Why are there not much subs and pups in my dms? C'mon sweethearts, dm me or if ya want me to text first, follow me. That way I will know you like being hunted like pathetic lil preys
( Note: She is still on The Righteous Venture, a week or so later from my Day 4 post found here .)
The storm did indeed come as was expected. An overabundance of rain poured down in sheets, soaking everything and everyone.
Still, she feels like something is different about this storm. Like there are eyes on her, waiting, watching in the storm's darkness.
Perhaps she should go to the captain and let him know how she feels. Though she didn’t want to alarm him, after all, it was just a feeling. Well, unless you included the blade at her side, which was still vibrating against her thigh. Her hand moves to palm the hilt as if any moment she will have to use it.
Any other time, a storm like this wouldn’t bother her. She loves storms, but something feels off, as if the storm isn’t right. The hair on the back of her neck stands up, and goosebumps rise on her skin. Her eyes dart around her, but despite her gut feelings she sees nothing.
Her feet slip for a moment, and she loses her foothold. A puff of air leaves her lips as her heart rate speeds up in her chest. She reaches out, finding a rope, pulling herself toward the rigging it is attached to. But the rope, too, is slippery, and she tightens her grip further, hoping it is enough to keep her from going overboard.
Perhaps she should have stayed in her warm, dry cabin.
Lightning flashes, making a crackling sound, followed by thunder that vibrates the ship. The seas at this point seem ready to swallow them whole. But the men still work as if they were used to such conditions. Perhaps they were. She traveled little by ship, so she doesn’t know the seas or the ship like they do.
Her mind suddenly feels as if it is being ripped from the inside out. Pain blinds her as she tries to regain the control she is quickly losing. Whispers. So many whispers. Even while holding onto the rope, she falls to her knees as she can feel her mind shutting down, the edges of her vision going blurry.
She struggles to stay awake as she grabs another rope and tries to pull herself back toward her cabin. She doesn’t get far when she loses her grip, but instead of falling, she feels like she is floating. It makes no sense, and her mind is too far gone to understand what is happening, as she feels herself blacking out.
Her mind feels like it is swimming, and she can’t think straight. What happened? Where is she? She sits up and looks around the cabin, her vision blurry, but clear enough that she recognizes her cabin. Her head, though, is throbbing so badly that she feels dizzy. Her chin slumps downward toward her chest as she squeezes her eyes shut. She feels as if she might be sick; her hands moving to clasp around the sides as if that would help.
For a moment, she sits there in the bed, her mind in complete chaos. Finally, she lets her hands drop from the sides of her head and swings her legs toward the floor, which makes the room spin once more. Her hands grip the bed as if that would stop the spiral. Again her eyes clench shut as she takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly.
She opens her eyes and tries to focus, but the room blurs in and out. She stands slowly. Images come to her mind, but they are like pieces of a puzzle that she has yet to put together. The flashing of them in her head is almost as bad as the spinning. Her legs shake so badly that she falls back against the mattress, catching herself on it before she hits the floor.
She gives herself a moment to think, to remember.
A storm.
The unknown darkness that she had felt.
Whispers in her mind.
Floating.
And then there was nothing.
Thankfully, the room begins to spin less, and her vision begins to clear. Still, her head is pounding. She feels as though she has the worst hangover of her life. And trust her, she knew what that felt like after drowning her sorrows in drugs and alcohol for several years.
She moves again to stand, noticing she is still in her gear and it is dry. How long had she been out? Hours? Days?
The door opens, and the Captain steps into the room; his eyes fall on her now-awake form.
“Fuck, you had us all scared there for a minute. What the hell happened?”
Elutia shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, which makes the room spin again. “I do not know. I was hoping you could give me a clue.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “All I can tell you is that I heard a lot of whispers in my mind, felt as if I was floating, and then blacked out. I do not know what happened after that.”
She pauses, then turns to look at him. “How long was I out?”
“Days, almost a week.”
Her face scrunches at the answer, and she huffs through her nose. Days. Days she had been out. What in the hell happened to her?
She purses her lips together for a moment. Something felt off. Strange even. She feels as though a part of her is missing.
It hit her like a bolt of lightning. The dagger! She reaches for it at her side, but it isn’t there. Her eyes go wide and she scans the room as she stands so quickly her vision goes black. Her arms fling out to steady herself as she turns toward the captain, her heart racing. She can’t breathe. Each breath pulled into her lungs feels like needles.
She is about to ask him where it is, but deep down she knows it isn’t on the ship anymore. Whoever had gotten into her head had taken the dagger.
And there was only one person whom she knew of capable of taking that dagger off her.
A dread fills her like no other, and she turns toward the man in the room, her eyes heavy with emotion.
The dagger had betrayed her, or perhaps it was her grandson.
