@theoxtsider
Eerie quiet has settled over the flooded district, and the clouds that hang above have even the brightest stars blocked out. Hector isn’t sure what time it is, but there’s a heaviness in his bones that tells him it’s late. He hasn’t been sleeping much these last few days, half out of the expectation that his fellow whalers would smother him in his cot. Their prejudice hasn’t made this transition an easy one. Even with Daud’s blessing, Hector is not ‘one of them’. He’s learning fast that he might never be.
The young whaler yawns as he perches on the rooftop above the old Chamber of Commerce. He’s alone on watch tonight, and he prefers it that way. He can openly long for his old life in the privacy of solitude. He can be lonely here, and without anything to prove. A tired sigh follows as Hector’s eyes wander over the streets below. Through the still darkness, something glimmers back at him. His brow cocks curiously as he rises to stand, blinking across the avenue with relative ease. It’s obvious he’s been practicing as he disappears again, trusting his newfound powers to deliver him safely to the ground.
Upon closer inspection, it’s not glimmering at all. It actually appears rather dull, and hollow as bone as he picks it up, turning it over carefully in his hands. In fact, as Hector admires the mark that whatever it is bares, he swears the thing is singing to him.
