Chapter Text
“Bro, what is up with the ocean today?” Wifies slumps over the steering wheel, downtrodden and soaked from head to toe. The storm had swept through lazy clouds like a serpent, and, without much foreplay, began to drown their shoddy little sloop.
The rest of his quite small and, frankly, depressing crew isn't in much better shape; Parameterization is holding onto their mast for dear life, and Arronax is flopping on the ground like a dead fish. She’s certainly acting like one, given the way her coat makes wet slapping sounds each time she gets ragdolled around.
Well, if there’s one thing that Wifie’s has learned, it's that the ocean is by no means merciful. “Some sour attitude she has today…” No one can hear him, and it's not like he expected anyone to. The weather is poor (understatement of the century), and he’s pretty sure Arronax is half-deaf—something to do with all the crazy experiments she used to run.
The Ocean, in one of her more explosive fits, rocks their ship, just as she’s been doing for the past hour, not unlike a toddler throwing a tantrum and kicking its feet into the air.
Wifies would say that she has moments of tranquility, but they haven’t been very frequent as of late. She’s in a cantankerous mood, always, and doesn't care at all, actually. She just does whatever the hell she wants, and by Leviathan, is it annoying. If Wfifies hadn’t already sunk (pun unintended) half his years on this ship to search for magamious creatures and treasures, he would say, ‘get me off this damn ship.’ He’ll just have to manage—there’s only so many lows they can experience, right?
“HO-HOLLON, WHAT’S THAT IN THE DISTANCE???” Parameterization basically screeches over the roar of the waves lapping at their ship. He won't admit it afterwards, but his screeches came very close to whines.
“HUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH????” Wifies screams back. No one hears a damn thing in this weather, do they?
“OVER THERE, YO. LOOK!!” Clutching the crown in his hair with one hand, Para uses the other to wave around wildly. He’s probably pointing at something, but given the constant sheet of rain thundering down on the few feet of deck between them, Wifies really cannot tell.
He looks at the ocean around them, but all he can really see is just dark blue chopping into the grey sky. Perhaps Para has better eyesight than him, or something, because there really is nothing for Wifies to see.
Or maybe spending hours with his nose touching the paper of their map—trying to follow the ‘trail’ the Leviathan leaves around, like this really is serious business—has ruined his eyesight indefinitely.
Wifies is about to ask whether Para’s been drinking too much lately, or if he’s just at the end of his rope (this storm is getting pretty bleak), when one (1) singular (1) horrible wave crashes into their ship, knocking Wifies off the wheel.
He knows he’s not that great of a captain, and that he can't really do jack in the middle of the storm, but, by the heavens above, are they really fucked. No placebo thoughts of control to help them out.
Wifies doesn’t even try to regain his footing at the wheel. Instead, he just lies on the deck of his ship (almost rotting wood, he’s been meaning to find a new ship for a while now, but he’s sentimental. Can you really blame him?) like the rest of his crew.
Team bonding, if you will. Dying together in a horrible storm, or something like that.
Anyways, it only takes one more wave to have Wifies slipping and sliding right into the wall, and then he blacks out like the lights of a prison the minute lockdown is called.
–
Wifies wakes up warily and with hair stuck in his mouth.
He…doesn't actually know whose hair it is, but it's gotta be someone's. Eugh.
He swats the strands out of his mouth and finally takes stock of his surroundings.
He's awake on his ship—pretty standard—with his crew settled around. Maybe a little closer than usual, as a ball of warm bodies in a corner is just a tad tighter than their hammocks below, which…
Hold on.
Why are they asleep (minus Wifies) above the deck (not below), and why the hell are they clumped together like a particularly annoying spiderweb?
Oh yeah, the storm from last (?) night. To be honest, Wifies really had slim hopes to come out of that one a-okay, if they even came out alive.
He thinks he whispered prayers (to no one in particular, and especially not to the ocean because she seldom cares) into the rain, actually. Real bleak.
And yet, despite his assumptions of death, they're quite clearly alive.
Clouds laze about his head, their flag and sails wave along with the wind, and seagulls squawk overhead. Which shouldn't happen if they were still smack dab in the middle of the ocean.
Wifies isn't sure when they last made landfall, but he's pretty sure they weren’t planned to land anytime soon (Arronax's pretty spot on with her navigation). Something something being warned by the merchants at their last stop about the distinct lack of land throughout their journey, at least until they reach a whole other continent.
Well, he's not gonna look a gift island on the map, so what's it matter if that's practically impossible?
They're hunting the Leviathan, a giant sea serpent rumored to breathe fire under the damn water; he thinks they're already past the idea of the impossible.
Disengaging from Parameterization's gangly limbs and Arronax’s affinity to act like an octopus, Wifies decides that he may as well explore the island and find some materials to get his grubby hands on.
He pats his belt to make sure he has everything: his sword (and sheath), his spyglass, and his communicative conch, and with one last glance at his comatose crew, he sets off towards golden sand and swaying palm trees.
–
By the time the sun has settled in the middle of the sky, Wifies's burlap sack is already filled with miscellaneous fruits (of which he's 90% sure they're edible) and a collection of sturdy rocks (just in case they need them, y'know).
He's pretty sure there's no civilization on this island, and even if there was, who knows if they'd be friendly. Anyways, Wifies only traveled so far (always able to see the coast), just in case.
Right as he's about to leave, a rustle in the leaves emerges, along with a yelp.
Turns out he's not that alone on this island, he muses.
Before he can curse himself for his reckless curiosity, Wifies creeps behind the bush, tracking the subsequent groans from further into the forest. He winces every time he steps a little too loudly.
Still, he must be quiet enough that he's able to reach the source of the sound without being attacked and thrown on his butt for snooping.
There, in the clearing, is a man slumped against a tree. He's wearing a vest and suspenders, has the complexion of a shark and the build of a pile of sticks, and, overall, looks incredibly out of place.
He's also bleeding out.
“Mother of…” the guy groans, digging a hand deeper into his chest to fish out pieces of what Wifies thinks is shrapnel. “I can't believe-” suddenly, his head snaps up to meet Wifies’s eyes.
“Oh. Hm.”
Wifies, for lack of anything to say, just stands there like an idiot. He doesn't move to hide, either. Then, the guy doubles over in, presumably, pain, spurring Wifies into action.
“Whoa, what happened?” He probes at the dude’s side, taking note of both the groans he elicits and the blood seeping into the guy's shirt and dripping to the sand, despite the guy doing his best to stem the flow (Wifies should probably learn the guy’s name pretty soon. Later, obviously, cause it doesn't take an idiot to understand the gravity of the situation).
“Seriously, dude, this looks real bad,” Wifies remarks. It's like the guy was a fish and got caught, hook, line, and sinker.
Wifies rips some cloth from the bottom of his sash and ties it around the guy's waist. “Well,” the guy pants out, “maybe I can tell you if I'm not actively bleeding out. Stuff happens, okay.”
“‘Stuff’ doesn't usually happen without a reason.”
“Whatever,” the man spits a globule of blood on the ground, “just help me out, Wifies. Take me to your ship…please?”
Wifies didn't tell the guy he manned a ship. Hell, he didn't even say his name, and yet the guy’s throwing it around, willy-nilly.
“Like, pretty please with a cherry on top.”
Wifies refrains from rolling his eyes at an injured man and stashes his suspicions away for later. “Who says you're not gonna kill me and seize my ship the moment you can?”
“...my word?”
That's a damn stupid reason.
When Wifies pointedly ignores the man's previous response, he amends, “Well, do I look like I could do much?” That is true, he's pretty bony. Or, maybe he's trying to turn Wifies’s guard down, just so he can carry out his evil plan.
Still, Wifies loops an arm around the other man’s waist, cautious of the wound, and starts hobbling him towards the coast.
Breathing out a sigh, Wifies relents, “Alright then. You better not be trouble,” and keeps moving.
Curse his bleeding heart.
Or, alternatively, curse his nosy heart.
–
Back on the ship, morn has finally risen for the rest of the crew.
“Buh,” the pile groans. It's Arronax, who raises her head slowly and with much disorientation. Any confusion quickly dissipates when she notices the lack of storm and the abundance of clear blue sky around them.
“We're alive!” A blinding grin stretches across her face, and she immediately turns around to shake Parameterization like a pathetic sack of potatoes. “Para, we're actually alive, like I really thought we were going to die and that there was nothing left for us. Oh. My. Leviathan.”
She finally releases Para (who still hasn't woken up, what?) with a little more force than necessary, but that's kinda just the way she is.
Blinking away the sleep left in her eyes, she immediately recognizes two things.
One: the sky is bright, their ship is at a standstill, and everything seems to be okay.
Two: Wifies is climbing onto the ship with much difficulty, one arm hauling himself up, and the other supporting the body of a limp man.
That can't be good.
Arronax nudges Parameterization’s shoulder, then slaps him when he doesn't wake up (he's seriously built like a man on elephant tranq). “Para,” she hisses, “wake up.”
Finally, after a hand-shaped mark has found its way on his cheek, Parameterization cracks his eyes open. “Wha? Um…five more minutes.”
Arronax rolls her eyes and slaps him again. “Dude, you gotta wake up. Wifies has a dead body,” she whispers, very hushed and very urgent
“First of all, ow. Second of all…???”
Right on cue, Wifies finally makes it onto the deck and promptly collapses. “Hey guys…bit of a problem here.”
–
“So, Hummer—can I call you Hummer? Or do you need the 5718-”
“Just Hummer is fine.”
“Okay, so you're saying that you were valiantly fighting off poachers-”
“Yup.”
“-and got hurt in the meanwhile-”
“Uh huh.”
“-and then ended up on this island, in the middle of nowhere?”
Hummer nods, “That's about the gist of it. Again, thank you so much for, er, helping me out.”
It's only been about an hour since Wifies found him, yet Hummer’s wound seems to be healing exceptionally well. Maybe it's some sort of magical property, not uncommon in this world.
“It's no problem.” Wifies hums, and then says, “You know where you'd want to be dropped off?” It's all courtesy; they wouldn't be able to drop Hummer off anywhere unless his home lies in the heart of their next stop.
“Well, I kind of just go wherever the waves take me,” Hummer explains, sheepishly.
Parametrization, who had been eavesdropping from outside the door with Arronax (and doing a god-awful job of pretending not to), bursts into the room. “We could use another pair of hands,” he suggests.
Wifies mulls the idea over in his head. It would help to have another person helping out (managing the ship is erring on hell as of late). The only issue would be convincing Hummer to abandon whatever life he led before to swim off with them into the sea, which seems pretty unlikely-
“Yeah, I can do that. Not like I have anything else to do, or anywhere else to go, really…” Huh. So it is that easy.
“Y'know what, sure,” Wifies chuckles a bit. If Hummer decides to pull off a one-man-mutiny, it'll be Wifies’s fault for letting him stay.
“Welcome to the crew.”