your presence on deck.” Sindre. I knew something was up from how he had been acting earlier, but why did Io tell him already and not me? Something was off.

I turned back to find Celestine had disappeared into her hammock, the fabric swinging gently. That was fair.

“I’ll be there in a minute, Sindy.”

“Alright, ma’am.” I waited for his footsteps to lead away, the hatch slamming shut at the end of the hall indicating he had gone updeck. Lifting myself to my feet, I drew a breath to release it in a long sigh, my gaze drifting back over the hammock.

“Be back down in a ‘lil while.”

She gave no response.

I left.

*Dora the Explorer voice* Can you spot the foreshadowing?

Aka bad things are afoot~ (Or will be soon... c;<)

One Siren’s Soul Taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!); @scottishhellhound @mvcreates @half-explored @waterfallwritings @runningonrain @bookish-actor @bookenders @mouwwie @onfablesandfictions @anaestheticdisaster @yearlyaquariace @elizabethsyson @your-local-imagination-station @imaghostwriter @orphicodysseywrites @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @elisabethrosewrites @lookslikechill @fuyuuki513 @purpleshadows1989 @fiama-l-hernandez @keithislactoseintolerant @tenacious-scripturient @mackerelwrites @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes @bloomseey-writes @livvywrites @planets-and-prose @dcdarrells @halfbloodlycan @penzag @sunlight-and-starskies @pen-in-hand @scribe-the-write-thing @leave-her-a-tome @royalbounties @ardawyn @klywrites @dogwrites @semblanche @tricksexual @writingnosefreak @lost----souls @penumbrics @dove-actually @kriss-the-writing-nerd @vhum @writinginslowmotion @wrenegade-writes @livingthelovelylife @wildswrites @kowlazovdi @weathershade @thewritinggodmother @ettawritesnstudies

[druzydabbles]

(Trigger warning for implied animal/character? abuse.)

Everyone loves Rose.

Rose is the sweetest flower aboard the Compass, such a nice lass who cares so much for her fellow crew, always making sure everything’s in working order, always willing to listen to others’ problems, always there right when you need her. Funny about that, how she always seems to know. And she’s quite a competent fighter, too! They say she had a whole lot of experience from her time before joining the Navy.

... Although, sometimes it seems that she enjoys the fight a little... too much...

Rose’s Revenge - 983 word excerpt from One Siren’s Soul

I stepped back, my hand darting for the defensive charms stored in my belt. Acharya was faster. She grabbed my wrists, twisting my arms behind me, kicking the backs of my shins to force me to kneel. A jolt of pain sparked up my form as my knees struck the floorboards, my wince drawing tears. Rough rope was tightly looped around my hands, knotted with more strength than I could hope to break, biting into my skin with splintered strands.

She ripped back my hood, slipping around to crouch in front of me with a grin bared in malice. The dagger between her teeth removed to threaten my throat, the woman’s gaze taunting.

“A-aw, unfortunately for you, I learn from my mistakes.”

May 7th, 1716

I write this just as the Hydrangea pulls into port at the small outpost of Hake Point, presumably to restock on supplies before heading off for an alternate destination. The crew has been unusually respectful as of late, distancing themselves more than I predicted. Though I understand that someone’s first experience with witnessing magic can be quite daunting, this level of apprehension was not what I had expected. The silence has been pleasant, however, and I intend to take full advantage of this in the coming days.

As for my other plans… I am uncertain. There is still the requirement to obtain the ingredients for Wysote’s spell, yet even if the siren did not leave Port D’Errance, I could not return so shortly after being discovered by the Royal Navy. That woman, Phoenix Solarin… Her name is not familiar, although it seems she knows of me. Or, perhaps more specifically, knows of the reward for my capture. Wysote has not inquired why we had left with such haste, but his eyes reveal his questions.

My own reveal my identity. Hence why I wear the hood.

He has not realized who I am, but Wysote does not realize many things easily. It still does not fail to surprise me that he is a pirate. His innocence, his optimism, his humour… his compassion. He acts as though I am not the terrible monster I am. Of course, it is impossible that he knows of my true identity, so he has no reason to believe the contrary.

What will occur when he does? Why is it I hold concern for his perception of me? Many fear me for what I have done, for what I am. I would rather keep it that way. Yet… I would also rather he not discover what others know.

I have been contemplating… things. After his curse is cured, perhaps Wysote and I... we cou

Barking.

I placed the pen in the crease of my journal to mark the page, setting the book down to the side.

Wysote was outside of the range of my translation spell. All I could hear was the barking of a dog, the sound warped from filtering down through the deck of the schooner. I lifted myself to my feet, placing a hand on the ceiling and leaning low to avoid banging my head. Wysote did not usually create this much of a ruckus. On the contrary, once he had recognized I was the only one who could understand him, he had virtually stopped speaking in front of anyone else. So what had provoked him?

Although… I would expect it to be masked by sounds of the crew at work. Above deck, everything was quiet but for Wysote’s clamor.

Thud. The barking cut short. A whine replaced it.

My breath caught in my throat. I lunged for the doorknob, but the door whipped open before I could reach it.

A Navy officer stood in the open doorway, her wide, unsettling smirk framed by charcoal hair pulled back in a long braid. Her black eyes glittered as she raised a curved jambiya towards me, the blade shining rose gold.

“Nikolaeva… Been a while, huh?” Rose Acharya. A well known and successful bounty hunter, one of the few that had almost captured me. I was not aware she was now with the Royal Navy.

I stepped back, my hand darting for the defensive charms stored in my belt. Acharya was faster. She grabbed my wrists, twisting my arms behind me, kicking the backs of my shins to force me to kneel. A jolt of pain sparked up my form as my knees struck the floorboards, my wince drawing tears. Rough rope was tightly looped around my hands, knotted with more strength than I could hope to break, biting into my skin with splintered strands.

She ripped back my hood, slipping around to crouch in front of me with a grin bared in malice. The dagger between her teeth removed to threaten my throat, the woman’s gaze taunting.

“A-aw, unfortunately for you, I learn from my mistakes.” I narrowed my eyes, snarling silently. She cocked a brow, tilting her head. “I was expecting a bit more sass. What, cat got your tongue? Or, well, should I say… dog?” I could not prevent the falter in my expression. She giggled, her mirth evoking a virulent hatred deep within me. That curse was meant for scum like you. She bounced to her feet, kicking me roughly in the side as she sheathed her blade.

“Up! Captain wants you up on deck, lucky you!” I resentfully, loathfully did as she demanded, my glare caustic. She lifted an open palm in front of me to prevent me from continuing forward, her smile infuriating. “Now, now. I’m smarter than that.” I closed my eyes in a sigh, wincing as the weight of the belt left my waist. My spells, my materials, my compass, cast to the side like nothing more than rubbish.

“See, here’s the thing about you witches. You’re all high and mighty with your magicy nonsense, but the moment you take that away?” She stepped back, withdrawing the spell tome after a quick frisk through my cloak’s pockets. My eyes flickered open at this. That book was worth far more than she could ever comprehend. “You’re weak. Pathetic. All that dependence on magic cripples you physically--compared to me, you’re no stronger than a babe.”

She caught my gaze with a wink, bending down to pick up my journal as well. With a flick of her braid, she swiveled around behind me--I barely caught my balance from her harsh shove forward.

My eyes were kept pinned to the floor as my boots hit the slanted ladder. The inconsistent spacing of the worn-down rungs reflected the chaos of fears in my mind, before the sunlight above stole my sight.

And yes, I may have gone the cliché route of showing a character’s not-goodness by having them kick a dog. Sorry.

I’m also sorry to Colin. He did not deserve this. Dione, on the other hand...

Anyways, look at all those mysterious spoilers! There’s a siren at Port D’Errance! Dione is having... thoughts... about Colin! and her. Rose was a bounty hunter? Rose knows Dione??? Also... Rose seems rather confused about a certain sea witch’s lack of talking. Hm!

One Siren’s Soul Taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!); @scottishhellhound​ @mvcreates @carmenwrites @waterfallwritings @runningonrain @bookish-actor @bookenders @mouwwie @onfablesandfictions @anaestheticdisaster @yearlyaquariace @elizabethsyson @your-local-imagination-station @imaghostwriter @orphicodysseywrites @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @elisabethrosewrites @lookslikechill @fuyuuki513 @purpleshadows1989 @fiama-l-hernandez​ @keithislactoseintolerant @tenacious-scripturient @mackerelwrites​ @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes @clawhee-writes @livvywrites @planets-and-prose @dc-writes @halfbloodlycan @penzag @sunlight-and-starskies @pen-in-hand @scribe-the-write-thing @leave-her-a-tome @royalbounties @ardawyn @klywrites @dogwrites @semblanche @tricksexual @writingnosefreak @lost----souls @penumbrics @dove-actually @kriss-the-writing-nerd 

[druzydabbles]

Trapped with who you know only as enemies. Missing something of high value and extreme importance. Being in a situation far beyond your control.

And for Celestine, of course:

Floating on an inescapable amount of water.

All Her Fears - 797 word excerpt from One Siren’s Soul

“You’re pretty good at climbing, you know that?”

My gaze shot upwards at the unfamiliar voice, the figure leaning over me blocking the sun. The woman giggled at my startled expression, her long, dark braid hanging down to tickle my face. I batted it away, glaring. Pushed myself further in from the sides of the platform, closer to the column in the middle. Away from her.

“It ain’t everyday someone tries to take my job from me.” She gave a bright smile, but her dark lips and eyes were mocking. “You wanting to be the new lookout? Not really the outfit I was expecting, but your choice, I suppose.”

I fell back onto the platform, the surrounding railing forming a barricading basin which presented some respite. The rest of the central mast rose dizzyingly high above me, the red ensign at its peak flapping in the same gusts buffeting the crow’s nest, pulsating like the ache at my temples. Wood wobbled around me in the wind; timbers creaked in complaint of the force. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I slumped back against the cold framework to catch my breath.

I was on a ship. On a Royal Navy ship. In the middle of the--

I took another gulp of air, watching the clouds above me slide from side to side in the frame of the railing. Climbing the ropes hadn’t been too difficult, even with the swaying motion. I was high up now, and from here, reality was a distant thought. It was just the wood around me and the bright blue sky above. The sound of the wind blocked out anything else.

Clearly, everything was fine. Such a beautiful day. Lovely cloud gazing, from here. Pillowy fluffs floating along on a swath of blue.

Just like… this ship.

On the--

I can’t do this. I can’t do this right now. Right now, right ever. Mierda!

I squeezed my eye shut, too tired to think. Maybe this was all a nightmare, and I would wake up to my nice, cozy hammock and my warm, dry cabin in just a moment. I would wake up to my room of riches and my untouched workbench, where I would start the new day trying to figure out the next project to take on. Or maybe I would head into town to see what I could slip off from the visiting merchants. Some new trinket or another, to add to my collection. Nothing as good as the--

My eye snapped open, my body bolting upright like a loose hinge. My satchel had been on the bed. My satchel had been open on the bed.

The check was quick enough. A hidden pocket in the side, sewn specially to prevent the object from falling out if the bag were shaken, to pad and protect it from scratches and impacts, and to conceal it so deep in the leather that no one would find it unless they knew exactly where to look, and exactly what they were looking for.

The pocket was empty.

But I was desperate--maybe it had slipped into another compartment, been hidden by my toolkit or become caught underneath the salt cellar. It had to be in my satchel!

It wasn’t in my satchel.

My breathing was sharply falling from my control again, and the appearance of a shadow over me didn’t help.

“You’re pretty good at climbing, you know that?”

My gaze shot upwards at the unfamiliar voice, the figure leaning over me blocking the sun. The woman giggled at my startled expression, her long, dark braid hanging down to tickle my face. I batted it away, glaring. Pushed myself further in from the sides of the platform, closer to the column in the middle. Away from her.

“It ain’t everyday someone tries to take my job from me.” She gave a bright smile, but her dark lips and eyes were mocking. “You wanting to be the new lookout? Not really the outfit I was expecting, but your choice, I suppose.”

She slid her legs over the railing of the nest, and, much to my dislike, hopped down inside to join me. If she was looking for a verbal response, she didn’t get one. I growled softly, shifting away further, my back hitting the opposite wall too soon. Too close. I crossed my arms over my knees as she lifted an eyebrow, setting herself down across from me.

“The whole crew is real curious about you. First mate comes back with a little girl, and now sh--”

“Not a little girl,” I muttered in English, cutting her off. She didn’t take this seriously, her smirk widening.

“‘Course you aren’t, lass. But I’m thinking you don’t really belong up here either way, yeah?” I ignored her, picking up on something else.

“... You said first mate. Who’s that?”

“Aw, don’t tell me she didn’t say her name! What, she didn’t explain anything?” My blank stare gave enough of an answer. She laughed. “No wonder you climbed the mast, you must think you were kidnapped!” I blinked, incredulous.

“... I wasn’t?”

“Oh bloody hell, this is hilarious.” I certainly didn’t find it that way. The woman offered me a hand as she popped back to her feet, her smile still teasing. “Name’s Rose. The giant that kidnapped you, who’s currently pacing herself into the deck with worry down there? That’s Phoenix Solarin, first mate of the Royal Navy’s Compass. Welcome aboard.”

For some reason, I don’t get the impression that Celestine is feeling very welcome. Sorry, Rose.

Hey folks, just a heads up! Celestine is very much so an unreliable narrator, so take her impression of Rose with a lot more than a single grain of salt!

(I mean, she does have a whole salt cellar on her.)

One Siren’s Soul Taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!); @scottishhellhound @mvcreates @carmenwrites @waterfallwritings @runningonrain @bookish-actor @bookenders @mouwwie @onfablesandfiction @anaestheticdisaster @yearlyaquariace @elizabethsyson @your-local-imagination-station @imaghostwriter @orphicodysseywrites @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @elisabethrosewrites @lookslikechill @fuyuuki513 @purpleshadows1989 @fiama-l-hernandez​ @keithislactoseintolerant @tenacious-scripturient @mackerelwrites​ @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes @clawhee-writes @shaping-infinity @livvywrites @planets-and-prose @dc-writes @halfbloodlycan @penzag @sunlight-and-starskies @pen-in-hand @phoenix-the-write-thing @leave-her-a-tome @royalbounties @ardawyn @klywrites @dogwrites 

[druzydabbles]

Last Line Tag

When Quill seems to fall out of existence for a while it’s likely because they’re actually writing. SO HEY. PROGRESS ON OSS HAS BEEN MADE.

Chapter 12, our main crew is now all together trying to figure out a way to get the Siren’s Soul back from His Majesty’s Royal Navy! Phoenix and Dione get along so well, let me tell you.

Y’all this is fresh off the typing machine, so I’m counting it as my last line too--tagged by a lot of people ahhh. @sunlight-and-starskies @inexorableblob @bookenders @abalonetea @alexis-writes-sometimes @marlettwrites @thegrievingyoung @aslanwrites @anaestheticdisaster @rainy-rose @fair-folk-nonsense @livvywrites @cirianne @ardawyn @tenacious-scripturient @nkta-ink @musicofglassandwords Thank you folks for the tag!

“Your suggestion is ludicrous. There must be a way in without alerting the guards.” I almost felt sorry for the ladrona. She wrote and signed both, and I was barely listening.

“Ohh, I see. The fugitive witch thinks she’s got the Navy all figured out now, does she?” Phoenix chuckled, the curl in her smirk telling of her distaste. The sarcasm in her tone was enough as it was. “Ah, but a’ course, eight years of experience’s got nothin’ on a weaklin’ that can just… wave her hands around to get whatever she wants, aye?” Dione hissed silently, her mouth twisted into a harsh snarl. And she said I was the hissy cat.

I drew my thumb along the curved length of Rose’s blade, testing the sharpness against my skin in boredom. These two had been arguing for nearing an hour now, with no sign of progress on a possible plan. If this racket goes on for much longer, I might just try sneaking in myself. From what I know of the Navy, it’s not like it’d be that difficult. But, then again. I had never been this far down South along the coast. Things were probably different, here.

A loud ‘thunk’ returned my attention to the conversation at hand, an eyebrow raised. Dione had set her journal down forcefully on the table, the open page lined with shining cursive. Her loops grew longer when she was angry. Loopier. I snickered quietly. Seems fitting.

“That is not how my magic works. Certainly I can make an argument seem more reasonable, but pure control is more of a siren’s skill.” Phoenix wasn’t too impressed with her outburst, but a moment of thought led to her eyes sparking with realization. Her grin widened in a way that subconsciously sent a shiver down my spine.

“... A siren’s skill, ye say…?”

I wonder what Phoenix might be referring to?

Also yes irony, Celestine’s nickname for Dione is that.

And since this is a siren’s snippet anyways, I guess I’ll tag whoever on my OSS taglist wants to show their wip’s last line!

@scottishhellhound @mvcreates @carmenwrites @waterfallwritings @runningonrain @bookish-actor @bookenders @mouwwie @onfablesandfictions @anaestheticdisaster @yearlyaquariace @elizabethsyson @your-local-imagination-station @imaghostwriter @orphicodysseywrites @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @elisabethrosewrites @lookslikechill @fuyuuki513 @purpleshadows1989 @fiama-l-hernandez @keithislactoseintolerant @tenacious-scripturient @mackerelwrites @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes @clawhee-writes @livvywrites @planets-and-prose @dc-writes @halfbloodlycan @penzag @sunlight-and-starskies @pen-in-hand @phoenix-the-write-thing @leave-her-a-tome @royalbounties @ardawyn @klywrites @dogwrites @semblanche @tricksexual @writingnosefreak @lost-----soul @penumbrics @dove-actually

Tumblr didn’t allow me to tag a few people? Bleh -n-

[druzydabbles]

Magic isn’t real, so neither are sea witches. It’s all just made up, a sailor’s tale. Curses? They only exist in stories to add a false meaning to unfortunate coincidences.

... Right?

Colin’s Curse - 1,184 word excerpt from One Siren’s Soul

My gaze shot down to the floorboards, but I couldn’t help but glance up as I heard the rustling of fabric and clink of something metal ring across the ground. A little disc of new copper rolled past me. I returned my attention to the sea witch in confusion.

She stood flattened against the wall, her eyes wide. I cocked my head. Why was she looking at me like that? Was she scared?

My hair was tickling my face. Slipped from its tie, probably. Blinking, I found myself upside down on the floor of the ship’s cabin, daylight flooding in through the porthole above a wooden desk. Huh. Since when do I sleep in an officer’s quarters?

I rolled over, stretching forward with a great yawn to cast off the lingering feelings of sleep. Sitting up, I scanned the cabin for answers, completely lost on what had happened.

Something was on the desk, but my limbs were too heavy to get up to see what it was. Little grains of what looked like salt were scattered over the floor towards the door, ending in a mess of overturned dishes and cutlery from the platter I had brought down. The spill of food stains on the wood made me grimace. Ah, now I remembered. But I didn’t remember the pile of dark pelts in the corner.

...Wait.

The pile moved?

I spooked back as it released a disgruntled breath, a hand appearing from within the swath of fur to push back a hood. Oh. It was the sea witch.

The woman held the hand to her head, wincing as she hesitantly opened her eyes. I had forgotten how vividly green her irises were. They caught the light like rich emeralds, carrying depths unknown by all but herself.

I realized I was staring. And then she realized I was staring.

My gaze shot down to the floorboards, but I couldn’t help but glance up as I heard the rustling of fabric and clink of something metal ring across the ground. A little disc of new copper rolled past me. I returned my attention to the sea witch in confusion.

She stood flattened against the wall, her eyes wide. I cocked my head. Why was she looking at me like that? Was she scared?

“A-are you alright? You…” I trailed off, squinting. My words had been masked by what sounded like the soft whining… of a dog? Dogs weren’t allowed on board. Did the sea witch smuggle one on? The woman’s expression had changed to one of heavy concern and… regret? I shook my head, trying again, louder: “You don’t look--... Did you bring an animal on b--” There it was again. The dog had started barking now, drowning me out.

I shifted my jaw, annoyed. Checking over the cabin didn’t reveal any dogs. So where was--

… There it was. It was hiding behind me. It couldn’t hide its tail from me, especially when the brown and white tipped fluff started wagging. Dogs were so dumb sometimes. That’s what made them so lovable.

But the tail disappeared from sight as I turned to catch it. The critter was following my movements! This was a smart dog.

I darted after it, but the darned thing was too fast! I stopped in my spinning as I heard a soft chuckle from across the room. Ah. I had forgotten the sea witch was still there.

Her laugh sounded… odd. As if she couldn’t make a noise except for breathing slightly differently. It was kind of cute.

Colin, not the time. Especially not with someone that could put a hex on you at any moment. I filled my chest, sitting up straight.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but could you… explain why there’s a dog here?” I narrowed my eyes, my voice raising to try and outmatch the dog. “And why it’s trying to block out all my words with its bar--” The sea witch had dashed forwards, one hand clamping my mouth shut as she raised her index finger to her mouth. Quiet.

Oh, okay. I can do quiet.

She creased her brows as she parted her cloak, revealing a line of leather pockets at her waist. From one of these she withdrew a sprig of some kind of dried plant with yellow flowers. I crinkled my nose at the strong smell, wincing as she tapped the plant just between my eyes. I could have sworn a green mist formed within the flowers as she blew through them, their petals carrying a soft glow that faded gently. A trick of the light, more likely. She returned the sprig to her pocket, pressing her finger to her lips once again as she released me, swirling her other hand in a gesture to continue. Just… quietly.

“... O-... kay… What was that for?” I could still hear the dog’s growl, but it was softer now, holding the same bewilderment I felt.

The sea witch made a sign to wait as she reached for something from the largest pouch at her side. She brought forth a small leatherbound journal and a fancy black and brass pen, the gemstone set into one end the same hue as her eyes.

She opened the book to a blank page, using the pen to write across it. She tilted the page down so I could see.

Holy hell her handwriting was fancy. The dark green ink was clear and comprehensive despite the swirling loops and lining accessories, too. Nothing like that chicken scratch all the sailors had.

It was still difficult for me to read, though. I never did have the easiest time with literature. Sailors at my rank didn’t have any need for reading.

‘So I could understand you,’ the message said, short and to the point, but slow to read nonetheless.

“So you could… But, do you not speak English? J-je peux parler français, aussi, si...” Wait, no, you just wrote in English... She shook her head, her gaze shifting away. She looked… guilty. Pitying. I blinked, still befuddled. But there were more important questions to be answered.

“Is… is there a dog in here? Did you smuggle a dog on board?”

‘Yes, and no.’ I huffed, unamused. She made as if to write something else, but paused to reconsider. I looked on in curiosity as she stood, lifting a small, bronze plate from her desk to return with it. She hesitated, her movements stiff. Apprehensive.

She drew a breath, and, sighing, flipped up the plate to face me, its shiny surface like a mirror.

It showed a dog. Its medium length coat was dark brown and white, its perked ears furred and fluffy, flopping as the creature cocked its head. As I cocked my head.

This dog had a good eye for predicting movemen--

… Eyes. The dog’s eyes matched my own. Maybe that wouldn’t be so weird for someone else, but mine were different colours. My left was a dark brown, while my right was a far lighter hazel--a pattern matched by the reverse reflection in the bronze.

Those eyes were wide when I looked to the sea witch. She gave me a gentle expression, setting the plate down to raise her open journal.

‘It was accidental.’

I didn’t respond, frozen. The woman avoided my gaze, writing again, after a long while of nothing. She paused partway through with a bit lip, her pen hovering motionless above the paper, before she continued.

‘I can reverse this.’ And then a line down, ‘I require more materials, but I can.’

Denial’s a hell of a drug, mate. (That, and Colin’s obliviousness.)

Anyways, this is a pretty important scene for context for future excerpts I might post, so don’t be surprised if I reblog it more than a few times!

One Siren’s Soul Taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!); @scottishhellhound @mvcreates @carmenwrites @waterfallwritings @runningonrain @bookish-actor @bookenders @mouwwie @onfablesandfiction @candy687 @anaestheticdisaster @yearlyaquariace @elizabethsyson @your-local-imagination-station @imaghostwriter @orphicodysseywrites @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @elisabethrosewrites @lookslikechill @fuyuuki513 @purpleshadows1989 @fiama-l-hernandez @keithislactoseintolerant @tenacious-scripturient @mackerelwrites @writingwitherebus @lady-redshield-writes @clawhee-writes @shaping-infinity @livvywrites @planets-and-prose @dc-writes @halfbloodlycan @penzag @sunlight-and-starskies @pen-in-hand @phoenix-the-write-thing