Chapter Text
the room is spinning, twisting and turning, or maybe that's him. he stumbles on over to his seat, a voice erupting over the lines of drunken men. "don't drink it all, blade!"
it erupts a chorus of laughter from his crewmates and himself, raising his tankard up to the roof of the ship. "might have to cut me off my friend!" he's always been quite a lot more expressive when he's tipsy, more so when he's three rounds in—his friends find it oh so amusing, too. techno downs some of the beer as someone to his left slams their foot down.
"in the merry month of june-" it's not long till everyone is singing along at the top of their lungs, the waves carrying their rhythm. people slam their hands down on the creaky, rotting wood tables to the beat, and though exhaustion pulls at each of their bones, they sing on, leaning against each other, left to right, then right to left. a guitar joins in, along with a violin. a bunch of drunken pirates, they were. thick irish accents seem to shadow over his own, sharp and rough due to his birthplace—the nether. the group of pirates found him when he was a wee kid, only thirteen, surviving off of coconut and chicken. they always need more hands on deck, after all.
they travel continent to continent, searching for riches based off of tales. it was a carefree, joyful life, even with all the taxing work. each of the men are heavily built with muscles, hands covered in callouses and scars. the sea was a cruel bride, that's for sure.
he's left laughing along with his crewmates, squinting through the skull mask—his own choosing, actually. each of them had their own skull. many of them had cow or goat skulls, but a few of the higher ranked men had canine and tigers skulls. they all get an equal share of the treasure—he's never found any of it interesting, except for the heavy, worn and tattered cloak, most certainly from a royal. it's safely stored on the foot of the bed, like it always is. the swaying, lantern lit deck never had a dull moment. the cap'n allowed them a nice little break, what a nice man he was. maybe they'd have another few duels with the training sword—techno was actually trained by the man personally.
cap'n took pity on him, actually. he was who knew his potential. he's so thankful for him, for all of them.
he's got a family.
he downs a good part of his drink, swaying with the tune of the now slower, calmer tune. they've all got pretty good singing voices, from years of going through the same notes over and over again. he's.. not as good, but maybe one day. "just one more time, i would take the northwest passage," he sings, the rumbling of each of his friend's chests relaxing, a lazy smile slipping on his face, eyes glassy and dazed. he throws the rest of his drink down, singing the last few notes before standing up, flicking the one crewmate younger than him on the back of his head and stumbling on over towards the bunks. "night," he calls, waving and blowing a playful kiss, giggling as he turns, slipping the mask from his head and hanging it on the bedpost, climbing into his bed and relaxing almost immediately.
this was home, you know?
this was happy. this was safe.
he smiles as he rolls over, listening to his fellow sailors sing on into the night. he never wants to leave.