To the Music

by **Allister** on August 29th, 2018, 12:38 am

Allister strained to keep his mind on the task of creating a failsafe for the crew. He lived in squalor when it came towards the attitudes of people around him but it was paradise so long as Madeira shared her love and anger and joy and indifference with him. The isolation he’d been subjected to had whittled away at his spirits and the weakened state had given rise to thoughts of suicide and other horrible acts of violence -some of which involved his beloved. Pale hands struggled against the thick rope as the voice of the old seadog chirped in his ear above the music and the wind.

“Pull, ya worthless pup!” Spittle was an added bonus to the chiding. “I bet ya pull on yer pecker harder than that when ya think about yer skinny lil witch, don’t cha, Thrall!” Allister transferred his grip quickly so that his right arm was wrapped around the mast and clinging to the heavy rope which freed up his left hand and arm to lash out on a full extension and catch the man by his collars. The hyena snarled a fearsome sound that was part growl and part something else. HIs muscles burned as the tired biceps contracted and drew the salty old man’s face against the kelvic’s pale skin.

The former slave was breathing heavy and every muscle tensed as if he were going to explode outward in some kind of massacaristic rage and tear the veteran of the waves into pieces. Black eyes bored into the man who huffed and puffed as he struggled against the iron-like grip of the offended bondmate. “Unhand me, ya bastard!” The old man balled a fist and brought it up across Allister’s cheek with a decent smack. The knuckles split the tightly stretched white skin and bright red blood balled up at the base of the small wound then ran down in slow, fat droplets towards the widely spread grin. A wiley tongue reached out and caught each one so that Allister could taste the metallic sweetness of his own vitae. Before the sailor could strike again, the kelvic jerked his arms inward at the same time which shook the platform on which they stood. He never took his gaze from the man.

“If you ever talk about Miss Madeira Craven again…” The hyena inhaled the sour scent of the man in a long, gross display of his animal habits, his voice low and menacing. “I’ll rip your teeth out and make a necklace out of them then use it to saw off your head.” Allister tossed the sailor backwards and released him but did so in a way that shoved the old coot into a line which would prevent the man from tumbling to his death. Shadows darkened his face in a way that made his eyes disappear at certain angles aside from random reflections of the lights below. “Now- what do I do next?”

WC492+835=1327

by **Allister** on August 29th, 2018, 1:02 am

Egrew stood slowly on legs that didn’t look fit for the sea and his countenance was nearly as pale as the young lad he was trying to train. “Ver-” he had to pause and swallow his spit before speaking. “You got that rope good enough. Pull it tight as ye can then bend it around a time or three and keep them coils tight like this.” he held out three fingers flat to show no space between them, his hands guided the notion of what the kelvic needed to do. Allister’s black eyes watched with interest for he truly did wish to know what made for a good sailor. Mota had taught him much about life in the rigging but not so much the why even if he did explain the how.

Allister turned to his task and curled his shoulders into the mast with one arm on either side. His legs were slightly bend and feet astride the main post. He snugged up his grip then drew his hands in a circle- each one completed half as the rope was passed back and forth until three coils had been made around the heavy wooden mast. It was not so simple for tension has to be maintained at all times. His back flexed against the resistance of gravity and the weight of several dozen yards of rope. Arm flexed, hands ached and he pressed on despite the torment he felt physically. Skin ripped from his palms and blood mixed with sweat from the cut on his cheek but the hyena refused to stop. Without Madeira’s emotions- he had nothing.

While his right hand locked the bunching of rope into place, the left worked back and forth and around to remove all the slack from his trio of coils. After a few chimes, he had it where he wanted it and was holding both ends of the rope when he turned to see Egrew regarding him with a very solemn gaze. “Good lad.” The voice was almost soft were it not for the gravel from years of rum and salted meats. “You only need hold it on your top lead there and we’re going to jump it down to the main boom then out to the jib boom.” The old man was already making his way down the netting when he paused and looked to the black-eyes kelvic. “If’n ya fancy, you can hop down the sail itself but don’t lose that line or you’ll bust a leg on that fall…” The old man resumed his descent. “Not to mention I’ll have to come back up and redo all this work my damn self.” The muttering words rose up with the tune below.

Allister looked down and grumbled. Jomi was still close with his beloved and she was still keeping the hyena in the dark. “Fine.” The kelvic said through clenched teeth. He clung tightly to his lead line as instructed them moved to the left of the mast. He braced his tose over the edge and looked down. The rope was leading him where he needed to go, he just had to find a way to land on the main boom. “Petch it.” He said softly. He took a piece of leather from a pile of straps near the nest’s moorings. Carefully, he folded three times until it was hearty and thick then wrapped it around the rope. Pale hands gripped this sleeve as if Dira herself had come to pry him away then he stepped off into the open air.

The drop was instant and Allister’s mouth opened in a cry of surprise turned to elation. He leaned back into the canvas of the sail and felt it heat the skin on his back. Being weightless, the former slave suddenly realized he should arch his back to maintain his semi-upright posture. Ticks later, his heels skipped off the front of the main boom and clamped his hands and arms over the rope. He was sucked back as the coarse fibers tore at his inner elbow but not too deep as the boom’s wooden beam rose up to crack him on his rear and stop his fall. The hyena was panting and his heart was beating so loudly that Laviku must’ve surely heard it. Egrew was cussing and a few other sailors were laughing but Allister didn’t care. He had survived. INstinctively, he reached out for Madeira’s love or worry but he was met only with a wall. That sadness only numbed his pain.

WC754+1327=2081

by **Allister** on August 29th, 2018, 1:26 am

Allister slowly got to his feet. Everything hurt but he ignored it. Muscles begged for a rest but the work was not done. Scrapes and rope burns pleased to be soothed but no mercy was shown. Egrew came underneath the novice sailor on the main deck and shook his head but said nothing. Crooked, weathered fingers pointed ahead to the jib boom to which the black eyes moved. The hyena nodded at his trainer and pushed his body to straighten, hands tight around the line and its leather wrap.

The kelvic mapped out a quick route to his destination the way that Mota had showed him. Normally, these tasks were manned by several men in various positions but no one really wanted to work with Allister. His association to a spiritist and his uncouth behaviors made for many-a distant co-worker. Furthermore, the captain had purposefully run light crews at the early going because he feared what lay ahead -or so some of the crew murmured. The Suvan was easy going compared to what awaited them on the outer ocean. Black eyes twinkled as the course was mapped. With a deep breath, Allister continued his duties.

He leapt forward clinging to the heavy rope and pulled his knees up towards his chest while he sailed forth and down onto a stack of crates. The dry wood popped from the sudden pressure but did not give and its briskness pushed back up which propelled the man to continue. The hyena pumped his legs as he made long strides down from the crate, against the rail and then on to the deck. The leather sleeve slipped along the rope while sweat poured from the pale skin. Allister’s muscles ached but he bent them to his will anyway. Tugging at the long rope and removing slack along the way, he ran back up onto the rail for a few steps then hopped onto the bow sprit. He had to shorten his strides into choppy ones and landed one foot in front of the other until he came to the fly jib’s lower sheet. The Jibbon was too small to run upon but Allister had an idea all along. He intentionally missed his next step and leaned forward. His right arm cradled the line while the left extended up and back. His tired fingers caught the jibbon while he simply hung there where the pieces of ship came together some five feet in front of the figurehead with nothing but the deep blue beneath him.

Allister hung for a moment before he started to kick his feet. His core muscles and back took turns pushing and pulling as he rocked back and forth. On the forth pump, the kelvic was able to throw his right hand up and catch the jibbon. The line rested on his shoulder and was slowly drawing itself slack back towards the foremast. Using all the strength he had left, the pale apparition pulled himself up until he could lay upon the thin rod of wood used for ridding the small angular sails. The former slave was bleeding, sweating and breathing fire but he had nearly finished. With his hands bleeding and shaking, he pulled the rope until it was tight by using the coupler brace as leverage.

Once he felt it snug, a crotchety voice called from behind him. “Now tie it off in a square knot, Thrall and we’ll get a splash o’ medicine.” The old sailor meant rum. It was likely that he thought Allister would die from all of this but he remained. Allister looped the line over itself then wrapped it around once more but reversed the direction of the loop. This formed a box-like knot hence the name. Leaning back, ankles locked under the bow sprit, the hyena jerked and flex and burned his muscles until he had nothing left. He melted off of the boat’s needle back to the forecastle deck and then stood with his body leaned up against the rail. He took a swig of the offered rum but quickly passed it on. His eyes burned a hole for his heart, his bondmate, his Madeira. Throughout the entire ordeal, he didn’t feel a single spark from her. His grief had turned to anger and in this moment, that anger was directed towards a creature he could not harm in the slightest-- that mouthy petch of a ghost, Jomi. “Someday, spirit-”

WC738+2081=2819

by **Jomi** on August 31st, 2018, 3:18 am

A tendril of mist drifted off Jomi's shroud and went about twisting the frayed end of the hemp rope he was seated on. Jomi focused himself in the grounding task of activating the soulmist and braiding the stiff materials as the ships music continued joyously. The high pitched strings and deep baritone voices cut through the murky darkness that surrounded the ship, a little sheltered paradise of song and light against the endless dark expanse. But Jomi's world was narrowed down to the little space he and his mistress had carved for themselves, away from the revellers. What had started as a friendly conversation, an invitation into each others thoughts and minds, had devolved into pain filled memories and accusations.

There was venom in the spiritist's words, they cut into him like the sharp sting of her hand that griped onto his shoulder like a talon. But Jomi refused to look away, he would not be cowed by her demoslishments. She reacted so fiercely to Jomi's probing but had no issue with tearing open his wounds for the world to see. Like she thought of his bond as unimportant compared to her own, just a dead Kelvic who didn't know when to let go.

Jomi was seeing red as Madeira warned him to keep out of her business and brushed his concerns aside, but more than that she was disregarding Allister as well. Jomi wondered if she was even aware of how much power she held over her bonded. It was common knowledge that Kelvics were more tied to there bond than those they bonded to. A Kelvic entire identity was bound to that invisible string that tied them to their masters, and the severing of one could lead to an early death, or even transcend it.

Jomi was angry, hurt and struggling to speak as his mists swirled chaotically. He made feeble attempts to corral them into his proper human shape, but every time he had some form of control over the errant mist his racing thoughts and drifting mind would scatter them again.

The ghost could feel the cold burn of the Hyena's stare a second before he dissolved into a formless gas and shot into Madeira's centre mass. The possession was forceful but fleeting as he rushed to to sync himself to the spiritist mind, knowing the much more powerful spiritist could evict him with nothing but a thought. But for the second of privacy the spiritist granted Jomi pushed everything he was feeling into Madeiras mind, the hurt and confusion, and his most treasured memories of his bond and what it had meant for him. As Jomi exited her body, pulling his mists away from her organs and muscle tissue he left one last thought to echo through her as the last of his mist blinked into the ocean.

Talk to him.

by **Madeira Dusk** on September 4th, 2018, 10:33 pm

A crackling of stressed wood and tight ropes popped and shivered through the deck, but Madeira didn't turn towards the noise. Even with her walls up and unfathomable distance between their bond, she knew the weight of his steps, the sound of his exertion. Allister was on the deck, but she pretended she didn't know. And it was in this state of forced ignorance that Jomi managed to catch her off guard. The ghost blinked into her, hitting her soul in his sharp, brutish way, scouring through her bones and the edges of her mind.

And she could have shut him out with a thought, brushed him aside like a cobweb. But the moment he touched her soul she hesitated. Possession was a trauma of the worst kind. To have the sanctity of ones soul and body trespassed upon was an invasive, hateful experience. But to have his dead soul so intimately aligned with hers, even as his fast, clumsy attempt made her muscles cry out in pain, she felt a relief. It was nothing even close to the connection of having a bond. It was invasive and painful and burning, but it was also a closeness she had starved herself and Allister for.

Disgusted by the emotion and repulsed by the thought, she gathered herself and forced him out. But not before she was punished for her weakness by a kaleidoscope of memories and feelings that were not her own. Warm, treasured scenes with a woman she had never met grown bitter and stale with time, the floundering confusion and grief as the bond broke against a death that was not hers. She felt the isolation. The loneliness...

Talk to him.

She was on her feet, cold with something worse than soulmist. The party went on with stamping feet and the drag of a fiddle, and she was suddenly looking Allister in the eye. Wind tossed and bruised, bloody and angry as the sea, she looked into his black eyes and felt the walls in her mind tremble to hold back the wasted tide of her darkest thoughts. He was leaning against the railing, body slick with sweat and lips wet with rum. She wanted to run to him, pull his falling pieces back together, sooth his broken body. But the walls trembled, and she knew to touch him now would be disastrous.

She turned away.

The joviality of the sailors and the cold in her soul followed her as she left the deck. She built her walls back up piece by piece, shut her beloved out of her aching soul, and convinced herself that her neglect was better than her pain.

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