The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (boyxboy)

CHAPTER 6

The Merry | Present Day

And so eventually they sail. First, up the coast, before veering east. Continuing east. Going so far east that Slade has to grudgingly give the order to turn back, only to have them back out on open waters once they've regrouped. They do this for long enough that Az's ankle fully supports his weight once more.

Az does his best to stay well clear of Paver. The man spends a lot of time sequestered away with a select couple of friends when he's not attending to his duties, which suits Az just fine. Az, too, tries to busy himself with his own chores and not think about how every day at sea is now another day closer to Slade's disappointed tantrum. In the kitchen, Noah keeps him occupied with chopping and peeling and stirring and sprinkling. They don't talk about how he sought Slade immediately when Paver's knife game turned too dangerous.

When he's not in the kitchen, he's cleaning, sorting, or sewing. Cleaning makes his back hurt after an hour, sorting is monotonous, and sewing is tedious, never mind that he's not the best at the latter. His stitches are uneven and sometimes clumped together in spots, but no one else will do it, so it's one of the many drudgeries that are his simply for this reason. He's not a particular fan of cooking either.

The cut along his fingers had bruised around the edges, and throbbed with every movement as he went about his work, but it never got infected and eventually that stops hurting too. If anything, he's grateful this one small injury is all he escaped with. Some of the crew look him up and down and snicker obtusely when they see the irritated red line. Most of them go on as they have done, ignoring him entirely.

People and their company aren't things Az has ever really needed. He's used to being ignored or even scorned — things that don't bother him. But he's bored. The Merry's usual routine is in a state of disruption: they aren't making their usual stops, or even visiting new places. The crew aren't leaving and coming back with stories he can listen to, and he certainly isn't getting to spend any time off the ship.

Things had been different on The Oriana. The first ship he'd ever been on, his first foray into life at sea before things had gotten so twisted and complicated.

He'd been only fifteen, a year into living on the streets of Albahri, and thriving all things considered but unsatisfied nonetheless. The Oriana had docked only twice in the harbour. A small and shabby ship, altogether unmemorable, yet Az had remembered it because there isn't much he forgets. Maybe that he'd only seen it those two times compared to the other ships that seemed to visit every couple of months is what had drawn him to it. Maybe he'd thought that was his best option. If it didn't come back often.

Approaching Captain Robert Elmwood had taken gall, a bit of desperation, and a lot of garnering sympathy. He'd been an older man with greying hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. He'd taken in Az's bare feet, scrawny form, and the bandages covering his arms from wrist to elbow, and immediately presumed him part of some professional street gang. Az had forced the saddest, most pleading look on his face that he could muster, spun some purposefully vague story about needing to get away, and had almost made himself cry on purpose.

Honestly, his act that day remains one of his least proud moments. Yet Robert Elmwood had caved and invited him aboard The Oriana — named so for his granddaughter — with grace. Within a couple of weeks, Az had learned more ways to swear than he'd ever thought possible, and a list of songs as long as his arm (with most of them being about beautiful women).

On The Oriana, he'd felt differently about life. Not that he had a purpose, per se, but a sense that he was achieving something. Gaining something, maybe. He'd been making friends, learning more about the world than he'd ever even imagined could be learned, he'd been considering staying before Ginger had found out his secret and made things difficult.