Summer the 2nd, 513 AV
Drinking in the familiar salty air, Reign surveyed her old home from the musty deck. It hadn’t changed much, old buildings, the ports, foul outlines of sailors, all just visible from within the thin line of fog that embraced the sky and clung to the air. Misgivings filled her as she felt the little boat inch itself closer to the shore, her knuckles a bone white from clutching the splintery deck with a desperate force. In truth she feared the city, and the dark secrets she had abandoned in it. Though she had long outlived any tolerance of the appalling stench of vomit that haunted and drifted about the boat like a disease. The Queen was a disgusting boat in general, nothing more than nails and rotting wood. She had long lived past her prime; Reign often lay in wake, fearful that the boat may plunge into the sea at any moment. Her crew members were a shady lot as well, requesting only 70 gold mizas for Reign and her brother’s passage into the city. The men spent their waking hours discussing old stories of women they had wronged or people they had cheated. They were such a revolting group of men, inside and out, that Reign felt no remorse from murdering them. She felt no guilt having Daniel toss their tattooed bodies overboard.
Pulling a shard of a mirror from the folds of her ink black cloak, Reign studied her reflection in the glass. Her face would be pleasant enough if it wasn’t for the gnarly purple and blue bruise she sported around her left eye. I don’t see the usual trick working out in your favor anytime soon my love. Groaning in frustration Reign tossed the purloined mirror shard overboard. She was dearly regretting her attempt, some nights ago, to seduce the caption of the Queen. To Reign’s misfortune he was a paranoid man, and although he was drunker than a bee who had sipped too much honey, he saw straight through her filth and slugged her right dab in the center of her eye. He died that night, there was nowhere for him to run/hide, no one to call to for help. In one night the Queen was hers; she would never admit it aloud but she owed most of the victory to Daniel.
Sunlight peeking out from the clouds, Reign sighed, turning and stumbling towards the side of the boat. “Daniel!” she called, opening a hatch to reveal row after row of shining bottles. “Daniel!” It was a grand collection of rum, whiskey, and wine. She was quite proud of it, for Reign never journeyed anywhere without alcohol nearby. Personally she loathed the taste of the stuff, but an excess of drink made her job much easier. Plus, it kept Aether quiet… Climbing down into the dark haven, Reign cracked her knuckles. She had to keep Cloak sedated; Cloak was a fellow passenger, a man so drunk that she knew practically nothing about him other than his name… and that he enjoyed drinking. Though there was something about him that made her uncertain of cutting short his life, he had given her a look the first night, as she sized up the crew, that made her believe killing him would evolve into an ordeal. An ordeal she might have not emerged from. Daniel, also had protested her killing the man. Rattling the bottles, she realized with a start that all of them but one were empty. Knocking them over in disgust, the girl stalked back out into the sun, clutching the one bottle of whiskey as if it were a bar of gold. Serves you right not killing that drunk. |
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