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Fantasy 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 — THE STORY

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THE OLD-TIMER















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Maltke



Cycek




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




annoyed, grateful, victorious, tired











OUTFIT




His usual dirty coat of course











LOCATION




In front of The Tyke's Prick and on the Bazaar's street, later on several streets of Antares











MENTIONS




Knox, Lexis, NPCs









INTERACTS




A trio of NPC pirates, Gao Gao

















Keelhauled - ALESTORM




























































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Pounchy-pounchy



































Chapter Four, Part i

The apple of the Hesperides touched Maltke's face with a power that hinted purpose and anger behind the throw. Its strength moved the pirates head out of the knife's way. In surprise he couldn't react at all, his lone eye widened and flicked towards the source of the life-saving stranger. His legs became weak under him and as the scarfaced pirate turned his attention towards Maltke's supporter, the old man fell onthe ground, his bottom kicked up the dust.

"Uhh..." His head felt heavy and his blood was boiling with adrenaline and of course, with the rum. Finally, he glanced towards the direction of the knockabout and saw The Leviathan's quartermaster, Knox Hood running away bravely. "Ah, Knox m'boy...!" The sight of a crewmate caused the life to slide back inside the body exhausted by the shock of rum. He successfully evaded death yet again.

With a series of cracking bones and raspy groans, the old man got back on his feet and the world started spinning around him. Blood was flowing on his skin like a warm river, pain was drumming on his skin where he had been penetrated by Lexis' bullet. He groaned again, closing his eye firmly in order to get rid of the blurry sight of the amalgamation of wide-eyed, loud onlookers, surrounding him completely.

"Uuuahh..." The rum-flavored belch flew out of his mouth into the thin air, its departure soothed the thunder in the old man's body. His sight was clear and he was thirsty again. Looking up, Maltke saw the quartermaster's fish-like wiggling in the air which had a surprisingly satisfying result: Knox's boots connected with Scarface's chest, making a sickening thud, while he smashed his head into the toothless pirate's jaw. "Oy, nice!" Maltke smirked and straightened his back. He rolled his shoulders, trying to make the muscles relax before he had to put them into good use again.

"How the fuck that old man be still movin'?" He groaned, looking clearly annoyed that his cruel kicks hadn't finished Toothless. Maltke blinked a bit lazily as his eye followed Knox returning to him, clearly in panic, not to mention the swelling, bright red mark on the left side of his face.

"We gotta get the fuck out of here, mate." Sounded the first logical solution from a mouth that wasn't Maltke's mug. "Why now?" He asked and regretted it in an instant as his eye focused back on the dynamic duo of Scarface and Toothless approaching with expressions frozen on their faces which could be descriped most correctly as unfriendly. "I see..." Maltke nodded, stepping closer to Knox as the young man took his small bow, pointing the arrow right at the poor Lil' Timmy who just began to come around. "And that be cheatin'..." He noted, gesturing towards the bow and arrow.

Some may have called Maltke Cycek a proud man, however if someone had already broken the rules, that entitled the old man to do the same thing. He shrugged and with a quick flick of his right wrist, he flipped out one of his knives, the lights of the night flickered on its deadly blade. He stepped closer to Lil' Timmy, his left hand grabbed the young pirate's blonde scalp, holding him firmly; the knife tickled the thick muscles of his neck. "Didn't ye hear my friend?! Stay the fuck back!" His rough voice supported Knox's warning. "Or else I cut this idiot's neck and my friend over here be gonna turn ye into a sea urchin!"

The threats effected the pirates: doupt flickered in their eyes and they stopped mocing towards Knox and Maltke. "Please..." Lil' Timmy's massive body was visibly shaking a little in fear, the knife's blade scratched the skin of his neck. "Stay brave and silent, ye son of a bitch!" Maltke warned the young pirate as his grip loosened on Lil' Timmy's hair and moved under his clothes with one clear goal: to find his pouch or at least few coins. "If ye stay there, this boy's gonna survive this night!" The old man assured the pirates and the onlookers while his hand found the pouch and moved it away from Lil' Timmy and hid it under Maltke's coat.

"Better!" An almost childish smile contorted the old man's weathered features, nodding towards Knox to get his attention. "Now stand up, ye ox!" Maltke groaned and Lil' Timmy stood up, his legs seemed a bit weaker now. "Now we be even!" Maltke smirked, winking at Knox - the playful gesture unfortunatelly looked like an erratic blink since the old man had only one eye to close. "Time to run, buddy!"

Toothless and Scarface sprang into action but they were too late. Maltke's right foot found its way to the sensitive spot right above Lil' Timmy's calf. The massive pirate let out a painful gasp and lost his ballance, creating a perfect opportunity for Maltke to push him forward. The trio of the Carmine Corsair's finest united and all three of them ended up on the ground, however Maltke didn't wait to see what would happen. No, Maltke Cycek was already showing his back to his enemies as he was running after Knox, trying to get through the crowd and disappear.

"Run, RUN, RUN!" Maltke urged Knox as they were sprinting away from the scene they had caused, not even daring to look back. Luckily, the bustling streets of Antares allowed them to get through easily, the world around Maltke blurred again. His heart was beating desperately already as they took turn after turn, their only goal was to get as far away from their pursuers as it was possible. "I be damned...I wasn't made for runnin'!" The old man cursed to himself, sweat soaked his clothes and he was out of breath.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Maltke risked a glance behind him and he only saw the dark, empty street. "Finally...let's...stop here, Knox...!" He panted, bending slightly in exhaustion. He looked around but nobody payed attention to them on the narrow, barely lit street they ended up in. Maltke had no idea where they were but as his glance locked on an establishment, he knew one thing for sure. "That seems cheap enough! Be my guest for the first round, lad!"































♡coded by uxie♡
 





THE GEMINI.















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Gallin



Luc Cardin




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




...I'm not a monster...I can't be











OUTFIT




Suddenly remembered that he's actually wealthy











LOCATION




Some hidden area in the ship











MENTIONS




Dahlia










INTERACTS




CrimsonInk CrimsonInk


















Monster — EPIC SAGA.
































































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SEE THE WORLD




"Never feel bad for a blind man," he said finally; "for you see the world as it is, while I see it for what it could be."






























CHAPTER FOUR.

He was still in the middle of his written apology when he heard the floorboards above him creak. His little corner not only provided a decent escape from the outside world, but also came with a built-in alarm system whenever someone was approaching. He held his breath, forcing himself into a state of deathly stillness as he listened for where the footsteps were heading. IT wouldn't do for the great and influential Gallin Forestson to be seen hiding in a dark, damp and abandoned space of the ship such as this. It would raise far too many questions.

Eventually, the footsteps passed, nobody seeming interested in coming down here - not that it was a space many would think to visit. Perhaps only as a hiding spot for those who wished to do things they didn't want others knowing of. Much like he was doing right now.

He heard so many sets of footsteps pass above him yet never come down that, eventually, he stopped holding his breath and interrupting his writing. If they were never going to come down here, then it was a waste of time to continue freezing up as though they would. Although, he did still keep his ears peeled - lest he be caught off guard.

He was penning the last few sentences - a paragraph or three at the most - of his apology when the stillness was broken.

"Book man."

His heart took temporary leave of his chest and his lungs were suddenly devoid of any air. His body jerks forward, backward, and upward at the same time; his muscles ringing in protest to the confusion. Even his vision went dark, only populated with bright white spots like blinding stars in the darkness. For a moment, he couldn't even feel the crates he was sitting on or the wooden pole behind his back.

He had written of it many times, but only in that moment did he truly understand what it meant to be scared half to death. Though, in his case, he reckoned it had gone a little bit more than halfway.

When his heart returned to his chest; and air found his lungs; and his eyes rediscovered sight; only then did he have the common sense to know that there was only one person who called him "Book man".

Slowly, he turned to look at her, eyes stuck in a show of bewilderment. He had been listening, he had been paying attention. It was the one good thing he could say about himself - the life he had lived had taught him to be observant. He would have heard the floorboard creak like he did with everone else. Yet, he had cleared the area when he first arrived to make sure there was nobody else down here with him. So where had she appeared from?

The ringing in his ears had prevented him from hearing what she said, only catching the tail end. Something about the sun? ...Why would I care about the sun? Better yet...wait. What?

It was rare that Gallin was ever caught so entirely discombobulated. Yet it seemed she and she alone could stir him to such a state. If not with a fist to the face, then appearing out of thin air and asking about the sun.

...Perhaps she is the ghost of Gallin's lover come to haunt me for claiming her love. Wait, Gallin!

The name caused him to remember what he was doing here in the first place. He was writing an apology to Gallin in his journal, the journal that was sat wide open on his lap. The start caused him to close the journal so quickly that the sound of it snapping shut mirrored that of a musket shot.

Tucking the journal away quickly before her curiosity was drawn to it - as if it wasn't already to late for that - he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain composure. Perhaps she hadn't noticed that she had caught him so absolutely vulnerable. Perhaps h could recover before she noticed. Perhaps he could salvage this somehow. Surely, she had been perfectly oblivious to the fact that he was staring at her like she was the Reaper himself come to collect him. Yes. Surely.

"I have corrected you before: my name is not Book Man, it is Gallin. Gallin Forestson." He paused after every phrase, his education, reputation and experience had taught him how to mask heavy breathing as intentional pauses. He was still panting from the fright she had given him, but he'd be damned if he ever let her know that.






























♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE RAVEN.






























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LUCREZIA






CAMBRIDGE









ㅎㅎ






























MOOD








HELP I'VE FALLEN GAY
AND I CANT GET BACK UP























OUTFIT








ANTARES FIT























LOCATION








ANTARES BAZAAR

























INTERACTIONS








FORGET AGATHA | DEVANA~





















TAGS








@erzulie





































WHO IS SHE? — I MONSTER.
































































































































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I BELIEVE MR. GRAVES,








There are tremors around us, like the vibrations of a note of music - hidden music. Some may be more attuned to them than others, what do those people do?





























































CHAPTER FOUR.

Lucrezia waited for the woman’s answer with great patience. The heavy tension in the air between them was a despairing waltz Lucrezia was ready to take part of. Where ghosts lingered with strings vibrating the cosmic waves around them. The noble woman had to take in a breath to make sure she was among the living. Those eyes of the night lingered on the hairs of her skin bringing a haunting chill down her spinal cord. It brought a satisfying comfort to the noble woman.

It reminded her of the graveyards she would roam in the dead of night. Haunting winds with the moonlight cascading down so beautifully, just like the woman's hair before her. How auspicious was it to meet such a grand woman from Umbra? It was rather nerve-wracking trying to shake off the clattering of her bones inside her skin all together. It was as if she had ravens eating out her stomach to feel such anxieties that wanted to make her giggle and hide all together.

Pale blues lingered at her movements. Watching the gloved hand reach out brought her a cold chill. She felt disappointed that the mask was retrieved from her hands, but before she could utter a word she was taken aback by her next action. Gloved hands reached for the zenith woman’s hand, where she could feel the woman's lips come into contact with the knuckle. The mere feeling of icicles rose up her arm almost made her go into cosmic shock.

Death had taken into mortal form to bless her with their cold divinity. Lucrezia could practically feel her cheeks flush from the greeting, let alone almost faint and melt as the ice in the summer of Umbra. Yet, she kept herself composed only allowing her lips to etch into an unhinged smile. Her legs moved with one going under the other, bending like a flamingo to give her a curtsy.

“Why, Lady Devana, heir of House Acindius,” she repeated with respectful adoration laced with a hidden sultry tone, “I would be honored to accompany you this glorious morning in the bazaar. It is electrifying to hear what you can provide. I humbly offer any assistance in return, my lady of ice.”



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE CHEMIST.






























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MILLY






BYRTHA









































MOOD








excited, a little worried























OUTFIT








VERY APPROPRIATE! + POUCH























LOCATION








STREETS OF ANTARES

























MENTIONS








SCARLETT





















INTERACTS








ComplexDragon ComplexDragon





































SPACE GIRL — FRANCES FOREVER
































































































































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SAY WHAT YOU WANT



but say it like you mean it
with your fists for once, a long cold war
with your kids at the front





























































CHAPTER FOUR.

One… two… three… Oh no. She made things awkward again.

What did she say that was so wrong? Did she seem too desperate? She’d been told that many times before- but she was desperate! She really needed that flask! How could she salvage this interaction? Speak more? Keep quiet? For once she cursed her inability to socialize-

"The Leviathan? I booked passage on that ship too, so it seems like Fortune herself is smiling upon us.”

Oh! Maybe things weren’t awkward, after all!

Milly's face lit up, maybe she truly was lucky. Knowing someone on the ship- especially someone who was clearly better in social situations could help her immensely. Oh, she would make this woman as many perfumes as she wanted as long as she’d help her!

When it became clear Scarlett would help Milly was practically vibrating, thank god!

“Oh, thank you!” She eagerly grabbed Scarlett's hand, bouncing in her shoes. “I’m running low on equipment, you see. But this man was selling exactly what I needed, three test tubes and a flask. But it was thirty Solari, and I only have ten! Well- I had twenty-five but there was this lovely trinket box-” You’re getting side-tacked, Milly!

“Anyways, I tried buying just the flask but it was fifteen Solari, and when I tried to bargain he yelled at me! It’s just the flask I need, if you are willing to help me I would be oh-so grateful!” Crap, she was still shaking her hand.

Milly quickly dropped it and pointed behind her with her thumb.

“The stall is not far from here!”

She turned and began walking down the street, only pausing when she remembered she was supposed to make sure she was being followed first. Milly has lost too many people while walking, so she’s tried to pick up the habit of walking side-by-side with people instead. So far it’s been successful.

“I am not sure what you mean by ‘specific means of persuasion’, but I suppose that’s why you are the bargainer and I am not.” Ah, right, her offer! “It doesn’t have to be perfume if that’s not what you prefer. I can make all kinds of things! Lotion, medicine- well, I can make all kinds of things if I have the ingredients for it. So I’d have to check on what I have, first.”

Does she even have the ingredients to make perfume? Surely she does! If not, maybe she can pick a few flowers to gain a proper scent. She might have some leftover tea blends she could use as well, though not everyone prefers a herby scent. Whatever, she can ask Scarlett later.

The sight of the stall owner brought Milly pause, the anxiety from their prior interaction making her hesitate. What if he turned them away the second he saw her? She did not want to get yelled at again, or stared at.

She pointed at the stall and angled her body behind Scarlett. Not so subtly hiding from the man.

“It’s that stall over there, I just need one of those reagent flasks. The bigger ones, for ten Solari. I’m not positive the man would be happy to see me, though.”


























































♡coded by uxie♡
 





THE ABEL.
















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Ephraim



PROKOPIOU




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




SORRY











OUTFIT




YIPPEE











LOCATION




ANTARES BAZAAR












MENTIONS




KOHEN










INTERACTS




luciferin luciferin


















RICKY MONTGOMERY — CABO.
































































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Because empires will rise and fall




Like tides and I'll live through it all
But it won't mean a thing without
YOU.




























CHAPTER FOUR.

Ephraim locked his gaze onto Kohen as he traced his fingers over the edges of the display box. The noise of the lively bazaar surrounded them—vendors shouting about their wares, wooden docks creaking as they shifted with the tide, and sand-dusted boot shuffling around—but Ephraim barely registered any of it. All his attention was on Kohen, his brother, who cradled the box with an unreadable expression. Ephraim thought the initial silence was a good thing, an indication of interest or at least some form of acknowledgment. Kohen had always been like that—more reserved, more measured. He never rushed into saying what he felt, and Ephraim had learned over the years to fill those silences with his own chatter. It made things easier, or at least it gave him the illusion of it.

Ephraim’s lips pulled into a smile, the kind that couldn't be suppressed.
“I’m glad you like it!”
he said, his voice a little brighter than usual, a hopeful lilt carrying each word. He rocked on his heels, swinging his suitcase slightly with restless energy, unable to keep still.
"I really wanted it to be something special for you, since this is our first time being in Antares."


His smile softened as he saw the quiet contemplation in Kohen’s face, the moment stretching on longer than he anticipated. But rather than press for a response, he took a slow step forward, his hand gesturing toward the bustling stalls.
"Hey, no rush on anything for me, okay?"
he said.
"We’ve got all the time in the world now. Only the two of us."


Besides having to improvise his gift, everything was going as planned. No drunken brawls, no getting robbed in a shady alley, no waking up in a stranger’s bed with a pounding headache and missing coin purse. Just a couple of brothers acting like tourists and going out shopping. They were finally having a proper conversation since like what? Months? Years? That was progress, wasn’t it? Despite their strained history, Kohen had ultimately chosen to join this trip. That had to mean something.

But then Kohen spoke again, and Ephraim’s stomach twisted.

It was subtle at first, the way his cheerful facade wavered. His fingers flexed against the handle of his suitcase, his nails pressing into the leather, grounding him. That should’ve been comforting—he had something tangible to hold onto—but instead, all he felt was a creeping sense of guilt. He’d always known, on some level, that Kohen had been burdened with responsibilities that weren’t his to bear. It was one of those unspoken truths in their family, woven into the very fabric of their childhood. Their parents had made it clear from the beginning: Ephraim needed care, and Kohen had to provide it. And yet, hearing it now, phrased so plainly, struck something deep inside him.

Ephraim swallowed hard, his lips pressing together as his gaze flickered downward. I didn’t mean for it to be that way, Ephraim wanted to say. I never wanted you to feel trapped in that role. Everything I did was for you. But he couldn’t say that, not without dragging up old wounds neither of them were ready to pick apart.

But Kohen didn’t hold that against him. At least, Ephraim didn’t think he did. After all, the elder brother assured him that what he said during “that” argument was in the heat of the moment. If Kohen was upset, wouldn’t he say something? Wouldn’t he let it show? The thought never crossed Ephraim’s mind that his brother might be hiding his feelings behind that mask of composure, that the silence he interpreted as thoughtfulness was actually restraint. To Ephraim, everything seemed fine.

He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax.
"You know,"
he started, voice lighter than he felt,
"I was actually worried you’d say no to coming on this trip."
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.
"I mean, we haven't exactly been... close. Not like we used to be."
His thumb ran absentmindedly along the worn leather of his suitcase handle, the weight of it somehow both grounding and suffocating at once.
"I thought maybe—"
He cut himself off, exhaling slowly, then glanced up at Kohen with an easy, practiced smile.
"But you're here now. That's all that matters, right?"


For all his effort to keep his voice even, there was a brief, lingering sadness beneath the words. A part of him wanted to press, to ask outright if Kohen was here because he wanted to be or because he felt obligated. But what if he didn’t like the answer? So instead, Ephraim straightened his back and let his grin return in full force, masking the tangle of emotions twisting inside him.
"Besides, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who’d pass up a trip on the Leviathan, huh?"
He laughed, the sound bright, effortless—because if he pretended hard enough, maybe it would be true.

Ephraim finally turned his gaze away, letting the vibrant sights and sounds of the bazaar rush back into his awareness. The market stretched before them, a maze of wooden stalls packed tightly together, draped in colorful fabrics that fluttered in the salty sea breeze. The air smelled of spices and incense, mingling with the briny scent of the ocean just beyond the docks. A merchant loudly advertised his textiles, his voice nearly drowning out the squawk of seagulls flying overhead.

Beyond the trinkets and fabrics, the sounds of animals caught Ephraim’s attention. Nearby, a merchant hoisted a wicker cage filled with squawking birds, their feathers a riot of blues and greens. A few stalls over, a man was showing off a python draped over his shoulders, its scales catching the light from the lanterns hovering above. Goats and chickens bleated and clucked from pens lined with straw, their voices adding to the constant hum of noise. Ephraim turned slightly, following the sounds as he caught glimpses of crates stacked with straw, where unusual creatures lay nestled, waiting for their new owners. The fingers of his empty hand curled slightly, an old habit when he was lost in thought. If they sold such creatures here, then maybe…

"Hey,"
he nudged Kohen’s arm lightly, tilting his head toward the alley.
"This place also sells animals. Maybe they’ve got something worth adding to your collection. We don’t have to wait for our next stop after all."






























♡coded by uxie♡
 
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THE CAPTAIN.















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LEXIS



THE CAPTAIN




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




BRAVELY NOSEY 👃











OUTFIT




THE CHEATING COAT











LOCATION




THE BAZAAR !!












MENTIONS




Rayna










INTERACTS




lyn. lyn.


















TRAVELIN' MAN — DEAD POET S.
































































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WHEN GOD TOOK




the rib out of man
he left him missing one bar
a deliberate half-closure






























CHAPTER FOUR.

Her stop is sudden, and what light festivity Rayna had prancing to the Bazaar was aborted when stood in his estimation. She doesn’t look at him in this moment where she is someone else, someone more levelled, and the change from her smiling demeanor is noted to be an uncomfortable one.

Maybe it is best that Rayna spends her time with gleaming teeth and an endless ravine of energy, for Lex doesn’t exactly like whatever this is.

“If we’re being honest, here.”

Which they should always be… Right Rayna…

“I might have had a small part to play in Mikes… anger towards you earlier. So the fault isn’t entirely yours.”

He’d assumed she’d found a friend in Michael the man. Unfathomable and foreign as the concept may be to the blonde, even someone socially dense as Lexis can recognise she has a certain ease with people.

“I see.” If he was to find out under different circumstances, perhaps Lexis would summon an emotion beyond the impassive stare. Would have turned around, clean and decisive on one heel and left her there in the street with the company of her own lies.

It half surprises him then, when he doesn’t.

She gives Lex the truth regardless of what reaction it may garner, and the consolation prize of that quick honesty is an odd feeling. He clasps hands in front of himself and silence stretches as he reflects on the situation; she is not a distrustful threat, he has seen both her animosity and loyalty in the form of a leather garrote.

“We have both made mistakes today,” and so he will consider them even, or as close as he can consider it with the indication of a bruise glaring back at him.

He is convinced her involvement or lack thereof would have spiralled into an unpleasant situation regardless. An existence built on sieges, maybe it is a defeatist mentality that pinches to remind conflict will bleed behind him no matter where he tarries.

“I am not good at speaking.” Lex confesses out of turn as if this is an unknown fact. “It is often better when I do not.”

They are moving again and her hand is back to the shoulder. There is resolute tension to his jaw that he hopes hasn’t echoed through his shoulders too. Shepherded along, he feels much like a horse being led around a paddock. Thinks the touch may be a comfort thing for Rayna, a physical reassurance like seen in funerals. Maybe it is to stop him wandering off to start saying the wrong things elsewhere.

Should he pat her hand?

No. That's weird. They are not at a funeral.

Yet.

Calm down. Chew a valium.

“As for the conflict, us crew should stick together, yeah?” He hears what she means and it speaks to something he’d think to be obsolete. Sometimes ultimatums cannot offer such leniency.

"What should be done is not always what must be done." How profound for a man who likes to sit in enclosed spaces breathing in wood polish fumes for long periods of time. “You would do well to remember that, Miss Mallor."

It is not her nature, and maybe that is what makes it tragic. Perhaps Rayna’s eternity is to be one of always involving herself where she should not go.

A comrade, she had said. Oo. Like a colleague. Maybe, dare he think, a friend. There is a brief moment of dissonance as he floats around this new, unlikely duo, until a tug pulls him back to the present and stops his steps at the stall of her intrigue.

A lobster.

Maybe it is best not to try and predict things about Rayna, but a crustacean pin was an untouched concept. A meek attempt to hide the fact he is questioning her choice, but the connective tissue between mouth and brain have always been a strong current.

“I did not know of your… lobster fascination.” A surprisingly indirect comment from the likes of a verbatim man, there is an unspoken pry of do you like lobsters. It’s important to be attentive to people’s interests so they know you care.

Even if the interest is crustacean memorabilia.

See, Lexis likes lobsters. They make marvellous surprise roommates for the rich guests who scuff the Leviathan’s deck with their pointy little shoes. But it was a pale silver and if Rayna’s weapons were anything to go by, he’d have thought she’d prefer gold.

He wonders if this is a spurred decision to stop dwelling on the violent origin of their bet.

“I feel that you are not making efficient use of this opportunity.” He considers telling her to find something else, a pair of gloves or socks, even a ring would find better purpose than this, but the sooner he purchases the item, the sooner he may forget the humbling loss.

He wordlessly exchanges coins for the pin from the vendor, then awkwardly holds the metal out to Rayna.

“Your lobster.”

What an honor.

Lexis had already spoken far more than the daily quota, but now he dares to be bold enough to ask something else. They are, as she said, comrades after all.

“I have a question, if I may.” Not often is Lex’s curiosity a good omen, but his interest is earnest and if it means he can understand even a little of how she does it, he’d like to know. “What enables you to speak so easily with others?"






























♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE HUNTSMAN.






























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MAGNUS
















































MOOD








ASHAMED, GUARDED























OUTFIT








Villain Arc























LOCATION








ANTARES ALLEY

























MENTIONS








MENTIONS !!





















INTERACTS


floralmoon floralmoon Kader











































MEMENTO MORI — NICHOLAS BRITELL.































































































































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DEATH TWITCHES MY EAR








"Live," he says,
"I am coming."





























































SEASON TWO CHAPTER ONE.

TW: Mentions of blood and violence

Magnus stood a distance away with the practiced silence that accompanied ill intent. The warm pull of blood rolled down callused ridges of palm, down the tense meat of fingers until it grew too heavy to cling to his skin with its reminder of sin. The droplet sped to the ground with a dampened splat against the cobblestone. It joined a growing pool that leaked from the lifeless bounty behind him. Swarming against his shoes, easing into the cracks of his soles. Poetic, really, if Magnus stopped to think about it. Each step he takes is drenched in blood. Inescapable. The lives of those he had taken mill in the long shadow that stretched behind him--always with him.

“You are bleeding,” The stranger said. Their movements were thickened with fear, slow and lethargic as their brain struggled to fire off signals in the face of ,what Magnus could only imagine, appeared as certain death.

His eyes were glassy, widened from the adrenaline of his kill. The lifeless grey ate greedily at his pupils until they were merely flecks of black ink in his eyes. The bounty hunter curled the bloodied fist hung limply at his side. He shifted it into shadow, shame edging its way through the initial reaction of baring his fangs.

“I am unhurt,” Magnus said. The words fell flat in the silence of the alley. He sat with the awkward space they created before adding. “Please, your kindness is not necessary. I would only sully the fabric.”

He remained in his position, the billows of his coat blocking the stranger from viewing the aftermath of his violence. Magnus’ brows drew into the sharp cut of a furrow. Damn he could use a cigarette right now. The satisfaction of a kill only lasted until he had to come face to face with the act. He knew others viewed him as a monster. He was fine with the way their imaginations would run rampant at the mention of his reputation. But this stranger having caught him in real time--it was an odd feeling. One that he did not enjoy. Like a child being put on a pedestal, scolded in front of the group for their misdeed. A bad child. Irredeemable. Hands stained with sin.

Magnus backed a step into the shadow. His footstep squelched from the movement. His shoulders hitched up slightly in a wince. “Please, I’d advise you keep walking and speak to no one of this. I’ll be done shortly.”



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 





PROLOGUE.















scroll

Graham



The Bereaved




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




Idek man.











OUTFIT




Bisexual Whore











LOCATION




Antares











MENTIONS




Ren, Tallulah









INTERACTS




Gao Gao ComplexDragon ComplexDragon

















Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.
































































scroll






Aster's Eulogy.




A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence






























Chapter Four Part 1.

Horrifically, even though he had a job and some lodgings and lived in Antares where the people were a little (quite) more entertaining (less boring) than the people in Zenith nobility… Graham frequently found himself bored.

Well, it wasn’t like he was the type to start fights with people in back alleys or seek backroom deals in shadowy corners leading to severe bodily harm. Not the type to flaunt wealth or holier-than-thou attitudes, he’d been allowed to live fairly undisturbed for months amongst the various gangs, ruffians, and pirates that dotted Antares.

Finding his local haunt, he went down there to make new friends and get into some mischief. There seemed to be some kind of disturbance within-

Grabbed! Seized!

Hello sailor!

Mouth open like a kitten shaken, Graham blinked at the cry of HOSTAGE!

“Oh, that’s a poor idea.” There was very little squirming or denial at suddenly being declared someone’s hostage, despite the paltry protest he was putting up. His nose somewhat recoiling at the reeked alcohol upon the wannabe kingslayer’s breath, an understanding of the situation slowly unfolding. “I think you might be able to get a free drink out of me at most. You shoulda gone for the lad in the corner over there.”

But simple arguments of who Ren would get more money out of fell upon deaf ears and he accepted his new role of curly haired meow meow, clasped in the hands of someone half a foot shorter than him.

Green eyes, though, traced the lines of his new owner(?)’s companion. “Oi, love, how sloshed is he? Do ya need some help or something?”





























♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE AMENDED.






























scroll


RAYNA






MALLOR









































MOOD








:D























OUTFIT








avg pirate fit























LOCATION








BAZAAR

























MENTIONS








LEXIS





















INTERACTS








Gao Gao





































KING AND LIONHEART — OMAM
































































































































scroll












PAST THE WANDERING EYES








of the ones that were left behind.
though far away, we're still the same,
we're still the same, we're still the same.





























































CHAPTER FOUR.

“I did not know of your… lobster fascination.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fascination. “ She snorted, crossing her arms as she watched Lexis buy the pin. Something about the exchange was amusing to her. Maybe she found the fact that a captain of a ship would be interested in sea creatures to be funny. Or perhaps she just found watching Lexis interact with the general population hilarious.

She hummed as Lexis held his hand out to her. His aversion to her assistance was an itch down her back. Something she noted for later. “What should be done is not always what must be done.” Yeah, sure whatever.

Rayna isn’t clueless about herself. She has a temper, she gets into fights a lot. The fights she got into as a drunk at a bar rivaled the ones she got into as a member of the Carmine Corsairs. One of the many consequences of her Antares upbringing. But the idea of not defending someone she cared about was about as unfathomable as it was stupid.

Of course, the thought of someone she cared for being hurt because of a fight she caused caused a brief panic that left her whole body tense. The ice from Lexis’ makeshift pack had already partially melted from the night heat, fisted by her side.

She wasn’t even hurt, it was just a little bruise.

She stared at the pin in Lexis’ hand, tilting her head. Quite frankly, it was ugly. She spent her whole life on ships and docks and has yet to become fond of any type of fish, or their taste. She knew never to turn down food, even if she found it disgusting. This wasn’t food, though, just a silver lobster on a pin.

“What enables you to speak so easily with others?”

“Buying gifts helps.” She reached out with her free hand and closed Lexis’ fingers over the pin. “There, it’s yours. I prefer gold.”

She smiled, way too satisfied with herself even though technically Lexis just bought his own gift. It was the thought that counts… yeah.

“I’m just guessing what you like, so I won't be offended if you throw it away. Besides,” She taps on the pouch by her side. “I have my own money, anyways.”

Rayna turns to continue walking down the street, rolling Lexis’ question in her mind. Was this him asking her for advice, or just pure curiosity? It was difficult to put into words what always came natural to her.

“Actual answer, I don’t know.” She pauses, “I’ve spent my entire life taking care of people. People tend to gravitate towards you when you care, I guess.” She’d surrounded herself with people for as long as she could remember. Human interaction was one of the few things that kept her sane.

She shifted her body to face Lexis, “Just ask people questions, show you’re curious. For example, you’ve asked me a question. So now I’ll ask you… what drew you to ships? What made you become Captain?”


























































♡coded by uxie♡
 
still haven't found the images, so we'll have to wait a little longer ^^;






THE CAIN.
















scroll

Kohen



PROKOPIOU




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




IT'S SO INSPIRING WHEN YOU'RE SAD











OUTFIT




LATER











LOCATION




ANTARES BAZAAR












MENTIONS




EPHRAIM










INTERACTS




tsurene tsurene


















BLACK MAMBO — GLASS ANIMALS.
































































scroll






EMPTY TITHES




and abandoned altars, the lord has no grace for those who worship as i do.




























CHAPTER FOUR.

Kohen has spent his lifetime watching Ephraim. He’s made a study of it, and if he were to receive a single degree based on the obsession that occupies the majority of his time, it would carry both his and his brother’s name. Certificate presented to Kohen Prokopiou for completing his successful study of Ephraim Prokopiou. Fitting, considering the way they’ve lived their lives intertwined, though perhaps a little inaccurate in the placement of their names. He hasn’t been mentioned first in anything but age since his brother showed his genius.

All of that is to say, when Ephraim’s nails bite into the handle of his suitcase, Kohen notices it, and he can’t help the sense of satisfaction that worms its way into his stomach. His eyes hang on the harsh flutter of Ephraim’s throat and the way his brother’s lips go white with pressure. It’s divine, and if this is how the serpent felt, Kohen could almost forgive it for offering mankind the forbidden fruit and cursing him with the knowledge of comparison and jealousy. As it is, he drinks this picture in because he’s a lamb led astray, feeding off of the guilt and pain that Ephraim hides within his veins alongside the shared bloodline that’s condemned them both.

It mellows him. Kohen tucks himself back into the shape of the estranged brother he’s supposed to be and smiles. From the days back when they compared themselves in the mirror, he knows their grins share the same shallow dimples and curved lips, though Ephraim’s were always that touch more exuberant.
“Right, there’s no world where I’d have let you keep that all to yourself,”
he teases, though he keeps his hands to himself with a reservation that never would have stopped him in his youth.
“Who knows, maybe you’d find someone who makes you happy, and I wouldn’t hear a peep from you until you drifted home a year later.”


Hearing his brother’s suggestion, Kohen turns towards the alley, wincing at the stench that hits his nose. Even in less crowded conditions, livestock always tend to be some of the dirtiest of animals. He enters it anyway, turning back to make sure Ephraim’s following him before he sets off like an adventure from their childhood. The clumps of dirtied straw that have been kicked out of animal pens litter the ground like the puddles they used to dance around, and the tight press of disorganized stalls rise around them like the Valdioro forests. Together, they move through it like children in a fairytale, humans half-lost in a world of fae.

Antares’s people have enough steel and trickery to compete for the name.

Soon enough, a stall catches his eye. Frayed ropes hold a stained cloth up over a row of crates, revealing a variety of butterflies suspended in glass. Granted, they’re dead unlike the rest of the animals on sale, but it’d be difficult to keep anything alive and fed on a ship.

Shifting through the squares of glass, Kohen finds a pair of Blue Morphos. Half of their vibrant blue wings almost seem to glow under the light, accented by their contrast with their other much duller half with faded blue chitin and thick rims of spotted black and white. Gynandromorphs with their male and female traits in perfect balance, mirror images of one another. They’re a rare find, and the perfect set-up for an incredibly cheesy suggestion.

“What do you think?”
He holds the two out for Ephraim to see.
“We could get matching specimens.”






























♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:





THE CAPTAIN.















scroll

LEXIS



THE CAPTAIN




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




YAPPY CURIOUS GEORGE👃











OUTFIT




THE CHEATING COAT











LOCATION




THE BAZAAR !!












MENTIONS




Rayna










INTERACTS




lyn. lyn.


















TRAVELIN' MAN — DEAD POET S.
































































scroll






WHEN GOD TOOK




the rib out of man
he left him missing one bar
a deliberate half-closure






























CHAPTER FOUR.

Material objects often mean naught to the Captain. They are enjoyable at times; bottle ships and little whittled things that serve no purpose other than to just exist, but he is not usually a collector of miscellaneous items outside of these interests. To be gifted— no. He bought it. Granted the pin, summons a wordless blink.

“There, it’s yours. I prefer gold.”

He cannot remember the last time he was presented with an offering, and in his surprise, the fingers she’d patted around the pin fell back open like a lazy hinge. The gift is still extended and waiting, but it is less a passive aggressive urge for her to take it, and more just neglect to remember he has function over his own hands.

That was not the agreement.

But it also wasn’t not the agreement.

“Oh –” is the well-worded script he has prepared. In this fleeting moment where he is jolted with surprise, his brow smooths and his gaze drops to the silver item as he turns it between his fingers. He is yet to find out what he will use it for, and it is only her next sentence that stays him from trying to give it back.

“I’m just guessing what you like, so I won't be offended if you throw it away.”

His gaze is whittled back to something sharp and defensive, no. It’s an immediate, instinctive impulse as his fingers now curl around the gift with intent, unwilling to give the pin back or allow her to make due on that threat herself.

He is not going to throw it away. It’s his gift. His lobster.

“I have my own money, anyways.”

“I’m paid more than you.” Said flatly, a subtle flex from Mr Monopoly. Mr Captain. Mr Gifted Crustacean Pin. This is what the Youth must call, bling.

He is back to inspecting the lobster as he follows Rayna, takes her interval of thoughtful silence as a necessary beat to consider what she wants to say. Interesting, maybe, when she seemed to always have an ease with words.

His mind is wandering when she answers, trying to moor what she had said with the kind of life she may have lived. Is it a choice or an obligation for her to care? It’s a strange notion for a man who navigates each day by sorting people into Useful and Not Useful. The idea of freely offering oneself to others, of inviting them in, wasn’t something he could examine without discomfort.

He cannot imagine people gravitating towards him like they do Rayna, but he nods to her answer and archives it away for later.

“So now I’ll ask you… what drew you to ships? What made you become Captain?”

“That is two questions.”

Curiosity didn’t seem to bother Lexis, but it was a step outside routine. He wasn’t accustomed to people asking him things outside of, might my sweet noble son steer this vessel? Might I have a moment of your esteemed time to discuss battle strategies? You see, my father once owned a rather fine fishing boat, and I am quite versed in such matters. Could you direct me to where the heated towels might be found? The breakfast this morning did not quite meet my expectations, might we have an alternative served? I yearn for caviar. Do you suppose the ship could cease its swaying? My husband is rather delicate, and the motion plays havoc on his constitution.

In which all Lexis ever required was a blunt: “No.”

They speak to him to gain something, and while he does not dislike the responsibility bestowed by the label of his position, there are times when he is weary of the exchange. Now Rayna has asked something of him that will benefit her none, and he recognises an unfamiliar yet fond feeling stirring.

If he was to weigh Rayna with every aspect he appreciated about ships, they may wither away to bone and dust on this Antares street. He could tell her of the construction, the merge of utility and art, the travelling, routine, the sea, if he was in a truly maudlin mood, some of the people.

He is watching a nearby vendor count coins and his hand is still idly turning the pin in his fingers. The metal is warm from the absentminded fussing, and in the end he chooses a short sentiment.

“Houses are too still.” It’s a strange comment, but he’d already proven that oddity is a natural phenomenon. Even when there was no immediate threat, the absence of turbulence had always felt wrong. It wasn’t that he liked living with a brain conditioned for anticipation and unease, but he didn’t know how to exist or what to do in its absence. “On the sea there is always noise, movement. You know the unpredictability is there and that is something I find comforting."

Predictably unpredictable, because he knew it was always coming. It is in the calm where he is out of rote with a mind poised for unrest waiting for a crisis.

Lex pockets the pin inside his coat, should he keep toying with the item it is likely he’ll break or lose it.

“Ships are reliable in ways people aren’t. You do not need to speak to understand them. You just... feel it. The way they steer, the way they move through water. They are alive, somehow.” It sounds ridiculous to the sensible side of his brain, boats and their personalities as if they are akin to a steed. To be Captain was just a title, and if he was entirely blunt, The King’s offer was what bestowed that. It was the ship itself that brought him here at all.

“Purpose.” He tells her as though the word itself holds little significance.

Recollection does not seep nostalgia because rationality plays its part in this cold and simple fact. He is not apprehensive to reflect on how he was before the Leviathan, finds it disproportionately lacking against the newfound revolution that she is a promise of more, of tomorrows and no longer bearing each day as something to endure but as something to live.

“She provided me with purpose. There was nothing before her.” Not a second will come where he regrets the decision to take this mantle and he’d do it again if it meant he could stay with her till his last breath is drawn in this world.

What a fragile existence to weigh his entire resolve on the survival of a highly flammable coffin.

“I hope these answers prove useful, Miss Mallor.” He has spoken too much, and it is not some sheepish avoidance to Rayna knowing he cares about ships. Fork found in kitchen. Being honest is not difficult for him, but speaking freely and being listened to feels as if he has held her at gunpoint to be the unfortunate subject of his drivelling.

“I do not understand something.” Now it is Lex’s turn to be compensated for the second question, and in mirror of her own actions, he has moved to stand in front of Rayna in an oddly confrontational manner. Blunt, a natural consequence of Lex being who he is.

“You describe care like a transaction,” he thinks briefly of his mother and registers it as a topic that still hurts, “you give and they gravitate towards you.”

Do you do it because you want to, or because you feel you have to? He’d like to ask but thinks the two could blend and blur and be interpreted as one.

“What of them? Do they care for you in return?” His voice stays calm, but there's a subtle weight in the way he speaks as if he's testing the idea that her beliefs could be a one-sided effort.






























♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE SOOTHSAYER.






























scroll


KADER
















































MOOD








STILL IN SHOCK, BUT ALIVE























OUTFIT








weather appropriate























LOCATION








SHIP > BAZAAR > ALLEY WAY

























MENTIONS








Magnus





















INTERACTS


Pepsionne Pepsionne











































Bazaar - Peritune.
































































































































scroll












"prophet child, chosen by the sun.."








"do you hear the gods whispering those silent stardust words?"





























































CHAPTER FOUR PART ONE.


Still in shock, Kader stood silently in front of the man, listening to him refuse the fabric they were offering for his wounds. He looked... off, as though they had interrupted a sacred ceremony of sorts. Perhaps in a way this was some sort of ritual for the man, and how rude of Kader to have barged onto the scene. Magnus stated that he was unhurt, in hearing this, they slightly tilted their head to the side, observing that he was, in fact, definitely harmed.

His voice unwavering, mirroring the same stance he was when Kader stumbled upon the crime scene, Magnus spoke, "I would only sully the fabric." Well of course, that tends to happen when you are injured and place cloth upon an injury. They had stood there in complete silence after offering the scarf to the man. Listening to him speak, listening to the noises around them, listening to the breeze, listening to the hum of The Stars and trying to decipher the words, it was in that moment they had realized the stranger had begun to speak again.

Magnus took a step back, forcing Kader to stand on guard, were they about to pay for witnessing a murder? The sound of his foot being pressed into a wet substance as he placed his step down echoed from the shadows that the man was now standing in, followed by a wince. They closed their eyes, and gulped, this was it, this was the end. "Goodbye, Mama. Goodbye, Papa. I love you." They thought to themselves, quietly praying to The Stars to protect them.

"Please, I’d advise you keep walking and speak to no one of this. I’ll be done shortly.” Their eyes open, revealing that they were not yet in harms way. Quickly, they place the scarf on a nearby barrel, leaving it as an offering, as a signal that there will be no acknowledgment of the crime to anyone. Kader places one foot behind themself, slowly backing into the connecting alleyway, from where they first came.

With no other words spoken, they disappear back into the crowds of the bazaar, slowly making their way back to the ship, trying to process what had just happened.



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE AMENDED.






























scroll


RAYNA






MALLOR









































MOOD








my bad got too serious























OUTFIT








avg pirate fit























LOCATION








BAZAAR

























MENTIONS








LEXIS





















INTERACTS








Gao Gao





































KING AND LIONHEART — OMAM
































































































































scroll












PAST THE WANDERING EYES








of the ones that were left behind.
though far away, we're still the same,
we're still the same, we're still the same.





























































CHAPTER FOUR.

Rayna could understand Lexis's appreciation for ships. She loved them too. She loved the freedom that came with it. She loved that you could explore the world with people by your side. That you can sit down and tell stories without putting a halt to your journey. Rayna's love for sailing is one of the few things the Carmine Corsairs didn’t manage to taint. And she’s glad for it, or she never would have met the people she calls friends today.

Her question came from that. Curiosity about the captain she knows so little about, and wonder if maybe their reasons were at all similar.

“Houses are too still.”

“Still,” Okay, maybe not similar. She nodded along like she knew what he meant, spinning one of her bracelets between her fingers as she listened. She had struck a sweet spot, it seemed. More words than she had ever heard from Lexis left his mouth at once, and he had Rayna’s apt attention.

His response wasn’t what she was expecting. But she liked the unpredictability of it. The reminder that people can, and will always surprise you. The thought was a worry, that there were things about her friends she could miss. That she could be too late to notice. But also a comfort, that there would always be new things to learn about those she cared about. Solid proof that she was making her way through their cracks.

“You describe care like a transaction, you give and they gravitate towards you. What of them? Do they care for you in return?”

The thoughts that flash through her head are not pleasant.

She remembered her siblings, whom she had spent her whole childhood caring for. She had no idea where any of them were now. Out in the world, hopefully out of Antares. They probably don’t remember her like she does them. She was just a blip in their childhood, an empty face. Her moment of weakness when she was sixteen was nothing to them, they weren’t even there to see it.

She thought of Andre and the many friends she made after she met him. A man who realized she would do anything in the name of friendship and took and took and took until there was nothing left.

Thoughts reserved for her time alone rose to the surface. When the Leviathan came to an end, where would she go? Where would Rayna stand with the relationships she’s made now?

She cleared her throat, hands no longer fiddling with her bracelets but instead tied behind her back. Lexis was waiting for an answer, right.

In all of Lexis’ long-winded answer, there was one thing Rayna could understand. Purpose.

“Not always, no. Some people don’t want friends.” An unfortunate lesson Rayna learned in her younger years, not everyone is built for companionship, not everyone lives for it.

“I suppose for me, it’s like what you said, a purpose. I have the ability to care, I have the ability to speak to people and make them smile, and I like doing it. Why not dedicate my life to something I’m good at? If someone doesn’t like my attention or… reciprocate it, then perhaps that’s just not what they care about. And I move on.”

…The moment felt too serious.

“Of course, I haven’t made you smile yet.” She pointed at Lexis with her finger. “But I think I’m getting on your good side, aren’t I? Eh? Give it a month and maybe I’ll see those teeth.” She spun her finger in a circle, a teasing smile returning to her face.


























































♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE DESCENDANT.






























scroll


DAHLIA






BLACKWATER








ㅎㅎ






























MOOD








HEY, HERE TO VIBE























OUTFIT








Other rags























LOCATION








Down in the belly of the ship





















MENTIONS








GPAW MALTKE





















INTERACTS








BOOK MAN




















TAGS








Wyll Wyll escapist escapist






























SURVIVOR — 2WEI.
































































































































scroll












Everyone is a monster to someone








Since you are so convinced that I am yours. I will be it.





























































CHAPTER FOUR.

Dahlia raised a brow watching the man shuffle in her presence. Here she was thinking that he could have been good company, but just reading off his body she may have caught him in a bad time. Maybe moping something in his little notebook or diary, but she wasn’t in the mood to really get into all that. Feelings suck ass.

"I have corrected you before: my name is not Book Man, it is Gallin. Gallin Forestson."

The Antares woman rolled her eyes letting out a breath.

“Right, and I’m the princess of Solas waiting for my fairy godmother,” she taunted back sarcastically, taking a seat across from him and opening one of the wine bottles she had, “you’re really fond of the name, yet it doesn’t suit you. Book man does.”

As she had concurred before, the name does not fit the face of the man before her. It was as much of a facade as the celebrity he was from what she had heard. But that wasn’t the reason she came over today. To be in the company of someone familiar is what she needed right now. Maybe being ‘nice’ might help her in that regard, or so Rosaline says.

Her leg was shaking anxiously without her really paying attention. Her thoughts kept flowing back to the incident that happened earlier. Approaching that place was a mistake, but she couldn’t help it. It was all she could think about when they made port. Taking a swig of the wine, her face turned sour from the sweetness of the wine coating her throat.

“Oh bloody hell!” she coughed out, looking at the wine bottle appalled, “fucking people drink this fruity shit?”

She took a deep breath setting down the bottle returning her attention back to him.

“Come now you don’t have to be so damn tense in front of me. I don’t plan on punching you….this time,” she said playfully, “just this is the second time I’ve seen you alone. Odd, because you seem to be a people person. But I don’t blame you either. Antares isn’t anyone’s favorite shit hole.”

Making conversation really wasn’t her strongest suit. She blames Maltke for making her try to fix on her ‘small talk’. No better time than now to do it with someone that hides behind his fancy pens and books.



























































♡coded by uxie♡












THE OPHIDIAN.






























scroll


"JADE"






ROMAN








ㅎㅎ






























MOOD








ANNOYED























OUTFIT








OLD FIT























LOCATION








BAZAAR TO GOD KNOWS WHERE

























MENTIONS








NPC HOUND| VAL (SECRETLY)





















TAGS








@q r o w





































BEAUTIFUL LIAR — BEYONCE FT SHAKIRA.
































































































































scroll












When enough people make false promises








words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies.





























































CHAPTER FOUR.

The serpent woman traversed the crowds disinterested by the activity of the antares locals had to offer. The bazaar was everything she expected it to be. Filled with people all around selling the unthinkable. From black market goods to exotic foods to illicit use of the herb, it was a place she didn’t really find herself associated with on a daily basis. Even back in the day. Her eyes scanned through the stalls of people trying to catch her attention with “low” prices and deals with their deceptive tongues. She found it humorous how they danced around like monkeys trying to get her coin. They were a greedy lot this time around, but it beats the cat-calling she’s used to on a daily basis.

“Jade?” a voice called out and she turned in the direction of where it came.

A man dressed in rags with long dark locks and a face that made him look like a lost puppy. A lost kicked puppy.

“Hound?” Jade called back, her lips perking up into a smirk.

The man let out a dry laugh looking away approaching the woman.

“Now you know well what my name is Roman,” he said, closing the space and looking at her anxiously, “what are you doing here?”

Yasmine raised a brow.

"For the scenery.”

"Jade….”

The serpent smacked her lips with her eyes rolling into the back of her sockets. She pushed his shoulder away playfully, motioning for him to walk beside her through the bazaar.

“You see that piece of ass at the docks?” she grinned, watching his movements closely.

“Aye, the King’s vessel.”

“Well, yours truly is part of the crew who runs it. Nothing special,” she lied, “lots of standing around. Hot men, women-”

“Killing innocent people.”

Her feet stopped in the middle of the bustle, head whipping around and watching the man carefully.

“What makes you so sure the ones I killed are innocent?” she asked.

“It’s not that hard to hear about you Jade Roman,” he retorted back, “people talk. They talk all hours of the fucking night and its brutal.”

“Why do you care?” she hissed, eyes narrowing and fangs ready to spit venom.

“Because you’re my family Jade,” he stepped forward, eyes searching for the light in hers, “I fear that you’ve lost yourself since you’ve been under that bastard's command.”

“You know nothing, Odysseus,” she sneered, “of what I had to do to be where I am. I am so fucking close. I refuse to hear you chastise me when you became part of the fucking plan. Now all of a sudden you have some moral high ground? Get your head out the clouds and come plant your ass back to mother earth.”

Pushing past the man Yasmine decided to let her feet carry her away from the bazaar. The meeting of an old friend was putting her at edge, and what was supposed to be pleasant ended up to be a disaster. This is why trust is so delicate and so limited to the human soul. Disappointment was something the vipress wasn’t used to.


























































♡coded by uxie♡












THE PALADIN.






























scroll


ADRIAN






BISHOP








ㅎㅎ























MOOD





TRYING TO KEEP IT TOGETHA


















OUTFIT





MUST PROTECT THY SELF

















LOCATION








HELL (ANTARES TAVERN)

















MENTIONS




NPC'S










INTERACTIONS




VYLAN














TAGS





@LowkeyLovingLoki






















STRESSED OUT — TWENTY ONE PILOTS.
































































































































scroll












Morality cannot be legislated








but behavior can be regulated. Judicial decrees may not change the heart, but they can restrain the heartless.




























































CHAPTER FOUR.

Ah, short, sweet, and straight to the point – truly a man who understands business.

Adrian gave a nod to the man watching him work tirelessly. He was very skillful in multitasking with his other patrons, and no doubt that the tavern itself was by any means busy but the man ‘Vylan’ made it seem so flawless. He watched the bartender pour his glass and without hesitation took a sip of the wine. The sweet notes of fruit came to test, but something sour and bitter for the aftertaste made his mouth awfully silky. His brows raised the question of the wine he had just tried to chug down, but he knew better than to have tried doing that.

“Pardon my presumptuousness–”

“Oh, not at all.”

“But you don't exactly seem... comfortable.”

“You’re correct–” he said, coughing up the liquid that now started to feel like sludge, “I have you know that my comfort isn’t exactly a priority at this moment.”

Though soon it will be. Without hesitation he took out something very reminiscent of the bishop family line. Two necklaces with their family sigils. Silver chain, deer antlers, blue crystals decorating the ends so perfectly.

“I understand you have many patrons from all over that come by to your wonderful establishment,” Adrian uttered, “but I am here on a personal quest. My sisters. Guinevere and Olympia. They’ve run from home and I’m trying to get them back. Have you seen a woman short with dark curly hair and bright, golden eyes with a witty tongue? Or another woman who is this high, red hair, clearly gay but we haven’t had the talk with blue eyes?”

Adrian could feel desperation peaking at the back of his throat from the wine and the need to search for his sisters. Clearly this man had a right of mind and somewhat of a good heart, maybe he’s seen them? And if not, it was still something Adrian hoped to at least try to do. His nerves made him almost scatter about, especially being in such a high stress environment for him.



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 





THE DUCHESS















scroll

공작부인



VIOLETTA




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




Irritated Determination











LOCATION




ANTARES












MENTIONS




jones573 jones573 | Aviator Aviator































































scroll






Be Yourself,




you don't make history by being liked.






























CHAPTER 4

Violetta's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the alley as she walked into the entrance, noticing bodies and blood scattered across the ground. She heard Monte begin to unsheathe his blade before she could look up. A man's voice echoed from the shadows, warning them to back off or face the same fate at the ones laying on the ground. The only thing was that he mistook them as being friends of hers, at which she scoffed.

"Shall if dispose of him?"

Monte's voice was tense and dark, dripping with bloodlust as he glared down the ally. Violetta raised her hand and hushed him, taking another step forward to speak to the man. Unfortunately, a chill ran down her spine and she stepped back towards Monte. There was an ambush coming and she felt there were many eyes upon them all of a sudden.

"How many Monte?"

Violetta spoke softly enough for Monte to hear, who responded in kind with a number that confirmed her suspicions. It was at this moment when a door burst open and a large man came barreling out at the first guy. Monte tensed up again as the feeling of eyes began to shift and the scuffle between the two men was intense. Violetta stayed calm, assessing the situation as less of a tip into her missing goods and more of an attempt at an ambush. After a bit of time, a man adorn in rubies followed a group of men out of the busted up door. He spoke to her briefly, not really gaining her attention as more men came up from behind them, acting boorish and unrefined. Violetta looked over her shoulder and counted, not as many heads as she was expecting behind them, were they underestimating them?

"Capture the ruby man, he seems to have knowledge of what's going on. The ones behind us are easy to handle, so you better do your task well."

Violetta's eyes flashed with a dangerous warning and Monte only gave a nervous smile before nodding. Unsheathing his sword, he took two steps forward before sprinting towards the group. His light footwork danced over the fallen bodies and his slender sword looked to bend and twist under the dim light as he engaged in the group of inexperienced civilian thugs. A foot cut off here, organs spilling out there, maybe a few hands missing and throats slit that bathed the ground and walls red. A few times they were able to put up a fight and Monte didn't come out unscathed, but each encounter ended with someone unable to fight or dead.

Meanwhile, once Monte left her side, Violetta turned on her heel and immediately threw four throwing knives at one guy. two landed in his shoulders, one in his chest, and another in his stomach. Nothing immediately life threating, but would certainly slow the bugger down. The other two charged at her, weapons drawn, and Violetta came into their charge with a knife drawn, slicing upwards at one guy to block his attack and kicking the other in the gut to stumble him back. Sliding her dagger out from the other attack, she slid around him and plunged her knife into his hip to hinder his pursuit some.





























♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE BRIDE.






























scroll



Flora






(Cassandra)








❊❊






























MOOD








She's getting drunkie-poo




















OUTFIT








White shirt with full length sleeves (Soiled and stained); Brown bodice and skirt (Soiled and stained); Simple black shoes




















LOCATION








The Port of Antares > Tavern in Antares






















MENTIONS








Aurelian, Adrius (rip)


















INTERACTS








qunqun qunqun





































My Silver Lining (Raaff) - First Aid Kit.
































































































































scroll












I won't
take the
easy road



There’s no starting over
No new beginnings time races on
And you've just gotta keep on keeping on.




























































Chapter 4 - Part 1


On any other day, Flora might have reacted stronger to Aurelian effectively barking at the young child, however today, she steeled herself against the man’s aggression barely letting her uncomfortability affect her face. The boy ran off in tears and a twinge of pity hit her heart, icing swiftly as Aurelian’s attention was drawn behind them. She only caught the shadow of an unknown man retreating behind them out of the corner of her eyes.

She was learning a lot in Antares. Little boys can be con men; Not every fish looked appetizing to eat (from what she could see displayed in the stalls of the Bazaar); Aurelian doesn’t drink.

Cassandra had never been known to drink, except during celebrations in The Canals where fruit wine flowed in abundance. It’s easy to drink many cups of wine when in the pleasant company of loved ones. It was a little puzzling to her how much she craved the liquor, but it took a few more moments of thought to realize she had been fixated on the memory of sharing a bottle of liquor with Adrius when they sailed on the good ship Sibyl. ‘What was it called?’ Whatever it was called, it was brown and spicy with dark sweet notes in a peculiar bottle.

Aurelian mused about where to find their drink, which invited Flora to take a look at their surroundings. There were shops and taverns around the square, merchants and streets spidering off in every direction, and oh stars…a man throwing up into the ocean off the edge of the pier. ‘Maybe this was a bad idea.’

“…I think I found a place. We shall try to find… your… spicy.. Alcohol…”

His energy was warmer and kinder as Ari led her into a bar, busy with patrons and found them both seats at the bar. It was nice to see the cook’s softer side, especially after his noticeable absence recently. Though, Flora hadn’t been paying the closest attention to the ship’s surroundings in the weeks since Algol.

The warmth was short lived as Aurelian snaps again at the bartender, and Flora worried for their safety until the bartender stepped down to get their drinks. A gentle hand reaches out and pats his shoulders as the man calms. “We’re okay. I am patient.” With a clack, two shot glasses of brown liquid are set in front of them. Flora considers the shot glass, ignoring Aurelian struggling to get it down, choosing instead to shoot it back the way she had seen others drink their liquor.

“UGhhhgghhhg” she shivers and shakes as the burn trickles into her stomach. It was indeed spicy, but the sweetness had a different taste to the drink she remembered with Adrius. Unknown to her, it was signature Antares rum, and not the brandy she was seeking. A frown creased her features as she realized she would have to continue her search, and her eyes scanned the line of bottles behind the bar. Interrupted only by the nicest thing she had heard in a while.

“... I put an order for strawberries in. You wanted them. Be happy now.”

She was happy. So happy in fact that Flora looked at him, tears starting in her eyes from the burning liquor. “We are getting strawberries?” She jumps, wrapping her arms around his shoulders “Oh thank you! It does make me happy. I have missed them so much.” The physical touch was obviously making him uncomfortable, given his stiffened posture, and she detached herself from him, placing her hands in her lap and bowing her head. “That is very nice of you to do. Thank you.”

There was a small silence after this moment in which Flora busied herself with sniffing the empty shot glass in front of her and refocusing on the bottles in front of them. “This was not the spicy brown liquor I was looking for.” The words were directed to Aurelian as she flagged down the bartender who ambled over carefully. Clearly Aurelian had made an impression earlier.

“Please. I would like another spicy brown liquor, different from this one. And one for my good friend as well, if he would like.”

As she watched the bartender pour from a square based bottle she broached a new topic of conversation. “Have you ever visited Antares?” The shot was set in front of her, almost as if to punctuate her inquiry. By passing her critical brain, Flora tipped her head back, pouring the shot down her throat, shivering once again slamming the shot glass on the bar top with more force than she intended.

Her nose crinkled and she flagged the bartender their way once again. “This is also not the liquor I wish to drink.” This brown liquor was spicy with very little sweetness, with a sickly sensation sitting at the back of her throat.

“Auroo-lian,” Flora lazily pronounced as the alcohol began to take effect on her body. “I need the spicy brown liquor that tastes like cinnamon and sweet gum.” Her hands desperately tried to illustrate a skinny neck cresting to a wide, round bottom of the brandy bottle she was trying to find. With increasing emphasis, she continued shaping the bottle in the air over the bartop, exchanging her focus between her hands, Aurelian, and the increasingly frustrated bartender.

Brandy. The liquor she was looking for was brandy.

"Are you hungry?" Her head tilted and rested on her folded arms atop the bar.



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:





THE MAGPIE.















scroll

Azzara



TALLULAH




ㅎㅎ















mood




Stabby, Angry, Reluctant











OUTFIT




Stunning Goddess











LOCATION




AWAY FROM REN > IN A FIGHT > NEXT TO REN AGAIN











MENTIONS




REN, GRAHAM










INTERACTS




Gao Gao qunqun qunqun


















THIEVES - Sammy Rae
































































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CHILD OF THIEVES




oh drunken gods of slaughter
you know I've always been
your
favorite daughter






























CHAPTER FOUR.

A high-pitched whine, something that would make even the little mongrels that prowled the seedy streets of Sirrocco keel over and cry, rent the air. “But you didn’t answer!”

Gods above, this man was more annoying than any child she’d ever met. In fact, she’d met little creatures like that who were more tolerable than he was at this particular moment in time. No matter, she’d find her way out. She was so close.

She’d always been so good at avoiding her problems. She was the queen of dodging and ducking things she didn’t want to deal with. Unfortunately, she’d never had such a persistent problem before.

In hindsight, she should have gotten rid of him. But in her defense, she didn’t think he would pull such a stupid stunt. That was a mistake she’d never make again.

She’d barely cleared the chump she’d lifted the necklace off of when suddenly, without warning, the whiny manchild practically shouted. “What kind of things? Like *stealing*?”

Every muscle in her body tensed, and her heart lept into her throat. A string of curse words begged to be released from her throat as silence settled over the tavern like a proclamation of death. Dozens and dozens of eyes landed on her. Stripping her bare with their pointed glares. Normally she adored attention, but in this moment she would have given anything to be invisible.

And the cruel irony of it all was that she’d dulled her one weapon. Her mind was slow and sluggish. It grasped and reached for something to say to salvage the situation but came up with nothing but puddles of alcohol. Of course, Ren had the perfect foresight to come up with something that would surely save the day.

Not.

“She was stealing… my heart.” He laughed nervously, throwing his arms out as if to convince everyone his blatant lie was anything but. Of course, in a continuation of this series of unfortunate events, his hand slapped a man across the face.

The same man Tallulah had lifted the bauble from.

Ah fuck.

That one little mistake was enough to send the entire bar into a frenzied brawl. Tallulah found herself swept into the middle of the room as chairs were tipped over and thrown. A meaty fist swung for her face and she dropped to her knees, sliding across the slick floor and pulling out her knife.

She slashed at exposed legs as she passed. Ribbons of crimson spilled onto the floor, mixing into the red fabric of her skirt. She skittered to the end of a table and shoved herself up onto her feet. Whipping around, a sharp pain exploded at the back of her head. She yelped, chest tightening as she jammed her knife into whatever perpetrator seized her locks from behind.

Suddenly they were released and she stumbled forward, eyes scanning for the door. She finally located it to the left. But before she could do anything, Ren’s arm hooked through hers. “We go now!”

She sprinted for the door but was yanked back by the same arm that had been offered to her as a sign of rescue. “Oh wait, wait!”

“What the hell is it now?” She growled as she was drug back toward a table. Then, the little weasel had the audacity to grab a handful of peanuts before declaring they could finally depart this hell hole.

If she didn’t fear for her safety, she could have slapped him. Instead, they barreled toward the exit, and right into another man who had chosen the worst possible moment ever to enter this particular tavern.

Ren screamed something, seizing the poor man by the scruff and dragging him outside. The air quality outside wasn’t much better than it had been inside, but she was no longer trapped between sweaty bodies and swinging limbs so it might as well have been a perfect paradise.

Tallulah wrenched herself out of Ren’s arms, a shudder racing down her spine as she glared at him. “What is wrong with you? If you want to get yourself killed, do it on your own time and leave me out of it!”

She’d gone there for a break. To turn her mind off and forget. And suddenly this escape had become one of the most stressful events of the past month. She could have strangled him. She probably would have if it hadn’t been for their companion’s voice cutting through her scathing inner monologue.

“Oi, love, how sloshed is he? Do ya need some help or something?”

Tallulah barked a laugh. She didn’t even have the wherewithal to dress her attitude up. “Yeah. Help would be great. Make sure this sloppy mess gets back on the Leviathan. Or don’t. Either way, I’m done being his guardian.”

There were very few times in her life a so-called moral compass pulled itself to the surface. In fact, it would often spend so much time away that she nearly forgot she had one at all. And sure, it was quite bent out of shape. A little dented and underdeveloped. But when it appeared it was difficult to ignore. It was a feeling that settled in her gut and clawed. Refusing to let go unless she considered it.

Ren had entirely screwed everything up. He had nearly gotten the two of them killed. And yet, he hadn't left without making sure she had gotten out too. It was the kind of stupid selflessness that she usually ridiculed. It was a sign of weakness - a weapon she could exploit. But it usually wasn't something directed at her. People did not care whether or not she lived or died. In fact, most people would be happy to see her neck hanging from a rope. Not Ren.

For whatever reason, he believed she was important enough to "save". (Save being a loose term because he often caused the problem in the first place).

She stopped in her tracks, groaning. She didn't want to care. She didn't really care. But she couldn't just leave this pitiful creature out here to fend for himself when he could have left her behind. Yes, she could have gotten out on her own, but he still risked his neck for her and she wouldn't be held responsible for him getting stabbed on the streets of Antares.

No, she'd get him back to the Leviathan and then wash her hands of him.

Turning back around, she stalked back towards the newcomer and Ren. "Just help me get him back to the Leviathan. The big ship out in the port. You can't miss it."





























♡coded by uxie♡
 





THE CAPTAIN.















scroll

LEXIS



THE CAPTAIN




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




GAMBLING GRIND











OUTFIT




THE CHEATING COAT











LOCATION




THE BAZAAR !!












MENTIONS




Rayna










INTERACTS




lyn. lyn.


















TRAVELIN' MAN — DEAD POET S.
































































scroll






WHEN GOD TOOK




the rib out of man
he left him missing one bar
a deliberate half-closure






























CHAPTER FOUR.

She’d been quiet, how unusual for Rayna, and Lex feared he’d rationed too many questions in too little time. A disjoint in her common tongue of Yap, she has gone elsewhere in her mind and the silence is enough to summon both caution and alarm.

Not everyone is receptive to curiosity, and a certain blonde is not eager to efface lines and inherit one around the throat like the unfortunate Michael. Semi detached during this fretting where he counts seconds of silence, he is still sifting through the debris of his brain for a way to withdraw the question and apologize for intruding, when she responds.

A shared value for purpose, Lex nods and seems to partially understand something important about Rayna. There is something safe to it, people need a reason to keep moving forward and that can take different forms. Quiet wonderings behind a muted stare, a flicker of recognition.

The man has not acknowledged how their conversation has tarried, or if he has, he has not made it known. Personal topics may hang in the air so palpably for others but Lexis does not find them to be something that needs deterrence. Unapologetically honest (if we forego his gambling), it’s really no surprise he finds no discomfort in exploring the subject.

Rayna, however, steals the conversation aside with her regularly scheduled levity.

“Of course, I haven’t made you smile yet.” She points at him. Menacingly.

“You haven’t given me a reason to.” Lex snuck onto this earth to spread negativity with his hater mindset.

Admittedly, she could ask him to smile and he’d likely oblige with baring a wall of awkward teeth. When interactions feel like an unfair calculation, he operates under the notion that each word must have utility, and gleaming teeth are not something he feels would bring benefit.

For a proclaimed comrade, it’s a surprise, really, how she speaks of still trying to make a positive impression. Even with the pin in his pocket and the way she entered conflict on her own whim, his brow furrows in a manner that would be imperceptible to anyone standing further away.

“You have already earned my favor,” he tells her like it should be a basic observation. He is confused, a perpetual status for the blonde when he speaks with Rayna. “Is this the result you were hoping for? I will admit I had my,” paranoid bitch tendencies, “reservations, at first.”

Such a polite way to say he did not trust her. But he has thawed, she has survived the suspicious winter that appears to be a rite of passage on this ship, and now in a single night they have travelled off the ship together, started a bar fight, shared values and roamed the bazaar.

Her spinning finger unsettles him, and in a spur of conviction he reaches out to pat it away like an offensive item. No more of whatever that is. Thank-you.

“Though, if you insist on trying to see me smile, I can entertain the idea.” A pause as he folds his hands in front of himself. “I bet ninety Solari. You will have one month.”

Because 99% of gamblers give up before their big win.






























♡coded by uxie♡
 
CW FOR MENTIONS OF SELF-DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR & DYING WOOHOO GO BOYSAD GO​





THE KINGSLAYER.















scroll

船井 蓮



FUNAI REN




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




UNGOVERNABLE











OUTFIT




ANTARES SLUZZA











LOCATION




AA... VOMMY AREA...












MENTIONS




TALLULAH, GRAHAM










INTERACTS




ComplexDragon ComplexDragon qunqun qunqun


















CRY — CIGARETTES AFTER SEX.
































































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THE RED SEA IS




named for the dead algae within it
maybe I too am red for all the
slaughter carried within me






























CHAPTER FOUR.

Ren had already been too far into the hostage situation to retreat. Whatever had driven him into the bar to begin with was also urging him back out. It’s called Desperation and it’s in season.

He’s not thinking when he SEIZES the stranger by the scruff and shoves them back through the door into the street. Not thinking of the captive’s words that are lost on him, not thinking at all and that is the entire problem. Distraction-seeking has turned him into this, a thing that doesn’t think, tempest calamity with its hand knotted at Graham’s nape.

The heart rate slows enough for him to notice the ache in his face and every bone that had hit the floor, but he cannot register much outside of a dull echo. It should hardly matter, the man had zero interest in remembering a single moment before or after what was happening currently.

His hand falls away from the placid hostage, and the further the conflict of the bar settles into his lengthy eulogy of mistakes, the more he cannot deny there was a small level of satisfaction to it. After months being cooped on the ship and poised with apprehension, to finally act on something beyond making tea is pleasant to focus on.

Even as the group spills to the street, his eyes are aimless in following colors and motion like a north star. Someone’s jacket, a head of curls, a shift of persimmon lamplight in a window. Anything to focus on than the focal point of what he should be looking at or thinking about. She is angry with him, after all, but it has always been hard for Ren to ignore the want to be around others, the urge to try and be useful.

“What is wrong with you?” There is not enough time in the day for him to tell her about that. “If you want to get yourself killed, do it on your own time and leave me out of it!”

It’s a subtle flinch barely subsumed, a salt-sting crowding into a scrape. The combination of scathing words and harsh delivery would have been disregarded at any other time, but no better sentiment could have been arranged to bleed the colour from his surroundings. Seeps out like a puncture, and beneath the recoiling frame that stills with downcast eyes is lungs filling with something viscid.

On a normal day he’d think nothing of it, one were it not so recently someone has cast him aside for the same reason. He wonders, idly, if that is everything Dante wanted to say.

Ren does not reply.

It is not a revelation that he is going to get himself killed, he knows this already. But not like this.

There are things to be said, plenty of them, too. Strings of apologies he should settle before he encounters the King, but as he stands in their estimation, it’s an unpleasant feeling to consider just ditching both of them— the entire ship too. Could dissolve into the loud distance of Antares and be done with this stupid agenda. They would be lucky to be rid of him, he does not know what he is doing.

He knew he was meant to keep his distance from people since Zenith, standing back like a purgatorial wraith to be overlooked and ignored. Whatever resolve he had crumbled in moments, had him speaking and roaming the ship before he’d even finished a single night onboard. Is it selfish? Like the hostage situation, he is too beyond the gesture to retreat, but also lacks the necessary conviction to go through with it.

Ren does not want to die, it is a simple sentiment, but perhaps he must consider if he even wants to live. Maybe he is tired of nursing the illusion that everything is okay. He is scared of what he wants to do, but he is not the type of man who wants to be soft, to search for comfort or ask someone to convince him otherwise.

All of which is to say: his thoughts are elsewhere as the two speak about him as if he wasn’t there. No anger is summoned when he realizes this, finally lifting weary eyes to affix the blurs with his attention. How can it? Ren has habitually done what he has always done: burdened someone with his presence. Tallulah’s words almost level him, almost splits the last suture that is keeping him intact, if not for the delayed agitation stirring to their topic of conversation.

They want to take him back to the Leviathan.

It’s visible immediately, eyes like black darts that recoil between the two like a snapped bow-string. The tension coiling through his swaying body, more defiance than person and a stubbornness already set in the jaw. Feels wild and shaken loose behind the iris, the incite of his pulse that has him feeling awake for maybe the first time tonight.

Fight or flight, it’s written in the scriptures of how Ren warily watches the schemers.

“No,” he tells them in a mumble intended to sound direct. He doesn’t want their help with anything, underneath the struggle of it all he believes there is something inherently ruinous about him.

“I want —“ His voice is barely above a whisper when he pauses. A want instead of an outright demand is unusual for him. He wants to go home but doesn’t know where that could be. Doesn’t want to go back to the ship where the world shrinks and it feels like everyone hates him. “I’m not– I’m not going back yet.”

He’ll have to think when he’s back on the ship. He can already play over the steps he’ll enact for the next few months, filling daylight with insignificant tasks and night-time turning his energy inwards. Even outside of the bar it’s a riptide, halfway lost with thought and wanting to retreat back to dancing with strangers and noise. Tonight the cruel moments hurt less, the distractions are ample, nobody knows him, and if he is lucky, someone will decide he’s worthy of their time— or their anger.

Ren won’t burden them with his presence any longer.

“No,” he repeats again and accentuates it with a stagger away from the pair. He reaches for a nearby wall, presses his palm into the cool cobble and rests his forehead to the back of his hand. He is going to vomit, and after an interval of heavy breathing eased through his watering mouth, his spine coils over and he hurls acid onto the pavement.

Charming ♡ !






























♡coded by uxie♡
 





THE GEMINI.















scroll

Gallin



Luc Cardin




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




Confused but the wine helps











OUTFIT




Suddenly remembered that he's actually wealthy











LOCATION




Some hidden area in the ship











MENTIONS




Dahlia










INTERACTS




CrimsonInk CrimsonInk


















Monster — EPIC SAGA.
































































scroll






SEE THE WORLD




"Never feel bad for a blind man," he said finally; "for you see the world as it is, while I see it for what it could be."






























CHAPTER FOUR.

He rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the jab at his name. The truth was that the name probably didn’t fit him - after all, it wasn’t his. But someone that looked like him or, rather, someone he had made himself look like - bore the name once, so surely the name matched the face. If not, someone would have called him out on his falsehood long ago. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if people knew and, for whatever reason, had chosen not to say anything. After all, how had Magnus figured it out so quickly? However, he very quickly realised that doubting the lie he had lived for the past six years would only lead to his certain ruin.

He resisted the smirk that tried to arise seeing her reaction to the wine. He reached out and grab the bottle, taking a long, refined drink from it. It felt needed after the words he had just penned. However, there was a sweetness behind the taste of the wine that he hadn’t tasted before and couldn’t quite place.

Setting the bottle down with a satisfied smile, he turned back to her and her line of questioning. He silently chided himself. Gallin Forestson was a socialite. He was meant to be in and around the presence of nobility; living, breathing and playing the game. Not hiding away in some shady corner of the world’s most illustrious ship. To be caught so fantastically out of character by the same person more than once was a habit he would have to break swiftly - perhaps he could go back to locking himself in his room whenever he felt the need to be particularly Luc-y.

Ultimately, he chose to deftly avoid her line of questioning, understanding that he had no reason to share such information with a perfect stranger, and instead focus on the wine. “Such wine is an...acquired taste, that much is true. But, when you finally allow yourself to enjoy it...” he took another refreshing drink of the dizzying liquid, the same smile lighting his face, “...it is one of the few true joys that we are still allowed.” Gallin still believed in his campaign against happiness and that happiness was no more than a curse. However, when presented with wine as sweet as this, even the curse of happiness could be endured.

He offered her the bottle again. “Try a sip or two, it gets better. Don't hold it in your mouth; just let it pass.” His gaze clearly fell to her leg which was as restless as mouse on a hot plate. He gestured to it with a nod of his head, meeting her gaze with a raised brow. “It would seem to me that it could do you some good.”

He knew better than to attempt asking for an explanation as to what had her so anxious. Afterall, it would be considerably hypocritical, given that he was in no rush to share his own woes. However, unfortunate as it may be for him, the two found themselves with a shortage of wine, an excess of time, and nothing but each other's company. Conversation about something was bound to start at some point.

Just at that moment, someone else passed above them. Ever since she had happened on him, seemingly from the very shadows beneath his feet, he had been paying even more attention to the movements above them. It still puzzled him how she appeared so suddenly given that everyone else, in comparison to her, might as well be announcing themselves with the trump of an elephants horn.

Figuring it to be a better conversation than most others, he turned to her once again. "How did you..."

It wasn't until the words started leaving his mouth that he realised that he didn't have a proper way of phrasing it without sounding like a madman. Unfortunately for him, he had already started the question and was not obligated - by his own ego, mind you - to see the question through before the space could be filled with a silence even more awkward than this.

"How long have you..."

How long have you been here? That was no better than the previous attempt.

"I didn't hear your footsteps."

And, of course, he chose to go with the worst one of the trio. To see a famous wordsmith so fabulously at a loss for words was ironic at best and painful at worst. As if he hadn't given her enough reason to doubt that he deserve his acclaim. However, like grace from the stars, someone else passes above them, the floorboard creaking under the weight of each footstep and, not wanting to waste the opportunity he was given he pointed up towards the sound of footsteps.

"Like those. I am fairly certain that you were not here when I first walked in. And I did not hear any footsteps to indicate that company was coming down to join me. As such, I must say, I am left quite puzzled as to where to came from."






























♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE COOK.






























scroll


Lara










Crane








ㅎㅎ






























MOOD








done with this shit























OUTFIT








sensible























LOCATION








Antares markets, back alley

























MENTIONS








Macklin, Violetta & Monte





















TAGS








@ Daddy Dream Daddy Dream @ Aviator Aviator





































lara's song
































































































































scroll












why are you full of rage?








because you are full of grief.





























































SEASON TWO. CHAPTER FOUR.

Lara reached towards her pocket, prepared to hand over her purse in exchange for her life. It was, as the men had said, the King's money. She didn't care what happened to it.

But a sudden arrival on the scene halted those plans, and Lara could only stare in shock. Who was this man? A well intentioned fool perhaps, but a fool nonetheless.

Her paralysis lasted as the fighting began about her. It has been a long while since she'd been in a physical altercation, and the divergence from her solid plan of giving the men the money had thrown her more than expected.

The interloper was at least a good fighter, much better than she expected for an imbecile that went around picking fights that didn't need picking. She began to edge her way along the wall and away from the fighting, hoping perhaps to go unnoticed.

With both of the men who'd been following her now prone on the ground, her supposed rescuer turned to ask her a question.

"Are you okay, ma’am?”

She eyed him cautiously, but he repeated the question.

"You're an idiot," she told him in all seriousness. "And a bleeding one at that."

But he had saved her life- not that it had really needed saving, since she had been more than prepared to give up the money- so she supposed she shouldn't leave him here, injured.

"There is a doctor, on my ship," she began, but both of their attentions were drawn to the figures at the end of the alley. More boasting from her brave 'rescuer' followed.

And then of course, more Corsairs came pouring out of the building's door like wine sloshing out of its skin.

The Duchess? The woman at the end of the alley, Lara could only assume, as she continued to cautiously move in that direction. The men were all so focused on each other that it was easy to do so unnoticed.

The fighting broke out again, and both the man and the woman from the other end of the alley proved themselves capable and deadly. For her part, Lara was grabbed at once by one of the Corsairs, his hands closing around her neck suddenly.

She panicked for half a second, but did as she had once been taught to do. She reached back, putting her hands on her attacker's shoulders to steady herself, and brought her knee up into his groin as hard as she could. As she brought her foot back down, she slammed the heel of her boot onto the interior of his instep. He let her go with a curse, and she could hear the squelching sound of a knife in flesh and his scream as she scrambled away.

When she reached the freedom of the mouth of the alley, Lara made the mistake of looking behind her. Blood everywhere, bodies littering the cobblestone. She nearly retched, but pressed on into the light of the open market stalls. She ran a good fifty paces, and then bent down to catch her breath.

She had to get back to the Leviathan. Fresh herbs or not.

But.

She considered those she had left behind in the alley to the mercy of the Carmine Corsairs. It was for the best, she knew. Lara was no fighter, and would only get in the way. All the same, some string of guilt tugged at her.

Fine. She would wait... Five minutes. Maybe ten.

Depending on who emerged alive, she would get them to a physician.





























































♡coded by uxie♡
 





The Bereaved.















scroll

Graham



The Bereaved




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




Oh dear me











OUTFIT




Bisexual Whore











LOCATION




Antares











MENTIONS




Ren, Tallulah









INTERACTS




Gao Gao ComplexDragon ComplexDragon

















Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.
































































scroll






Aster's Eulogy.




A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence






























Chapter Four Part 1.

Green eyes followed the fed up magpie’s flight, a brief thought flashing across his mind: Am I about to be left alone with this drunkard.

She circled back, but the man grappling onto him seemed quite sullen at the barbs traded between the two.

Leviathan. Big ship. Get the sailor back. Side quest unlocked!

And with a new friend! Hooray!

Graham supported Ren with an arm, his body twisting in a way to begin taking on more of the man’s weight. “Alright, love. Let’s start-”

“No. I want- I’m not… I’m not going back yet.”

“... Love, I think you need to sleep it off.” He said softly as they took a couple steps forward in this shambling wreck of half-dragging half-supporting the uncooperative kingslayer.

Something in the air seemed to change, and he dropped Ren right as he turned and vomited over the pavement.

Right.

Well.

Graham rubbed the Fluvian’s back and held dark strands of hair out of the way as he got it out of his system. “That’s a good lad, better that it happens than it doesn’t…”

Maternal by nature, he looked over his shoulder at Tallulah in a vague “Help me” expression before turning back to the man before them. “Cleared the cobwebs out, love?”

He did not know either of their names. It briefly occurred to him that he might benefit from learning them. While still rubbing Ren’s back as he recovered, Graham extended a mercifully-not-vomit-covered, but mildly sweaty hand towards Tallulah.

“Graham. Byrne. Nice to meet you.” A kind smile coaxed across his face as he did so, gentle green eyes and a equally warm gaze spoke of being able to see someone, not just look at them.

He then looked down at the shaking pathetic creature beneath him.

“Alright, love. You have a name as well?”

Gathering names as fast as he was gathering new friends, he began to continue their slow shamble towards the ship.





























♡coded by uxie♡
 





THE BUTCHER.















scroll

Aurelian



Fiocchi




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




...











OUTFIT




Not as much Effort











LOCATION




His Cabin











MENTIONS




Flora









INTERACTS




picklemouse picklemouse

















Muzzle — Destroy Boys




























































scroll






Fuschian Purgatory.




Not calm enough for purple, and too gentle for red. Do you even exist or are you just a concept as well?






























Chapter Four.

Aurelian was about four shots into trying out different brown tasty alcohols. Let's see how he's doing right now.

mm.

thshssshnn.mm..mn.. nyathssssss

yeah.

Yeah.

The melted slowness and warmth slowly filling cavities in his internal regulations that were freezing up until this point, yeah.

This was dangerous…. This was… why it was addictive, he supposed, if his brain was awake at this moment. .

,,, !, !,,

Best friend Flora was talking- hi best friend Flora!

His cheeks taking on a rosy hue, his expression breaking from its normal dourness and becoming something much softer and mild- hiiiiiiiiii flora!!!!!!

His light brown eyes were drifting off into a corner of the ceiling even while she was most definitely making eye contact with him. There were spiderwebssssssssss

He needed immediately to make friends with those spiders right now actually-

”Have you ever visited Antares?”

. .. !. .

“nope!” Smile. His voice seemed a little less gravelly now that he wasn’t bothering to growl or bark every line.

Need… She needed this.

”Are you hungry?”

Immediately perking up like a dog who had been offered a treat. “Food. We neeeeeeeeeeeed food. What type of food is there in Antares-”

The food tourist has been ACTIVATED! RBBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRB

Large man stood up like a rocket and then the world tilted suddenly to the right and Aurelian was falling and he caught himself on the bar.

Graceful!

“Slowly… yeah slowly… we go slowly…”

Aurelian started making his way out of the bar.

“...”

Wait for it..

“... Have I ever told you you’re like… my best friend ever. You’re the best. I love you. But platonically. In a normal way.”

They’d talked maybe four times before this.

“You’re so good though.” A small kiss on the cheek.

This was so normal.






























♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE DESCENDANT.






























scroll


DAHLIA






BLACKWATER








ㅎㅎ






























MOOD








AIGHT IM A TEACHER NOW























OUTFIT








Other rags























LOCATION








Down in the belly of the ship





















MENTIONS








N/A





















INTERACTS








BOOK MAN




















TAGS








Wyll Wyll






























SURVIVOR — 2WEI.
































































































































scroll












Everyone is a monster to someone








Since you are so convinced that I am yours. I will be it.





























































CHAPTER FOUR.

Her eyes narrowed at the man before they rolled into the backs of her sockets. Fucker didn’t even ask for a drink, but it was somehow a comforting mannerism. Asking was a rarity in her case for low peasant folk. Pirates don’t ask, they take. It was as simple as that, yet the noble man before her just did the same without question. Whatever he seemed to be going through the wine seemed to be a chip for socializing. A custom Dahlia often watched amongst nobles, especially the first night when she watched through the windows. What she didn’t expect was for him to offer it back.

The woman’s gaze softened with eyes looking at the man with a doe like gaze. A brow raised with suspicion, but sharing was something else for her. With a cautious hand she took the wine from his, her lips pressing against the bottle and taking a swig. Her first instinct was to hold the liquid in her mouth, but following his instructions she swallowed it allowing the wine notes to hit her taste buds.

Huh….book man is up to something. I taste blackberry….sage….I don’t know some other fancy sheit.

"How did you..."

The woman turned her attention back to the man. She questioned the puzzled look he gave her. What now? Did she not give him the proper reaction to the wine? Was it supposed to be a play of some kind?

"How long have you..."

Have I what?

….

…

…

….sir?

"I didn't hear your footsteps."

The whites of her eyes appeared more and her eyebrow raised to his odd statement. Okay, no more wine for this guy. Just like clockwork sounds of feet weighing against the floorboards above them revered her attention. Her eyes caught sight of the horrendous amount of dust from the light just piercing through the cracks and minor disgust mirrored in reaction.

“Is that so….?”

She watched as the man raised a finger to the footsteps above them. Leaving her even more curious as to why he was so obsessed with the sound of footsteps all of a sudden. Was he a light weight?

"Like those. I am fairly certain that you were not here when I first walked in. And I did not hear any footsteps to indicate that company was coming down to join me. As such, I must say, I am left quite puzzled as to where you came from."

….you’re jesting?

Dahlia gave a moment to think about what he just said. He was confused by her coming down here, because the man didn’t hear her come down here? Blinking, she sat the wine down nearby repositioning herself more comfortably. Her elbows pressed against her thighs with her chin resting on her hands giving him her attention.

“To be fair, I had no indication you were down here….” she relayed to the man, refusing to mention she was about to have a personal pity party, “but to refer to my footsteps, it’s more about what you lack to pay attention to when you really listen. My movements have sound.”

And in just a blink of an eye the woman was sitting right next to the man. She remained focused on him, not really allowing any outside forces to infiltrate this unknown lesson she was teaching the noble man.

“Just like that,” she said, her hands moving swiftly finding something that felt familiar. A playful smirk appeared for just a few seconds before defaulting back to her emotionless features.

“And that.”

With the item in hand, she raised the notebook she once took from him. The beginning of their weird acquaintanceship. Rather it was an odd way to meet someone. Most people don’t meet their thief twice in a lifetime, the fates must be messing with her in a way.

“Anyone is able to do it. Want to try?”



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 










THE VAGABOND.






























scroll


Lizbeth






Jessup








ㅎㅎ






























MOOD








Scared.























OUTFIT








Dress. Earrings. Boots.























LOCATION








the Roost; Antares.

























MENTIONS






























INTERACTS








Calanthe, floralmoon floralmoon Rivi, eebeevee eebeevee & Rat Gao Gao





































MAKE ME (CRY) —
NOAH CYRUS.

































































































































scroll












This feels like a hot summer night








In a turtle neck
I think I wanna die
But I guess I know I'm fine
Oh God, tell me, is it over yet?





























































CHAPTER FOUR.


Light flashed on the coin’s untarnished gold surface and Bizzy blinked, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. A whole fifty Solari. Given to her just like that, without the need for trickery or force. She looked at it mutely for a moment, unsure if she should accept it. Fifty Solari was worth more than the combined cost of the four mugs of ale she’d presented to the group of travelers. Almost twice as much, in fact. Accepting financial reward when her intent had been to lull her pink-clad benefactor into sleep and strip her of all her valuables felt like robbery, never mind the irony there. It felt wrong. Slimy. But the grim reality was that she probably didn’t have the coin to scrounge up a meal for herself before her shift if she didn’t take the money. So, loathing herself for it, Bizzy snatched up the coin before it could vanish. Her dress had no pockets, and carrying a coin purse in Antares was like waving a red flag in a bull’s face, so she stuffed it into her bra in one well-practiced motion. “Thank you, ma’am,” she bit off gruffly. Her eyes were fixed on the woman’s sky-high pink heels, unable to look her in the eye.

Her resolve to fulfill her scheme crumbled, Bizzy backed away abruptly, wanting to distance herself from the group. But that leaves the problem of the drinks, she thought. If the tourists drank from them, they would be targets for thievery, even if not by Bizzy’s hand. “Don’t drink from them,” she said swiftly. At this unexpected turn, two pairs of eyes shot to her. The blond woman who’d tipped her was looking in the middle distance between the bar and a battered old piano in a corner of the room with a glassy-eyed stare, as if Bizzy hadn’t spoken. Feeling transfixed beneath the others’ attention, words crammed in Bizzy’s throat. She hadn’t prepared an excuse for her sudden change of heart about the quality of the drinks. Owning to the fact that they were drugged could endanger the employment of Isaac, the bartender who’d served them, should the travelers seek retribution. Besides, how would that conversation even go? Please forgive me for thinking y’all would be easy pickings for robbery? Bizzy wasn’t brave enough to own up to that.

“They, uh, probably expired last week. The month before that, actually,” she finally blurted. Did ale even expire? She didn’t know. “They never change out the kegs. The ale here will give you a nasty case of the shits, more likely ‘n not.” Bizzy felt her ears heat. Guiltily clutching her own untampered mug of ale to her chest as if it was a murder weapon, she took another step back. Her heel clipped the edge of a protruding floorboard and she stumbled a little, desperate to escape with her fifty-Solari prize before the travelers asked questions.

She almost crashed headfirst into a massive chest that was more granite than bone. Standing behind her was Roger, the Roost’s bouncer and her personal friend, blinking his watery gray eyes at her. “Lisa, love,” he said. Bizzy wasn’t sure if it was the sound of that nickname that no one else used or the eerie gravity with which he pronounced it, but the effect was sobering. Her flute case looked small and fragile in his beefy hands. “Let’s talk for a minute. Give me that.” Roger confiscated the ale, the foamy top of which had gone flat. Unsure what to think by his sudden appearance, Bizzy allowed one of his arms to encircle her shoulders as he led her away from the group of out-of-towners. Her prosthetic creaked beneath her weight as they drew up to the empty pocket of space surrounding the piano. To her ears, it sounded like a gunshot. For Roger to usher her off in privacy, something had to be wrong. Outside the filthy windows, dusk was a blueberry stain across the sky, reminding her that her dreaded shift at the Corsairs Kiss was drawing near.

Roger rounded on Bizzy, who was eclipsed in his formidable shadow. “Look, girl, I don’t know what you’ve done, but Madam Yan’s men are looking for you, and they are not happy. Langston just told me that they turned the Ugly Barrel inside out trying to find you. They’re armed to the teeth and threatened to burn the place down if they found out the staff was hiding you.” Fear prickled through Bizzy, but it was tamped down by outrage. It must have shown on her face, because Roger’s expression softened. “We love you here, boo, but I’m afraid we can’t bail you out this time. I’ll lose my job if I let those boys traipse through here and tear down the bar and rack up several thousand Solari in d—”

“It was Jonas Abelard, that filthy sonuvabitch,” Bizzy fumed, her rage spilling over into her voice. “The one who beats the girls. He came into the Kiss today and told me to cry. ‘Act scared and I’ll take it easy on you,’ he said, and I wouldn’t have it. I walloped him good ‘cross the jaw. Told him I’d make it impossible for him to bed another girl ever again if he showed his pig face inside the brothel while I was there.”

Roger had started shaking his head midway through her account. “No, Lisa, baby, that is when you need to use your head and think. Jonas might be one sick bastard, but he is among the highest-paying customers at the Kiss. You just cut off a reliable source of income for Madam Yan, and now you are a liability. And she will take from you what she is owed.”

A shiver walked up Bizzy’s spine at the knowledge that she was just a figure on a ledger. Property before a person. “If I ain’t‘ve stood up to him, it woulda been another girl he beat, tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. That kinda behavior is just wrong. It’s disgustin’! Animals are more civ’lized ‘n him.”

“And look where taking a stand has gotten you.” Roger’s voice was a clap of thunder, and it took everything in Bizzy not to flinch away. “Run away, sweet thing. Run while you still can. If Yan’s boys catch hold of you, Jonas will be the least of your problems.”

Something electric pulsed through Bizzy. Maybe it was adrenaline. Or fear. Or the heavy knowledge of what must be done. Once she had had her baby, her entire world had tilted on its axis, her priorities shifting to whatever would protect Raine. Now that her baby had been taken from her, her world had become emptier, dimmer, but also amazingly simpler. The only thing that mattered now was her own self-preservation, because if Bizzy didn’t survive to reunite with her daughter, then she could never ensure Raine’s safety.

She thought of the shiny coin tucked amid her bosom, a whole fifty Solari, and she made a snap decision. I am booking passage to Empyra. Tonight. And this shithole city and Jonas Abelard will be behind me. With one whole organic leg, running had never been her strong suit. But she would run a thousand miles if it meant finding Raine. So long as she could outrun her pursuers first.

Feeling weepy with emotion and overwhelmed by the strength of her new resolve, she threw her arms around Roger’s neck, which was such a reach that she had to stand on her tiptoes. She felt him stiffen in surprise and briefly imagined him flinging her away. Until she felt hesitant hands on her back returning a shadow of her fierce embrace. “Thank you, Roger,” she sniffled. “In case I never see you again, thank you for everything.”

“My life would be far too easy if you never saw me again, sweetheart,” he sniped half-heartedly. Bizzy wanted to lean into his warmth, allow it to blot out her crumbling reality, but he drew away, holding her out at arm’s length. “You’d best get gone now, girl. I don’t know what you’re planning, but you are going to need every second of a head start you can muster. Yan’s men are professionals.” He thrust her flute case into her grasp. “Don’t forget this. It’s gonna be lonely here without our songbird.”

She nodded dully, not trusting herself to speak. Besides, as Roger had reminded her, there was no time. Her hands fisted around her flute case as if it were her only shallow purchase on the new, wild direction of her life, Bizzy cut through the Roost, beelining for the staff-only door at the back. She jostled past rambling patrons, shuddered as liquid sloshed down her back, her flute case brandished like a weapon with which to part the masses. She stepped in a puddle that made her left boot give a ghastly squelching sound as she dragged it across the floor in a slight, ever-present limp. Before she ducked through the door, her eyes wandered unbidden to the group of tourists that she had sought to exploit. Just minutes ago, snatching the spare change from their purses had been of paramount importance, and this concept made her head spin.

With a jolt, she noticed the pink lemonade girl staring back at her, her golden locks framing her face in cherubic curliques. It was a bleary stare, yet somehow a razor-edged pinpointed one that only the highly intoxicated can achieve. Momentary surprise swept through Bizzy, as if she had found the barrel of a musket trained on her. She belatedly realized that approaching the group had been a mistake. They’d all paid attention to her, could easily identify her if questioned by Madam Yan’s enforcers. And now one of them was watching her escape.

Bizzy plunged through the door and let the humid night air kiss her face, hair sticking to the back of her sweaty neck.



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 
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