Chapter Text
He still doesn’t look at the stars.
Night fishing is best done, surprisingly, at night. Who fuckin' knew. Eridan checks the sinkers with a kind of precision you don't think is necessary, but he likes to hide in menial tasks so you don't question it.
At least not verbally.
Checking your actions is not becoming familiar, but it is almost becoming easier. Eridan reacts to weird things. Claws on wet wood. The high wind singing in the rigging. Anything that reminds him of angels.
You don't bother keeping track when you can barely even track your own. You just make sure he knows he can retreat when he needs, that you're there if he wants to talk or if he needs a distraction.
You don't know if he's still afraid of you, but he's still wary.
He glances at you to see whether you're scrutinising his ability to tie a sinker to a hook, like that's something you would actually hound anyone over.
You wonder whether you should tell him that your old shitbag of a ropemaster banned you from messing with his rods because you once left a pile of tangled fishing line that he spent three nights picking apart.
It was funny, and not entirely your fault so the story only brings you fond memories.
You hold your hand out to trade rods with him, thumbing over the neat knots with an approving grunt.
"You would'a made an old friend of mine very happy. He always thought there was no hope in an Ampora knowin' how to decently knot a line." You tell him, prepping the bait on the hook.
"Yours are no different from mine though." His default tone is neutral, warring for second place is doubt and irritation. You don't bother to pick apart why it's like that and where his thoughts are taking him. You're not that kind of troll, and he's stubborn enough to not listen even if you were. You just snort in amusement, flinging the line out. "I know. He always wanted to have somethin' no one else on the crew had. He proved himself over and over for many a reason, but you know how it can be."
Eridan's quiet as he knots the second rod and reaches for the bait. "Yeah." He says at last, keeping his eyes on the waves as he casts the line.
You're content to leave the talking at that, settle into your own memories and bury the grief under creating a puzzle in the stars where one isn't needed.
Eridan shifts, pulling himself to sit up on the support struts of the canopy and lets his legs dangle down. His bare feet hang in your peripheral. "Do you miss them?"
You would have preferred it if he was blunter. The hesitance, the almost gentle way his words come out. You have no patience for pity.
You study the stars as you let the question mull over. You can leave it, not answer him. You've learned that Eridan will hold his tongue, no matter how curious he is. He said once that he doesn't want to be annoying, but curiosity should never be a point of annoyance.
Young trolls are such a hassle. You barely even remember yourself at his age, you have nothing to go off.
So you answer him instead, trace patterns in stars that he refuses to look at. "Yes. I was not a good troll, my pride and ego grew with my position. But at sea with them, it was a chance to be real. My crew was handpicked by me, the loyal ones stayed, and more were found in ports and other ships' galleys. We were a strong crew." You don't know about that family nonsense Stumpy Vantas goes on about, but your crew could have been that.
You twitch the line, reel it in a little more. You glance at Eridan. He's watching the water where his line enters, relaxed as much as he'll allow himself to be.
"They would have liked you." His gaze flickers up to you, surprise in his expression before he attempts to hide it. "They would have. You'd get into so much bullshit, be an absolute menace all around."
"I'm a menace without help."
"It's more fun with others though, isn't it?" His expression flickers and he looks at the water. You wonder where his memories go. Surely he was a little shit at some point, wild and free without your title on his shoulders. He's a violet, it practically comes pre-packaged and handed to you with a bow.
"Yeah. It kinda is." Eridan reels the line in, setting the rod back in the holder. "Want me to go scare up dinner? You know, considerin' all the bountiful luck we're havin' right now."
You shrug and twitch the line. “Go nuts. Just don’t get distracted by bioluminescent fish again.”
His fins colour in as he slips into the water, and you catch his grumble on the way down. “That was one time.”
You grin now that he can’t see it. He’s alright.
He’s getting there.