Chapter Text
------Day XX27, 1:49AM, U Corp:Sea, Mephistopheles, Main Cabin ----------
The mourning stars and lonesome moon glimmered nonchalantly as Mephistopheles sailed with a quiet hum over the vast sea. Don Quixote and Meursault had been assigned to the second shift for the night to ensure safe travels through their never ending performance of massacre. She had always been intrigued by the assorted buttons and levers at the helm of the boat, and as much as she wished to find out the purposes, trouble would find her very quickly if she did so. In the captain's chair, she spun around in circles on the swivel to find some sort of distraction from boredom. Of course it led to her world being tossed and tallied when she made an abrupt stop.
Out of focus, through waves of nausea she could make out the image of her shift partner on the ship dock, He was leaning on the wooden railing with his arms crossed peering into the inky distance.
She had always been appreciative of him, his kindness and patience towards her emotional outbursts and his assistance in battle, where he frequently defended her.
‘But thou must only tolerate thee,’ Don Quixote murmured into the control plate in front of her.
Not that it was bad to be tolerated, in fact it was quite the good thing. As hard as it is to admit to a stubborn individual like her, she would begrudgingly admit that she was not the easiest person to be around.
She lifted her head back up in the direction of the lonesome sinner. His hair was thoroughly wind washed unlike his typical appearance, making out for a messier style. He was still fully intaking the view in front of him, a quiet ‘doth thou look for enemies or seek elseworth?’ was whispered in thought.
There had been no fighting for a few days now but everyone was still on guard after the pallid whale had nearly killed them. Much like everything they had encountered so far. Meursault was a dutiful man, who followed instructions to a T like his life depended on it, but surely he must think about fun stuff like everyone else. Maybe about delicious deserts or his own heroes! She thought more and more about the wild imagination that he might have that she didn’t even realize that she had broken his trance by voracious laughter.
“Miss Quixote.”
“HAHAHAhHHUUHH”
She whipped her head around to the side door that the large man was now standing in.
“I apologize for disturbing you, however I urge you to remember that it is the middle of the night. Please keep the volume down.”
He didn’t seem annoyed, if not concerned. He stared at her with baggy eyes and red cheeks. Hair disheveled from the intense wind, and uniform slightly astray, he looked hollow. Moonlight poured from the door space around him, casting a rather meager monochrome tone, there was no wind, but the air condition of the boat still slightly ruffled his hair.
Seasons turned and went but they didn’t really mean anything out on the sea. Without any protection, the sinners felt the full force of the biting wind whenever they were dispatched to battle on the deck. Clothes provided menial protection from the cold, and even as the sun shone on them, the warmth was never enough. She shivered at the thought of him being out to endure in the night. He had always been a rather hardy person but he looked even more pale than normal.
Without really thinking she jumped off of her chair to attempt to warm him up, in the form of a tight hug.
Her fingers pricked from chill at the feeling of his clothing, but after mere moments she could feel a slight heat radiating from his core
“Thou truly art cold!” Don Quixote said, unburrowing his face from his chest, smiling.
He was not smiling, which was not out of the ordinary. In fact, she could not recall any memories of him doing so. His face tilted away from hers, completely out of view from the vertical distance. After a moment's hesitation, he quietly said, “Why do you feel the need to do this, Don.”
Why did she? It’s not like she was close with him or anything. She did ever so slightly pity him a bit for how rough he looked. But that was not a reason for anything like that! Or was it? ‘As thine is a righteous individual, thou must uphold thine doctrine of justice which herbely includes truthfulness and truthful thou shall receive.’
With a smile on her face she exclaimed, “No compadre of thine shalt suffer in mine sight!”
More silence from the latter’s end. After some moments passed, she could however feel his warmth coming back so she untangled herself from his torso and rushedly took some half steps backwards.
She did not expect to see the man still faced away from her. Some red still laid stagnant on his face, mainly his cheeks, perhaps he was still cold. Or maybe she had made him upset somehow.
“...Thy apologies for breaching thou personal space.”
He shuffles awkwardly in the doorframe, slight gushes of wind lick at Don Quixote’s skin. At the moment everything seems almost serene and peaceful. Quite truly this hour makes everything into artwork, she observed.
He finally turns his head in her direction. He’s not smiling, and he still looks as cold as he did before, cheeks dashed pink and more. Taking a few steps closer towards her, he closes the door behind him and the moonlit figure becomes more real as the brightness dims more.
“It is alright, it was rather plesant.”, He says, neutral as ever, “However, I would like to take the rest of the shift by myself.”
Shame rushed over her like gray paint dripping down a wall. She truly wished nothing but the best for his well being but mayhaps she was incorrect. ‘Damn thine impulse’ she cursed in her head. Nonetheless she did not want to incur anymore errors, so she simply went back to her room, with her head hung low.
She wanted to sleep this entire time anyways.