Chapter Text
Waves crashed against the barnacle cover hull, sea spray splattering onto the deck of the ship, causing many who didn't have sea legs to either slip or stumble. The captain on the helm shouted commands to the low life scrambling around like chickens without their heads. The sea was rough at this time of day, massive waves causing the cannons below deck to roll around and the occasional yelp echoed from down under as a cannonball smashed their feet. The noise of a pirate. Seagulls called overhead, their shrill shrieking sounding more like grating laughter of a stripper at a bad pub. Soren was above that of course. Captain treated him well, after all, being a navigator came with a price and even deeper pockets.
Soren has been on the ship for ages now, since he'd been at least 15? He'd worked his way here, earned it to some. Others swore he was cheating; swore he was spitting nonsense. He was the third on this dreaded ship of Maria to actually be able to read and write. The other 2 being the captain, and the cook, Kasper. Those who didn't know their words spoke from out of their ass and five makentile lands over. Soren was literally above it all, he lived in the crows nest on the second mast for most of his times. Only coming down occasionally to tell the captain the coordinates or to suck it up and eat Kasper's creations. They scared him, he swore one time he saw the octopus tentacles still squirming in the stew. Soren swore Kasper had it out for him, he's never outright spoke with the chef; Too scared to.
Kasper lived in the small cook room in the hold. He felt every sway, rock, and slam of water against the underside of the ship. He's grown used to it, but some days after a long draw from a rum bottle that was covered in seaweed, he'd feel a little sea sick. Of course, he'd never admit it outright, too stubborn, that one. His cooking? Half assed at best; He must really either hate the crew or was trying to kill the captain and take over. He was rude, yet awkward at the same time. He could land a blow with a sharp tongue, but he couldn't win himself a lady even she if she was basically naked and pushing herself into his arms. Not that anyone would want to do that. Not to a pirate, at least; They were greasy and all sharp angles and hard bones. Life on sea was rough, but not a rough as life on land.
Kasper didn't often speak to anyone, very quiet but snappy for sure. Anyone who stole his spot in the cook; He'd hit them with a burning ladle covered in some mystery liquid. Soren swore Kasper had a smirk on his heart shaped lips when he beat someone with a burning ladle or handed them poison in a bowl. But Soren had no evidence, of course; He was just a sarcastic and charming navigator that sometimes lied through his teeth. Kasper was a skinny thing, then again, everyone on this ship was pretty thin. Minus the captain for obvious reasons. Kasper, if desperate enough, would probably eat the captain; Anyone would, really. But he never did. Soren was almost disappointed when Kasper never did eat the captain, he hated that lying piece of shit.
The land of ventures. It was vast, large and the people, interesting. The creatures, flora and seas even more concerning in their bizarreness. Of course, Soren doesn't care for that, he cared for the competence (skill) of others, he loved himself a challenge even if he was wrong. He liked himself a pretty thing on his lap telling him sweet lies he could cling to why piss drunk. Kasper did not. The man didn't even like water yet has been on a pirate ship since he was 15. Maybe that's was he was in the hold so he didn't have to deal with the incompetence of those sea monkeys on the deck. Soren wasn't even sure Kasper was straight anymore, and if he wasn't not his issue. Soren didn't care if Kasper liked it from behind, all he cared about was not getting fucking poisoned at the end of the day.
'I had a dream- it was me, you, and the sea.'
Soren woke with a jolt, head slamming the the railing of the crows nest. He rubbed the back of his head, hissing between teeth. The deck empty, captain gone. Sea dark and sky like the abyss filled with the faintest hint of firelight. The night was empty, the moon gone and buried behind clouds of grey. His heart raced, not from the darkness but from the dream. Him, Kasper and the sea. It had been surreal, he hasn't even talked to the chef and he was already having plans of settling down with him on a ship? Bullshit. Soren wasn't a believer of prophet but that had been just too real. Soren slid down the ratlines and landed hard on the deck. He ignored the jerk of his knees and the hard wood beneath his boots. He soon slid open the hatch, hearing the snores of the crew and the occasional roll of a cannonball somewhere in the darkness. He descended into it. Soon he was grabbing the oil lantern close by, holding it as he lit his way to the cook.
Kasper lifted his head from the poisonous stew (as Soren swore it was) as the orange flicker of a oil lamp grew closer before the navigator was appearing. The sarcastic, charming bastard who could sweet talk himself a pair of tits. Just what he needed at this time of night. He was about to beat Soren with the hot ladle, about to tell him to fuck off before the other man opened his mouth up. That voice softer then the usual hoarse shout or slurty whisper.
"Let me be your friend."
Kasper blinked in surprise and maybe a hint of... confusion? No Kasper didn't do confusion. Suspicion more so. Kasper, still holding his ladle glared at Soren, sharp and searching. He turned back to his stew, hot ladle plunging back into the sludge before he spoke. Voice sounded close to a bitch who'd lost her favorite pair of sweaters.
"No."
That was the end of the conversation. Kasper turned his back to Soren, focusing on pre making a meal then sleep that seemed to escape his grasp. Soren behind him stood, before slowly a grin spread across those stupid lips. And he was soon sauntering away, a new sway in this slim hips. The lantern in his hand rattled before he vanished back onto the deck. Lantern left on the crate below.