Dark Waters

[Morgan LaLuna]

Smoke curled lazily around slender fingers, dirty and roughened from a day with ropes, darkened by ink and blood and perhaps the smallest amount of gunpowder. The cigarette that dangled loosely between two lazily relaxed fingers. The captain was gazing half-lidded out over endless blue, leaning on the railing around the topmost point of the ship: the crow’s nest. Both elbows were settled beneath his torso against the wood, and it seemed he held much faith in the construction, for he draped heavily upon it. The sway of the basket no longer bothered him way up there, where there were stars and the ethereal glow of a moon. His gaze was fixed on a darkness in the water just near the port side of the boat, a shape that had been alongside them nearly all day. A slow blink accompanied a yawn, and the captain stood further, putting the cherry of the cigarette out on the bottom of his boot before tucking it behind his ear for later. He leaned out more prominently, and peered over the billow of sails as he reached up, grabbed a rope, and started across the wooden beam. His foot caught a slip of red fabric, and it was kicked up into his arms. Quickly, he started to wrap himself up this way and that into it, until he only held a short amount off to the side. His entire body tipped forward, and not a gasp was uttered on the deck below, for it was something the acrobatic captain did often enough.

He rolled midair down to mid-sail, and squinted his eyes at those beneath him, giving a shrill whistle and pointing at one of the crew, and then motioning him toward where he’d just come from, up above. He moved then in a wide swing, using the sail itself as a point of launch, and jumped from the end of the silk to the railing. His descent seemed slowed in the end, and he landed rather safely on the railing, stepping back to hop to the deck with a thud of boots.


Nobody seemed to be surprised to see him there, nor were they startled by what was, by now, commonplace on the Heathen. "Any change?" He asked in a low tone as he peered over the edge. All he could see were black waters below, reflecting lamplight in shattered bursts.


"None at all. Just seems to be… following." One skinny man threw up an arm, seemingly flabbergasted. Morgan narrowed his eyes, and hummed.


"Go get me a barrel of salted fish."


"Sir, I-"


"Now." He commanded, cutting off any protest that was about to be presented. He reached up to grab a hold of some rigging rope, and tugged himself up once more to get a better look into the depths below. Slowly, he lifted a hand, and with simple movements and a flash, a globe of light drifted into the water. Deeper it went, and deeper still… until it disappeared, simply fizzling out when a certain distance from the caster had been reached. "Shit…" he mumbled, stepping back down and glowering. "Any clue what it is? Like… is there a damn book o' seamonsters for kids or something?" He huffed in a frustrated manner, and squinted at the dark shape that spanned as long and as wide as the Heathen. Really, he was hoping it was just a really big… somewhat curious whale. They hadn't tried to harm it, and it hadn't moved against them… Morgan wanted to see if he could change things.


Hopefully… in his favor.

[Morgan LaLuna]

The Depths


The slap to waves against the wooden hull of the Heathen was muffled by the fog starting to envelop the ship, and the captain was narrowing his eyes at the dark shape down below suspiciously. A flutter of fingers, and he cleared just enough to see the inky surface… but not for long. Everything had limitations. He would watch as long as he could keep the moisture at bay, then move to more desperate measures. All Morgan knew was this: he did not want to fight whatever it was in the water that easily dwarfed an entire brigantine. Heathen was no small ship.


"Where the fuck is my fish?" He growled to the man next to him, gaze steadily fixated below. He didn't dare glance when there was a clatter of wood being dragged up stairs… and didn't wait for a verbal answer. Anyone else would know better than to give him one, as well, for he was already stepping away from the railing and motioning for a prybar to be brought to him. It didn't take long for him to pull the lid off the barrel, and the odor of salted fish wafted to sting at every nose nearby, like a miasma that curled the toes. He'd seen weaker men vomit from the smell. Funny what hunger on the high seas allowed you to eat.


An attire arm was jammed in, sleeve coming out dripping nearly as heavily and the handful of tails that brought three separate creatures up, still and hanging uselessly. Once delicate fingers wrapped tight around the base of the tails, and he lifted his arm, up and back… and threw the morsels into the water. He seemed to be holding his breath. Watching. Waiting. And there. A slither of movement, and one fish disappeared. Two, three… all pulled under by tendrils of flesh that wrapped almost delicately around each before dragging them into darkness. "Aw, fuck."


The fog seemed to slam shut before them as he released the spell keeping it at bay, and he was immediately setting people here, and there, calmly looking to Bosun every now and again. He still relied somewhat on the man's input, and was looking, perhaps, for protest.


"We've been here before! This one is really small, so it might just be following us for safety. We'll feed it for now… and if it turns on us…" well. There would be a plan, by then. He hoped. An arm went up, and he twisted his wrist in a circle, indicating all hands to their assigned positions. As for the captain…


He was tying a rope around his waist. No others followed suit, of course, for certainly what he was planning would be suicide, right? With another flutter of his fingers, he took a strange breath, staggered, and shuddered, before tugging at the lead to test the strength… and tipping back. Moments passed, and the captain was gone.


Sploosh.

[Morgan LaLuna]

Breathe


Chill darkness settled heavily around Morgan LaFey, pressing against his flesh and whipping in a frenzy of a million tiny bubbles around him, fluttering fabric out and around his extremities. He had to wait first for the brilliant silvery moonlight sheen on sparkle to dissipate, and then adjust to the near blackness that came with the dispersal of air in the water around him right where it belonged: above. He let out a breath slowly, and took another. Water rushed into his lungs, and he let the panic of drowning pass, breathing out once more. And back in. The spell was something he cast often enough, but rarely actually got the opportunity to use, something that was proving rather useful for more than just skimming around beneath the waves for things stuck in sand and rock not far from shorelines.


He couldn't float around long. As soon as he had his bearings, he swam as quickly as he could down, closer to the great thing that had been following the Heathen. A dangerous move, and certainly not his brightest idea. He dove closer, and before his eyes the shadow's lines became less blurred and amorphous, separate bands of darkness indicating many… *many* limbs. One swept by him, the tendril curling slightly, and nearly set him off course with the eddies of current that followed in its wake. For the first time, he was given pause, for on that fleshy column nearly as thick as he was was a line of suckers that looked as big as his head, and only growing in size in one direction. He followed more carefully after the close call, and watched for the rhythm of movement what was common in cephalopods and other invertebrates through water, the swell and push and undulation of flexible limbs, the engorging and expulsion of seawater within that created a propulsion through the weightless environment.


Closer, he managed to get. Around, and over, and… there. Again, he nearly choked on the very water he had no real trouble breathing, for he found himself staring into a great eye that nearly dwarfed him, yellow with a pupil shaped like a saddle that shifted just enough that he knew… he was no dark little secret any longer. And now, the mystery was quite solved. The captain thought he could see his own reflection in that eye for a moment, and in the moment he lifted a hand, as if trying to reach out to himself, or the very beast in front of him. Was it awe? Fear? He wasn't sure what made him freeze when it did, but the moment passed after a minute eternity, and the great eye seemed to shift upward. It rose, and he swept up with it, nearly getting the rope tangled into what seemed, in the moment, a forest of writhing flesh. Two long dangling tentacles drifted behind, and pulled up closer, seemingly toward him… and he yanked the rope hard enough he almost felt it bite into his palms. A soft bloom of crimson, nearly invisible, clouded the water at his hands as he was pulled back up, and the placid movements seemed to turn to searching, hunger… all toward him even as he was tugged up, away, and out.


Far from becoming bait on a line, Morgan assisted the others in pulling him up by scrabbling up the side of the ship, finding any hold he could for foot and hand alike, until he was clambering over the side. "Dump the fish! Dump it!" He was narrowly missed by a searching arm that only retreated when a deluge of salted fish splashed over the deck and down into the water, turning quickly to chum beneath. Panting and pressed against the mast, Morgan spat the last of the seawater from his lungs and mouth, and looked around for Bosun with renewed vigor. There were wild hares to chase, and ideas forming in that captain's head.


The Heathen was about to gain herself a deadly guardian, if things went to plan. However half-formed those were, at the moment.

[Gwen Kasady]

High above the deck of the Heathen, tendrils of lazy white smoke curled their way around rough fingers before leaving them to drift up into the night air. The slow, serpentine dance into the darkened sky, up among the moon and stars, would garner a cobalt blue gaze from far below before eyes once more settled on her captain. He’d been up there for at least an hour, if not more, perched like a solemn sentinel of the sea in the crow’s nest. The rest of the crew was gathered as well, their curious stares remaining upward for fear of what lurked below. Gwen brought her hand up to cover her mouth, stifling a yawn, before lowering her gaze and looking across the deck to see if she could catch Bosun’s eye. When those blue eyes settled on the man, she saw that he was looking up as well, though his expression told more of boredom than concern. After a long moment, those pale blue eyes fell from his captain as well and he looked out over the railing to the sea. When he looked back, he noticed the first mate’s stare and his roaming gaze stilled upon her curiously. Gwen, leaned against the railing of the stairs, unlaced her arms from in front of her and both hands went out to her sides as she shrugged and tilted her head slightly. Bosun simply shrugged in answer, returning the gesture. Neither knew what the captain was thinking, but they both trusted him enough to wait to find out.

The returned gesture not helpful, she pursed her lips, re-crossed her arms in front of her and her legs at the ankles as she settled in for the wait. All of which was unceremoniously undone when a shrill whistle shattered the silence from somewhere up above. Her eyes shooting upward and her hand to a dagger at her thigh, she looked first to the empty crow’s nest before searching him out and finding him at mid-sail. Relaxing a little when she had the captain in her sight, her focus remained on him as he beckoned one of the crew to man the now empty basket up above, curious to see what he was going to do next.

Watching as he pushed off the sail, ice blue eyes followed the wide arc he made above them and settled on him when he landed on the deck with a thud of boots. He didn’t turn around. Rather, he leaned against the railing and peered down into the black water below, intent on whatever habitated the depths alongside them.

“Any change?” she heard him say.

“None at all. Just seems to be...following,” a skinny crewmember answered, throwing his arms up, dumbfounded.

“Go get me a barrel of salted fish,” Morgan said next.

The last shot Gwen bolt upright out of her lean and she blinked at what she’d heard.
“Wait…,” she said, quietly enough that no one would hear. Tearing her gaze away from Morgan, she looked to Bosun quizzically. The expression on his face unreadable, he simply looked towards the captain but made no move or sound otherwise. Turning back to the scene, she watched as a crew member tried to object, but was quickly cut off in his attempt.

“Now!” Morgan commanded. Gwen’s brows furrowed and she tilted her head at the outburst. Surely he wasn’t about to do what she thought he was going to do. Was he?

Deciding to get a closer look herself, Gwen pushed off the railing of the stairs and slowly began making her way to where the captain and most of the crew now congregated. Still a small distance away, she watched as Morgan again hauled himself up onto the railing and conjured a globe of light that lazily floated down, disappearing on the other side of the railing.

“Shit…,” she heard him mumble. Apparently the ball of light hadn’t worked and he knew no more about the mysterious behemoth than he did a few moments ago. As he stepped down from the railing and boots again found the deck, Gwen reached it and placed her palms tentatively on the edge of it, fingers up, as she too leaned over and peered down curiously.
“Any clue what it is? Like... is there a damn book o’ seamonsters for kids or something?” Morgan mused. Shaking her head silently as she looked at the inky, shimmering blackness, the first mate turned around and rested her backside against the railing. Looking out at the sea of faces before her, she noted how some shook their head, some grumbled incoherently and a few even backed away seemingly out of fear. With no answer forthcoming from the on edge group of men, she languidly turned that cobalt blue gaze to her captain.

They hadn’t tried to harm it, and it hadn’t moved against them...but she had a sneaking suspicion that the acrobat captain was about to poke it.

She stared at him for a long moment as he looked over the edge, fixated on the mass of darkened water that had trailed them most of the day into the night. Pursing her lips, her eyes squinted contemplatively at the man. She would not go against her captain or voice any concerns, relevant or otherwise, in front of the already pessimistic crew. For now she would simply watch and help in any way she could.

“Where the fuck is my fish?” the captain growled. He didn’t look up from his fixation, but she did. Blue eyes shifted towards the entrance of the nearby hold as the sounds of wood scraping wood arose from it, the sounds themselves serving as the answer to the captain’s question. Shifting slightly in her stance, she folded her arms in front of her and watched as the two crew members struggled with the packed full barrel and another brought a crowbar to Morgan’s beckoning fingers. Gwen disliked the thought of what came next, but she stood fast, and then the lid of the barrel was pried open. The stench of salted fish oozed over the deck like a creeping death, touching every nostril and burning every eye.

“Hrrrk” “Mm!!” Were the two immediate sounds that arose from somewhere in the huddle and the crowd shifted to allow for the two men to make their way to the other side of the ship to do their business, or lose it, as it were. Gwen, not unaffected by the smell, simply raised a hand and placed a finger beneath her nose, clearing her throat. Even her eyes had begun to water and she dipped her head, squinting as Morgan’s arm disappeared into the depths of the preserved fish. When it retracted, bringing three large fish with it, she couldn’t help but smile behind her concealing hand. It was one of the few times, if not the only, any part of the man’s body would smell like that.

Up and back his arm went, the salty brine from the fish spattering against the deck, before they were tossed out and they both turned to the railing to watch and wait. Nothing happened at first. Nothing at all. The three fish simply bobbed lazily on the water’s surface before beginning a slow descent into blackness. Just before they disappeared however, Gwen leaned forward, straining to see, and watched, horrified, as three tendrils of nightmare fuel ascended from the depths and plucked each fish one by one, and then they were gone.

“What the fuck!?” she mouthed, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes widened and she stepped back from the railing.

“We’ve been here before!...” Morgan started, turning to the crew who hadn’t witnessed what they just had. Gwen shook her head. No. No they hadn’t been here before. She would remember. “...and if it turns on us…,” he finished, his words trailing off. She snapped a look at him. What if it did turn on them? And now Morgan was tying a rope around his waist and backing up against the railing!

“Morgan…,” she started, taking a step towards him and reaching a hand in his direction. But it was too late. The captain merely glanced her way as a crooked grin ticked one side of his lips up and he winked at her, then tipped backwards. And then he was gone.

Sploosh!

“Morgan!” The sound of line whizzing against wood replaced the sound of splashing water and Gwen rushed to the railing, her hands settling heavily upon it as she leaned over and peered down at the ripples the captain had made when he pierced the surface. Only bubbles remained and she stared in terror for a long moment. The seconds passed and her expression twisted, contorting from one of shock to one of determination before she whirled around and picked out the three crew members closest to her. “You, you and you,” she started, pointing at each in turn and then the rope that held the most precious cargo. “Man this rope. As soon as you feel the slightest tug, you pull like your life depends on it.” Because it did. The three men nodded, taking up the rope and entwining it about their arms, ready for the signal.

Once the men had gripped the rope and stood at the ready to her satisfaction, Gwen returned to the railing and looked over again. The waters had returned to their usual, languid rolls and swells save the miniscule tremors that surrounded the single rope that reached through. Reaching over, she took hold of the rope delicately as they all held their collective breath and awaited the moment for action.

“Pull!!” she shouted suddenly. Morgan’s tug on the line had been unmistakable, as hard as he had yanked on it. Muscles of three men strained as they groaned from the effort and started reeling the captain in. Gwen, between them and the railing, moved to grab hold of the line as well and set a foot against the barrier that separated them from the sea as she too pulled with all of her might. A telltale gasp heralded the captain breaching the water’s surface and she let go of the line, moving again to the side and leaning over to offer a hand even as he shouted. “Dump the fish! Dump it!”

Another hand slid through the night as well, this one pale green, bigger and stronger than the girl’s. Gwen grabbing one hand and Bosun grabbing the other, they both pulled hard until Morgan was clambering over the side and a deluge of salted fish replaced his retreat, halting the searching tentacle that had nearly snatched him.

The first mate went with Morgan, and even as the girl looked him over, she couldn’t help several glances up to his face as he looked about, searching for Bosun with a certain wild look in his eyes. A look that spoke of wild hares and wilder ideas coalescing behind amber eyes.

The Heathen was about to go to war or gain a very deadly guardian. Only the captain knew which one.

[Callidora]

Far below the surface where the Heathen languidly floated and an equal distance away, Daedalus was nestled into the craggy surface of a seaside cliff. The fingers of both hands curled around the metal staff of a trident, he leaned heavily upon it and stared up lazily at the scene above. To the right was the bottom hull of a massive ship, a brigantine if he had to guess, which offered nothing to him but a massive bit of curved wood that jutted into the sea. To the left however, much more fluid and very much more alive, was the beast he had been sent to keep an eye on. A distant cousin perhaps, or perhaps not, but without a doubt a daughter of the sea.

Daedalus himself wasn’t much bigger than a normal human man. Strong arms, a chiseled chest and midsection told of a graceful, yet formidable, strength garnered from a life under the waves where swimming got one most everywhere. A swimmer’s physique, with thick slabs of muscle packed on for good measure. It was at the man’s waist where his similarities to a normal human male ended however. The color of his skin bled from flesh colored to a pale green that later ringed with black as his lower half fanned out into eight thick, equally powerful, tentacles. The very same that curled easily around rock and plant to keep him secured against the cliff face he stood guard on.

The day had been uneventful to say the least, with this ship and beast moving so slowly that Daedalus hadn’t needed to shift or move from his position at all. As day shifted into night and the waters around him darkened, he stood still, waiting for the unlikely pair to pass overhead before he moved to a new vantage point to continue to monitor and watch. As the maritime environment began to wane from sun warmed waters to moonlit sea, another form approached the Cecaelian guardian slowly from somewhere below.

“Has there been any change?” the woman asked, her dark eyes on ship and kraken before moving to the man who stood watch. Daedalus, having fallen victim to hours of boredom, stiffened reflexively at the sudden presence of another and looked to the woman in surprise before relaxing and looking back to the pair, shaking his head.

“None. She just seems to want to...follow...for now.” Which was odd, considering the reputation most surface dwellers had with the people and creatures of the sea. Safer to destroy the ship and drown or eat the inhabitants before it was done to them. Of course, that was only the view of some. Eurydice apparently had other plans for the ship named Heathen.

“Odd,” Ariadne said curiously, turning again to regard the strange couple as they neared gradually. The woman was slimmer than Daedalus, but not by much. Still larger than a human man, the tentacles that fanned out from her midsection were as black as the waters surrounding them and just as thick and powerful as her male counterpart. Her hair as well, black as midnight, snaked lazily in the gentle current like an anemone easily thrice the length of the man’s longish hair. Probably more.

Seeing that nothing at all was about to happen as the two floated lazily forward, she turned to Daedalus and rested a hand at his shoulder gently. “You should get some rest. You’ve been out here all day.” And likely bored to tears she surmised, after having gazed upon the absolutely sterile scene for herself. No muffled screams. No squirming humans. No pieces of ship floating slowly to the depths. Dreadfully boring had anyone asked her.

“Soon,” Daedalus remarked, his lips forming into a tired smile as he leaned against the hands that still held that trident. “Perdix will be along shortly to relieve me. I’ll rest then,” he promised, his eyes never leaving Eurydice or the Heathen. With the man’s focus averted upwards, Ariadne watched as the tired smile graced the man’s lips and took her own lip with stark white teeth, hesitating momentarily. Slowly, she turned towards him, her free hand moving to touch the hardened chest of the man and fingertips swirled around the taut flesh as she neared and looked up at him. “Not too tired for a little fun before you sleep, I hope.”

Of all the things he had ignored in his vigilance; a playful whale, a shark or two and a pod of dolphins, Ariadne was the one thing he couldn’t. Turning towards her, the tired smile regained a spark of life and he shook his head. “I’m never too tired for you, my love.”

“Mmmm. Good,” she said, her fingers curling against the man’s chest as she moved in, her lips set on his even as her lips spread into a wide, happy grin.

“Wait…!” Daedalus interrupted, his focus again tearing away from the woman and looking back up to ship and beast as his eyes narrowed. Three splashes in the water had stolen his attention and one hand released the trident he held as he moved forward just slightly. “What was that sound?”

“I don’t know,” Ariadne admitted, turning as well and looking up curiously. There, still far above them, they both watched as three fish, already dead by the absence of movement, pierced the water’s surface and began a slow descent. Then, for the first time all day or night, Eurydice moved; her tentacles slowly seeking out the tiny morsels and taking them one by one to guide them into her gigantic maw. Daedalus’ hand tightened on the trident in his grasp at the strange change of events and watched as the moments passed. Ariadne, similarly confused, looked back and forth between her lover and the kraken and waited as well. Then…

Sploosh!

“What in Mariana…,” Daedalus whispered aloud, confusion now rampant. As the flurry of bubbles cleared, both the man and the woman slowly made out the form of….
Was that an actual human in the water now? Had they sacrificed one of their own to the beast to placate or appease it? It looked like a male of their kind, but he seemed to be tethered to the ship still. Were they actually trying to entice the young kraken with live bait? In hopes of what? Surely even the massive ship could not haul such a magnificent beast out of the water. Silly humans. But no. This surface dweller seemed...curious. What was he doing exactly? The pair looked on, watching as the captain of the ship swam carefully around Eurydice, studying her intently for a time. The young kraken, curious as well, soon moved to capture the small creature that now hovered around one of those great eyes, but the movements were slow and lazy. A daughter of the sea, especially one as young as her, could be deadly quick if she wanted, but...she wasn’t. Instead it appeared she was delicately trying to capture the young male not for food but for...what? Enjoyment. Was she...playing? Whatever the case, the human was soon ascending quickly out of her reach and once more breaching the surface, up and away from the searching arms of the beast below.

Like a forlorn lover, those searching arms reached upwards in search of her visitor only to be met and then pelted with a massive amount of the same fish they had enticed her with in the beginning. Forgetting momentarily her prize, gentle arms now reached for the tender morsels that had been offered and began hungrily guiding each one to her mouth for an enormous meal. Food she had forsaken due to her following of the ship of roughly her same size.

“Are they…?” Ariadne started.

“Feeding her.” Daedalus finished, confirming the woman’s concerns.

“What?” she said in disbelief, turning to the man with wide eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head and looking on. “But Metion will want to hear of this.” he added. Ariadne nodded, turning her gaze from the man upwards to the feeding frenzy that had commenced above.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.” A last moment was given to the scene above from the man now as well as the woman and slowly, his hand sought out hers. Taking it within his grasp, he squeezed gently and waited for her to look his way. Once she had, he nodded once and they both turned to retreat into the deep and let their king know of this new turn of events. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to alert the other kingdom about this as well, though Daedalus feared it was inevitable considering their course.