#saltsong

[muskegged]

the day the universe stood still

[the-littlest-kojin]

FFXIV Write 2023, Day Ten: Free Day

Sitting on the railing of the ship, Monroe stares into the grey water. Waves lap at the wooden hull of the ship, and wind howls about the rigging - the only sounds audible to the Viera.

Belowdecks, she knows, the Scions and the crew of the ship are sleeping. Somewhere, she is sure one of the sailors is awake - the crew would be a fool to have nobody on watch, especially on a stormy night like tonight - but she cannot see or hear them, wherever they are. 

The sail is fat with wind as she gazes into the choppy water - her brow furrowed as her thoughts turn inwards.

So distracted by her inner thoughts, she fails to notice as the water starts to churn unnaturally - the ship becoming becalmed as a vast whorl forms. The hair on her arms stands on end, as if harbinger to a levinstrike - but none comes.

It isn’t until a figure begins to rise from the twisting waters that she snaps from her reverie - and she instantly springs to her feet. Her mind still on her past, her hands fly to her waist - reaching for the daggers she long ago cast aside. When her hands close on empty cloth, she swears virulently, staring at the clearly deific figure rising from the waves.

Vast, a captain’s coat over its shoulders, the figure resembles nothing so much as a blue-skinned Viera. A tricorne hat rests atop a wild mane of hair - resembling the spray of water from a wave impacting a shore. A strong, broad figure is visible beneath the coat, as azure-toned lips turn downwards into a scowl upon seeing her.

God-slayer that she is, Monroe pulls her bow from her back, nocking an arrow - drawing it back to attack the water-formed giant. As the string comes taut under her fingers, the figure laughs - mocking and low.

“Sea-daughter, you know better,” it speaks, bypassing her ears to permeate directly into her mind. Confused, she shakes her head to try to clear the phantom sensations - the taste of salt on her lips, the sun on her upturned face, the sea calling to her-

“Your weapons will not harm me, Sea-daughter. Lower them. Now.”

Gripping her bow tighter, Monroe grits her teeth. Warrior of Light. God-slayer. This figure was clearly akin to the Primals it is her job to shoot, to fight, to slay. So why could she not bring herself to fire?

Clearing her throat, she forces herself to speak - her voice rough and low. “Why do you call me that?” she asks, the first question that comes to her tongue.

A vast hand wraps around the lower half of her body, turning into froth-capped waters as it does - pulling her from the deck as irresistibly as a riptide. “I call you Sea-daughter because that is what you are. Your own kin left you on my shores, and so I claimed you, and claim you, and will claim you. You are Sea-daughter, and I hold your past in my bosom.”

“My… Past? What do you mean?”

Even as Monroe asks the question, trying not to notice that she is being held a dozen fulms or more above the water, a wind fills her ears, carrying a voice. A voice she recognises - her own, raised in song, so young and pure.

“Our ship lies at anchor, she's ready to dock

I wish her safe landing, without any shock”

As the wind fades, the hand holding her resolves into solidity once more - leaving her sat upon the vast palm of the deity, rather than held in water. The ghost of a smile crosses the giant figure’s face, even as Monroe stares in shock.

“What… Do you want?” “Want? I want for nothing, nothing, nothing, Sea-daughter. There is nothing ‘pon wind and wave that is not mine, to claim as I will. But you want. What do you want, Sea-daughter?”

“I…”

Falling silent, Monroe stares helplessly up at the vast face. Racking her mind, she has no idea what the entity wants her to say. 

“I… Don’t know what I want.”

A frown, a pout, The figure seems crestfallen, as it replaces her on the railing of the Misery.

“A shame. But I am unending, fathomless. When you have your answer, you will know what to do. You will always return to me, Sea-daughter.”

Before the Viera can form an answer, the entity dissolves with a booming crash, soaking the deck with salty spray - and leaving her sputtering brine from her mouth. The wind picks up again with a howl, the storm continuing on, but whatever was making her skin tingle is gone - leaving her confused and adrift.

~~~~~

Today's FFXIVWrite stars Monroe, from @avalon821! I hope you enjoy!

[captainkurosolaire]

Sunbreak Treachery

  A dazzling-sun prospered over storm clouds, forming a beautiful sun-break. With hints written in them, one had to ponder, would these same clouds overtake skies again? A showdown between Skull-Brethren represented the same sentiment below. Dark Cloud or Sunshine, who’d prevail? “You’re makin’ a mess, o’ brother of' mine… What's th’ matter matey isn’t this what you wanted?” Sarcastically overseeing Sol clenching his chest wound, crimson ichor leaking between his fingers, barely managing to keep his balance on their fighting-grounds, atop their flagship mast. A guttural snarling foamed, clenched teeth gave forth reply, “...I don’t understand, y-you falter and fail against everyone… But not against m-me!?” Blinded through sheer hallucination, his superiority, an actual ego of genuine perfection was him, nobody could prove otherwise. History repeating itself Judas who enacted a betrayal before stabbed to Captain from behind, when this Seeker was his lowest, but he arose through maroon and ashes, bringing crushing defeat to the front. Silver-treacherous, was learning harshly this. “...Ye b’ correct. I don’t often claim victory against many, merely I survive. However, you’ve awakened something inside me… N’ unfortunately fer you, it’s not below my waist. Also I’ve a track record of one you’ve witnessed first-hand. I don’t lose t’ demons or devils, I beat th’ living shite out of ‘em. Cause there’s nothing I pity more than an existence that only thrives to suckle on teets t’ get by. What’s Voidal can never beat someone who truly Lives. It doesn’t help yer scenario I know way too much about ya’. As lil o’ street urchins; like this. I know yer fighting habits, I’ve seen you, just as much; you’ve me… Except there’s a difference. You maliciously peer jealousy - while I admired. As you’ve said, you’re my senior!” The victorious seemingly-standing pirate reigned over with a definitive message. Tugging at the conscripted ex-Garlean profoundly, overwhelming seething fury ate it. A realization he didn’t want to accept… More core side of him, somewhere harbored elsewhere, felt that genuine message, he was revered in his own-way and was enough, as himself. Yellow hues betrayed the Raen for a moment, blinding-rage fumed up before raising up from his weakened posture. Tapping a part underneath his collarbone that activated surgical augmentation to accelerate his heart rate and rhythm to give him more stamina and a bolster of aether. Unfinished with this result.

Confused, Kuro, who was about to walk off,  prepared himself back into battle-stance with a disheartening sigh. “I-I will not lose. You’re the pathetic one! Unable to rebuild anymore! The Crew won’t ever return, you’ve broken and strung by fleeting tape. You couldn’t overcome the mental torment of failure.” With Sol’s remaining good-hand he withdrew a sheathed hilt towards a clan blade hidden between his back-buckle, his own Family Heirloom. Unlike traditional Hingashi katana’s, its blade opened with a pressing switch like an instantaneous box-cutter. A foul, malevolent, aether flux shrieked out, with a howling banshee scream that nearly pierced Captain’s ear-drums. That malefic blade…Became corrupted, passed on through dynasty heirs traditionally. But Sol slaughtered his noble right’s to gain ownership turning something pure and sacred that once was prestigious held by a Samurai, to be an incarnation of evil. To bring out such blatant lengths against Captain, really showed how far he was lost. Sol by no-means had expertise in using a sword but overcame his comfort against all his dismay, out of unbound hatred. Disheartening, the Blackguard showed sympathy, frowning, and placed one of his own blades and shoved it into wood between his feet. Bringing an overabundance of confidence or wanting to play honor among thieves. A pure formed sword-clash broke out, each of them using their strengths and full bodily weight while trying to keep composure of balance, they exchanged and teetered to one-end of the Mast to the other, both drawing close. Getting minor fencing cuts and stabs. Sol’s blade even though he wasn’t a viable wielder, the weapon carried him with how much force it dealt. As a result he began winning the second-exchange tie up. Captain’s eyelids became startled, as he began suddenly seeing phantasms protruding from Sol’s accursed steel, a manifestation of malice. The form of Sol’s undoubted father in resemblance, who he somehow could even hear. <”Miserable thief… You’re UNWORTHY of carrying our last name! Our clan will be unrest until you’re taken to wretched Seven Hells!”> Raen was forming excessive sweat, that brand served against the possessor, weighing heavier continuously each swing. The malevolent spirit was actually squeezing and wrapping its incorporeal form around his wrist, searing his palm. The Scoundrel witnessing this horrifying event, with Sol seemingly only feeling effects, it brought his concentration out of guard for a moment to see a specter like this in-the-flesh. He was improperly blocked with improper form. Causing his steel to break under the pressure and snap. This made Captain stumble off the mast. Sol satisfyingly grinned but that feline rogue’s cunning tail caught his fall, third armed. Giving Captain enough time to swing with a momentum to athletically put a singular hand back on the top-mast. Traitorous Sol charged forth, aiming to deliver one strike to decapitate Captain’s peaking hand, just needing a downward slash. More malevolent family spirit’s of Sol’s murderous transgressions began tightening around his wrists, Sister, favored child although younger was selected for being Heir, his Taoist Mother, and the rampaging dishonored Father who disowned his son knowing Sol’s putrid side. His Raen’s scale protecting him was melted, now felt real agonizing pain, adrenaline couldn’t suppress it anymore. Captain wasn’t sure where or why those spirit’s could be seen, but he was engaged in battle, so took the opportunity to retrieve himself, with a swing and flip back atop from a pull-up. He ran a full dash-sprint, leapt off the hilt of his old discarded blade from earlier and round-kicked Sol’s own blade flat-blade. Which saw him tumbling backward, falling on his rump and becoming disarmed. Trying to fetch composure and stand up, but Captain awaited with his finishing new technique instinctual given birth… They started on here with rock-paper-scissors who’d rig, and it’d end this way with a killer-combination.

On Sol’s come up, Scissors came by, a double-poke gouge to eyes. That had him screaming howling, defensively blockading being hit like that again a natural response to someone untrained, and left his chin-exposed. Rock followed-through; a gnarly uppercut with Captain’s pent-up temper. That saw the Raen upchuck his saliva in disbelief, his world-rocked, unused to being physically dominated, he fought like every other pain-staking coward who hid behind range only in a battle or with explosives with attacks from stealth that often were set on always winning. Lastly was the ending blow, his heel’s teetering on the mast’s edge, tail-attempting to redistribute his weight, pleading that Raen squealed, “W-WAIT!” Before Captain ceremoniously unleashed an open-palm, Paper to his torso with a formidable shove. Spilling off, although before plummeting below into the ocean awaiting judgment for treachery, surprised mercy came with Captain grabbing his wrist. “Damn your insufferable pity, you’re saving me now!? – I hate you! I’ll kill you! Including everyone we know! Now, let me GO!” Still unbelievably, rage overtook the spiteful Raen. He kept swinging back, flailing trying to make Captain’s sailor grip-loosen. That brash pirate with warmth surrounding him gave a crooked golden beam. “...Aye. Upon land their denizen’s taught me, even though we’ve prone t’ know on sea, we herald their methods inferior, that compassion. They’ve normalized and made sibling squabbles natural, they disown each other too. …But their resolve is commendable, even if it takes time to mend through vile animosity. ‘Cause they’re solely, blood-bound they don’t give-up on another! We’re th’ last two-alive from our former Crew… Should yer path b’ Destruction. Then I’ll just become stronger than you, and provide Restoration. Ye b’ right-about many things, I did fail Crew, n’ ye, as Captain. Me not having an ambition even if out-of-reach or attainable, to have something to ascend towards; makes one aware how to grow forth. Now, I’ve a direction… I can raise higher t’ the standards you set, n’ expect. C’mon, surrender!” Sol’s resenting and resilience gave a sudden pause, irritation quelling, but it was a calming facade. “You actually think… That trivially, I’ll concede!? Your kindness will ruin you again. And when it does, mark my words, you’ll become, no-better than me, blight akin to myself. All the preaching of goodness, light you bring…  those accursed eyes… Constantly shining against darkness. Will collapse, you’ll be confronted with the forces we ran to maintain freedom! That we both know, are impossible to overcome. Irrefutable tides, power-beyond-power, none can oppose, and it’ll come for your sanctuary. When it does, either you’ll be at the forefront butchering to survive; thrive. Or die empty, as nothing! Screw your PITY!” He’d oppose it with a devastating omen. Captain felt a disturbing tingly sensation, in tone and mannerism, at this point, Sol’s characteristic traits in this manner were predictable, malicious-intent was expected. Sol in his crafty dialogue, took a stray-bullet, often his final-gambit, holstered on his pant’s leg, and curled it around his tail’s tip expertly used it to fling, with velocity at speeds, towards Captain’s visage looming over, to hold, it carried enough force, for puncturing. This gave Kuro no choice, to relent. Granting the Raen what he wanted, relief, a submersion into the waters, despite knowing he couldn’t swim. Something would’ve been expected but his other natural-state was uncaring, never wanting to learn or commit, expecting things handed, always looking for ways around thalassophobia flaws, perceiving them as his qualities. Actually, stupid-luck was his treasure, about to run dry. Struggling, splashing around like a fish-out-of-water only making his distress begin sinking him, disgruntled waves swayed against his mismanaged energy. Soon he’d join the fellow sea-bed Brethren of their Goldbrand and die. In his final-moment’s everything was becoming extinguished. Perhaps his real motive was just to create a new monster, or break Captain with his demise, or somewhere internally wanted this painstaking defeat, to empower the Seeker’s betterment it seemed, his confidence was showing again. If it wasn't noticed; it could be-said all these transpired in Sol’s fragmented madness. “FOOL!” The Seeker gave an upsetting roar. The same scar-over his eyelid reopened by the bullet shredded against flesh, blood coursing down, his Star-Sight capturing the projectile barely with a knick. Never letting his impeccable Miqo’te instinct’s be second-guessed against Sol, it saved his life this time around. But vaulting a projectile only dampened the initial impact from fatality, this still would blind Captain to use an eye-patch to recover the damage of using this technique, used rarely to overcome viscous battles. He shot the projectile out by reopening the star-gate pupil, but coldness lingering in his body with sharp spasms, something wasn’t right. Another poison ran its course, draining him. …So he was supposed to just give-up and allow this be how it ends? Despite standing a chance to rescue a Crewmate for once, to decide an outcome, act heroically and slice through fate’s string. “Fuck yer way!” He said callously before brazenly jumping off the mast, swan diving after his drowning fellow… <’Nay, matey. I’ll sail this black!’> Went in his mind, his own-daughter’s voice carrying him, <“Dying isn’t suffering or learning mistakes, like Living through them is! Knowing difficulty, repenting harshly.”> She mercilessly sentenced upon his dead-beat ass, so Sol wasn’t off-the-hook.

He swam to the bottom in pursuit to depths, Sol fading in consciousness, but the Seeker latched, grabbed and secured his arm over his broad shoulder. The moment he connected, his strength, adrenaline, everything was dampening. His vision, completely dissolved, lost obscurity. All his senses lost underwater, only touch; feel left. Mind fogging rapidly, holding his breath. He hadn’t any boundless strength to swim and lift them out of this peril, not in this condition. Instead of panicking, in the deep. Not contesting the current’s force and wasting his reservoirs, he noticed above the surface-water before his dissension below, his Tricorne floating, that catalyst way to commune. Praying to Gods, often weren’t associated with his brand of outcast pirates. But no choice, to submit, faith and fate was the only solution, Otherwise they’re hopelessly dead. With feel, to grant communion alone, his aether pulling outwardly a light-source, his soul creating noise. <Saltsong. I’ve a request. I hate to sound like I'm ushering command over you. A sea cannot be;  I need, desperately, a tide of fortune, of yours. I’m supposed to exterminate Scourges that may pollute these waters… Please understand, I cannot do it with this one, they’re the closest to an actual sibling I've ever had. But I’ll become his Order.”> A favor asked by an Oceanic Kami’s chosen, surrendering to his burdens and markings. The sea's held emotion’s bound and moved, transmuting the message throughout the great-blue, beyond vast fathom. Captain’s body laxing, nearly about to relinquish.

Silence seemed to dreadfully be answered, before panic settled-in, a reply came, miraculously waves swept up, rushing rumbling and back, with ferocious current, swinging them forth and around with gyrating whirls, before a huge tidal met them and washed the pirates forcefully onto the deck. His infamous Hat alongside them. Their old pirate’s flag they once resided under fell under the pressure. Renewal was now, Sunshine claimed this climactic fight. Upchucking water in lungs, recuperating from hitting the lower-mast hard, he sprawled on elbows and gave everything in strength, to give rough compressions and revitalize Sol, once breathing returned to his feline-hearing, the brutish Seeker collapsed on his back. “Thanks, Sea… I ow–” The poison appeared relative to a tranquilizing shot, finally claiming the scoundrel. The Worldly Finder left aimless sailing with no manning. It’d prove too dangerous unless a force gave intervention, the vessel’s direction suddenly shifted towards a storm over yonder distant one that’d brave forth with fair-wind to the nearest shore, a sensational, tide rushed outward a precursor, that voyage of Captain’s journey stirring only up. What exactly, and who he served to be was almost uncovered. Suddenly able to see-the-unseen. Ability to commune with greater-spirits, to traverse spiritual consciousness, manifest and change his soul-alignment, alongside transform, fighting styles adaptive, alike nature itself. Or drawing the abundance of various diversities into company. There was one explanation, all linked to these phenomena. Perish his other-half, spiritual guide butterfly, told him the answer lies where he untraveled, never thinking it was important, but by never applying questions, answers cannot exist, especially where your actual-self resides, placing forever  a piece of identity into limbo. His journey called out to return where it should’ve begun. With his Shadowy Father to figure out who exactly indeed, was his Mother. Sequential, learning himself. ♫Sail into the Black♫ - Reference - Last Chapter

Mention: @the-littlest-kojin​ (With their incredible, Saltsong)

[the-lustful-kojin]

So boobs am I right? (Definitely shouldn’t show them to me)

Boobs, you say? What kind of boobs do you want to see?

Lihtbryda is a pretty stacked mercenary. If you don't mind the risk of getting a bit burned, they're pretty nice boobs.

Or maybe you prefer something from a bit further back in time? In that case...

Thalassa has snuck away from her job for a bit. Want to have a quick feel before Mitron catches her?

Or if you're preferring being a bit more dominated...

Taraine says that you can look, not touch, from under her foot.

Of course, some people aren't content with mortals, and want to play with powers beyond their control...

You succesfully summoned the spirit of the Sea, and she looks divine - and furious. Will you survive her wrath?

That sounds a bit dangerous, though. If you'd like something safer...

You could always just join me in my onsen.

[captainkurosolaire]

Hat

Rain pattered a window leaving streaks of tears unable to get indoors to solace. Desperately seeking but unable to fulfill against that barrier for entry. Envy wasn’t far from this notion. Many associate those of envious characteristics heartless. Although, perhaps it was an undeveloped soul crying out internally. Across a looming battlefield, Captain laid confronted against a blood brother. Unrecognizable memories flash-flooded from street-urchins, to trainees to playing pretend pirates, to becoming their own troublesome pirates! Under their flagship with tutelage of a shared surrogate Captain Father, for two believed unwanted bastards. Even as tension drew, each anticipating the first-to-move a hinted rushing storm-breeze blew through the middle of them. Sol didn’t focus sight intently on Captain, but what he coveted. For him jealousy made excuses for everything and suppressed anyone's achievements. Once as a boy to motivate his depleted aspirations, when he was on the precipice of giving up hope. His Founding Captain sat him down, then told him to aim ambitiously for stars out of reach! He proceeded to put the weight of his Tricorne upon his nestling head, and tell an incredible story. That simple bland seemingly fabric which was common amongst seafarers. Whoever gained this particular one he don under its possession could own Fortune itself, manipulate their own tides. That whoever became Successor aboard who proved themselves in seafaring would be allowed to commune with the mighty Sea itself. Crown of Fortune, Sol perceived it. However this story is false. The Founding Captain fabricated it to uplift his aspiring youth to soar heights! Because the moral was – if you do-not set destinations of unfathomable, you may never claim something of wealth in your limited life. It’s not a sin to own dreams, conquest, to wish a hoist of these! Life is minuscule compared to the infinite potential willpower can overcome. That tremendous blue laid host of unpredictability. Amongst the oceans, waves held habits to be gentle and graceful, kind, calming and inviting. Other times, it could prove rampantly angered and swept the strongest! Impossible tempered with no control against it, a force of wildness.

To make noise against a space canvas of such trifling and competitive water. You must become a survivor of undeniable, adaptability. Sea bred spirit’s and souls of hosted warriors that all showcased larger than life personas. A requirement! The true students, masters of the sea, even grew to gain powers that were comparable. Almighty and powerful with foreboding disaster, serving them to Conquer or Liberate. Those who became imbued with the sea. Became personifications of the ocean wherever they went commanding Presence. With it, their step’s alone. Picked up noise that could make their own ripples, create their own fortune, by their aura alone, knees quaked, legs shook in horror, hearts opened. Inspiring many seafarers to chase on and brave any unknown, they were called the bold; they followed stories of their predecessors, learning history, becoming it, from Tales, Fables, Myths on their own volition, they gave belief unlike any other! At a moment’s glance when they saw their sea. That peered into endless Freedom. To acquire their versions of it. Sol believed in his heart. That Captain… Betrayed him in a twisted way. That Hat had to be the reason for accomplishments and luck.

[The Truth.] That the Hat didn’t define the Man. Captain Kuro Solaire! Defined it. What was nonsensical fabrication became reality. A massacre of fire, a shipwreck of travesty had left the Seeker mourning over all his comrades. Injured by a historical noble rival yet given proper color and made. When Captain symbolically picked up the Hat believing he was the sole-survivor. He compassionately vowed he’d become a formidable force that stood among the tallest, with a head raised up. He had every reason to not want to live and to give up. Would’ve if not moved by the Sea who was his inspiration since a boy that carried promise beyond abuse, neglect and loneliness. In that company something drew him against the water’s edge, he felt alive, and became determined to make his own wealth, fate, and he’d fight for it. Submitting before it, should a threat arise too impossible to overcome. To hear the unseen. Acknowledge every indifference and ride not from; but to it openly! A ship of their former Goldbrand laid in ruins and with recently attaining the mantle. Challenging himself to brave the sea’s with a small rowboat and an ore. Navigating the entire Five Seas. He didn’t wish to acquire his own pirate ship or crew and proved directionless, experience was required to obtain. Traversing, the boy braved many treacherous storms, waves, but with his heritage of heightened senses those ears became sharper. He began listening and following what his surroundings were attending to do. When nature sang he didn’t misjudge it, instead began singing sea shanties. Flowing and moving, stopping when needed. Trusted instinct and his family heirloom compass. Upon sleeping in the rowboat. He greeted each day with the sea like a companion and talked to it. Shouting, “ Where were they going today?” They charted across Eorzea’s map and globe! Taking-in tremendous sights, encountering peril dangers, evading or contesting against forces that attempted to eat his only life and perseverance with that tiny wood giving float. Across the end of his journey. He was confronted by an all-powerful spirit mentioned, she possessed beauty unrivaled! A fierceness that warped all his senses. Although she appeared frightening and brought down many who neglected and mistreated her presence, and corrupted, who polluted her waters, the pirate saw through the surface and realized that was his companion this entire journey. She offered him a harrowing trial and quest that would forever see him bond eternally to the seas forever until he reached the end of that task. If pledged, and underwent this challenge, She’d offer her boon. From his incredible journey of spirit-discovery, His Founding Captain’s cherish Hat, was brought to tatters. Upon accepting her creed they forged a union between a simplest fabric. Carrying mementos of all he had traversed, sharing the journeys from sea, to land, to spirit’s, sky, turmoil, fear, all burdens, heartbreak, everything was carried between that Hat -- like prying open a treasure chest after finding the 'X' burial spot to a long-chased and sought out hunt. When her Captain returned, that Hat’s knowledge passed on everything by their devoted champion. Whatever condition it served to be under or was tossed into the seas, it returned, rising with rejuvenation like him and fulfilled him to be reborn! Awaiting him at the next port for a new mystical destination to chart. A Hat of a symbolic Promise. The seafarer wasn’t given extra divination or power. He received merely an eternal companion. To prevail over that harrowing journey the spirit offered, there was no mention of a reward. Because within depth, he had it. Freedom.   To become Vast and Wild as the Sea itself.

[ ♫New World Coming♫ - Reference - Last Chapter

[Special shout-out & credit to the Ft. @the-littlest-kojin for her screenshot and collaborative incredible muse, Saltsong! -- Also to roomie for Sol.] --------------------------------------------------------------------------

[the-littlest-kojin]

The Ocean's Wrath

Rising from the waters near the docks, the sky above grey and stormy, the oceanic deity scowls. The wreckage of her Chosen's ship is strewn about the harbour, but no body is to be found.

An expression of pure fury adorning her visage, she summons her power, the tide rushing into her body, rising it higher out of the water.

Towering over the landscape, Saltsong turns back out to sea, her titanic form flowing through the water with ease - on the hunt for those who have harmed her Chosen Captain.

(Credit for these screens, which I've been sitting on for MONTHS, goes to @unbloomingmoonflower! Thanks for the screens, Moonie!)

[captainkurosolaire]

Volume 3 - Chasing Kismet

[Sin’s & Tragedies]

Promo Omen: Fogged Dream of a Boy Promo Omen: Captain’s Siren Promo Omen: The ‘Crown’ Tricorne Promo Omen: Sea-Lover Promo Omen: The Pledge Promo Omen: Spiritual Guide: Perish Promo Omen: Face-Paint Promo Omen: Survival & Fury Prelude: Skull Brethren Prelude: Original Crew Prelude: Founding Captain Prelude: The Sol Problem Chapter 1: Who Dunn It? Chapter 2: Fallout Chapter 3: Tailspin Chapter 4: Rumblin’ N’ Tumblin’ Chapter 5: Absence Ushers, Fate Declares! Chapter 6: Lie Mouse, Wrath is Born. Chapter 7: Farewell, Friends. Chapter 8: Traitor Chapter 9: Gold x Silver Chapter 10: Hat Chapter 11: Perish. Chapter 12: Dreamer of Dreams Chapter Finale: Sunbreak Treachery (Commentary below cut.)

(Achieved a great chunk more than I expected early this year to start with. But after a breather for little while, I’ll resume. Aim for that 60 Chapters or beyond @_@. Really put a dent into some of these stories. Have ton’s to write. Lots of characters to just flush out but least throughout this I got a lot set up, and many progressed. Ideally work on screen-sets and going casual mode for my standards though. Also between what may be confusing between Saga/Compendiums/Volumes: Compendium’s strictly will be like a glossary index, with the level’s of interesting stories to read. That’ll always probably be the recommended way to read if interested. Sagas/Volume may approach a more specific type though finding stories, based on Genre. While making the screen-sets I did throughout wildly that seemed like nothing, were pieces of stories that eventually got turn into an arc like this one. >Eventually, I’ll master-list writing into like two-links. Continue polishing my pinned post.< [Gratitude & Love] I legit like have a hundreds to thousand stories remaining. Strangely through feels like hardly anything when I visualize it mentally, feel like this is too short of a story. But reality and with how much energy it really does take and much detail often applying and honing screenshots trying to double-dip, dedication to what I want to go it’s so much, but my resolve and pure grit for passion is wickedly mad. 😎 But I must always shout thanks for all the support, whether invisible lurkers or visible cheers, from new and longtime hearties, who’ve been on this voyage with me. Treasure you from the deepest bottom that beats within. It’s plausible everything feels trivial only cause I have heard and gained lot of inspiration and in-turn your energy with ye all aboard or just merely in my surroundings, your sights are sublime.

[the-littlest-kojin]

Pistol in hand, the Hrothgar sneers as the Miqo'te, bound in heavy chains, shuffles to the end of the gangplank. Slowly, the latticework of fresh gashes and cuts across the smaller feline's bare torso drip crimson liquid, running down his body and landing on the battered wood underfoot.

"And now, black cat, your time is done. I rule the sea, as you were always too weak to do," snarls the leonine figure. "The tides are mine to control, and cowards like you have no place in my domain."

Raising his head up to make eye contact with his captor, shaggy locks of hair falling over his face, Kuro spits a globule of blood onto the deck - and begins to laugh.

From a throat rough from years of salty air, the laugh is long, and loud, scornful and mocking. Even as the Hellion captain bares his fangs in anger, Kuro continues to laugh, until his breath runs out.

"Fool," the Miqo'te finally croaks, after his laughter has run out. "Ye think n' honest you own and control th' sea, well you and many others. But if you knew truth, the sea can never be owned, ever predicted. Doesn't matter the season of the sailor. The sea is an epitome of nature, an uncontrollable force ov' beauty and power, I'm no man ov' faith, but the seas has opened and awakened me to sheer belief. It offers salvation t' us damned and gives us opportunities, and freedom... Yet you seek to taint your vile into its profound waters..."

Having said his piece, standing at the end of the thin plank of wood, the tortured man leans back - letting himself fall into the water with no resistance. As the salty ocean bites at his open wounds, he hisses in pain - but smiles in feral pleasure as he sees the water around the ship start to churn, as if disturbed by some monstrous presence.

Rising from the waves, he sees the figure he loves, the figure he fears - the first face in his heart. Blue-skinned and horned in coral, a crown of leaves atop Her brow, the sea-spirit looks at him with eyes the colour of storms - and smiles, showing teeth like that of a shark.

As Her attention weighs on him like a boulder, it is almost a relief when the Hrothgar captain roars in fury, firing the pistol in his hand at the spirit - a splash of water the only result.

As Her attention turns to the mortal who claimed to control Her, anger comes across Her visage, the waves becoming choppy and rough as if in the pitch of the most violent typhoon.

The lion-man begins to bark commands to his crew, trying to weather the sea's wrath, even as She raises a hand - vast fingers of frothing seawater rising around the ship in parallel. In moments, the galleon, which only heartbeats before had seemed so powerful and majestic, looks like nothing more than a child's toy in Her grip - creaking as said grip tightens imperceptibly.

Feeling his eyes want to drift close from exhaustion, Kuro forces them to stay open - knowing that this is a lesson and reminder for him, just as much as it is a punishment for the Hrothgar. As his beloved Sea closes Her hand, the ship is reduced to so many splinters, the Captain and all crew falling into the water - and instantly vanishing below the waves into Her embrace.

A single plank - a section of the hull, he wouldn't wonder - rises under his chest, holding him atop the water, as She looks back at him, the smile that haunts his dreams and nightmares alike adorning her face once more before she dissolves into spray and foam.

~~~~~

I had a brainworm about my sea-goddess Saltsong and the wonderful captain, @captainkurosolaire

Please enjoy.