By the time they emerge from the cave a few hours later, Python is notably more bedraggled (if that was possible) and very damn sick of Terrors. After the Deliverance’s old hideout, it was probably hopelessly optimistic to think a creepy cave wouldn’t be full of them, but when they began to realize that they just never stopped appearing, it became clear that it would be of no use as a shelter.
At least by that point the rain had stopped. The trees and leafy ground are far too wet to even hope to build a fire, but they manage to sleep, fitfully but safely, beneath the tree canopy.
The days after that are something of a blur. The massive storm turns out to have been a blessing, because there’s fresh water everywhere, collected in puddles and the upturned leaves of the trees, and at least a few of the plants are recognizably edible. (They attempt, briefly, to catch fish in the ocean, but neither of them are fishermen, and with no actual tools for that purpose beyond their hands, that idea is quickly thrown out.) The cut on his leg is a constant annoyance, but thanks to whatever Gerik had put on it, it doesn’t fester or get infected in the heat.
At night, for lack of anything else to do, they talk, and Python discovers a remarkably similar story to his own- another common boy expected to take over the family trade who followed a friend into fighting and eventually war instead. Gerik is affable, easy to talk to and even flirt with a little (why not, isn’t that what people do on desert islands?), and if they ever see each other again after this shitshow, Python might even consider him a friend. That is, if they ever leave to begin with. He wonders often how long they’ll be stranded there, and recalls stories of travelers ending up marooned at sea for months or years, building crude shelters and growing massive, scraggly beards. At least, he supposes, there are worse people to be stuck with.
In the end, however, they only end up marooned for about five days. He learns later that the ship, though blown about and battered in the storm, had stayed afloat after all, and had made its way to the nearest island to recover. A smaller boat comes for them at midday, sails rippling in the clear sky, and the feeling of relief is so palpable that all either of them can do is laugh.
Several of Gerik’s men are aboard, along with Eren- alive, which Python had barely dared to hope for. She throws her arms around his neck and then cuffs him soundly in the ear for worrying her, and he embraces her tighter than he ever has anyone besides Forsyth or Lukas. Gerik is surrounded by his own mercenaries, and Python wonders again if they’ll ever see each other again, or if the other man will return to his own lands and swear off of Valentia forever after this disastrous first experience.
When he can peel himself away from Eren talking his ear off, he gives Gerik a little wave, leaning on the ship’s rail when the other man walks over to join him.
“Guess this is it, huh?” he says with a tired, lopsided smile. There’s a good deal he could say in farewell, but he isn’t the type, so he just teases, “Try to stick to dry land if you ever come back this way.”
Five days. One-hundred and twenty hours. Give or take a few.
Once they had left the cavern behind them--not the worst decision he had ever made by far, but not one that Gerik had been keen on revisiting either--the island was relatively quiet. The calls of unfamiliar birds and croaking amphibians in the night never failed to unsettle him, but compared to the Lagdou ruins, Gerik supposed there were worst places to be stuck. And worse company to be kept.
So he quietly joked as they huddled together at night, mustering enough warmth to sleep comfortably.
(‘Do you think you’ll grow a beard by the time they find us?’ He grated his scruff against the man’s shoulder with a laugh. ‘A full one. The sort you could make up stories about--hey, hey, I’m joking, don’t look at me like that...’)
And took the ribbing in stride as fish swam past him without care again.
(‘Honestly, I don’t know what you are expecting from a man who lives in an actual desert.’ He splashed him back, and neither of them caught anything.)
And, when they had least expected it, found himself standing on the deck of a ship beside the man, looking back at the shores they had called home no more than a handful of hours prior. "Yup. Well, not really for me, I’m just trading one stretch of sand for another really... But at least at home, it’s my stretch of sand.”
“Gotta go where the jobs take me. Sounds like something you know pretty well too.” He chuckled, dragging one hand down his jaw and... Maybe he was a bit scraggly. He was scraggly, and his shirt itched, and every inch of his skin felt like sand-- And Gerik was aware that he had the means to change that. Now.
A hand reached out, slapping Python on the shoulder and sending a shower of dirt and gods-knew-what crusts coming off his sleeve. “But that means I’ll be seeing you around again.” He headed for the safety of the cabins.
prguitarman
stormborns
annaxmalina
andulkaphoto
2087
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
