Chapter Text
There was a certain quiet detachment that the ocean offered at night.
Water transformed into an inky black, any meager light offered from above swallowed up in an instance.
In your mind there was no place more isolating than the cradle of that seemingly endless expanse of water.
Even the sky had the moon and stars to keep it company.
But in all truthfulness, you did not mind.
Relating with people was always something you struggled with to some degree, and the progression of time had not been any kinder to you in that respect.
People were hard to understand, unpredictable, and from your experience, untrustworthy.
If only it hadn’t taken you this long to understand that.
Despite this, you weren’t going to pretend that you were somehow above that human need for companionship, and even the peaceful sanctuary that the Tundra offered you couldn’t completely distract you from that gnawing desire.
Luckily remembering the discomfort and paranoia of openness required in kinship was enough to stamp out any attempt to entertain these thoughts.
You would think working on a boat where you were basically limited to seeing the same 20 or so people everyday would make this difficult, but as confounding as it was, it really wasn’t.
Even after working here for a year, the ship still confused you.
The Tundra had a certain way about it that even if you were in a room full of people you still somehow felt like you were completely alone.
At first this strange ability scared you, but looking back now it was really just because of how bizarre it was.
Because at the end of the day, that is what you wanted.
The isolation from people was the whole reason why you chose being a ship technician to begin with and it only took a week of dissociative meal times and placid nights for you to take to this new normal like a fish to water.
But even though you were able to adjust to that perplexing element of the Tundra quite easily, the ship was not quite done with its conundrums yet.
In the beginning you could only say you had seen him when signing on and beyond knowing he was the owner and subsequent captain of the ship, you did not know much else.
You couldn’t really remember what the both of you talked about either: A fog seemingly coming over your mind if you thought about it too hard.
However, you do remember how his concise and curt manner of speaking reminded you a little too much of yourself.
Either way, the interaction was extremely brief and you had no problems accepting that was where your interactions with Mr. Lukas ended.
This changed however when you started to go on your little nightly “patrols”.
With how unlikely it was to run into other ship-hands and the distance between any night crew you did happen to come across keeping them from questioning you, you had started getting in the habit of walking around the upper deck before finding yourself at the bow of that great vessel.
You couldn’t say you had ever felt that level of empty tranquility quite like you did those nights with your legs dangling off the edge as the salty breeze blew through your hair.
In hindsight it was silly to think you were the only one who knew about this little spot, but in spite of yourself you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at your perch being occupied that night.
He looked so calm standing there.
Slightly unkempt ivory locks fell around his head and blew placidly in the chilled breeze, his large somewhat soft frame standing out amidst the dark expanse of the waves.
By the time you were standing at his side, you only became more aware of your differences in size.
But despite his deceptively imposing figure, you couldn’t say he was all that commanding of a presence.
Not to you at least.
Like a great aged tree, while you could see its toughness and resilience to the hardships it experienced in its long life, that in itself did not inherently make it threatening.
He either was unaware of your presence or ignored you all together as you both stood there.
It was a long time before you were willing to break the silence.
“You like to come out here too?”
While it wasn’t the most elegant of ways to start a conversation, a part of you felt like he would disappear if you dared go beyond menial small talk.
Eyes pulled themselves away from the sea as they spared you a glance.
A closely cut beard adorned his weathered soft face and his skin was almost an unnaturally pale color with the faintest blue undertone.
You were nearly unable to stop your mind from entertaining the thought that it looked all too similar to the complexion of a cadaver
And while your next thought was that he was a ghost and that had been the reason you had seen hide nor hair of him for the past year, you knew that couldn’t be the case.
Well, you were pretty sure at least.
Truth be told though, despite its unnerving appearance, you couldn’t really definitively make up in your mind how you felt about it.
It was strangely fitting somehow
Gaze still locked with yours as you both seemed to be sizing the other up, a jarringly soft accented voice met your ears.
“Yes.”
Gaze still intensely locked with yours, confusingly it was completely absent of intimidation or threats.
If you had to describe it, it was extremely similar to the blank curious stare of a child.
You cringed at how insulting that probably was.
There was a growing expectancy in those icy blue eyes though and you quickly realized that he was waiting for a response.
“Oh-um, cool. I mean, it’s really peaceful here, so I’m not surprised.”
You kicked yourself for you awkwardness, but luckily it seemed like Mr. Lukas didn’t seem to notice.
After a moment he nodded, gaze finally breaking away to look out beyond the boat once more.
“I would have to agree, it is much better out here.”
With the tone of his voice you wondered if he was just referring to where the both of you were standing.
You just nodded along, seemingly being the most appropriate response.
“Has it been some time since our first interaction? I must admit, I do not pay attention to the time.”
Speech slightly stunted, your eyebrows instinctively quirk at the bizarreness of the question.
“Uh yeah, been almost year now I think. Mr. Lukas, right?”
Chilled hands stuffing themselves in your pockets, you rock on the balls of your feet gently.
“Yes, that is correct. Peter, Peter Lukas: Though just Peter is fine.”
To be honest you couldn’t really tell if that was actually fine or not.
And then it was silent again and with you struggling to find a way to continue the conversation and Mr. Lukas making no attempt to help you, it remained until the man had suddenly decided he no longer wanted to be there and left.
Make no mistake, you had watched him go, seeing how his thick trench coat made little flurries behind him.
But even as you heard his heavy footfalls, he still seemed to more or less disappear, a growing fog snaking its wispy tendrils through the shipping container maze and swallowing up Lukas’s large frame.
While you were tempted to say you were alone again, you slowly realized that feeling had been there long before he had left.