An Ocean of Lies (AFOS II)

Chapter 24: Jo

She couldn't sleep, not with Dante sneaking around, so close, inside the skipper. Leaving him there all night in the fog, dense as it was, would've been inhumane. Alaric slept, soundly, next to her in the little bed the revenant took out from a wall. No magic, just clever craftsmanship: go figure. It was nice to have something non-magical around, at least. She had it in her now, there was no use in denying it anymore, and the sound, that faint hum in the back of her brain was deafening. Maddening, more like it. Like a drop in the ceiling, hiding somewhere she couldn't see, making a faint sound, keeping her awake.

The revenant moved his heavy body light on his toes, almost like a cat. At times, if she closed her eyes, it felt as if they were alone in there. But then she opened them and there he was, his bright red hair sticking from a messy bun, his fingers stained by ink; he took a lot of space, visually, no wonder he'd chosen to live in isolation to avoid recognition. He had something stuck in his ears, like earplugs covered in pearls. He moved his feet to an invisible beat.

She didn't dare to read the book she'd been reading, his book. She wasn't even tired anymore, and she had Dante to thank for it. He admitted to dozing them with a potent sleeping powder, extremely illegal and difficult to obtain, unless you were as skilled an alchemist as Wyn was. He needed the powder to knock out unsuspected victims, drain them of blood with as little pain as possible. He wasn't a monster, he insisted. But that was yet to be seen. Some monsters killed with mercy. Like Koldo. She pressed her nails to the palms of her hands, digging deep. Took a deep breath.

She squirreled out from the bed, Alaric tossed in his sleep, drooling all over the pillow. She could tell the trip wasn't sitting well with him, his powers, maybe seasickness, both. She kissed his forehead, softly. He wasn't very good at hiding pain, but she'd let him believe he'd gotten away with it. If he felt he could handle it, she wouldn't press, but she'd be right there if he needed her.

She needed some fresh air, even if it meant soaking herself wet outside. The cabin was stuffy, thick with the smell of ink, sweat, salt, and patchouli. She hated the stuff, she would rather smell stinky feet all day than patchouli. Of all the spices coming from the north, Dante had chosen to stink his boat with that crap. Creators' mercy.

She wrapped Roisin's enchanted scarf around her nose and mouth, opened the door as fast as she could and stepped out. She was met with what felt like a light shower, the thickest fog she'd ever seen so far. She couldn't see her hands or the tip of her nose. The night was pitch black, the two moons hidden by the fog. She shivered. In hindsight, it had been a terrible idea. What if she slipped? Where were the railings? Ontur's ass. But she didn't want to go back inside. She walked, slowly towards where she thought the railings were. Once she made it there, she could just rest her arms, enjoy the peace and quiet. The fog was soaking her clothes through and through, the air was turning her skin into ice, but whatever. She needed a bath anyway. The skipper had a small one, and she didn't really dare to use it with Alaric sleeping like a bear in there. Both of them, vulnerable at the same time? Not the best idea.

She felt the slippery wood under her fingers, she grabbed it tight. She'd stay there, as long as her body allowed her. She took a deep breath. Another. Salty air, cold, the smell of patchouli and human bodies became a distant memory. She didn't even feel that cold anymore after a while. She wished she could see the stars or the moons. She longed for the forest surrounding the village she'd never see again, all those people they left to die that night. They thought they were dead, it was better that way. Let everyone think they were dead. Maybe Roisin thought— no. Her grandmother would know, she knew she would, somehow. She rolled her sleeve, her tattoos shone even through the fog. Maybe Koldo would know like he knew about king Markel. She didn't actually see him enchant any trinkets, and he never told her anything about it, but then again, he was never forward with anything, always keeping secrets. The boat shook, lightly at first. She grabbed tighter onto the railing. The skipper had runes all over, they were sailing across magical currents, it was probably nothing. She ran her hands across the wood, without letting go, using it to go back safely to the cabin.