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Nights on the Albatross would be considered loud to a layperson. The ocean incessantly pounded into the hull of the ship, the wind howled and roared as it was split by the mast, and a metal clanging echoed from some unknowable location. To Jay however, this was calm; much calmer, at least, than the chaos of the day.
Recently, her body refused to succumb to sleep. It must have been weeks — maybe months? — since she had properly rested, at least that's what Jay thought until she mentally counted back and realized it had only been a few days. Laying on her bed, the sheets of which were barely disturbed, she brought her hands over her eyes and let out a quick, silent exhale. Lying in bed like this was fruitless. Quietly, taking great care not to wake her co-captains, she sat herself up on the edge of her bed. It took a minute longer than usual, as she had to lug her freshly amputated leg with her, and pause occasionally to wince at the burning at the tip of her stump.
Jay buckled the prosthetic leg in, fumbling a little due to her lack of practice. She had enchanted the prosthesis to respond to her nervous system, so she was able to maneuver the ankle as if it was a real leg. But it wasn't her real leg, despite the effort she'd put into building it, and it never would be. Tears welled up in Jay's eyes as she secured the leg.
My leg is gone. The thought felt like a punch for a second, before Jay numbed it. She glanced at Chip, at Gillion, and a new thought formed. My leg is gone, and I'm the only one who cares.
Jay gripped the side of her bed tight as she found her balance. Slowly, while finding furniture and walls to cling to, Jay made her way out of the room, onto the deck. The stars above watched her shuffle awkwardly over to the railing overlooking the ocean.
Don't laugh at me, Jay mentally shot at a fish that swam by the hull. She sat down, sighing in relief as the stinging in her leg eased up.
Neither Chip nor Gill had bothered to ask her if she was okay. Not a "How's the leg, Jay?", or a "Do you want help walking Jay?".
It's not like I'd let them know how much this shit fucking hurts, she thought, but it sucks no one's asked. She busied herself absentmindedly working on a new attachment for the prosthesis she was working on, a bird claw with razor sharp talons. These last few days have been tough on everyone though. Then, guiltily, Gill hasn't complained about his hand.
Jay chewed on the inside of her cheek. Why am I so selfish? I should be thinking about Chip's new champion of death thing, or Gill's shit with Odelath, or Aurora's people dying, or Lizzie and the rest of Allport… As she thought about the last one, she bit the inside of her cheek hard, feeling the capillaries burst to release their metal. A choked sob escaped her lips, against her will. Fat tears rolled down her face, getting trapped in her frizzy hair.
That was my fault. Jay wiped at her face, the blood from her cheek now covering her hand. She looked down at it, at the crimson covering the battle scars covering her palms, and her sobbing doubled. I don't deserve to cry over this. It was my fault. Stop crying, Jay, not when it was your fault.
Jay brought her knees up to her chest, finding that familiar position where she could catch her breath as she'd done so many times before in the Navy academy.
Suddenly, she heard a quiet sound behind her, nearly buried by the din of the ship. She whipped around, her golden eye quickly landing on its target — a water genasi slowly climbing out of her quarters and onto the deck. Aurora quickly froze upon noticing Jay, shrinking down to avoid her gaze.
Jay sniffled and cleared her throat. "Do you need something?"
"I was, um," Aurora's eyes darted across the deck. "I was just getting some air."
For a moment, Jay considered leaving and returning to her bed, letting Aurora have the deck to herself. She considered this, before she realized the one massive problem with this — she didn't want to have to stumble to her feet and hobble back in front of Aurora.
"Cool," Jay responded instead. Her and Aurora awkwardly stared at each other. Stupid gay-ass awkward fucking. 'Cool'??? What was I thinking!
Aurora desperately tried to find something to anchor her gaze to. Her gaze finally moved lower, noticing the golden prosthesis Jay was absentmindedly assembling. Aurora's eyes widened, somehow glowing brighter than usual.
"Woah, what is that?" Leaving her awkwardness where she stood, Aurora ran over to sit by Jay. "Please let me touch it?"
Aurora practically vibrated with excitement. Over my silly little project? Jay handed over the prosthesis. With each question Aurora asked, Jay seemed to light up, reflecting Aurora, suddenly acting as a moon instead of a sun.
"I was worried that I'd have to find a new way to control the talons, since I thought they'd be really different from human toes." Jay attached the prosthesis and demonstrated how the talons flexed and curled. "It turns out that they work pretty much the same way, and they're actually a little more comfortable to me than the normal foot one I have."
Aurora flapped her hands and smiled impossibly wider as she watched the claws puncture the wooden planks of the deck. "That's so cool! I can't believe it works so well -- it's so different from a human foot... but I assume that you've mapped the homologous structures between feet and talons to make it work, right?"
Jay felt the corners of her lips upturn involuntarily at Aurora's excitement, a small amount of embarrassment washing over her at the attention. She unlatched the prosthetic from her leg quickly, mentally noting where she'd need to adjust the locking mechanism. As she pried it off her leg, she slightly winced, before sighing in relief at the lack of pressure. Aurora's excited gaze shifted to worry quickly at the sight
"Jay! Are you alright?"
Part of Jay was taken aback by the question. Super normal thing to ask, she reasoned, weird she was the first one to do so.
Jay nervously laughed, bringing a hand up to fidget with her necklace. "Oh, it hurts just a little, but it's not a big deal, I promise."
Aurora frowned. "No, of course it hurts, I don't know why I didn't realize sooner. God, stupid Aurora, should've done something sooner." Quickly and elegantly twirling her fingers, she summoned a small block of ice.
"I've read that pressing something cool or warm against an amputation can help with the pain," Aurora explained while simultaneously wrapping the ice with a sheet of cloth. "I think you should give it a try."
"Makes sense." Gingerly, Jay held the ice against her stump. She hissed a the temperature, but quickly blinked the reaction away. "Thanks, feels good."
Aurora manufactured a little smile and nod, only briefly making eye contact before averting it. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her dress, balling the edge into her fist with her jaw clenched as if building courage. Finally, she parted her lips. "Why did you never say something to any of us?"
Jay raised an eyebrow. Aurora's widened and she waved her hands as if to clear her question from the air.
"S-sorry, I didn't mean to pry! I know we're not close like that yet, I really didn't mean to ask something so personal, it wasn't my place at all." Jay's eyes focused on Aurora's hands, which struggled to find something to do as she turned new phrasings for her apology in her mouth. Her hands look like they're eating each other, ouroboros style. Jay stifled a smile at the idea. Jay's eyes moved upwards, to the ice that creeped down Aurora's hand.
"Does your hand ever hurt?"
"No, not really, I lost most sensation so it doesn't hurt, at least not in the traditional sense. But I feel that something's missing there."
"I know how that feels." Jay searched Aurora's face, tracing the earnestness that inhabited each crevice of it. If she wants me to open up, it wouldn't hurt to, right? I an at least make her feel better.
Jay took a deep breath. "Can I be honest? The way my leg just… disappeared, out of nowhere, kinda feels like, you know, how it feels when someone close to you dies." Aurora nodded. "I feel like I'm grieving."
"I think I understand what you're saying. On the Primorse Archipelago, when… when my moms and everyone else were frozen, it felt like a similar feeling but less. Even when I'm not consciously thinking about it, I sense it, the loss."
"Yeah. I get it." Jay rubbed her forearms, averting her gaze. Honest, she reminded herself. "It's sorta the same as when my sister passed. I'm still pissed about both, the leg and her." Her hands clenched. "I mean, maybe I deserved it, because I have been such a fuck up that of course it's only right that something gets ripped out of me." Jay bit the inside of her cheek again, silencing herself.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around her. The cold of Aurora's forearm was jarring, but the cool became calming, and Jay curled into the embrace. Jay really had never been too afraid of crying openly — god knows Chip and Gill had seen her wet-faced and pathetic on numerous occasions — but she hadn't been comforted like this in ages. Not since before Ava left, at least, because Ava always noticed when training had beat Jay down, and Ava always found a way to make Jay smile. And now Ava was dead, and it was Jay's fault that things weren't okay.
"No one deserves any of this. No one should ever be asked to be this strong." Aurora's voice was cool — not like the biting cold of winter air, but the quiet smooth of running fingers over ice. "You don't have to be better. You're good enough now. It's okay, Jay."
"I know," Jay muttered. "I know it's not. But if it's not my fault, then what can I do?"
"Your best."
Exhaustion washed over Jay. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to rest. Her eyes slowly shut, protected by Aurora's embrace.