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The Riptide pirates didn't feel quite the same after Noctis.
They had sailed to the island in the hopes of finding a cure for a curse, and a reversal for a powerful enchantment. They did not find what they were looking for, but they did not come away unchanged.
Jay had suffered multiple close encounters with death in her time on the island. With the help of her crew and a burly panda bounty hunter, she survived to sail another day. But her experiences were burned into her mind. Three times her blood had been drained - once by a horrific creature of shadows in a dark wood, wrapping its disgusting body around her and shooting needles deep into her restrained flesh. Once by a beautiful and mysterious woman, attached to her side at first sight with adoring eyes and tender touch. And once by a tall and formidable sorcerer, driven mad by his desire for death. The encounter with the monster from the forest had been undeniably wretched in every way, but the other two had placed her under the effects of a powerful charm, and the bites had filled her with calmness and bliss. Even looking back on them now, it was hard to separate that feeling from the memory.
The sorcerer Grimm was destroyed, decapitated and obliterated by Gillion and Gryffon in tandem. Jay felt no sorrow for his loss, besides disappointment that he had not been able to assist them with the enchantment or curse as they had hoped upon arrival. But for Anastasia, gentle and doting til the moment they parted, Jay couldn't help but feel an emptiness, a longing for something she couldn't explain. Even after the charm was broken, the thought of her soft touch on her skin and her ruby lips shaping her name made her heart flutter. Surely a side effect of whatever magics had been worked upon her. Though she remembered a feeling like this once before, at a bar with Captain Lizzie, drunk and clinging to each other, laughing as her heart pounded with adrenaline. She had attributed the feelings later on to the alcohol, though now she wasn't quite so sure. Jay pondered as she went about her duties on the ship, pausing occasionally to stare wistfully across the waves. She raised a hand to her throat, a soft smile and a blush spreading across her face. These feelings were nice, she decided. Maybe their stop at Noctis hadn't been a bad thing after all.
Chip was still cursed. He had hoped and expected that the next time they set foot on the ship, his life would be back to the way it was. He could rest easy and carefree, no more burning pain or nightmares taunting his sleep. But he had given up his freedom for the lives of Grimm's murdered victims, insisting the sorcerer return the life to their bloodied bodies as his final act of power. Before meeting Jay and Gillion, he would have put his own wellbeing before anyone else’s without a second thought. Maybe he still should have. He was suffering for strangers he hardly knew, taking on their problems while still weighed down under the burden of his own. Maybe this was the "right thing to do" or whatever. That girl Rebeccah, with her gentle eyes so full of curiosity and sweetness - she certainly didn't deserve to die. But as the deep scores on his chest itched and burned, he still couldn't help but feel heavy regret for giving up his chance at freedom, and a twinge of guilt for the regret.
Chip used some of his spoils from the party to splurge on alcohol, filling up Gil's briefcase to bring back to the ship and wallowing in drunkenness during another sleepless night on watch. Sleepless in intention, but the drink dulled his constitution to stay awake, and the sleep deprivation eventually pulled him under against his will. He dreamt of being back in Grimm's manor, the vampiric sorcerer towering above him. Chip held up his arms, hoping for paternal affection, and the 12 foot figure knelt before him, still looking down on him even on his knees. Grimm set his hands firmly on the boy's shoulders, and leant forward as if to hug him. As Chip threw his arms around him, his breath was caught as sharp teeth clamped tightly onto the side of his neck. There was no charm to take the pain away this time. He felt every excruciating detail, fangs puncturing and crushing his windpipe, grinding and scraping against his spine. He spluttered and choked, blood cascading from his lips and filling his lungs, as he tried feebly to push the larger figure away from him. Grimm pulled back, ripping the flesh from his throat. Chip shuddered with wide, terrified eyes as he watched the sinews stretch and snap as Grimm sat back calmly, chewing pensively for a moment before swallowing the flesh with an audible gulp. A sinister smile flitted across the sorcerer's blood smeared face. Chip tried to scream, but it came out only as a disgusting gurgle of blood as the vampire lurched forward once again to tear into the other side of his neck.
He woke with a start and a strangled gasp for air, in his bunk on the Albatross. He whimpered and pulled the blankets around himself for protection, shivering and shaking as he tried to process the reality around him. It was quiet in the lower decks. Something was off. Chip froze, peaking over the blankets at the bed across from him. Empty. His eyes snapped over to the barrel by the wall. Its lid was sitting on the floor, the water still. Where were his crewmates? Why was he alone? Taking a deep breath, he sat up, clutching the blankets tightly with white knuckles. There was a dark silhouette by the door. No, two silhouettes.
"Gil? Jay?" His voice shook, an octave higher than its usual tone.
The dark figures stepped towards him silently. He looked up at them nervously as they took their stances beside his bed. Jay and Gillion's eyes glistened in the darkness.
"H-hey guys. What's going on? Why are you looking at me like that?"
The two suddenly lunged in unison, and Chip screamed and fell back, hitting his head against the wall as his crewmates bit into his throat. He felt claws piercing his shoulders, his arms, his side as he struggled against them, crying for mercy. A hand plunged into his stomach and another into his chest, ripping out his organs with unnatural ease. Jay pulled away from his neck, Chip's heart in her hands. She raised it to her lips and took a bite, a look of pure bliss on her face as her eyes fluttered closed and Chip's vision started to blur and darken.
All through the night, he was tormented and torn apart by visions of everyone he knew. Lizzie. Reuben. Drey. Arlon. Until he woke once again, lying on the deck of the ship in a pool of spilled alcohol, concerned faces of his crewmates all around him. His screams were quickly choked by a surge of blood rushing up from his throat, as he hurled onto the deck. He coughed and spluttered, and the crew stumbled back, Jay and Ollie still hovering close by while staying out of range of the bloody splatter. Gillion stood several feet back in a shocked daze, while Drey, Alphonze, and Gryffon lingered on the edges of the scene a bit awkwardly, concerned for their captain but unsure if they should interpose. Jay muttered comforting words and set a gentle hand on Chip's shoulder, while Ollie held out his bandana for him to wipe the blood from his face. The claw marks on his chest throbbed with intense pain as if someone were still ripping into him. Chip stumbled shakily to his feet with the help of his companions, leaning against the railing for support while his head spun dizzily. He caught Gillion's eye and his heart stopped for a moment, his blood running cold. Was he still asleep? He was awake now, wasn't he? This was real? He felt Ollie's hand slip into his own and he squeezed it tightly for reassurance. The young boy's hand was soft and warm. It felt real. Jay's voice in his ear sounded real. So why was the look in Gillion's eye so unnerving?
Gillion watched the scene unfold in silence. He had been the first to discover Chip lying on the deck, shaking and whimpering in his sleep. He had tried to wake him, shaking his shoulders and calling his name, his voice raising loud enough to wake the rest of the crew, and they had all gathered around by the time Chip was finally released from his nightmare. The moment he had awoken, he started vomiting blood, and a signal fired in Gillion's brain and body, causing him to hurriedly back away from the group and watch from a considerable distance. The rest of the group was too focused on their troubled captain to notice, but Chip kept glancing his direction, a haunted look in his eyes. Gillion stared back, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. Something was horribly, terribly wrong.
It hadn't set in right away. Throughout the murder mystery party and their short wanderings through the library after, Gillion felt the same as he ever did, he was sure. There was some adrenaline throughout the night, a tightness in his chest, but it was because of anticipation for the party, and then the intensity of the murder investigations, and the battle against Grimm, and the lingering excitement after. That's why his heart had felt strange. It was a normal feeling, that certainly had nothing to do with his dip into the red pool, or the few swallows of the strange, thick, metallic-tasting water that slipped past his lips. That wouldn't have affected him that strongly. It gave Grimm a little power over his mind for a moment, sure, but his necklace had fought off the charm, and Grimm was dead now - he had made sure of that himself.
But in the days since leaving the island, Gillion had continued to feel strange, and it had only gotten worse. The fluttering in his chest faded to a sort of dull heaviness, and a chill settled over him that even he with his ever-present moisture wasn't quite used to. The once pleasant sunlight now felt harsh on his skin and nearly blinding to his eyes. There was a stirring in his gut, and he felt endlessly hungry, thirsty. He had tried jumping from the ship and rehydrating himself in the ocean waters, but for the first time, it did nothing to soothe the dryness in his throat. He downed a serving of Earl's juice, using up some of their precious stash the old man had left for them, and it only made him feel queasy. No food they had in the kitchen satisfied his hunger. In fact, eating more than a few bites caused him to hurl it back up, and Jay warned that if he was sick, he had better not spread it to the rest of the crew. He slept poorly, tossing and turning in his barrel as his insides were wracked with a pain he didn't know how to soothe. He began to feel a weakness settling over him. He didn't remember a time when he felt this weak. What kind of sickness was this, to overpower the hero of the deep? His divine magic should have been able to cure any illness, and yet his insides still churned, and a deep anxiety gnawed at his mind.
And then Chip was retching his own blood up onto the deck. And something clicked in Gillion's brain and body. And he did not like it.
Gillion's eyes were wide and dilated as he stared across the deck at his co-captain. His friend Chip. His muscles froze, his jaw clenched. His teeth dug into the inside of his lips, feeling sharper than he remembered them to be. A morning breeze wafted the smell of blood towards him, and he inhaled reflexively. Saliva pooled around his tongue, and he swallowed thickly. So this is what he was hungry for. This is what his body was craving. Maybe he should have been able to put that together, all things considered. But then again, he did only have an 8 in intelligence. Whatever that meant.
A soft jostling at his hip shook him back to the present, and a tapping against glass. He looked down at his little pink frogtopus as she swirled anxiously in her bubble, pointing at something. He followed the direction of Pretzel's tentacles, and saw Jay waving her arm and shouting something at him. The world slowly came back into focus as he heard her voice.
"Gillion? Gil, why the fuck are you just standing there? Get over here and help, your healing is stronger than mine."
Gillion locked eyes with Chip again. Chip stared back at him with apprehension, still trembling from the trauma his body and mind had been put through. "Please, Gil. It really hurts."
A wave of concern washed over Gillion's mind, remembering the severity of the situation in front of him. "Of course, Chip, I'm sorry." He stepped forward, reaching out a hand and laying it over the gashes on his companion's chest. His skin was warm. Very warm. The wounds were days old, but today they looked as fresh as ever, the raw flesh glistening with blood. Gillion swallowed dryly and forced himself to focus, his hair and eyes lighting up as droplets of sea water rose and swirled around his hand. The water spread across Chip's chest, causing him to wince slightly as the salt entered his wounds, and then sigh with relief as Gillion's magic took hold. Being part of the curse, the claw marks did not fade away, but they looked less red than they did before, and it seemed the worst of the pain had subsided. Gillion pulled his hand back, holding it to his side with his other arm. "There. Feel any better?"
"Much better, thank you Gil." The anxiety in the other's expression seemed to have been forgotten once his pain had gone away. He let out a heavy breath and put a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. "No more alcohol. I can't fall asleep again. This was the last time."
"We'll get you help soon, Chip." Jay patted his arm reassuringly. "We've got another lead. It won't be much longer now, surely. We'll fix this."
Gillion looked down at his hand. His fingers were still red with Chip's blood. A haze started to settle over him again as he stared down at it, like static in his ears, a vignette around his vision. It smelled so strong, so sweet. He needed it. Needed to taste it. Needed as much of it as he could take. His hand trembled, and he started to raise it towards his lips.
"Gil? Gillion, are you there?" Jay's voice cut through his thoughts again as the haze cleared in an instant, and he quickly dropped his hand back down to his side. "Jeez, why are you so spacy today, man? Is it your illness? Everything ok?"
Chip watched him carefully, his gaze calculating. "You were looking at me earlier like... like you did in my dream. Like you wanted to eat me." His lip quivered. "Do you want to eat me? Are you gonna eat me, Gil?"
What an inopportune moment to be under divine oath never to tell a lie.
Gillion laughed a little too loudly, causing Chip to flinch. "Oh Chip. Do you really think I would eat you? Ha ha. Anyway. I'm gonna go."
He spun on his heel and walked off below deck without another word, leaving Chip and Jay staring after him incredulously. "What the fuck..?"
Gillion hurried to the bunk room and shut the door behind him, putting his back to it and sliding down to the floor. He put his head in his hands, letting out a shaky breath. "Oh gods..." This was unlike him. Rarely did something leave him feeling so nervous and unsettled. As he trembled, he felt Pretzel tapping at him again and heard her soft bubbling noises of concern. He unfastened her tank from his hip to hold it out in front of him. Her watery eyes peered up at him with worry. "Pretzel, I... I don't know what's wrong with me." He tried to keep his voice low, a difficult task for him but an important one in this moment. "Something happened to me when I smelled Chip's blood. It smelled so good, Pretzel. Why was it so damn alluring to me? What's wrong with me?" The frogtopus swam in an anxious circle as he watched her, making soft sounds of uncertainty. "I don't know why I'm hiding down here... I've got to tell them. Maybe they'll know what to do to make this go away. They should at least be warned that I could be... dangerous..." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face wearily with his hand again before getting to his feet. "C'mon, let's go talk to them."
As he headed back for the upper deck, he heard a small commotion, and to his surprise, a half drowned man was being pulled up over the railing onto the ship. His cares momentarily forgotten, he joined the rest in welcoming the stranger, who introduced himself as Ichabod, a traveller from the Horsea and a victim of a shipwreck. The man raided their kitchen for food, demonstrated a tremendously powerful weapon unlike anything they'd ever seen, blew a massive hole in the deck with a mysterious black sand, and otherwise occupied everyone's attention for the remainder of the daylight hours. He found no moment alone with his crew, no right time to convey his concerns. Until night fell once again, and Ichabod was set up with a makeshift bedroll on the floor of the bunkroom. Jay retired to her own bunk, and Chip stayed up to keep watch once again. The ship settled into quiet, as Gillion released Pretzel into his sleeping barrel for the night, and he pondered his options.
His pain and fatigue had only worsened over the day. Another spasm coursed through him as he held his stomach, leaning against the wall outside the bunkroom. His head pounded with dizzying need. The conversation couldn't be put off any longer. He wouldn't disturb their new guest - the stranger seemed burdened enough as it was, and he did not want to make him feel unsafe or unwelcome while he remained in their care. But Chip should know at least, and one person knowing was better than no one at all. The rest would hear through the grapevine when the time was right.
Gillion stepped out into the night time air. Normally, being out on the deck at night was somewhat comforting to him. As a triton, the darkness was never as unnerving or uninviting as he had sometimes heard it described by humans, and the cool breezes reminded him of the currents of his undersea home. But this night, the salty winds carried another scent, one so tantalizing it almost made him feel sick to his stomach.
Chip was up at the helm, lazily leaning against the railing, letting the ship drift through the waves with only occasional adjustments of the wheel to keep them on course. He peered down at Gillion with a quizzical but friendly look, offering him a little wave. "Hey Gil. You not tired? I'm not tired. I'm wide awake up here. Wiiiiide awake."
Gillion climbed up the steps to join him on the quarterdeck. "No, I- I can't sleep either." He put a hand on the railing beside Chip, looking out over the dark waves. He took a deep breath to steady himself. A mistake. Chip's scent washed over him, causing him to stumble over his planned words. "Listen, Chip, I- ooh- I have something to... tell you..."
Chip turned to lock eyes with him. His gaze was casual at first, then a bit confused and anxious as he looked over his co-captain's face. Chip had cleaned himself up since the incident that morning, but to Gillion's heightened senses, the scent of blood still lingered in his clothes, in his hair. He swore he could see a pulse under the skin of his neck, hear it pounding in his ears.
"What's up, Gil? Is something wrong?"
He had to get it out. Now. Gillion instinctually took a quick step forward, startling Chip into taking a step back. "Chip, I'm so hungry. I'm so hungry and all I can think about is blood." The words spilled from his mouth faster than he could process them. "Your blood, from this morning, it- something happened to me when I smelled it and it made me so hungry and I can't stop thinking about anything else." His eyes were wide and manic as he took another step forward.
Chip stumbled back again and began to hyperventilate as panic set in, his nightmares flashing before his eyes. His voice came out high pitched and strangled. "Gil, Gil please, please don't take my blood, please don't hurt me, not again, not again..."
A red haze began fogging Gillion's mind as he shook his head aggressively. He was being too forceful. He could tell he was coming on too strong, but for some reason he couldn't calm himself down. He felt panic rising in his own chest as well. "No, no, I don't want to hurt you, Chip. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm just telling you that I'm hungry, I'm warning you-" He stepped forward again, reaching out his hands to grasp Chip by the arms, to reassure him that he didn't mean any harm. But Chip shrieked at his touch, tensing up and trying to rip himself out of his iron grip. As his breaths grew faster and he raised his head as if preparing to scream, Gillion shook him and cut him off. "I don't want to hurt you, Chip! Calm down!"
A surge of unfamiliar power flowed from Gillion's mind with his eyes locked on Chip's, and at once, Chip's breath caught in his throat, halting his attempt to scream. Slowly, his muscles relaxed, the wild and panicked expression on his face softened, and an unsettling calm took complete hold over his body. Gillion froze, his cold heart sinking in his chest as he processed the charm he didn't even know he had cast. Chip stared back at him blankly, lids drooping slightly as if drowsy, all tension of the current situation forgotten. Something stirred in Gillion's core. A gnawing, twisting, snarling beast of a sensation. He was still so hungry. He tried to warn him. He tried to do things right. And the beast curled inside him and told him he was right, and this was just where he was meant to be.
"I- I'm sorry, Chip." His arms were shaking but his grip on Chip's shoulders only tightened. "I just... I just need..."
Chip smiled, a soft, sweet, accepting smile, and slowly, he tilted his head to one side, exposing his unprotected neck to the predator in front of him.
Gillion's breath hitched.
And he lurched forward and sank his teeth into Chip's throat.
All of his teeth were sharpened, and pierced through the soft flesh without effort. Blood gushed into his mouth like a flood, and the relief it offered was instant. It was warm, and smooth, and thick like a sweet syrup, as the first few swallows poured down his throat. As it pooled in his stomach, ecstasy washed over him, clouding out all other thoughts and emotions. This was right. This was good. This is what he should have been doing all along. Gillion's arms wrapped themselves around Chip's lax body, one hand on his waist pulling him closer to himself and the other cradling the back of his head as he drank.
He'd been starving for so long. For all his life, maybe, leading up to this moment. As he pulled mouthful after mouthful of blood from the warm, beating body against him, guzzling it down deep inside of himself, he no longer felt empty. He was full of life. Sweet, delicious, addicting life, more satisfying than anything he'd ever tasted. And gods, he could never be full enough. He needed all of it. Some stray droplets slipped from the corners of his mouth, and a low growl escaped him, sinking his teeth deeper as he tightened his hold. He couldn't let any of it go to waste. He had to consume all of it, every last drop.
His meal stirred slightly in his grip, and something like a moan rumbled in Gillion's throat between swallows. As he drained the lifeforce from its feeble, pliable body, a feeling of deep pleasure swirled in Gillion's gut. With every gulp of blood entering his body, he felt more powerful. His control over his prey was total. Each small movement it made against him represented the power of life and death he held in his hands, and between his teeth. It was powerless to fight back, unwilling and unable to even try, and that made Gillion feel good. He felt delirious with greed as the dying body twitched and shivered. Nothing had ever been so right. He wished it could have continued on forever, but it was almost over now. Just a little more.
Sudden pain jolted him from his trance as a briefcase slammed against the side of his head, and he lost his grip and fell tumbling onto the deck.
"Chip?!" Jay's scream cut through the air like a knife as she dropped the briefcase to the ground. "Gillion, what the hell are you doing?? What's wrong with you??"
Gillion blinked rapidly, the fog clearing from his brain. As he looked up at his companions, the charm dropped its control from Chip, who was deathly pale and swaying drunkenly on his feet. His drooping eyes widened in horror as his hands rose up to his neck. He inhaled as if to scream, but a choked gurgle was all that came out as his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell unconscious to the floor.
Jay knelt by his side instantly, shaking him in a panic. "Chip? Chip, are you alright? Don't do this to me now. Stay with us..." Her hands glowed with a green light as she brushed her fingers over the gaping wounds in his neck, the magical threads stitching the holes closed and sealing them over. His pale complexion did not change, and his breathing was shallow and labored, but he seemed at least to be alive. Jay stood, seething with rage as she turned back to Gillion, who was on his hands and knees, hurling blood onto the planks of the deck.
Wasteful, the beast snarled inside of him. He had no reply.
"Are you going to explain yourself?" Jay's fists were clenched tightly as she glared down at her quivering co-captain. "What the hell was that? Is this another 'fight for your honor' type thing? Since when have you started biting people? Have you gone insane?"
Gillion remained on his knees, head down to his chest. His body was trembling as he surveyed the bloody mess in front of him, scarcely able to take it in. What was wrong with him? What had he done? He turned to glance over at Chip, lying in a motionless heap on the ground, and Jay side-stepped between them defensively. "Honor... I'm not so sure I have any of that anymore."
Jay narrowed her eyes. "Just tell me what happened. I thought I heard raised voices up here. It's lucky I decided to get out of bed and check."
Gillion drew a shaky breath. "I don't fully understand it. But it was something about that island, Jay. About Grimm. It changed something inside me and I've just been so... hungry..."
Jay's eyes widened as she began to piece things together. "Oh." The aggression slowly faded from her expression, and she relaxed her fists, though she kept her defensive stance. "It was that bloody pool, wasn't it? Gods, when will you learn to stop putting strange things in your mouth? Why didn't you say something?"
"I tried to..." Gillion looked up at her with a pitiful expression, blood still smeared down his chin. "I didn't know what was happening until this morning, and then I just couldn't find a good time to talk to you guys, with Ichabod here-"
"Any time would have been the right time, Gillion. Waiting almost got Chip killed."
"I know." He groaned miserably. "I came out here to tell him. That's all I was trying to do. I don't know what happened. Something just came over me, and I..." He cut himself off with a shudder, rubbing his hands over his face.
Jay sighed wearily, looking between Gillion's penitent form and Chip's deathly pallor. Observing him closely, she confirmed for herself once again that he was still breathing, but he was still unsettlingly unmoving. "You're not still hungry, are you? You're not going to attack him again? Or me?"
Gillion shook his head fervently. "No. I won't do it again, I swear it."
She knelt down beside him, drawing his gaze up to meet her eyes. "You swear you're not still hungry too?"
Even with what he'd thrown up, he still felt extremely full and satisfied. Just that thought made his insides churn with guilt. "Yes. I swear."
"Good." Tentatively, she reached out a hand and set it on his arm. She didn't offer a smile, but her expression was soft. "Just talk to us, Gillion. We're a crew. We're supposed to be here for each other. And we can't help you if you don't tell us what's going on."
He nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry."
She patted his arm gently. "We'll figure this out. Maybe there will be an answer for this curse in the feywild too." With a soft grunt, she pushed herself up to her feet, looking down at Chip once more. "I'll get him back to bed. Maybe you should mind your distance for a while. I have a feeling he's not going to react very well once he wakes up again." Gillion nodded again, watching sorrowfully as Jay hoisted Chip up over her shoulder and slowly carried him back down the stairs, leaving him alone on the deck.
The moon shone brightly in the sky above, indifferent to the happenings on the small ship on the waves below. Surely, this was not meant to be his destiny.