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The air was stifling, moreso than it normally was aboard The Revenge. Nothing worthwhile to do. Nobody to properly talk to. Just god awful decor in an attempt to make him feel more 'at home', whatever Stede meant by that Iz would never know. Leaning back on his bed made of discarded blankets from Stede's closet that had been thrust into his arms, Iz shut his eyes and tried to focus on the sound of the sea against the hull. He could be eased by that at least.
It had been 3 days since Iz had taken ill, shudders and coughing and all form of cramping that turned his muscles into lead. Stede had sidestepped him so he didn't catch whatever was causing it. Frenchie had declared him hexed. Ed shrugged it off as an attempt to make everyone else do work. Roach had sent him to the kitchen for a check up before quickly hauling him away, pasting a notice on the door to not open til they make land.
He guessed they were just waiting it out, hoping that he either got over it and didn't pass it on to anyone else, or he dropped dead and was no longer an issue for them to deal with. If this was Hornigolds, he'd have been shanked and tossed overboard the second he had shown any hint of illness. That's the safest method. If you can't chop off the ailment, best to cut it at the source and celebrate more rations for the rest.
Not with Bonnet. Hot soup tentatively left at the door 3 times a day, with a range of heat and flavour Iz had never tasted before but Roach had yelled in to him about "clearing your throat so you can yell at us more next time!" so he wasn't concerned over. Then there was the awkward knock of Buttons, requesting his pot to be dumped over the side since he couldn't use the wash room. Why Buttons was the one who wanted to handle his waste was the least of his worries to be honest.
Iz's fever had broken last night, having had fits of nightmares he'd have sworn were real if not for the absurdity of it all. Stede's face warping, twisting into something putrid, something cruel as he held Ed in his arms like a maiden in one of those terrible novels, mocking him as Stede consumed his Captain like a snake unhinging it's jaws.
Ed's hair becoming smoke, filling the room, wrapping around his throat and crushing his limbs to his torso until he couldn't move. The wispy tendrils wrenching his mouth open, tightening their grasp, holding his tongue so he could not scream as the room turned to darkness.
The crew, eyes glowing red, staring at him as he shrunk further and further down until they were towering over him. Snide remarks pouring from their lips, coming together as one deafening scream of every insecurity and failing he had ever held against himself.
Waking in a sweat, grasping his chest, Iz had nowhere to run to try and process the stupidity his brain had created. All he could do was sit there, silent, eyes shut as he willed the feeling of nausea away. Dizzy Izzy didn't need to make his debut on this ship. That was the last thing he needed. After so much mocking after the first time he'd been left the man the ship while Edward went on one of his port calls to god knows where to do god knows what, Iz had sworn to not let any sickness get the better of him.
He just needed to stay put, fight through, and make well before port.
Like a good First Mate always does.