Centuries Deep (Peregrine x catalyst)

No one knew where the Captain would disappear to when the ship docked at a port. However, without fail, he'd always leave the ship for a minimum of a couple of hours, sometimes extending overnight. No one on the crew dared try and do anything to the ship while he was gone. After all, Varen had done nothing to block the rumors of what had happened when someone had tried to steal the Barracuda from him, years and years ago. Even his current grey-haired bos'n Errik had been nothing but a young boy then.

However, Varen couldn't help but frown when he returned to the port, and noticed the faint commotion that had swelled up around the ship. His pace instantly sped up, before his hand dropped down to the short, jagged sword sheathed at his waist. It was impossible for him to not recognize the uniform of Priests of the Church of Life.

Unlike his crew, however, Varen didn't bother wondering why they were here. All he did was begin to prepare countermeasures in his mind. He'd been trying to keep a low profile in hopes of keeping these exact people off his trail, but that didn't mean he feared them. He needed the Oracle, and if anyone tried to take her from him, he'd make them pay in blood.

Even if it meant leaving Reyes in ruins.

Varen quickly scanned the scene, taking in the various details. Khelida hadn't left the ship yet, instead lingering by the railing as she spoke to the priest. Samiel was perched on the forecastle deck, his fingers spinning around the pommel of a dagger, eyes trained on the priests. Clearly, Varen's battle master had thoughts very similar to his Captain.

But Varen didn't move right away. Instead, his eyes locked on to Khelida, waiting to see what she would do. The moment she sought the aid of these priests to escape, it would spell the moment for Varen to act.
 
"Oracle Khelida," Priest Fernando greeted with a deep bow, the rest of the priests following suit. The sight of Khelida helped ease his growing nerves; she looked healthy if not a tad spent from labor. "We were to meet with the Tiarnag," he answered as they straightened.

"The Tiarnag?"

"Yes. We were on our way when I happened to spot you on this ship. As I've said to this... gentleman here, we simply desired to greet you."

Khelida's eyes momentarily flickered to Errik. He had tried to get rid of them, after all. "Please excuse Errik - he is simply being as efficient as possible. We don't plan to stay long."

"Long enough to join us for a meal? I see you haven't changed since the last we met and still join in on the work." The formality lessened some as his smile grew more genuine. Khelida returned it and acknowledged his words with a nod.

"You know I'm not one to sit idle."

"Please, join us then. You must be hungry," one of the other clergy members, the woman with black hair, voiced. "Your boatswain, too," she added. But when she met his gaze, it was like hot ice staring into her soul and she practically curled into herself. "I-if... if he... would like," her voice grew smaller and she couldn't hold his gaze. Such a rude man!

Khelida smiled apologetically. A meal, even a drink - anything that meant one foot off this ship - likely meant only trouble. "You were very kind to postpone your meeting only to greet me. But I must decline. Once everything you see here is loaded and our Captain is back, we'll depart."

The group was obviously disappointed at her answer, and Fernando looked wary of leaving so soon. "Then please, allow us to help load. We are in your service," he bowed once more and the others along with him, waiting for her answer.

But it wasn't her answer to give. It was Errik's, at the very least.
 
Errik was about to respond when he suddenly noticed a black-haired figure striding vigorously towards the ship. Any words he might have had instantly died on his lips, and he instead politely inclined his head in the man's direction.

Varen took no particular notice of his boatswain's behavior, his gaze locked on the group of Priests. His eyes were cool, surprisingly indifferent considering the nature of the people he faced. Despite that, there was no doubt he would only be fully comfortable once he managed to chase them off, and this unexpected variable was removed from the equation.

Unfortunately, it was all but certain that the more intensely he tried to drive them away, the more stubborn their refusal would become. Everyone involved in the Church of Life was stubborn and convinced that their own beliefs and attitudes were absolutely correct. These people would not leave unless they themselves decided to depart. As little as Varen liked it, he could temper his tone and control his words if it meant getting out of here on time and without further incident.

"Please excuse us for not being able to pay a formal visit to the Church," he said, briefly placing his hands palm together in front of his chest, and suppressing the shiver of disgust that ran up his spine as he nodded his head. There was a sort of commanding air about Varen, one that gave him a sense of presence and dignity few could completely ignore. As he lifted his gaze and made eye contact with the priests, the dark-haired woman unexpectedly flushed. Varen smiled slightly, but otherwise ignored her reaction. "Did our bos'n not explain to you why we cannot pay our respects right now?"

Varen might have seen the commotion from a distance, but he hadn't heard exactly what excuses Errik had been using to try and fend off the priests. Fortunately, the grey-haired man immediately picked up on his captain's subtle hint.

"I tol' them we can't let the wrong people know we're here."

Varen nodded back, gesturing apologetically. "Please excuse Errik if he did not explain this matter well. He has spent his life on a ship, and is about as coarse as sailors come. However, he is not exaggerating. We are here directly due to an Oracle regarding devil-worship."

It was not uncommon for holy-men of any sort to be sensitive to lies, but there was no trace of a lie in Varen's words. Of course, it was blatantly deceptive, as the oracle had not come from Life, and he himself was the one related to devil worship, yet no untruth had passed his lips.

"You know how quick rats are to scatter at the slightest hint of danger. Until we are able to rendezvous with the fleet, we cannot have news of the Oracle getting out. Please. People are already starting to gather."

Indeed, numerous dock workers had caught sight of the priests, and while they hadn't gone as far as pointing and staring, there was no doubt they were casting over covert glanced and exchanging whispers. The observers would only grow more bold as time went on.

"We will likely be returning to Reyes within a couple of weeks, and—so long as you are still here—I would be honored to escort to Oracle to visit with you for an evening at that time."

It was about the politest dismissal Varen could manage.
 
As if on cue, the captain in question arrived on scene. All eyes followed the boatswain's gesture and pinned onto the new face. As Khelida clasped her hands in front of her, she wondered how long he'd been within earshot. She half-expected an attitude similar to Errik's, but instead Varen was apologetic and even bowed his head. Yet her face didn't betray her thoughts, lest anyone still watched her. And Varen made the right call; she could see the worry slowly lift from Priest Fernando's shoulders. Perhaps she could trust that Varen would not always be as brutish as his crew?

"Sir, we should leave. We don't want to attract trouble," a middle-aged man with rose-colored cheeks advised quietly. If unwanted attention somehow troubled the Oracle of Life, they would be held responsible. Fernando gave an affirmative nod.

"Ah, well... I cannot say I'm not disappointed, but I understand," he addressed the Captain, then Khelida. "It was nice enough seeing you after so long. We will pray for a safe journey!"

"To you as well. Farewell, Priest Fernando," Khelida smiled and met the eyes of the others in the group. They bowed in unison, to which she returned, before leaving the docks.

"He won't be a bother any longer," she told Errik once the group was in the distance. Her face and tone were neutral, no hint of regret anywhere. "Shall I return to what I was doing or do you need hands elsewhere?"
 
"Ah, uhhh..."

Without the pressure of having to handle the priests lest the situation turn bad, Errik finally seemed to show his fluster. He stared at Khelida with his mouth slightly agape, until he seemed knocked back to his senses when Varen clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Supplies?" he asked, voice filled with teasing. "Loading?"

"Ah, oh, yes."

Varen's eyes rolled slightly at this lackluster response, moving his hand from the botswain's shoulder to knock slightly against the back of his head. "Just focus on getting the supplies on board so we can leave as soon as possible."

"Yessir."

Satisfied that they wouldn't be standing about much longer, his eyes turned to linger on Khelida's calm features. His dark eyes studied her, as though trying to read right through her.

There was no way that group of priests could have changed her fate of accompanying him, but that would still have been by far her best moment if she'd wished to stir up trouble. After all, one word from her would have sent those white-clothed parasites scrambling to do her bidding. Yet she'd done absolutely nothing to interrupt his sending them away.

Perhaps she'd realized that it wouldn't have succeeded, and it would have only made their journey more unpleasant and had consequences on innocent people. Or perhaps she had her own considerations. Frankly, the exact reason for it didn't matter, but nor could Varen deny the satisfaction that had arisen in him at such an unexpectedly smooth conclusion.

Varen strolled up the gangplank casually, his eyes never straying from Khelida. When he came to a halt near her, one eyebrow briefly lifted in a mock sort of astonishment. "I'm surprised," he stated flatly, sounding remarkably unsurprised. "I would have thought you'd use such a perfect opportunity to cause trouble."
 
Stumbling on his words, Errik no longer seemed to be in a foul mood. Perhaps he only acted as a curmudgeon to rid of Life's priests as fast as possible, but now it appeared he'd forgotten what he was doing. It wasn't until the Captain stepped in once more that his typical fast pace kicked into gear. Without her answer, Khelida likely could've just returned to the cargo hold, but she found herself watching the two men's brief interaction. Dare she say it was... chummy? The head knock appeared anything but hostile.

Errik was dismissed easily enough and she took that as her cue, too, until her eyes caught Varen's. Once more, she considered turning her back and returning below deck. What was there to talk about, after all?

But he began moving, eyes never leaving hers and so she remained, feet planted to the wood beneath.

"I'm surprised - I would have thought you'd use such a perfect opportunity to cause trouble."

Ah, so that was it. Why hadn't she tried to escape?

"Would it have been worth it?" Her tone was as if she was genuinely asking him, though the next question was more rhetorical. "Am I in danger here?" She paused momentarily.

The Oracle completely understood that Varen was the only thing keeping much of the crew from making her and Myran's lives complete hell (at the very least). Pirates generally weren't the safest lot to be around, but Varen had respected their space and went so far as to give them their own quarters. Their journey, much less its purpose, was still shrouded in mystery, but Khelida had faith that Life was watching over them.

"To be honest, the thought did cross my mind that you orchestrated the whole thing as a test - but it was fleeting. You don't seem the type to bother yourself with something like that."
 
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Khelida's rather straightforward response caused Varen to chuckle, although it didn't stop him from continuing to survey her face as though he was hoping to pry something out of her soul. He couldn't decide whether her cooperativeness was reassuring or worrying. She had no reason to be obedient, other than the fact that he'd made her importance to him as clear as he was able. Still, how long had he been running with a group of pirates? Which of them would be so cooperative in an unpleasant situation?

There was no point in thinking further about it. Perhaps he'd merely gotten lucky, after such a long time of an ill star hanging over his head.

"It would not have been worth it," he replied flatly, before an unexpected, fierce grin split its way across his face. "Unless, of course, you enjoy the sight of other's blood."

His eyes momentarily strayed in the direction of the Priests. Even from this distance, their white-robed figures were clearly distinguishable among the hordes of sailors. Whether out of respect or fear, the dirty people loading up the boats didn't even dare to brush against them.

"My… bad blood with the Church of Life runs deeper than you can guess. I will never deal with them unless absolutely necessary. You are the first to step foot onto my deck and live long enough to tell the tale to others. That is the best reassurance I can offer of the… value you hold to me, Oracle. I will not let anyone, be it you or someone else, spoil this."
 
No one could deny the intensity of Varen's stare. His mere presence was commanding enough, fitting for a feared captain of the high seas, but his stare held the real power. From charming a novice priestess to relaying a threat, his eyes never wavered.

But neither did Khelida's. As a child, she always had trouble lowering her gaze, even in the company of the High Priests.

At Varen's fiendish smile and half-jest, the Oracle didn't give much of a reaction before he spoke again of the Church. It wasn't news that he shared, and as such it did nothing to satisfy her curiosity. But the corner of her lip did curve into a subtle smirk. "Well, it seems everyone is on the same page about my value," she quipped as she began to walk away - purposely not letting the Captain leave first to reinforce the notion of her being the more important person. "Move along now, Captain. Let's not waste any more time."

On the sidelines, Davina had joined in on pretend busywork with a few other crew members whilst eavesdropping. She witnessed everything, and while she was as surprised as everyone else that the Oracle hadn't cried for a rescue, she was also mildly disappointed at the lack of drama.

"You think she said a secret code to 'em?" she whispered to their hunter. "She had to of, right? She can't find us that lovely."
 
Varen did nothing to hold Khelida back as she walked away, despite the fact that she'd finished the conversation by all but issuing a command to the pirate captain. Instead, he followed her back with his eyes for a moment, before letting out a deep, throaty chuckle.

To some, their conversation might have seemed a war for dominance and control over one another, one Khelida had won. To others, it was perhaps the Oracle's only form of fighting back against her unjust imprisonment, foolish, but not worth quarreling over when her entire well-being was held within someone else's hands.

Varen would never put so much thought into it. Politics, verbal sparring, they were nothing in his eyes. All he saw was spunk, a form of energy so rarely found in the strictly controlled members of the Church of Life.

What a welcome surprise.

Perhaps, in a different life, she would have found herself far more at home on his ship than she ever would in the restrictive halls of the Church.

Varen continued on his way to the captain's quarters a moment later, leaving Errik and the rest of the crew to finish loading up the ship. And perhaps the captain's moment of luck held, for no further interruptions plagued the Barracuda as her belly was once more filled with supplies. Less than an hour later, Taliah finished dragging back the last of the wandering crew, and Simun shouted the order to release the sails. Under the offshore wind, the pirate ship slowly sailed out of Reyes' port bay.

------

The winds continued to carry the Barracuda steadily northeast. And while the weather was beginning to cool, tempered by the northern climate, it did nothing to cool the hot blood of the pirates. With the ship sailing steadily with minimal assistance, the crew also began to bustle about with additional liveliness. A particularly rambunctious crowd had gathered on the main-deck, forming a ring around two strong but lean figures, who were circling each other like territorial cats.

"Gettim!"

"Knock him to the ground already!"

"Place your bets here, if you've got the balls for it."

It was a normal day on the pirate ship.
 
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Myran remembered the first time she heard the uproarious cheering on the Barracuda. The sun was just barely west, beating down on the crew and the ship's new passengers just a few days after their boarding. She followed the crowd and quickly came upon the tail-end of a fight. At first, she thought it a simple brawl. It could've been due to the uneasiness still in the air regarding the presence of Life's disciples, or some petty ship squabble, or a mix of anything. But she quickly discovered it wasn't some lawless brawl.

It was a sparring match.

She'd be lying if she said there wasn't a stir of excitement in her belly.

It wasn't long before the redhead learned more. At first, the matches seemed to happen sporadically. But after catching another two and asking a select few people, she came to understand there was some sort of routine in place. When Myran reported to Khelida and told her about it, Khelida didn't seem surprised. Rather, she was wary of Myran even watching the matches and practically forbid the two of them from participating.

"Nobody would take a step towards me, Myran. They don't want to anger their captain, and they probably don't trust themselves to not get carried away with finally taking revenge on Life's subjects."

Khelida was right; nobody in their right mind would dare attempt to strike her, but Myran? Varen practically ignored her existence, his eyes only for his prized Oracle. Hitting her guardian shouldn't be a big deal... right?

With the Oracle's voice in the back of her mind, Myran was drawn to the current match like a moth to a flame. Between the initial trip from Kyzan and the abduction - Khelida could argue what it was till she was blue in the face, but it was an abduction - there had been little training for the two. Even when they got the chance to practice, Khelida limited it to their very cramped quarters.

But that was no way to hone their skills, which Myran had no qualms voicing. They couldn't get rusty on a pirate ship full of deadly, trained fighters!

So when the match ended and her eyes met the challenger's, she didn't entirely fight it when her feet didn't step back... and stepped forward instead.
 
They might have all been crewmates on the same ship, but it was far from unusual for a battle between pirates to turn bloody. What was more, in many circumstances that very aspect could turn into the draw of the fight. First blood was often just as honorable an achievement as eventual victory.

That was why, when the dagger finally flew out of Jerrick's hand, leaving him desperately panting with blood streaming out of a cut on his forehead into his one good eye, there was nothing he could do to avoid the blonde haired woman who placed a cold dagger against his throat.

"You win," he growled, lifting one hand to wipe at the blood.

However, Lilliette was far from uninjured as well. A long cut ran up her arm, and a portion of her shirt had been cut clean off. She lifted Jerrick to his feet with one hand, before the circle of pirates that had gathered around them widened out again. They had a clear path to the infirmary, and the next two contestants plenty of time to enter the makeshift ring.

The excited babble of voices was more than loud enough to be audible over the sound of the waves against the Barracuda's hull. That was why, when everyone suddenly fell silent, it was impossible not to notice.

Lili almost instantly came to a halt, glancing backwards, before she suddenly went stiff.

"What happened?" Jerrick asked, head swiveling on the spot as he continued to try and stem the flow of blood that was running down his forehead.

"That redhead entered the ring."

"Who, Halma? I thought she didn't do..."

"No," Lilli cut him off, voice almost reminiscent of a growl. "The temple bitch."

"...Fffuck!"

The curse wasn't so much out of the fact that she'd entered, but rather that both of them were injured. Jerrick and Lilliette had both been a part of the group that had been sent to search for the Oracle when they'd first boarded her ship, and subsequently been rendered unconscious when they'd been ambushed in the hold. Their first chance to get justified revenge, and the two of them would have to sit it out.

"Who's going against her?" Jerrick pressed. One hand was pressed firmly against the cut on his head, mostly stemming the flow of blood, but the way his eye was constantly blinking made it clear that everything around him would still be nothing more than blurry silhouettes.

"Izaso."

"Good. I hope she gets the shit kicked out of her."

Izaso had been the first to enter the ring the moment Lilli and Jerrick had left. One dagger danced across their fingers, before they threw the dagger into the air, deftly caught it, and pointed the sharp tip at the waiting crowd. However, when Myran stepped into the ring, a frown almost instantly crossed their face. Green eyes squinted into a near slit.

Letting out a faint noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a groan, Izaso tossed their dagger to the side, where it bounced across the deck. No one would get away with handing either of the temple people a dagger. Instead, Izaso balled their fists, lifting them into a guard.

"Come on!"
 
Myran briefly wondered if she should have waited for another opponent. She couldn't remember their name; the one who now stood in the ring never once crossed Myran or Khelida's path, and that wasn't by luck. Souta explained to her that they - as they preferred to be referenced as such - generally kept to themselves in the first place, but it was probably best to avoid them.

The redhead's eyes followed the dagger as it was retired, and she couldn't help the small smirk that crossed her features. They would spar with her, but they wouldn't risk more lethal damage. Khelida and herself had their own weapons confiscated by Varen's crew back on the Bourdelia, so she couldn't make her entrance quite as showy. At least it was an even match.

With their guard up, their shout was the first to break the uneasy silence over the crowd. Myran brought up her own fists.

"C'mon, Izaso!" Someone from the crowd yelled, but Myran didn't give Izaso a chance to change their mind. She'd been challenged, so she shifted her balance to the balls of her feet and moved.

The first few minutes were probably boring to most. The pair danced around, getting a feel for each other. Izaso was fast, but the woman was lighter on her feet and certainly stayed on the defense. They were more powerful than her; she had to be careful not to get caught in a hold...

Most matches were no longer so slow to start unless they were specifically training, since it was often an outlet for pent-up frustration. As the crowd's anticipation grew, so did the cheering. Myran already knew they wouldn't be cheering for her. She could see Izaso testing her, trying to make her feel cornered and taking advantage of the crowd's dislike. The adrenaline was building, though, and when she saw an opening...

Dark fists jabbed at her, but she quickly dodged and spun, landing a kick to Izaso's side and making them recoil. It was the first real blow of the match, causing someone to laugh from surprise. Izaso realized their vulnerability and tried to correct it, but Myran stepped behind and landed two jabs to their other side before swiftly kicking their feet out from under them. Izaso landed with a thud and a growl. Cheers followed, but Myran still didn't think they were for her. She saw something flare in her opponent's eyes as they stood, a much more serious intent darkening the bright green.

Minutes passed. Sweat ran down Izaso's temples and pooled above Myran's brows as her chest heaved. It felt good to be doing this, like using a muscle after too much rest. But after Izaso got in a good punch to her leg, the woman knew she was becoming spent. The crowd was practically incoherent, but she knew they were living vicariously through Izaso, hoping for a good win. She wanted to get in one last good jab...

She dashed forward, expecting the other to dodge. Dark brown eyes widened as Izaso moved forward instead, their fist connecting to her abdomen, hard, before her own hit could land. She fell backward, the wind nearly knocked out of her, and barely had time to register Izaso following after her. Their limbs became scrambled as they fought for dominance, but after a few moments... it was done. Myran let out a frustrated noise as she tapped the wooden deck.

Izaso didn't let go. Myran waited, gave them the benefit of the doubt, and tapped again. "You win!" But that didn't work, nor did the feeling of her once again fighting their hold. It was only when a stern, warning yell called Izaso's name did they come to and release the Temple woman.
 
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Up in the captain's quarters, Varen laid sprawled across the couch, eyes half closed, blatantly ignoring the rather firm gaze of his Quartermaster, who was leaning against the wall near the door, eyes trained on him.

He and Taliah had been in this 'stare off' for a good ten minutes now, the woman's patience earning nothing but amusement from her Captain. He stubbornly maintained his silence, lounging lazily, nothing to show he took any note of the brown-haired woman's presence other than the smirk that was ever so slowly growing on his face.

Of course, it wasn't as though he didn't know what Taliah wanted. She'd asked her question the moment she'd gotten permission to enter his room. Where were they going, and why.

He even had a full understanding behind the logic of why she was asking him these questions. He knew full well that Taliah would follow his instructions regardless of what he wanted to achieve. All she wanted to do was make preparations in advance, to ensure that this trip that was clearly so important to him would go as smoothly as possible.

Perhaps it was that very logic that made him so amused by refusing to answer. He was waiting to see what she'd do with him behaving so unreasonably, if she'd give up and leave, or grow sufficiently frustrated that she'd decide to try and stab him instead.

Unfortunately, his curiosity was bound to go unsatisfied. Taliah's head turned slightly, her eyes seeming to focus through the wall towards the rest of the ship.It was more than possible to make out the excited shouting of the crew that had drawn her attention, growing more and more rambunctious by the moment.

"Strange."

"Just a fight," Varen replied, waving away her concern with one hand.

Taliah clearly did not agree, as her gaze didn't waver. "It has lasted too long."

The ship's duels happened frequently, but they were normally a quick bout, dirty, fast, and violent. It was very rare for one to drag on for more than a couple of minutes. However, still disinterested, Varen rolled his head to the side to stare at her. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

Taliah stared back at him for a second, before turning sharply to walk towards the door. "I will be back."

"You do that."

The door all but slammed closed behind her.

Taliah moved with quick strides over to the railing that overlooked the lower decks, dodging past Simun as he leaned lazily against the ship's wheel, staring down towards the deck. It took her a couple of seconds to see through the mess of flailing limbs and shifting bodies that had gathered into a large mass on the deck to the two people in the middle. However, the moment she made out the participants, Taliah's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Izaso! Release her!"

The shouting on deck froze like someone had doused a fire with a bucket of water the instant Taliah's displeased shout spread across the deck. The watching pirates scuttled backwards from the ring they'd formed with their bodies, some of them disappearing under the deck, others bustling off to occupy themselves with whatever work they were supposed to be doing. Clearly, none of them wished to face off against their Quartermaster.

Taliah began to make her way down towards the deck, but leveled a glare at Simun as she walked past the wheel. He offered her nothing but a lazy smile and a few words in return. "Not my job, now is it?"

Taliah ignored him, quickly making her way down two flights of stairs to the main deck. Unlike the rest of the crew, Izaso had not disappeared as Taliah made her approach. Instead, they stood firmly on the deck, fists balled and head lowered, a frown across their face. Taliah ignored this misbehaving crewmate, at least for the moment, and focused on Myran instead, running her eyes up and down the other.

"Injured?"
 
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Once she was entirely free from her opponent's hold, Myran sucked in her breath and quickly stood. Carefully rolling her throbbing shoulder to release tension, she looked at Izaso, but they wouldn't meet her eyes. The cheering had stopped completely and she realized the crowd was dispersing as the ship's quartermaster approached. Still breathing heavily, Myran took a deep one to calm herself and straightened at the question.

"No," she answered. 'At least, nothing I can't handle,' she finished in thought. But it wasn't a lie; there was nothing serious. The intervention happened just in time; rather than a dislocated shoulder, there were only bruises.

Myran glanced once more to Izaso, who still stood there waiting to be chastised. It wasn't the first time they'd gone too far in a mere sparring match, but those never involved devout Life followers who were off-limits by the Captain's decree. They wouldn't be able to deny the trace amount of resentment in their actions, either.

The redhead looked back to the shadow-like character and paused. She knew Taliah had just done her job, but it wouldn't feel right to not say anything. "Thanks..."

Nobody daring to insert themselves further in the situation, Myran took an unsure step back. Was she free to leave? "I should go back to the Oracle." She usually felt comfortable enough to refer to Khelida by name, but something about being in the presence of just them sparked formality.

When she was paces away from the quartermaster, she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. Was she going to be thrown in timeout after all?? But when she whipped around, it was only Souta, and he immediately let go and shot hands up in surrender. Myran relaxed just in time for two other bodies - Henrika and Trey - to swarm her. Apparently, the distance away from Taliah was comfortable enough for the trio.

"What in the heavens made you think that was a good idea??" Henrika's words were harsh whispers laced with panic. Myran fought the urge to glance back.

"Don't take it personally," Trey cut in with an amused tone. "Izaso's a sore loser. They've actually gotten a lot better, but-"

"-But some things don't change completely. I did warn you," Souta finished.

Myran smiled guiltily and rubbed the back of her head. "I saw my chance! Nobody wants to train with me and Khelida."

"Gee, why do you think that is, aside from the boss' orders and hate for the Temple?" Henrika remarked sarcastically. "You're lucky you aren't worse off."

"So is Izaso," Trey muttered under his breath, mouth curving downwards in a cringe. Myran huffed, knowing she wasn't going to win this round. It might not be a brig, but she had to suffer her own punishment.

A few moments of silence passed between them until Trey's giggle broke through. "You did put on quite a show, though."
 
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Taliah watched Myran beat a hasty retreat with a blank face, her mouth slightly parted. However, a second later she sighed slightly, closing her lips and instead turning to face Izaso. The auburn-haired pirate continued to stand nearby, head lowered like a disobedient child. There was nowhere to run on the ship, nowhere to hide to avoid punishment. The crew of the Barracuda had long since learned it was best to stay still.

"Izaso," Taliah stated, tone laced with disappointment. Only after several moments did the pirate lift their head.

The two maintained eye contact for a second, before Izaso trembled. "I didn't touch the Oracle. Cap'n shouldn't care about her guard."

"Captain hardly cares if we murder each other."

For all the weight of his presence, Varen had never been the one to enforce the rules on his ship. So long as the ship sailed, as a matter of fact, he was more inclined to watch in amusement if a disagreement turned bloody. There were always new pirates looking for a place on the mythical ship, although whether or not they could adapt well enough to the crew itself determined their long-term survivability on-board.

However, Varen seemed well aware that a lack of discipline did not lead to a smooth-sailing ship. That was why the Quartermaster, his second in command, became such an essential role. The rules on the ship changed depending on who held the position, and it was Taliah's responsibility to enforce the rules she'd created.

"Head duty. One week."

Izaso's nose wrinkled in response, but the sailor ultimately still nodded obediently. The water splashing on the beakhead mostly washed the toilets clean, but it still required a daily scrubbing. It was well known as Taliah's favorite punishment duty, alongside being set as Galijah's dishwasher, since they only got to eat after all the dishes were clean, yet the rambunctiousness of the pirates ensured that she rarely ran out of 'volunteers'.

"Do not pass it to Siavash. You'll regret it."

"Yes, ma'am," Izaso muttered, before gratefully scampering away when Taliah waved her off.


The brawl between Izaso and Myran might have ended without incident, but it did seem to heighten the tension that covered the crew. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it served to deepen the rift of opinions that were forming about the two from the temple. After all, no one could deny that Myran had held her own against one of the ship's best fighters for several good minutes.

For the majority, it served to create a basic level of respect for the red-haired woman. After all, there was no language better understood among the pirates than that of fighting. For those who wanted to see nothing more than Myran and Khelida beaten to a bloody pulp, it only heightened their frustration. Captain or not, the two were no easy prey.

Yet the ship did not slow down, using the winds to sail ever further north. And things remained as peaceful as they ever did, until one morning when Henrika scuttled down into the worship room as prayers were about to start, glowing with a wild sort of enthusiasm that she almost never showed this early in the day.

Ashana raised an eyebrow as her apprentice raced forward eagerly, nearly sliding to a halt in front of the dark-skinned woman. "What's with the sudden enthusiasm?"

Henrika beamed. "There's a storm on the horizon!"

Ashana's eyes went wide, before she shot to her feet from where she'd been kneeling in front of the god of storm's totem. "We're sailing towards it?"

"Yep!"

Henrika's cheerful reply had barely finished echoing in the dark, wooden room before Ashana was racing towards the ladder up, robes billowing out behind her. Henrika smiled even more broadly, before quickly trotting off after her mentor.
 
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Myran didn't hear much about her match with Izaso from the Oracle as she initially thought. Since it hadn't been a huge issue, apparently Khelida didn't feel the need to make it one.

And Myran wasn't sure what to expect from the crew, but nothing changed much between them either. The only difference she noticed was a few who acknowledged her with a simple nod, when before they had ignored her existence entirely. It was enough to raise her spirits, and Khelida was glad for it, but... Khelida also didn't miss how others' resentful gazes lingered longer than before.

But if that was the worse to come from sparring, so be it.

The days passed by uneventfully... until they didn't.

"Tell me why we're headed towards the horizon of doom?" Myran near-whispered with her eyes glued to the dark and rumbling sky in the far distance. The Oracle shook her head in response, arms crossed. Until today, they had been rather lucky with clear skies and calm seas, but this... this storm didn't look like a mere drizzle. And everyone on deck was simply carrying on, not matching the women's concern - not even their confusion.

Turning on her heel, Khelida headed for the worship room. Even with Storm's blessing and two of his priests, there was no way they could make it out of that storm unscathed. She was just about to head below deck when she spotted exactly who she was looking for.

"Ashana!" She called out, grabbing the priest's attention as she approached. "Is there a reason we shouldn't be worried about sailing into that storm?"
 
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Ashana's eyes hardly seemed to focus on the Oracle, despite the hand that was holding her in place. They drifted around lazily, clearly distracted. A second later and she finally seemed to focus, wiggling in an attempt to get out of the Oracle's grip. Her gaze had already turned back towards the front of the ship, where Henrika was already climbing the stairs to the forecastle deck.

"There's nothing to worry about," was all she said, before finally forcibly removing herself from Khelida's hand, and continuing to rush after her apprentice.

A faint, high-pitched laugh almost immediately followed Ashana's undignified retreat. Daliah, the dark-haired Master Gunner of the Barracuda, leaned against the railing, her arms folded and an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lip. The long scar on the right side of her face seemed to twist slightly, causing the expression to turn vaguely sinister.

"Have you ever wondered, Oracle," she began, unfolding her arms and taking a few steps forward. "Why a righteous priest of the Storm Shrine would be willing to consort with pirates?"
 
Ashana was completely distracted, which wasn't terribly abnormal. Coming from an official Storm Priestess, maybe some would've felt better with her answer, but it didn't help Khelida at all, and she was left helpless as Ashana escaped from her hold.

The loud laugh that broke the air didn't help either. Turning towards it, she found Dahlia who seemingly just watched the failed attempt at getting answers. Her question was, admittedly, something the Oracle never asked the Storm Priestess. From the snippets in their first conversation and what people had told her, it seemed Ashana was taken against her will. But there was a pain there that Khelida had no right to pry open.

"Are you going to tell me why?" The curly-headed woman returned evenly.
 
Dahlia's smile only grew wider at the Oracle's calm, confident reply, the fierce grin causing her nose to wrinkle slightly. Her head swayed slightly from side to side, clearly seriously considering whether or not to oblige Khelida or simply walk away from such a boring reply. However, in the end, the black-haired woman shrugged.

"That kind of reply makes me more inclined to make you ask—someone, even if it's not me—but you'll find out in..." her eyes turned towards the storm looming on the horizon, the giant black thunderheads seeming almost like a tidal wave in the sky. "About fifteen minutes, by the look of the clouds? So there's no point in wasting time."

She fluttered her hand through the air, as though waving away the nonsense that had just been exchanged between the two of them.

"Despite her attitude, Ashana is here voluntarily. And aside from it satisfying her martyr complex, it's also because our Captain is blessed by the Storm God. No storm will touch the Barracuda. Every storm is a personal opportunity for her to stand in the middle of a Divine miracle."
 
No storm would touch the Barracuda.

Not believing it was an exaggeration, Khelida's eyes widened and she looked back to the darkening storm.

After five minutes, thunder rumbled across the waves as the sky above crackled with sharp purples and blues. The only distraction from the hair-raising, howling wind was the ministrations of Henrika and Ashana. The priestess was on her knees, whispering prayers to Storm like she was in a trance, as the apprentice hurriedly crossed the threshold with a small wooden chest.

After ten minutes, the day's light almost completely disappeared and Life's acolytes expected to be swept away by the storm at any moment. But all they were met with was a gentle drizzle, going as quickly as it went, as if it was saying hello.

As if it was welcoming the ship into its chaos.

A mild breeze ruffled the oracle's hair, and the storm engulfed them... but did not touch. The redhead peered over the edge of the railing and saw the waters beneath the ship remaining calm. Wind and rain were ferocious all around the ship, but did not dare bite at them.

It was like the Barracuda was the eye of the storm itself.

"God of Storms," Ashana's voice called out, "we thank you for your blessing of protection! Please, accept these offerings as tokens of our gratitude!" Standing, her and Henrika each took pouches and poured their contents on the wooden floor. Six small mounds, with pearls between them, circled the priestesses in a spiral pattern. Deep, vivid dyes were paired with powdered gemstones and rare spices like blade mace, hibiscus blossoms, and lotus petals. Then, standing in the center and facing each other, their hands raised with gold dust.

And Khelida and Myran watched in astonishment as the gentle breeze left its playful hair ruffles to accept the offerings.

The mounds of color swirled up and around Storm's followers, picking up the gold dust as they rose, until they dispersed into the wall of winds that granted them such a quiet respite. The sweet and floral scents from the spices tickled Khelida's senses until they were completely overwhelmed by the sight before her.

As if dyeing the wind, glittering colors eddied about the entire ship. A harmony in the chaos - not separate, but part of it, like a once invisible balance made clear.

A Divine miracle, indeed.

"This is totally bizarre..." Myran spoke softly. But the Oracle hardly heard her as she reached out and felt the caress of sea mist, stained in hues of color. Mystified and awestruck, she slowly turned and scanned the ship.

Where was its captain in the midst of all this, and what in the heavens had he done to earn Storm's grace?
 
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