Fantasy 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑨𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔

[mangomilk]

1𝘹1 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 TheWaffleLord

✴ 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴,
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯. ✴​

 

[mangomilk]

ayan parvati

rebel king

The potent scent of rain on dry soil ascended the alleyways of Canas; petrichor. Dipped in the cloak of nightfall, the moon showed its face, incomplete and longing. The sun had not yet vanished from the horizon of the harbor city where its blaze let the sky bleed until only bruises of purple clouds were left to heal. The air was sweltering but the evening breeze from the open window provided a slight remedy. The crimson colored curtain swayed and created a shadow on the bed as the fumes of incense sticks were doused.

"You can stay the whole night if you like~," the voice proposed and the hand pulled him back on the silken blanket.
"I’m afraid I cannot. You’ll strip my pockets to the bone," he answered. An opal necklace dangled from his neck. "I can live with that…," her fingers played with her brown curls that reared up messily. "I bet you can." Ayan detached her other hand from his arm and raised himself yet again. He fingered the pockets of his pants, pulled a handful of Ordiun bills – Rak Shana’s currency – and planted them on the sheets. She stared at the money on the side for a moment in thought and perplexity. "You’re a pirate, aren’t you?"
– "You could say so."
"Hmm," she hummed, "I’m glad you paid then. Most of your kind don’t."
"Then next time you should take their head for it instead," he menaced and pulled his black top over his brown skin. His dark locks curled as they were not tamed by mere shortness any longer.

Ayan Parvati slipped on a coat as dark as coal as well as his boots. Then he left the house with red doors as the sun drowned in the trembling edge of the sea. By the time he’d reach the Mistral, the stars would have emerged like a million freckles. His steps echoed in the closed off alleys as he shunned the main roads where vendors and militia were active. A crossing led him to a path next to the canals. The water rippled when it hit the edge of the mighty curb stones. He stepped under a bridge and the patterns of the water mirrored themselves on the underbelly of the bridge.
Ayan felt uneasy as if a ghost hid and peered at him. His hand slid up to his black belt where his sword was attached. The handle felt cold but the rim of the gun that cocked on the back of his head just now felt even colder.

"Hands up. Do anything stupid and your brain will splatter these walls."
Fuck. Knew there was something off about this alley. The voice sounded light but spent, as if the body embracing it barely spoke. The accent, too, was foreign to him but not unfamiliar. Yet he had never heard anyone drag his vowels and hiss his Rs in such a manner; hostile and solitary. Ayan held his breath, he paused to think of his chances. No way, he came to the conclusion, since he left his gun on the sky ship and only wore his sword, he was at a clear disadvantage. With an obvious amount of reluctance, his arms emerged where his hands followed until they were raised over his broad shoulders. "What’s this supposed to be, huh?" he growled. The barrel of the gun pressed further into his head and the air smelt of iron. "Turn around. Slowly," the stranger said. Ayan let the soles of his boots scrape the misted stones as he followed his pursuer’s command.

Like demise, Ayan’s eyes blazed in fury. A visible scar carved Ayan's cheek from the bridge of his nose to his cheekbone. The stranger’s dark hair twined to his shoulders en masse and his beard was not yet full but on its way there. Different shades of brown and beige colored his tattered clothes. A simple nobody, Ayan thought until his frown was reciprocated by the framed face. Like a vacant vase, no flower filled it. His eyes – hollow but desirous as they were – studied his necklace. The piece of jewelry was enveloped in a thin layer of gold. In the middle a white crystal opal glimmered in fragments of colored flares depending on angle and light. It used to grace his sister’s chest the moment she woke until she’d rest her head again. Ayan’s fingers twitched at the memory of playing with her silky hair and the way she’d complain about her little brother.

"Pretty piece you got there…That’ll do," the man commented with that complacent tone of his. "– Touch it and you’ll lose a hand," Ayan snarled and took a step back as the fuse of gravel and dirt scrunched beneath him. He let his arms sink ever so slightly and thought of a chance to wield the one handed beast he commanded. "I’d turn right around if I were you," he then added.
The metallic gun pointed at him in alarming proximity. "You're not in the position to tell me that."
Bang.

The sound made his ears lose function for a mere moment. The ringing soon followed but the only melody Ayan could grasp was that of his thumping heart against his shaken chest. The pearl sized bullet missed his right cheek by an inch. By the time his body was able to react, the man had yanked the necklace from his chest. The jewelry had been a body part just as equal as the rest and without it, the hole of the past in his chest grew wider and darker.
The stranger pointed the gun on his forehead again while his grimey hand held the opal necklace. From his coat cluttered with holes, he pulled a strange looking gun. Without another word, the other gun shot a strong cord to the red bricked roof in reach. His feet lifted from the copplestones and for a moment, he flew. His coat fluttered and the necklace flickered a sparkle in the dim light of the alley. "Come back here!" he shouted and attempted to climb the facade of the building. The walls slick and tall offered too little cracks and imperfections that allowed Ayan to grip an edge. His lust for murder grew, he followed the stranger who jumped from roof to roof through the alleys. Red tiles fell where dust smothered the path ahead but a dead end cut Ayan from his hunt.
"Fuck! You bastard, I’ll find you, you hear me?! I’ll fucking kill you!" His head dropped to his knees and the sweat dropped from his chin. Ayan groaned with his breath still husky and irregular.

Run, you fool. You better fucking run.

● ● ●​

The wet winds lashed against the awry buildings like a frozen whip. Nonetheless the narrow canals of Ad Astra were lit with round warm lights on ropes as they imitated the stars up above. From each corner whether it was fishermen stalls, shops or taverns, the loud chatter of people drowned out the wavering waters. In a filthy tavern named Captain Crook, mushroom heaters and a busy smokestack warmed the customers just as good as the alcohol did. Each man barging in, was drenched in his tight suit of clammy clothes. "Gods, you look awful! Nothing a hot mulled wine can’t fix, don’t ya’ think?," the muscular bartendress passed the new customer with a big belly and braided beard. The fellow pirate scrunched the moisture from his beard and gave the lady a satisfied nod. "Nadiem! A big mug of mulled wine!" she shouted to the back.
– "Coming right up, Kaya!"

At a table close to the bar, a large group sat shoulder to shoulder, raising their beers and cigarettes to the middle. The foam erupted from the glasses and splashed on the syrupy table.
"Cheers!"
–"Bottoms up!"
"A Toast!"
All eyes turned to the captain of the Mistral, Indya. "Alright, alright," her green emerald jewelry dangled from her ears and her hair rested just beneath her chin. "This is a night of celebration. We raided the fortunes of rich men and made them pay for their inhuman trades. I am proud of each and everyone at this table. But for now, my most important command is: Drink up!" The crowd howled like giddy hyenas and the liquids were downed in mere seconds.

"Nadiem, a refill!," Ayan shouted over his shoulder. Not before long, a new batch of beers was presented to the table and coins and bills fluttered back on the carrying tray of the handsome bartender. "How much are we betting, Smiley is going to aggravate Bloodhound with their drunken songs?" Ayan leaned towards Indya and watched the two crewmates engage in vibrant conversation. "It’s not a bet if we’re on the same side. Smiley’s going to make him fight someone tonight, I’m sure," she chuckled and cheered Ayan’s glass before she added: "What I want to bet on is me drinking you under the table." He let his head sink in a bobbing motion and laughed. "You’re on. Winner gets that azurite ring from the raid today." Indya hit her firm fist on the table. "I knew you’d name that one! You eyed it for a little too long earlier… But so be it, the Azurite ring is the price." The captain and her Second-in-command hooked their right arms and chugged their beers in one giant gulp before the empty glasses were slammed back on the table. Another gust of wind puffed out a few candle lights near the entrance as more customers set foot in the tavern.

The new customers – men, women and those out and in between – seemed to be less interested in the beer and mulled wine and more in the gathering of the pirate crew of the mighty Mistral. Like hungry seagulls they formed a circle to get a glimpse of her.
Captain Indya, from the Aprosi Tribe of Oblos, also known as the raging women; warrioresses of the rainforests.
The Mistral was a ship of continuous change, the sky ship expanded and so did the crew. For a few weeks now, Indya and Ayan were on the lookout for a new crew member to handle the physical tasks on the ship. They had proclaimed a vacant spot among them in this very tavern. None of the applicants could yet satisfy the demeanor they were looking for and as a steady line of a few dozen people formed in front of their table, they could afford being picky.
Indya wrapped her strong arm around her Second. While Ayan wore a lilac scarf around his neck – their navigator insisted for the rebel king to wear it to shield him from the cold, the captain was not fazed by it. Her brown corset was loose and a white unbuttoned shirt protruded from underneath. "It’s time again. Let us welcome our avid candidates," she said and patted Ayan with gentle strokes on his shoulder. "And I will serve with my advice and opinion, as always," he smiled and examined the rows of scoundrels with sharp eyes glowing from within. This might be fun.
"Pirates!'' Indya exclaimed. A word was enough for forms to fix and heads to turn. "All of you are here for us, I suppose. I command these people in journey and battle. Maybe one of you is skilled enough to impress me and my right-hand." The remaining drinkers turned their heads with interest and desire for entertainment. Soon a thick hedge of spectators formed around them. Indya let Kaya refill her glass before she began to pick the first man in the very front.
"Name?"
– "Jordan Quainoo." His tight clothes revealed a scrawny build with long limbs and short dreads. He must’ve been no day older than nineteen. "I’m from Kopra, served Captain Capheus of Eprya for two years as a navigator."
"A navigator, huh? We already have one," Indya commented and gave a nod in Smiley’s direction who was in the middle of turning the Bloodhound’s face a bright red with their provocations. "What we’re looking for is a resilient deckhand," she then added and raised her brows towards Ayan.
"– You just don’t look the type. You wouldn’t last a week with us. Go home, kid." The spectators exchanged staggering faces, wide eyed. "Ooooh–", the men laughed and shook their heads.
– "Next."
The line volatilized one by one. While it was true that Indya and Ayan never wasted much time with their recruitments, the recruits themselves were not memorable either. The co-leaders shared a fondness of mighty entrances and the ability to electrify in a matter of a few words, something the candidates all lacked.
The more they rejected, Ayan doubted the tavern had anyone to offer who’d be the right fit tonight. His boots rested on the table top as he leaned back and crossed his arms, then whispered something indistinguishable to Indya. She smiled: "Not yet," and leaned back as well. The line reemerged with another surge of aspiring pirates. The next set of men were dismissed as their shoulders slumped, their feet dragged on the wooden plank floor. While Indya kept interviewing the newcomers, Ayan began to lose interest in the latest batch and instead, observed his fellow crew members. Half of them had reverted to armwrestling with no restrictions while the other half intimidated the other applicants by grinding knives and showcasing their scars.
"All right, whoever's next, step forward. Who are you?" Indya looked around and played with the hoops of her long earrings. A man took the spotlight at the peak of the line where spectators ran their mouths already and wagered about his destiny with some leftover coins.
"Edric Duras. I'm here to be a deckhand in your crew."
His voice was light but sharp nevertheless. A radiant accent enveloped his words like sunlight on the surface of a lake in spring. Ayan turned his head to the candidate as his attention vivified.

There it was, the crackle of electricity.

The stranger wore a tricorne hat that cast a shadow on his face from the lack of light. When he raised his head, the light traveled over his face and revealed his features but only by so much. "And so confident! What's your sailing experience?" Indya asked with a growing grin. Ayan played with the tips of his fingers and now that he too, watched the stranger, all eyes rested heavy on his shoulders.
"I have five years' worth of experience. I'm no stranger to it all." Words that set themselves in stone, hard and final, obvious even.
Indya clicked her tongue as if to say: good, good. "Why do you wanna join?"
"Stealing on my own isn't enough. I need money and I need to eat, so here I am," Edric Duras explained.
On your own…?
Ayan concentrated his eyes on the stranger and let his legs slip off the table, sitting on the edge of the bench now.
"On your own'? What kind of pirate travels alone?" A rare kind of sparkle filled her eyes.
– "I'm not a pirate."
The crowd held its breath for a moment before the statement was muttered about, doubtful heads shook left to right. The timbre of his accent was something Ayan hadn’t heard for a long time. In his mind he attempted to piece together a buried memory while his eyes looked for a sign in the man’s face. The hat still lingered on his head.
"And yet you're in Ad Astra…," Indya started to form doubts as well, "have you ever killed a man?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Well, as you might've heard, willingness to kill isn't enough for me; you need to have honor. Would you kill to free others?" But even so, a rookie of a pirate with no experiences of crew life was a high risk to pledge for.
"Yes—I already have in the past. If you give me bed and board, I'll free whoever you tell me to." As he glared at Edric Duras, their eyes met.

Pretty piece you got there.

"You," he called him. "Take your hat off." Ayan furrowed his brows and when the man did as he was told, his hand tightened to a brute fist. Dark hair that twined down in vines, shorter than in the alleys of Canas; a beard that was not as full anymore but he recognized its shape; eyes a little less forsaken but still filled with dark-circled tiredness. "Found you," he muttered under his breath just loud enough for the man to hear. His body moved on its own when he got up. Ayan grabbed the empty bottle of a crewmate and smashed it on the table. Deep green shards formed tessellating shapes on the gross surface. "I told you I’ll fucking kill you when I find you," he groaned and pointed the spiky end of the broken bottle in his direction. "Woah, what’s gotten into you?" Indya got up as well and held him back. "He stole from me! He snatched my necklace!" his own adradian accent made an appearance while he cursed. The captain applied force and grabbed her Second by his shoulders and pushed him back on the bench.
"Is that true?"

canas, rak shana / ad astra

aggravated

outfit

a goner / indya & co.

coded by natasha.

 

[TheWaffleLord]

edric duras

filler

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  numb, appetent, stimulated → content, unbothered

  
  

  
  

  
  

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  canas, rak shana → ad astra (mazuna's kitchen → captain crook)

  
  

  
  

  
  

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  faceless shapes, a scarred/scarved man, captain indya & bloodhound

  
  

  
  

  
  

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Adam Hurst

death waltz

Not far from the clamoring sailors, sea vessels, and fishmongers, there was a ragged, heavy-lidded man. He hid himself as he slumbered, laying tucked away between some barrels in an alley. For the most part, he was forgettable to passersby because he melded with the other vagrants in Canas. This vagrant's name was Edric, though he rarely ever shared it. If anyone perceptive enough gave him more than a cursory glance, they'd know the few belongings hidden on his person made him stand out. Only one was visible: the Glimpse. It was an unusual pair of red-lensed goggles sitting along his collarbone. An aviator's accessory to most, but not necessarily for him.

A rat brushed against his leg and sharply roused him from sleep. He saw the small furry blur, kicked it instinctively, and it scampered into the cobblestone street. The metal along the cuff of Edric's ear was still present—thankfully veiled by his hair. He heard a brief, familiar chittering. He responded with an unintelligible yet affirmative noise. He pushed himself upright and walked where he knew there'd be crowds in the morning: the harbor.

The air smelled of brine, smog, alcohol, wet dogs and urine. Sunlight seared into his back, reminding him of the pain that still lingered. He pilfered some stale bread. He pickpocketed many unsuspecting strangers with ease. The workers' wage didn't offer much; he had gathered a little over fifty ordiun before the afternoon was over. But there was no thrill in it. Untethered to his own body, it was as if Edric was watching himself from behind an impenetrable glass wall. Voices were lifeless and colors became muted. Some buildings leaned more than they structurally should have. Nothing felt real, and he felt nothing. There was only an urge intensifying within him that far exceeded anything he ever was or could be. As he trudged further from the harbor, luen was the only thing echoing in his thoughts.

It led him to the slums. Edric eventually found someone selling luen in a condemned house. A sparse amount of people were there, rapt in their lost inhibitions, but he couldn't discern their features very well. He didn't care to. He traded some bills of ordiun in exchange for a small, potent bundle of that powdery substance. It was silver in color and faintly glowed under the dim, flickering light. He seated himself in front of a low table, formed a line, then sated his urge. An intense rush that traveled like a fire went to Edric's head then down his body. It lingered in his core. For a fleeting moment, his hands trembled and the inside of his left nostril burned. His pupils dilated and his senses sharpened. His numb heart began to beat faster. In this, he found a bit of solace from the surroundings that looked unnatural and wrong. He was still untethered, but he finally felt something. Edric left the house shortly afterward.

Time seemed to warp. He couldn't tell if it had been hours or days that he spent wandering the streets of Canas. It had rained, but he wasn't sure when. The scent of petrichor only helped to invigorate him more. The blazing sun started to sink below the horizon and color the sky with the last remaining hues of day. Meanwhile, the crescent moon rose, accompanied by faint constellations. Edric caught sight of a lustrous opal dangling from a man's neck as he passed by. He knew it fetched for a nice price and the idea to have it for himself sparked immediately. He crept along the darkness to stalk the taller, lean man into an alley, unseen and unheard. No one was watching. Edric slinked closer, aimed his flintlock pistol to the back of the man's head, and pulled the hammer with his thumb. It clicked, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hands up. Do anything stupid and your brain will splatter these walls." His gossamer voice was hoarse from disuse, but pierced the dead silence. His tone was unnervingly calm—emotionless. Sharp and slow like frostbite.
The stranger begrudgingly complied to his demand. "What’s this supposed to be, huh?" he snarled, the contempt brimming in his full and firm timbre. Undaunted. It was thick with an Adradian accent—commonly known to be gentle and flowery. But here, it sharpened with ferocity and defiance.
Edric disregarded him. "Turn around. Slowly," he ordered.
Once more, the stranger complied. He had one prominent scar, made from the cut of a blade, that ran from the bridge of his nose to his cheek. Like the rest of his victims, this scarred man was hardly a person; just a mere array of furious shapes and ligaments.

A patch of waning light touched Edric's left hand, revealing the tips of a strange apparatus. He called it the Storm. He wore it like a glove; constructed as a metal exoskeleton with bulky cuffs around three of his fingers and a band around his wrist. Small metal cables linked them all to two disks; one on the back of his hand and the other on his palm. A vast myriad of sprockets, gears, and conduits laid within the Storm, inactive. The opal necklace glinted again, briefly drawing Edric's attention to it. The vacant expression on his face tinged with interest.
"Pretty piece you got there . . . That’ll do."
"Touch it and you’ll lose a hand," he spat. "I’d turn right around if I were you."
Edric scowled when he noticed the scarred man lowering his hands slightly. He replied, "You're not in the position to tell me that," and pulled the trigger.

The next few moments were a blur. The warning shot he fired narrowly missed the scarred man's cheek. It was enough to stun him for a moment, but it was all he needed. Edric snatched the necklace; it snapped away into his clutched fist. Then he switched to a much smaller gun that had a grappling hook protruding from its barrel. When he fired at the building's roof above, he ascended like a feather pulled into the sky. He climbed over the edge, sprinted on, and leapt from one rooftop to the next without faltering. His boots stamped quickly and harshly against the concrete and tiles.

"Come back here!" the scarred man bellowed.
Edric heard him trying to give chase from the ground. He made a serpentine, erratic path forward. It didn't take much to lead his pursuer into a dead end alley. He knew he did once the scarred man's voice rang out as a faraway echo.
"Fuck! You bastard, I’ll find you, you hear me?! I’ll fucking kill you!"
His enraged threats did nothing to his nerves. Edric had heard it all before. Soon, he'd be gone and delving into the underbelly of the next city. He glanced down at the opal necklace and watched it shimmer in his hand. A pretty piece indeed.

* * *​

It took Edric a little over a year to reach Ad Astra, the island of misfits and criminals. He bundled himself in decent—albeit worn—layers of clothes for the frigid weather. He had a few new garments: a reddish brown tricorn hat, a black bandana underneath, and a pale blue coat with jetted pockets. His breath came out in wispy, ephemeral clouds. He didn't like the cold much, but reminded himself that this was a mere visit. He'd been in Ad Astra for less than twenty-four hours and realized how boisterous it all was. There was constant laughter, shouting, brawls, music, and loud acts of intimacy. Debauchery was everywhere, but Edric had seen worse. As noisy as it was, it was easier to listen and learn about his new environment.

He sat by himself in a small but busy eatery called Mazuna's Kitchen. He was in the midst of finishing a cheap but flavorful bowl of stir-fried eel soup with fensi noodles. It was a staple in Yoratanese comfort food and it was no wonder why. Seasoned with coriander, ginger, chilies, and black pepper, the dish was amiably spicy. It warmed his body very well. A hot meal was far and few between for Edric; he learned how to appreciate it when he had it. He eavesdropped on a conversation between a plump man with greying hair and a spectacled man who lacked a few fingers. Both men were very tan and weatherbeaten.

". . . heard the Daughter of War's back in town. She's at Captain Crook with her whole crew, lookin' for a new member to join 'em."
"Oh shit! Wait, are you sure?"
"Have I ever given you the wrong info before?"
"Y—"
"No, I haven't."
"Feh! You're so full of shit . . . Didn't she castrate a man for breakin' her heart or somethin'?"
"That's what I heard. You could ask her about that yourself, y'know."
"Yeah, right. I'm not a dumbass. I could lose my last fingers doin' that."

That was the fifth time he'd heard that sobriquet since he arrived. The Daughter of War, otherwise known as Captain Indya. She captained the Mistral and was a fearsome woman who hailed from the Aprosi tribe in Oblos. Her feats sounded believable, but a little too inconsistent to be entirely true. He expected some measure of exaggeration in the anecdotes. But all who spoke of her agreed that she often liberated slaves and inflicted retribution against oppressors. A pirate with an ethical code was an idealist's unconvincing fantasy. Edric had to see it to believe it. After all, his only reason for coming to Ad Astra was to join a pirate crew. The timing of the opportunity grew more and more convenient.

He beckoned over the waitress who served him his food. She had a shapely figure, an umber complexion, and hair twisted into tight braids she adorned with golden filigree cuffs. Noticing his empty bowl, she smiled.
"How was everything?"
"Delicious," Edric replied matter-of-factly. The dark circles under his eyes indicated a lingering fatigue. He usually had a phlegmatic, jaded expression on his face, but now, he appeared subtly content. The food mitigated his weariness for the time being.
"Great! Do you want anything else?" she asked as she began to clear away his table.
"No, that'll be it." He laid down his payment for the meal. He added, "But I need directions to Captain Crook. Where would I find it?"
"Oh, it's not that far. Just go to the right when you leave, take another right at the end of the street, and you'll be there. Can't miss it," the waitress told him.
"Thanks," Edric said. He stood up from his seat, walked out of the restaurant, and followed the directions the waitress gave him.

The sky pelted him with icy gusts of wind and rain during his walk, in which he changed to a brisk pace. He pulled his coat tighter toward himself as if to shelter his newfound warmth. Unsurprisingly, the Captain Crook's exterior looked as seedy as its name implied. There was a column of smoke billowing out from its chimney; the hint of a fireplace ushered him inside even more. Edric found a crowd of people, some drenched from the rain and others who weren't. There was a queue leading to a group so immense they nearly filled one side of the bar. It was the seaworthy crew he was looking for. He tried to peer at them by leaning to the side.

Sitting front and center at the table was the Daughter of War herself. He had never laid eyes on her before, but her presence befit a captain. She knew how powerful she was as a person, and it didn't stem from overconfidence. She had dark almond-shaped eyes, wavy bobbed hair with a loose fringe, a wiry physique, and a complexion as brown as teak wood. Edric partially saw a man by her side who leaned back in his seat and rested his boots upon the table. He wore an outfit that could've been all black, if not for his lilac scarf. Captain Indya dismissed the person in front and the queue moved up slightly. He took his place in line and had to wait a while before it was finally his turn. Most of the crew preoccupied themselves out of boredom by then.

"Alright, whoever's next, step forward," she announced as she idly played with one of her emerald earrings. His gaze met with hers and he took a couple steps closer. "Who are you?"
"I'm Edric Duras. I'm here to be a deckhand in your crew." The poor lighting along with the shadow cast from his hat obscured most of his face. In his peripheral, he noticed he garnered the attention of the scarved man. Edric remained focused on the only person who addressed him.
"And so confident! What's your sailing experience?" Captain Indya asked.
"I have five years' worth of experience. I'm no stranger to it all," he lied, but the artful way he threaded his words made it sound like the plain and simple truth.
She was none the wiser as she made a sound of approval. She questioned, "Why do you wanna join?"
"Stealing on my own isn't enough. I need money and I need to eat, so here I am."

There was a ripple of confused mutterings from the few who'd been listening. The scarved man deftly swung his long legs away the table and continued to watch Edric with more intent.
Captain Indya appeared intrigued. Her next words reflected the question on everyone else's minds. "'On your own'? What kind of pirate travels alone?"
"I'm not a pirate." At that, the crew members' heads turned to gawk at Edric. They exchanged surprised, incredulous glances with one another. He heard murmurs around him. One of them was a slight chuckle followed by a jeering comment.
A small, contemplative frown emerged onto her mouth. "And yet you're in Ad Astra . . . Have you ever killed a man?"
"Yes."
"Well, as you might've heard, willingness to kill isn't enough for me; you need to have honor," Captain Indya explained. She studied him with an appraising gleam to her eyes before speaking up again. "Would you kill to free others?"
So it's true what they said . . .
Yes—I already have in the past. If you give me bed and board, I'll free whoever you tell me to," Edric responded.

In that moment, he felt the scarved man's scrutiny turn into a blistering glare. He averted his attention from the captain to regard him. The scarved man's hair, which he styled simply and kept short above his pierced ears, was almost as dark as his black coat. His facial structure looked sculpted from polished stone. He had a clean-shaven face, thick brows, and his skin was a deep chestnut brown. Edric's gaze flickered with discreet, salacious interest. There was a strangely familiar scar across his cheek. The scarved man's dusky eyes were filling with a gradual and unbridled rage, but Edric couldn't fathom why. When the scarved man finally spoke, he did it through clenched teeth.
"You. Take your hat off."
Edric had no reason to defy him, so he removed his hat. It only made the man more furious.
"Found you," he growled. He moved fast; he stood up and grabbed an empty glass bottle within his reach. After one quick strike against the table, the glass exploded into a myriad of shards, and he threateningly pointed what remained at Edric. He didn't flinch. "I told you I’ll fucking kill you when I find you."

This surprised even the captain, who rose from her seat to hold him back by his arm. "Whoa, what’s gotten into you?" The people who hadn't been paying attention from the other side of the bar certainly were now. Servers, bartenders, and patrons alike wondered if there was going to be another fight.
"He stole from me! He snatched my necklace!"
Edric raised his brow as he put the tricorne hat back on his head. Captain Indya took the scarred man by his shoulders and forced him to sit back down like a punished child. She turned to Edric again. "Is that true?" she asked, all eyes shifting back to him.
He studied the scarred man's face for a moment. "That depends," he replied evenly. "What kind of necklace was it?"
The question drove him into a frenzy. He attempted to lunge across the table, but it was the brute strength from a hulking man—a crew member—that stopped him. He managed to fling the broken bottle as he struggled; his aim went wide and missed.
"A golden necklace. An opal. It glittered in light," he spat. The vague memory, muddled by luen, slowly came together. He added, "Too pure for someone like you to even hold it."

"Bold of you to say that as if you've never stolen anything in your life," Edric remarked. The scarred man huffed, but he ignored him, and addressed Captain Indya instead. "But it's true that I robbed him of his necklace. I sold it off, too."
"Where. Rak Shana. Who to." His words carried the essence of questions, but the way he hissed them out were demands.
He shrugged slightly. "I don't remember. Even if I did, I wouldn't care enough to tell you. It's long gone now anyway, so you can save the dramatics."
"Dramatics . . ." the scarred man scoffed. He shed the hands from his shoulders with an indignant jolt then grumbled, "Leave me," to his crewmate behind him.
Edric couldn't discern what else he said to the captain then, but she nodded in response. They both got up from their seats, walked furthest from the table and began quietly speaking to one another. They left everyone else to mutter and whisper. Edric remained silent, watching and listening to the crowd.

His eyes landed on a crew member whose dark, loc'd hair was lazily bound in a half-up ponytail. If he had to presume by their grey edges, they seemed to be in their forties. They had amber skin and their face almost looked gaunt because of their hollow cheeks. Their narrow size in comparison to the hulking man beside them was like a sapling to a matured sequoia. And unlike the others, that crew member wore an impish and surreptitious grin. They appeared to find the whole situation amusing, but it was also as if they knew a secret others didn't. It was what made Edric's gaze linger on them. The person quickly caught him staring and their grin widened into a full, even more mysterious smile. His expression turned puzzled, then he looked away.

Captain Indya and the scarred man returned to the table afterward. She whispered to the hulking man, who nodded vigorously. Everyone's attention gathered on her as she then addressed Edric. "I'll consider letting you join my crew," she began, "but only if you can beat Bloodhound in a fight. Edric, meet Bloodhound." She gestured to her left, and at that moment, the hulking man stood up once more, this time with a wild smile. The bystanders oohed.
Figures. Of course it'd be you, Edric thought.
"No blades. No guns. The winner is whoever knocks out the other first. Deal?" the captain offered.
Edric evaluated his opponent. The caliber of his strength was quite clear from the well-defined muscles all over his body. He had monolid eyes and a distinct, jagged ridge for his nose. He shaved his charcoal black hair so short that it was only fuzz along his head, matching the stubble on his jaw. Clothed simply and without jewelry, he was ready for a fight at any time.
No blades or guns . . . Hm.
"Deal," he said.

"Then it's decided!" Captain Indya announced, half-smiling. "Let's move this outside, people." With that, she led her crew, Edric, and a cluster of folk driven by curiosity and wagers back into the rain.
They all settled next to the Captain Crook's bricked façade and formed a big circle around Edric and Bloodhound. They deposited their blades and guns for a crew member to hold on to. Edric stood across from his opponent with only a couple strides separating them. Bloodhound stretched his arms and shoulders; his frame was even larger up-close.
"This'll be fun!" he said cheerily.
Captain Indya glanced between the both of them. "Ready?"
"Aye, captain."
Edric nodded, never taking his eyes off Bloodhound. "Come on, then . . ."
"Alright . . . Begin!"

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[mangomilk]

ayan parvati

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Joel Sunny

Running up that Hill

A line as fine as hair wrapped around differentiating syllables of a word.
Once it cut through leather and padded coats and reached restless yet frost-bitten skin, Ayan winced. Being dependable meant everything, being expendable was demise and after the single hair ripped, changed is every thing. He knew it and his hand clutched the bottle harder as broken edges stained his hand green behind the glass, then red when the sharp shard sawed his hand. Tender was the flesh that lurked beneath, tainted in sin and scarlet.

"That depends."

For some reason the easiest expression for an Adradian was disgust. It showed in their faces without a pull of mouth or scrunch of noses. It was just all planted in their face like bright orange carrots peeking from the soil and hence a language no need be translated.
"Othari Prandushv," he ran his mouth. It was an insult so horrendous, jittering jaws of mothers ridden by anger gripped their pantofles and yanked it across rooms if not through walls. The emerald bottle reeked of stale of beer and now, iron, and so the scent traveled through the room when the bottle flicked towards his hatter, now hatless yet still as mad in Ayan's eyes.

A big bolder, man-shaped, named Bloodhound changed the course of the missile and then squeezed Ayan's shoulders, with attempted tenderness and yet he felt something crumble from within; muscle and bone disarranging in a few piles. His eyes shot up and tipped Bloodhound to the edge of a ring with nothing to hold onto. Ayan did not speak, he made the man know for some reason, in his condition he was not to be trifled with. Bloodhound flinched, backed away slightly as the two of them formed a renaissance painting (Man and Dog, Ad Astra) reflecting the slight terror that eroded each crew member when Ayan Parvati was soaked in rage. "Aren’t you a good dog," he said before his gaze yet again met the stranger.

"A golden necklace. An opal. It glittered in light…Too pure for someone like you to even hold it."
– "Bold of you to say that as if you've never stolen anything in your life..But it's true that I robbed him of his necklace. I sold it off, too."

He knew his gun was still in his right coat pocket. It was funny when he heard people use the words honor and Mistral in the same sentence, how they performed righteous deeds that a few times too many, the same people forgot that they were still pirates. Still criminals. Still a nomadic folk of liars and murderers oozing filth and assault wherever they went. Now, his own worst self unfurled and nested in the crook of his ear, told him: Pull the trigger.
And his hand brushed down the coat and slipped in, enveloped the mount of the gun like two lovers known only by the light of stars.

"Where. Rak Shana. Who to." If given a hint, he’d chase the stone to the depths of caves and the limits of the world. Where the opal lies, it must be lonely and cold; so far away from home where Ayan’s chest used to keep it warm.
"I don't remember. Even if I did, I wouldn't care enough to tell you. It's long gone now anyway, so you can save the dramatics."
– "Dramatics . . ."

He wanted to laugh. The gun between his fingers would be funnier though once the stranger 'couldn't care' for anything any longer. Ayan was on the verge of pulling his weapon, when Bloodhound's meaty hands pressed him down on the bench again. He let go of the gun and with an impudent slap on Bloodhound's knobs, ushered him away: "Leave me." Immediately he got back up. The black coat broadened within his energetic rise and unveiled the true height of the rather thin-looking man. Spindly fingers formed a fist and as angel-tongued as he could: "Indya. A word, " (not all too convincingly untouched by the stranger) he signaled his Captain for a talk for two and a lock of four.

As soon as the woman got up, the bystanders awed, smoothed a step in the back to give her room like soap in dirt. Indya gave him a slight nod and walked ahead and stopped beneath an unmanned mushroom heater. Their scalps turned warm and so did the alcohol arriving at their heads.

"Ayan..," she began.
"Hear me out.."
She crossed her arms and sighed.
"Speak, then."
"Say what you will. I thought there was something for a moment. He's not even a pirate... I can’t give you my approval for this man. He is trouble, I can feel it in my core," he gripped his coat tightly where his heart sat and dragged the coat down.
"You’re also trouble more often than not~," she teased and looked back to Edric Duras and bit her nail.
"Doesn’t this tell us everything we need to hear? It’s been weeks of sit downs, hundreds of people, no gleams that kindled our interest. He's exciting, a raw deckhand, Ayan. He could be an addition to the famil–"
"Don’t tell me about family. The crew is all we’ve got. I can’t protect someone who I despise. Plus, didn't you hear him? He'll free anyone someone wants him to free for a bed and all. The guy sounds sleazy, easy even..."
"Who says he’ll need your protection. He kicked your ass…allegedly." She raised her brow and paused. Ayan clicked his tongue at her remark and buried his face in the purple scarf to his nose.

The woman had to think about her Second's words. She had to admit to herself that the last part he spoke of, was something to consider and indeed, off. They were looking for loyal recruits, no one to be sold and swayed. He was thinking about something smart to tell her. The words organized themselves behind a foggy veil before he realized they were both staring into the same ashtray from which an unattended cigar leaked smoke to the ceiling.

"That something you’re talking about. I felt it too." She did not let her gaze fall from the cigar until it did and landed on her Second. The first spark of an igniting fire infected her eyes, like a wild cat that just laid eye to prey now waiting to strike. He had to be careful, Indya had a – mostly good, sometimes lethal habit of infecting those in her trajectory with this never-stopping spread of motivation.
"I know that look in your eyes. Don’t."

He looked away.

She grabbed him by his shoulders and demanded his attention.
"Come on, Parvati, have some fun, you killjoy. Take a risk here with me."

A deep sigh whispered through his whole body while he stroked her touch off of him. "Ugh, I feel like Bloodhound dislocated my shoulder back there. We can have the stranger battle Bloodhound for all I care, he’ll limp back where he came from after,” he joked carelessly.
"You know, that is not a bad idea.."
"No, Indya. I didn’t mean–"
She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek. He often liked Indya for the same reason that he hated her. She was such a skilled manipulator that even he fell for her masquerades sometimes. As he watched her thick short hair bounce back to the crowd that was awaiting her, he stared up at the mushroom heater and then killed the cigar in the tray. The Captain pulled the towering man to her height and whispered some undisclosed words to his big ears. Despite her hand covering her face, the peppery smile was vividly visible nonetheless. She then stepped on the table, shoved bottles and half-eaten plates to the side with her boot and pointed at Eric Duras with her index finger. "I'll consider letting you join my crew..."

"...But only if you can beat Bloodhound in a fight. Edric, meet Bloodhound."

Ayan crossed his arms next to Bloodhound and bumped him with a feisty elbow. "You better make it count...for your Captain."
Bloodhound nodded and balled fisted hands to his chest. While Indya explained conditions, Ayan fled to the bar and gripped himself by the bridge of the nose. There was no way someone would win against Bloodhound's brute force, he worked up a headache just thinking about the concussion-inducing fist of his crew-mate that he has endured once or twice in gambling fights.
"You know the never failing home remedy for a headache is a good ol' beer, hey?" Kaya laughed and prepared a dozen refills for other guests at once.
In near distance he heard the Captain say "Let's move this outside, people!" and he lifted his head.
"Make that a mulled wine, will you, Kaya. No matter how many times we anchor in Ad Astra, I can't get fucking used to the guts of the weather."

• • •
"Come on, then . . ."
​

Mediocre battle cries chimed through the alley behind Captain Crook chasing out resting sea birds from roofs nearby. Ayan joined the flock of people and stopped between Indya and Smiley. Icy winds lashed out, let their hair tumble in improvised duets, let their lashes slowly crystallize. He took a sip of his steaming mulled wine and only looked up once a dull sound thumped like a misfiring canon and Bloodhound had hammered his whole fist through a wooden crate. The crowd went Woaahh~ and Smiley clapped ecstatically like a noble from a theatre tribune. Duras brushed his hand over the other and picked up his pace.

"Do you think he stands a chance hehe?" Smiley asked their leaders without addressing either one of them directly.
Ayan – sour and frost-bitten – raised a brow only and Indya – excited and awaiting – couldn't make a prediction just yet. "Bloodhound has very big hands," she remarked.
"They're actually bigger than most people's heads!" another crew member endowed the bystanders with trivia. On the other side of the ring that formed around the dueling parties, a few crew members haggled and threw coins and newly acquired jewelry in the snow to bet on their chosen fighter, Champion vs Underdog.

"Never change a winning horse!"
"Oh, shut it. We can't bet on nothin' if we're for the same guy!!"

Duras was able to evade the lethal fists in the first dash, after all, he was more agile than such a heavy-weight. "It's only a matter of time. Avoidance is basically the only strategy with Bloodhound," Ayan began to lecture while men and women took notice of his words and nodded, "The issue being, he doesn't look it, but Bloodhound doesn't get tired..." He then nodded over with a chagrined smile towards the just now again dodging Edric Duras who evaded a stab of fists barely. "But he will eventually." His comment didn't go past Indya unnoticed and she bit her lips– had she, perhaps, put too much naive confidence on that recruit?

"Comeee on, fresh meat!" a few sympathizers yelled and laughed, shaking their dirty hands in the air. Bloodhound charged at the man like a colossal horned bull, only ever following the red cloth that was swayed in front of his nostrils. This Edric Duras wasn't terrible. Ayan could sense a system of defense and attack in his movements, carefully studied the choreography of hits and ducks, feints and was stuck wondering whether he had seen the combat style before. The man used mere seconds of Bloodhound's missed hits to kick him in the side but even a strong knee like that one, didn't budge the hound to react much.

Just how he said, Bloodhound was slower but didn't lack in force even after minutes of chasing Duras around. However, the fact that Bloodhound hadn't k.o.ed the stranger yet, inflamed his silhouette with unknown tension.

Then something happened that had the bystanders, but just as much the crew gasp out-loud. Bloodhound's fists opened and his sturdy fingers extended and grabbed the contender by his leg and pulled Edric Duras closer with ease, like a twig on the ground. The inevitable fist of the big man zoomed into his shoulder and threw him back before another hit kept the stranger on the cold ground longer than he must have wished. The crowd warped their faces, a few avoided to look, a compassionate yet heated Oouuwwhhh howled through the winds while thick snow took over the icy drizzle. By now the yells and claps of the crowd were getting louder, more people joined from the tavern to watch.

Duras got back on his feet, broadened their space to catch his breath, to lick his wounds, to...

"He's stalling..."

Smiley chuckled and crossed their fingers, unbeknownst for whom they were rooting for, it would be like them to choose the surprising gunsel. Ayan's gaze shot to the challenger at their remark and watched closely and found Smiley's words to be true. What is he buying himself time for, the longer it goes, the harder it'll get. Like a dagger in his back, Ayan suddenly became fearfully aware of a loud sound like that of a ship's engine. Unnoticed by the noise of the spectators, it only hit him now. Bloodhound picked up a vase and launched it in opponent's direction, then growled and ran into him. A radiant blue glow blinded them, all coming from what he suspected was a metal hand prosthetic at first glance.
"It's a weapon..–" Forearms shielded their unaccustomed eyes and Ayan pushed Indya behind his frame before a convulsive shocking blast emitted from the prosthetic-like glove and thrusted all of Bloodhound in the opposite direction, where his body skittered over the ground.

Silence fell over the chant-addictive watchers. The whirr and combustion still rang their ears. For those who have not seen much of the modern countries, this advanced technology was scarily powerful. Confusion for one, awe for two casted clouds on the site of battle.

"What was that?"
"A machine?!"
"Is he a sorcerer?"

Smiley was the first to break the insecure stance of the crowd and waddled over to their crew-mate and patted his cheek. Bloodhound, bewitched from angry bull to upside down turtle, breathed fine but didn't react.

"A new winning horse 'round the stables. I hope we packed some honeycomb~"

♡coded by uxie♡