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They return to Bizville by boat.
They’d spent the past two days in Vermillion Inn— well, Calypso did. She’d pass the time fixing up her clothes, torn from the attacks of bandits and living hieroglyphs guarding the temple, hoping to distract her mind from everything she’d lost.
Reverie got them the ride back to Bizville. Calypso went with it. It’s not as if she had anyone else to follow.
The ship’s smaller than she thought it’d be.
She’s not used to the vertigo from a regular, rugged fisher’s boat. The bench is too low, the sun’s burning her skin, and her cutlasses are leaning dangerously close to the edge of the water.
Never has she been a very good pirate, anyway; She’s gotten seasick more times than she can count. One more added to the tally wouldn’t hurt.
In an attempt to distract herself from her growing nausea, Calypso watches the waves roll on by as they sail. It feels odd being on water, without the constant chatter of her crew and the smell of damp, rotting wood lingering in the background. It was quiet. Too quiet. It unnerved her.
Reverie yawns beside her. At least someone seems to be doing well. Calypso briefly glances towards it— watching it stretch its arms, completely unphased by the events in the hours prior.
Calypso huffs, what a jerk.
She’s about to turn away when she feels something nuzzle against her neck.
Calypso stiffens, not daring to move as Reverie leans on her shoulder. Her eyes darted towards it, watching as it dozed off, comfortably snuggled up in the cranny of her neck.
She should pull away. She has to pull away. This— this weirdo, is the reason why she lost her crew, her family. It doesn’t even care that It’s at fault for their deaths, sacrificing them all for its greedy mission and now, now—
It purrs, stirring Calypso from her thoughts.
She watches as Reverie’s tail curls up around its leg, almost as if hugging itself.
A pang of guilt washes over her.
It’s not to blame. It wasn’t the one who pushed him. It wasn’t the one who landed the killing blow, the one who procrastinated on warning Captain of the curse the temple held.
But it was the cause, wasn’t it? How would they feel, knowing Calyspo has a soft spot for the bringer of their demise? How disrespectful. How disgusting. She can’t even honour their final wishes.
Hesitantly, Calypso lifts her free arm, hoping to push Reverie away. But her body betrays her, reaching out instead of pulling away, her hand landing between Reverie’s ears.
And, instinctively, she pets it.
Reverie stiffens at first, but seems to soften into her touch after a few moments. It shuffles closer, a small smile resting on its face. Again, it purrs, slightly louder. Calypso can’t stop herself.
This is wrong. This is wrong.
She shouldn’t be doing this.
What would Captain think?
Reluctantly, she retracts her palm. Reverie’s eyes blink half-open. “No… no… keep goin’,” it mumbles, tail flicking. “Mmf. Feels nice.” It snuggles closer.
There’s a moment of silence before Calypso responds. “Hand’s tired,” Calypso mutters.
Liar. Reverie could ask for the world, and Calypso would bring it to her. And she’d do it again, and again, and again—
Why couldn’t you do the same for your crew? Your family? What makes you think this will be different?
You’d made the same promise to your crew, hadn’t you?
Her brows furrow ever so slightly. At the very least, Reverie doesn’t seem to catch her unease. It hums, satisfied with her answer. Wrapping its arm around Calypso’s, unwilling to let go as it dozes back off.
Calypso can’t take her eyes off it. Something about it— she can’t quite pinpoint what— draws her towards it. No matter how loudly her thoughts scold her, scorn her, she can’t tear her eyes off of the figure sat beside her.
She wonders how long it’ll take before she loses Reverie too.
Would it not be kinder? To spare it from the hurt her wretched self is bound to bring? And god, oh god, the crew— when they see her, whatever would they think? Befriending the one who lost them everything?
And yet, despite it all, she just can’t get herself to pull away. She stares and stares and stares at Reverie’s resting face, watching as it breathes in and out, in and out.
Very, very faintly, she feels the beating of its heart.
It’s alive. For now, it’s alive, and it’s with her.
When the boat docks, it’ll leave her for good, as it should’ve done all those days ago. And then, she’ll be truly, truly alone.
Slowly, her hand moves towards Reverie’s. Her gaze shifts downwards from its face, onto its paw, resting gently on her lap. She holds it tight. Reverie returns the touch.
Neither of them say anything. All she hears is the crashing of the waves, as the boat sails closer and closer to port. In the distance, she sees the silhouette of Bizville drawing closer and closer.
Her grip on Reverie’s paw tightens.
She hyperfocuses on the rhythmic breathing of the person sleeping soundly beside her. For what it’s worth, Reverie seems content. Though its smile has since faded after settling into a deeper sleep, it looks at peace.
It makes a noise— similar to a grumble, a whine. Unintelligible. It nudges itself closer to Calypso. She wonders if it’s dreaming.
Soon after, it blinks awake, yawning. It tilts its head to an angle where it can— somewhat awkwardly— look at Calypso as it speaks. “Can you go with me to the Headquarters?” It mutters, half-asleep.
“… Alright.”
“And stay after that?” Reverie asks. Calypso is stunned for a moment. “Or if you don’t wanna, that’s fine… it’s just… it gets lonely, ya know?”
She’s not sure if it’s referring to itself or her. She glances out towards the sea, frowning.
Captain would want her to be kind.
She has nowhere else to go.
This is all she has left.
“I’ll stay.” She nods. It’s a promise— to whom, she’s not sure. She wants to say she’s only doing this for herself, that it’ll have to earn her forgiveness, that she’ll kill it if it were to repeat the same mistakes it’d made in the temple.
She knows it’s not true. She needs Reverie more than it does her. He died because he saved her. And now look at how she honours him. She untangles her hand from Reverie’s.
Reverie purrs at her response. It doesn’t seem to mind Calypso’s retreat. It sits back upright, stretching, the weight lifted off her shoulders. “Yayyyy…” It yawns. “Almost there… I think Shedletsky would like you,” it turns towards Calypso. “Thank you, Callie, for everythin’. I’ll repay you, I promise, okay?”
Its words strike Calypso, pulls her out of her spiral. In its place, a million more thoughts flood into her head.
Don’t leave me.
You’re why everything went to shit.
You’re all I have left.
I hate you.
All of them get stuck in her throat. Finally, all she can shakily croak out—
“… okay.”
I need you.