Chapter Text
He couldn’t breathe.
His desperate attempts to gasp for air only filled his lungs with water as he was mercilessly shoved back under again and again.
The sun was completely blocked out by dark clouds, with the only light being the occasional flashes of lightning that slashed through the sky.
He vaguely remembered a thunderstorm in which he’d spent lying in bed, with two other figures huddled close to share in the warmth.
But every sudden shove shattered his image of home.
Everytime his head breached the surface, he felt himself battered ruthlessly by the crashing waves.
He felt his consciousness slip, his tortured mind unable to keep itself focused.
As he sunk, he wondered who was waiting for him at home.
He couldn’t picture any faces.
. . . . .
. . .
.
They couldn’t help but wonder where he’d come from.
The strange boy had just washed ashore one day, being rejected by the sea, and wearing strange white clothes with his skin bleached in patches, as if he were covered in flour.
He also hadn’t been conscious. In fact, he refused to regain any semblance of consciousness even about a week after having been found.
The pirate captain stood in the doorway, looking over the unconscious figure. His ripped hoodie and jeans had been switched out for some clothes that had hurriedly been pulled together upon the appearance of the newcomer.
Walking over to the bedside, she pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin was cold. The captain’s hand brushed against a patch of white, causing her to flinch back in pain from the sheer freezing temperature.
She stood back, her mouth pressed in a thin line.
She felt a presence behind her, and flicked a glance back.
“He’s still out cold?”
“Yep, sleeping as soundly as a baby.” She crossed her arms, “You think he’ll ever wake up?”
“I have a feeling he will, but,” the man shrugged conspiratorially, “I have no idea what mental state he could be in.”
“You’re right,” the captain squared her jaw solemnly, “not to mention we have no idea when the last time he ate was. It’s a wonder there’s any life in him at all.”
“Maybe it’d be better for him if he didn’t wake up.”
Her eyes widening, she turned on her heel and craned her neck to shoot him a displeased look, “Typhon!”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” He raised his hands in surrender, stumbling back over his words in an attempt to alleviate the anger that was undoubtedly coming, “I gave him a Totem of Undying when we found him, remember? I’m still planning to help him wake up.”
She glared at her monstrously tall companion a moment longer, but soon turned back to look at the boy, concern highlighting her features.
Waiting in silence for a moment, Typhon eventually spoke up, “I’m sure he’ll wake up sometime soon, Puffy.”
The pirate captain sighed, fiddling with the golden buttons on her long black duster, “I hope so.”