devils-pirate-crew

[devils-pirate-crew]

Hey Arber! Can you ask who does what on the Jersey Devil? I'm curious

Hadn't they already gone over this?

Arber furrows his brow. "So if I'm going to be part of the gunner brigade, who am I with?"

Jesper looks up, thinking it over. "There are four guns, each manned by four men. We name them after the elements to make things easier. Fire crew is McLeod, Bastian, Wood, Lazar. Water crew is Zetterlund, Okhotiuk, Hatakka, Blackwood. Earth crew is Smith, Miller, Bahl, Meier. Air crew is Tatar, Tierney, Boqvist, Willman." Yeah, it tracks that the master gunner would remember all this. "Of course, there are also substitute gunners..."

"And the sailors?"

"Eight sailors who are specifically trained sailors," Jesper notes. "White crew is Hughes - Luke, not Jack -, Graves, Haula, Sharangovich. Black crew is Nemec, Holtz, Toffoli, Nosek. Three sails, two sailors a piece for most changes. Generally, Sevo and Jack pitch in, and there's always extra gunners willing to lend a hand. Hell, I've seen Schmiddy on the ropes several times, too."

#sideline #a.xhekaj|72 #j.bratt|63

[devils-pirate-crew]

"So you were giving Arber a tour?" Vitek guesses, bright blue eyes looking at Dougie and Jesper.

"We'd brought him here to get a meal, actually," Jesper clarifies. "I thought Nico was going to give the official tour, considering Nico made the arrangements."

"Captain's too busy with Quartermaster," Vitek chirps up, nonchalant. "No wonder they share that bedroom."

Arber blinks twice, trying to process that statement. "They share a bedroom?"

Jesper sends an icy glare towards Vitek, no doubt for blabbing again. "Jersey Devil used to be a merchant ship. She came with a fancy bedroom in the stern for the captain of that merchant ship. When she turned to piracy, they kept the captain's quarters, partly for legitimacy of disguise and partly for simple comfort," he explains, "And traditionally, for us anyway, the captain and quartermaster share the bedroom."

"That's where we stopped just before heading out to the tavern," Dougie fills in. Arber nods.

"But the agreement is that they sleep in the forecastle if the captain's quarters are needed for anyone sick," Jesper adds. "So they don't get too much of a big head about having a real bed. It's a resource for all of us for when we need it."

"You even have that in your articles?" Arber wonders, amused.

The master gunner nods, decidedly not amused. "Gotta make sure."

"Right, of course," Arber tugs at his hat.

"A pirate ship as storied as Santé probably doesn't have anything like that, though," Dougie points out.

The representative from Santé shakes his head in agreement. "She was built for piracy." He shrugs. "Which I guess is also strange, in its own way. We've got better things to do with an empty room than make a bed for a captain. The captain serves us; we don't serve the captain."

"Of course," the pilot nods.

"Having specific quarters for the captain doesn't lead to issues, though?" Arber wonders aloud.

"Well," Dougie chuckles guiltily, "It does harbor some discontent from, uh, those of us who also do crucial work and who might not fit well in a standard hammock..."

"Dougie keeps begging Nico to outfit another special quarter for him," Jesper translates.

The pilot turns red at that. "I didn't specify!"

Bratt fixes him with a blank stare. "You were saying it in everything but words, Dougie."

"You really were," Vitek agrees, giving Dougie a warm smile.

"I - fine," he whines, "But I'm the one who makes sure we don't crash and die!"

"I'm the one who keeps the ship fed, and I'm not asking for more than I deserve," the cook hums.

"You fit in your hammock!" Dougie pouts. "I don't."

"Sure," Bratt rolls his eyes, returning to poking at his food as the table goes quiet.

Now feels like a good time to get more information. What do you think, spirits? Arber asks silently.

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #v.vanecek|41 #j.bratt|63 #d.hamilton|7

[devils-pirate-crew]

"Thanks for reminding me about the jam," Vitek claps Jesper on the shoulder as they return to the table. "It was close to burning, but you saved it!"

Jesper flashes a smile that's only somewhat pained in reply. "Anytime. Wouldn't want to ruin my breakfast for the next few months, would I?"

"Exactly," Vitek trumpets, dropping into his seat - his eyes flick back up to the cauldron, clearly watching it. "So! Arber, my newest best friend!"

Arber stiffens at that - Dougie notices and laughs. "He does that to everyone Czech we meet, don't worry," the pilot hums.

"Not true," Vitek crosses his arms.

Jesper rolls his eyes. "You were schmoozing it up with Radek Faksa last time we docked at Bristol."

"We had to drag you away before you asked a pirate hunter to join a pirate ship and blow our cover entirely," Dougie appends.

"That was a one-time mistake!" Vitek yelps, pursing his lips in disdain. "Okay? I didn't know he sailed on Victoria!"

"A one-time mistake. Because Nico kept you on a leash when we docked for at least the next year," Bratt retorts.

"He's been very interested in the supplying of food," Vitek defends. "And I don't blame him, given how your gunners sneak out extra hardtack biscuits every time I turn my back!" He pauses for a second. "At least they appreciate my hardtack."

"They really don't," the master gunner sighs. "They're just hungry as hell because your rations are too small. They do hard physical labor all day and you barely give them one bowl of soup for that!"

Vitek sucks in a deep breath. "It's not my fault there was a storm that blew us two weeks off course! I had to make do with what I had! Everyone's got to make sacrifices, Bratter."

Dougie clears his throat, interrupting Vitek and Jesper's argument. "Not in front of our guest," he states, quietly, but loudly all the same. "I'm sorry about the storm. I should have navigated us away from it so we would have gotten here faster. It's on me. Okay?"

The other two Jersey Devil crewmates lock eyes, then nod after a second. "Sorry," Vitek offers, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Jesper looks down to his plate, pushing a pea around, sharing the sentiment.

"So, uh," Arber cuts in to try to divert their attention. He considers the hundreds of questions floating through his mind right now, plus the soft chattering of the spirits at the edges of his consciousness, before he speaks. "Does this happen often?"

Vitek shrugs. "Only when people don't agree with me."

Arber actually laughs at that one. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, actually.

"When they do, we're best friends," the cook continues, that puppy-like demeanor already coming back. "Like we are, Arber!"

"Yeah," the gunner agrees warily. "Best friends."

It's gonna be a long trip.

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #v.vanecek|41 #j.bratt|63 #d.hamilton|7

[devils-pirate-crew]

"I know it's not that great," Vitek sighs, "But come on. I can't make fresh bread all the time. It won't hold. Besides, baking for almost a hundred of you means I wouldn't sleep at night. I didn't know you hated me that much."

Dougie pats Vitek's hand. "Relax. It's just a joke."

This does little to dim the despondent look in Vitek's eyes. Arber jumps in, now, as he reaches for a piece of bread with which to clean up some of the sauce on his plate. "I'm sure it's still fine, even if it is hardtack," he points out. "Even Juraj can't make hardtack appetizing, though."

"Juraj?" Vitek tilts his head, inquisitive.

Arber feels his cheeks heat up. "The cook on Santé," he mumbles into his bread, taking another bite.

"Juraj," Vitek balances the name on his tongue. "Where's he from?"

"Kingdom of Hungary," Arber responds, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Doesn't sound like a Magyar name," Dougie comments, chewing on a piece of carrot.

"That's 'cause it isn't," the gunner retorts. "He's Slovak. From near Kosice - or Kaschau, I think you'd know it as."

"One of us, then," Vitek smiles, delighted at this news.

"Yeah," Arber chuckles. "One of us." He bites the inside of his cheek, reminding himself to keep steady. "You said there were more Czech sailors?"

Dougie nods, counting on his fingers. "Vitek, Pally's from Silesia, I think Nosek's Bohemian too..."

"And the Slovaks!" Vitek pipes up. "They're almost Czech."

"Almost," Arber intones, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"That's Tuna and Nemo," Bratt points out. "But Nemo's still new enough to sailing that he gets seasick sometimes," he adds with a clear snicker.

"He's a good kid," the cook defends, crossing his arms. "More than I can say about your Swedes."

"What did Holtzy ever do to you?" Jesper's tone is incredulous, as if he's putting on a show of being accused of something not entirely false.

"Alex is fine," Vitek shakes his head. "But I caught Zett and Boqy stealing double rations the other day."

"They're growing boys!" the master gunner defends his gunner crew. "You can't expect them to be satisfied with those tiny portions."

"You're lucky I didn't tell Pally about it." He sighs. "He would have had a field day."

"And you better not tell him!" Jesper points his fork at Vitek in what's supposed to be a threatening gesture, but ends up being more funny than anything as the leafy green on his fork wilts, then falls off onto the plate. "I'll - discipline them myself."

"Sure you will," Vitek smirks back. "And Jack will stop dancing around it and admit to Dougie that - "

"Heeey!" Jesper jumps up, looking at the cauldron on the fire. "I think you need to go check on your jam, Vitek!" He drags the cook along with him, whispering something through gritted teeth about "One of the rules was that they've got to figure it out on their own, you're interfering!"

"What's Jack got to admit to me?" Dougie wonders out loud, chewing on a piece of chicken. Arber bites his tongue to hold back his laughter.

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #v.vanecek|41 #d.hamilton|7 #j.bratt|63

[devils-pirate-crew]

Jesper turns a sharp corner and opens a door. Immediately, the smell of fresh bread, roast chicken, and chopped vegetables assaults the group. A few crewmates sit at tables, assaulting plates of food and loudly praising the chef between bites. "Hey, Vitek!" the master gunner calls.

In the back of the canteen, a man spins around, holding a ladle dripping red - he quickly puts it back in the large cauldron behind his back, stirring it. A few moments later, a strong scent of berries wafts over. "Jesper!" he calls back in a clipped accent. "And Dougie! Here for your rations?"

Bratt nods, leading Dougie and Arber to a table bordering Vitek's kitchen. "We've got a guest too. Or, well - it's a little more complicated than that, but I'll let him explain it."

Arber takes off his hat, nodding at Vitek as he sits. "Arber Xhekaj, from Santé. Our captains have agreed to travel together until New York City to make it easier to capture ships we see along the way. As part of that agreement, I'm to be traveling with you."

Vitek leaves the ladle in the cauldron, moving over to prepare three main courses. He looks up, eyes sparkling at Arber's words after he takes a second to process them. Damn, those eyes are blue. "You're from the Czech lands?" he asks, tone infectiously delighted at this news.

Arber feels himself break into a grin as well. "Yeah," he nods. "Near Hradec Kralove."

Vitek positively beams at this development. He makes a show of adding a few extra pieces of chicken to Arber's plate, garnering laughs from everyone at the table, then tosses some extra food onto a fourth, presumably for himself, and carries all the plates expertly to the table. Vitek sets the plates down, then dashes back to the kitchen for cutlery. "I'm from Havlickuv Brod! We're practically neighbors!" If the cook had a tail, Arber thinks, he'd be wagging it right now like an overexcited puppy.

Dougie chuckles. "V, he's not the only pirate from that area. Even on our ship."

"The more, the better," Vitek defends, tossing the cutlery in the middle of the table and taking a fork for himself. "You wouldn't get it. Half the ship is from England or the Americas."

The pilot hums to that statement, giving up the point as he reaches for his own fork, spearing a piece of chicken. "What's cooking?" he asks instead, moving away from that topic entirely.

"I'm making jam!" Vitek announces with a glance back to the cauldron. "If we're at shore for a while longer, I figured I might as well. It's a little expensive and takes a lot of time, but everyone loves it, so it's worth the sacrifice."

"It sure makes hardtack a little less awful," Jesper snarks, then ducks, a second too late to avoid the smack to the back of his head that Vitek delivers.

"My hardtack is not that awful," the cook pouts.

"Whatever you say, V," Dougie chimes in, laughing, as Bratt rubs the back of his head.

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #j.bratt|63 #v.vanecek|41 #d.hamilton|7

[devils-pirate-crew]

"Hey," Bratter floats after a moment, "You want to get something to eat from the canteen? Vitek keeps the fire running all day long, even when we're docked, 'cause someone's always hungry."

Arber considers the idea, then shrugs. "I guess." It's not going to be as good as Juraj's, but. He might as well start getting used to it, right? And it's probably a good idea to meet the cook anywho. One of the funny things about pirate ships that nobody tells you is just how much power the chef has. It's weird - he's not even really a sailor, so you'd think he'd be almost useless, but it's the complete opposite. A good chef can make scraps into a filling meal to push the ship that extra day to get to shore; a great chef can make that meal taste, if not amazing, then at least passable. Wise captains know to befriend the cook. A good dinner can convince a disgruntled crew not to vote their captain out of power, but a bad one can sway them to maroon that captain.

Dougie pulls himself up, offering a hand to Arber, who takes it, steadying himself as he stands. Jesper leads the way through the maze of hammocks, opening the door into the ship and holding it for the other two.

Arber takes a moment to appreciate the woodwork of Jersey Devil as he walks, hands in the pockets of his shore suit (side note: make sure to bring his shore clothes here later). She's much smaller than Santé, the only other ship Arber's used to, and her insides don't carry as strong a stench of gunpowder from so many battles won and lost. Yet, if he looks just right, he can spot the areas that had been patched over, the black singes where shells had ripped through Jersey Devil's sides. Whoever's doing the patching is doing a fine job of it.

The trio spot two men chatting in the corridors. The blonde tugs at the brunette's sleeve, causing him to fall quiet as both nod in the direction of Jesper. "Master Gunner," the blonde smiles.

"Boqvist, Sharangovich," Bratt nods in return. "Enjoying your shore leave indoors, I see."

"Ah - " the blonde chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. "We were just heading out, actually."

"Is that so," Bratt hums. "Enjoy that, then." He sticks his hands in his pockets, gesturing with his head in the direction of the stairs. The blonde drags the brunette behind himself as he scurries away.

Huh. Well then.

Jesper rolls his eyes at Dougie and Arber, clearly showing his amusement (or lack thereof - Bratt seemed to be quite the blank slate emotionally). "I don't have all day. Neither does Vitek. We get there late, we'll be eating scraps."

"Right, sorry," Dougie mumbles, quickening his stride to catch up to Jesper. Arber tails them, one step behind, keeping a hand on his hat to prevent it from flying away.

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #j.bratt|63 #j.boqvist|70 #d.hamilton|7

[devils-pirate-crew]

"Well," Dougie chews his lip in thought. "First, who do you know?"

Arber closes his eyes. "There's the captain, Nico, who I'm on good terms with. The quartermaster, Siegs, who I'm less so on good terms with. You're the pilot, Dougie, and Dawson is your mate. Bratt is the master gunner. Johnny is the surgeon, right?"

"Uh-huh," Dougie nods. "Contrary to all appearances, Jack over there is our master-at-arms," he chuckles.

"Have you met Pally and Sevo yet?" Bratt asks.

"Can't say I have."

"Pally's the boatswain. Sailed on Thunderbolt for years. Worked his way all the way up from being a powder boy there, could you imagine?" Jesper glances up to the ceiling.

"Damn," Arber raises his eyebrows. "And he came here?"

"Yeah," the master gunner nods. "According to Pally, there were a bunch of disagreements, so he just walked away, and he came to us soon after."

"Oh," Arber nods.

"Sevo's always been with us, even as long as I remember," Jesper adds. "Pretty sure he's the longest-tenured sailor of Jersey Devil. He's our sail-master - he knows this ship like the back of his hand."

"Then there's Vitek," Dougie adds on. "He's our cook - his English isn't the best, but he's incredibly sweet, so it doesn't matter. Apparently he's a friend of Siegs's from long ago," he shrugs, "So."

"Akira's the carpenter," Jesper hums. "He's a good guy. Quiet, but nice. He's got the Swiss thing going on with Nico and Jonas and Timo."

"Timo?" Arber echoes.

"Nobody terribly important, in the grand scheme of things," Bratter waves a hand. "Another of our gunners. Joined pretty recently but he's acquainted well with Nico and Jonas, so the transition was easy for him."

"Because they're Swiss?" Arber guesses.

"Just about all the Swiss sailors know each other," Dougie chuckles, "Probably because they're just that rare."

"Huh." The gunner considers this.

"Yeah," the pilot smiles. "They talk in German a lot - but it's a weird German, not the kind I learned. I can only pick up words here and there. And the rest of the Swiss making fun of Captain's accent," he laughs.

"Is it that bad?"

"It is," Dougie nods emphatically. "It's like he's speaking through water. It's so funny."

Even Jesper smirks at that. "They're all equally pathetic though," he offers. "For different reasons. It's great to watch them squabble, especially because I don't understand it. Zett and Holtzy like to dub it in Swedish as if they knew what the Swiss were saying and it's hysterical." He leans back in the hammock, reaching a sideways sitting position, legs hanging over one side of the hammock and allowing him to slowly rock himself.

Arber sees what Dougie means by family, now.

It's good here. No wonder Dawson likes it so much. No wonder he wouldn't want to let it go.

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #d.hamilton|7 #j.bratt|63

[devils-pirate-crew]

The door opens a minute later - both Arber and Dougie instinctively turn to the sound. A shorter pirate with slicked-back hair stands in the doorway.

"Hey, Dougie," he smiles (or tries to, anyway - the expression looks strange on him, as if he were unfamiliar with it). "And who'd you adopt this time?"

"Uh, Arber," the gunner offers a wave. "I'm going to be travelling with you guys on loan."

"Santé and Jersey Devil are teaming up for now," Dougie fills in. The small pirate nods, absorbing this information. "They've got intel about a large shipment coming in but they didn't think they could do it alone."

"Santé didn't think she could do it alone?"

"Be nice," Dougie scolds. "You know some operations require multiple ships. And since when did you ever complain about getting paid?"

The small pirate rolls his eyes in the dim light. "Jesper, master gunner," he introduces himself, crossing over to stand closer to the two. "But there are two Jespers on board, so everyone just calls me Bratt or Bratter."

Arber smirks at that. "Is that the consensus?"

Bratter splutters, turning bright red. "What? No! I - that's my last name! You've got such a dirty mind, I can't - "

Dougie chuckles. "You're gonna have to deal with him all day long, man," he gets out between his laughs.

"You're a gunner, then," Jesper ascertains.

"Indeed I am, sir," Arber nods, saluting quickly. "At your service."

"So if you're going to be here, which one of ours is going on Santé?" Jesper questions.

"Have we decided that?" Arber asks into the air.

"Don't think so," Dougie replies. "I'll ask Captain about it later."

"Cap approved of you?" Bratt continues.

"Your quartermaster doesn't," Arber shrugs. "But."

"Wait. You're the guy that was trying to kidnap Mercer?" Jesper's hand strays to his waistband, where a pistol hangs.

Arber squeezes his eyes shut, not keen on dealing with this misunderstanding again. "It's... complicated," he sighs. "But I'm trying to help him. And - your captain approves of me, too, so I'm not - I'm not going to hurt him. Or you."

Bratt's gaze narrows, but Dougie shakes his head, placing a hand on Arber's knee. "He's good." He gives Arber's knee a squeeze. "If you don't trust him, trust me. Come on. Sit down."

The master gunner still seems skeptical, but sits down on one of the hammocks so he's facing Dougie and Arber. And, mercifully, he lets go of his pistol. One less problem. "So, uh, if you're not fucking with me - you're not fucking with me, right?"

"It's real," Dougie confirms.

"I'm your new boss. Sort of. I report to Jonas - the quartermaster - and he reports to Nico - the captain. Sorry, I've just been here so long, I refer to everyone by name," Jesper apologizes, chuckling awkwardly.

"It's fine," Arber smiles. "So. Who's part of the crew?"

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #d.hamilton|7 #j.bratt|63

[devils-pirate-crew]

"What?" Arber chuckles, trying to mask his panic with an awkward smile.

Dougie's eyes narrow. "That's the secret you're hiding, isn't it?"

"What - no - I..." The gunner stutters to a stop, clearly taken aback.

He smiles in reply, almost threatening. Damn, Arber didn't know Dougie had it in him. "It's the only thing that makes sense. The way only you can calm him down, the way you knew what to do immediately. The reason you met the day before, too, right? And got in that spat with Woody and Smitty?"

Arber takes a deep breath. "It's not my place to talk about it."

"But he's just like you, and that's why you're so fiercely protective of him," Dougie concludes. "That's why you set this whole thing up in the first place. You want to keep an eye on him after whatever happened at the post office, because you know something at the post office messes with spirit talkers, because you're one. And he's one, too."

Arber swallows sharply, fully trapped. "I..."

"Don't worry," and Dougie retracts his claws, his entire demeanor changing in an instant from a threat to a promise. Not for the first time, Arber is struck by how visibly noble the pilot looks, tall and worldly. Dougie smiles, this time soft, exposed. "I promise, I won't tell anyone. Especially because it seems to be causing him so much pain - I didn't know..." He trails off, swallowing. "Dawson's my mate. I'm supposed to take care of him, to teach him what I know and to keep him safe. We all obviously knew about the shipwreck, that he was fragile from that, but we didn't know about this, and..."

"A lot of things are starting to make a lot more sense?" Arber fills in, tentatively.

"Yeah," Dougie nods. "I just - I wish he trusted me, you know? Especially because it's something he seems to worry about so much, and - even if I didn't know how to help, I could have done something, you know?"

Arber hums in agreement. "It's not a you thing, though, he's... He's gone through a hell of a lot. I don't think I could have survived through half of what happened to him, and I'm supposed to be the toughest guy on Santé."

"Oh," Dougie breathes out, wordless.

"A lot of his experiences - taught him - not to say anything about being a spirit talker," Arber chooses his words very carefully. "Because if he did, it would keep getting worse for him."

"But I - we - we really want what's best for him," Dougie mumbles.

"Maybe you do, but how is he supposed to know that?" The gunner's eyebrows crease with concern. "Hamilton... some of the things the spirits showed me, they made me sick to watch. He had to go through them. It's - I don't know how he's still alive, honestly."

Dougie nods at that, playing with his fingers as the conversation lapses into an uneasy silence. Arber can only hope Dougie is actually as approving of the spirits as he says he is. If not, Arber's going to do whatever it takes to make sure Dawson's safe.

Even if that means going to war.

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #d.hamilton|7

[devils-pirate-crew]

Dougie nudges open the door to the sailors' quarters with his foot, pulling a complaining Jack unceremoniously inside. Arber follows a moment later, shifting Dawson's snoozing weight in his arms.

"Where does he sleep?" Arber asks, narrowing his eyes to get used to the dim light of the forecastle.

"You see by the wall?" Dougie prompts. "There's a box Schmiddy screwed onto the wall. It's got all of Dawson's stuff. He sleeps in the hammock next to it."

Arber hums, nodding at that. He makes his way cautiously through the maze of hammocks, taking care not to step on any shoes on the floor, and gingerly puts the pirate he's carrying onto the proper hammock. It groans a little at the weight, but sways mostly undisturbed. Dawson pulls his shoulders in, clearly a little disappointed by losing the contact he'd had, but naps on. "So I'll be staying here too?" he asks, adjusting the brim of his hat.

"Probably," Dougie sighs, having gotten Jack into his own hammock. The master-at-arms blinks at the other two with bleary eyes before deciding that going to sleep is preferable to seeing Dougie chum it up with the newcomer. The pilot crosses the area expertly, sitting down on one of the hammocks next to Dawson's. "You'd want to be close to him, right?"

Arber shrugs. "Preferably, but it's not needed, as long as everything's okay. And it should be."

"I'll ask Kevin to move then," Dougie decides. "He's been complaining about Dawson mumbling in his sleep for months, so he'll probably be glad for the change."

"Can I sit?"

"Yeah," Dougie scoots over, making room for Arber next to him. The hammock creaks, not appreciating both of them at once, but it stays steady.

"Anything I need to know?"

"About what, specifically?"

"Like, how things work here. I'm getting paid by Santé, but I'm going to be working here, and - "

"It's good here," Dougie explains, softly. "This is - we're more than crewmates. We're a family. Sometimes literally, but." He exhales quietly. "As long as you're good to everyone else, they'll be good to you."

"Ah," Arber nods.

"It's not that hard. Santé is the same way, I assume, so you should have experience. You good with sails?"

"Passable," he shrugs. "Cole tends to fuss about them, though. It helps that he's short," he snickers, "Makes him more limber between the sails."

"Oh, we don't do dog watches, so everyone on watch just gets a four hour shift."

"Huh?" He furrows his brow, a little taken aback. "So it doesn't rotate?"

Dougie shrugs. "Gravy really loves the night watch. We don't question it. Everyone else gets reasonable hours of sleep and it helps with scheduling."

Arber chuckles at that before his mood turns more somber. "But you'll be fine with - you know." A pause. "The whole spirit talking thing."

Hamilton tilts his head. "Yours or Dawson's?"

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #d.hamilton|7

[devils-pirate-crew]

Arber shifts Dawson's weight in his arms, the younger pirate having given up on trying to fight him and having gone mostly limp in Arber's hands. Waves of exhaustion radiate off Dawson, who blinks sleepily into Arber's shoulder. Next to him, Dougie has a hand firmly wrapped around Jack's wrist, making sure the master-at-arms keeps up with him.

Right. Dougie.

"I - " Arber begins to speak, then sighs, shaking his head. He's never been good at apologizing.

"Huh?" Dougie looks over, eyebrows raised. His entire demeanor is - quiet. Reserved, even for him.

"Um. Sorry," he mumbles, "For earlier."

"Oh." The pilot offers his best smile. "It's fine, you didn't really know - it's okay," he settles.

"Kind of a dick move, though," Arber replies. "Shouldn't have - you know. Not in front of everyone like that. I get why you wouldn't want to talk about it." He tips his head back, stretching his neck out as he speaks. "So, uh. If there's anything I can do."

Dougie looks at him for a moment, tugging Jack along. "It's fine," he dismisses, again. "It's not exactly - well - a good amount of people know, so - it's not a big deal." He cards his free hand through his curls. "But, uh - whatever you and Dawson have. Keep him safe for us. That's all I'd ask of you."

"I can do my best," Arber promises, looking back down at the pirate in his arms. "I just - I worry about him," he confesses, quieter. It seems Dawson's passed out again. "I - The spirits told me a lot about him. Things that he doesn't talk about to anyone else. And it's - " he sighs, fixing his gaze directly ahead of himself, directly towards the docks. "Dougie, right?"

"Yeah?" he nods.

"Be careful with him."

Dougie blinks at Arber, not seeming to connect the dots. "Huh?"

"He's - " the gunner pauses. "I don't want to say fragile. But he's been through a lot."

"The shipwreck," Dougie murmurs, voice hushed.

Arber shakes his head. "Even before that."

"There was another?"

"No. Other things." He stares at the planks of the dock as they step onto them. "It's not my place to talk about what happened - that's Dawson's choice - but," he exhales, "Just - be careful with him."

"Alright?" Dougie agrees, not fully understanding what the other pirate is on about.

Arber merely nods, not offering any further explanation, as they locate and board Jersey Devil. "Where are the quarters?" he asks.

"Forecastle. I'll go with you. Gotta put Jacky here to bed," Dougie laughs.

"I don't need to go to sleep," the master-at-arms fusses. "I'm fine."

"Sure," Arber chuckles, allowing Dougie to lead the way once more.

#storyline #d.mercer|91 #a.xhekaj|72 #d.hamilton|7 #j.hughes|86

[devils-pirate-crew]

Arber sighs softly, reaching down to ruffle Dawson's hair. "You should get some rest," he announces to the table, sending a quick glance Nico's way.

Luckily - luckily - the captain picks up on it this time. "Nick and I have a lot of details to discuss," he chimes in, effortless with the lie, "So maybe you and Dougie can take Dawson back to the ship? And take Jack while you're at it. I don't trust him alone."

"Hey!" Jack protests, coughing once. "I'll have you know, I'm an incredibly responsible person! Not just anyone qualifies to be the Master-at-Arms of the esteemed Jersey Devil!"

Dougie covers his mouth politely to hide a chuckle. "Let's go," he exhales, clapping a hand on Jack's shoulder - surprisingly (or, actually, maybe not that surprisingly), Jack clams up immediately, allowing Dougie to maneuver him effortlessly towards the door with a wave at Quinn, who rolls his eyes and whispers something to Trevor. Trevor, for his part, looks at the duo, sighs loudly, and fishes in his pocket for an extra coin to pay Quinn with. He lost a bet, one of the spirits whispers to Arber, and the gunner cracks a smile at that.

"Dawson?" Arber scoots off the bench, turning to the younger spirit talker. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed, okay?" Dawson blinks up woozily at him through his eyelashes, then nods, shuffling over to stand up. As he does, he rocks on his feet, a little unsteady, and Arber catches him before any more issues arise. Dawson slumps into Arber's shoulder, closing his eyes again. The gunner catches Nico's concerned look and offers a half-pained smile that he hopes translates to This is normal, don't worry, as he takes a deep breath, then lifts Dawson up into his arms. The kid is so light.

And Arber sees a dark, stone room in front of his eyes again, and a small boy curled up on a slab in the corner that's supposed to be a bed, shivering in the cold, skin littered with marks from various abuses. It's a miracle Dawson's managed to absorb so many of those away, honestly - or maybe he just hasn't seen those scars yet. Arber's blood boils, a bright, furious pink, like the pink spilling from the cut on Dawson's cheek when Arber had accidentally nicked him with his cutlass. As Dawson lets his head droop onto Arber, the gunner realizes, not for the first time, how strong his instinct is to protect his fellow spirit talker.

"I'll pay for you," Nico promises towards Quinn, who merely shrugs. Arber nods in gratitude, steps quick as he heads to the exit. Dougie holds the door open for him and he smiles a silent thanks as he walks outside. The pilot quickens his pace so that he catches up to Arber, Jack nipping at his heels like a lost and drunken puppy.

The main street of the Cove isn't as busy as usual today. Everyone knows everyone else here, and everything that goes on, so they give Arber space as he walks, even if they whisper about the "lunatic" pirate he's carrying. If he had his hands free, he'd probably be beating the shit out of one of these landlubbers by now, so - honestly, probably better that he doesn't. Dougie, next to him, is all too eager to stay quiet, the unresolved tension between the two thickening like Juraj's turtle soup. Arber exhales, long and slow, focusing on the way the breath leaves his lips. He thinks he spots Petey at the docks, chatting to someone, but the second Petey notices him, he waves a hand sparkling with residue at the other man and quickly disappears into the alleyways of the Cove. Huh.

#storyline #d.mercer|91 #a.xhekaj|72 #n.hischier|13 #j.hughes|86 #d.hamilton|7

[devils-pirate-crew]

"All good?" Nico tilts his head slightly, closing his notebook, where he'd been writing down things to remember and drawing flowers in the margins.

Arber flicks his gaze down. "He should be waking up soon," he replies - repeats? - with what he hopes is a smile.

Dawson merely groans to that, lifting his torso and head up - he bangs his head hard on the bottom of the table and his elbow gives out a moment later so that his head snaps back onto Arber's thigh again. "Fuck," he curses, long and low.

Everyone seems to scramble up at that. Nico's eyebrows raise and he pulls himself up to lean on the table, trying to peer over at Dawson. Dougie shakes off Jack, who's got his nose buried in the pilot's hair, and similarly leans over the table, shoulder knocking into Nico's. Jack, for his part, whines and sits down in Dougie's seat. Nick glances over as well, one hand reaching up to cradle Cole's head so he doesn't fall over as the captain shifts.

Arber shakes his head quickly, but to no avail. "Give him a minute," he instructs. "You're making it harder to breathe."

The Jersey Devil crewmembers rock back into their seats, Dougie yelping in surprise as he ends up squarely in Jack's lap, then apologizing profusely as he scoots to the next seat over. Jack merely giggles at the pilot's actions.

It takes another minute for Dawson to pull himself up to a sitting position - when he does, he collapses onto the table, banging his chin on the wood with a long sigh. "Fuck," he repeats.

"Are you okay?" Nico immediately asks.

By the cacophony of Voices in his head, Dawson's pretty sure the answer is no. He nods anyway. "Sorry 'bout that, Captain," he gets out, hopefully less pained than he thinks it sounds.

"As long as everyone's okay," Nico replies. "Don't worry about it."

"I do, though," Dawson mumbles into the table. "Sorry."

Dougie now pipes up from his corner of the table, fidgeting with a small golden pin self-consciously. "Is it something we did?" he asks, so quietly it almost gets swallowed up by the sounds of Brady and Trevor engaging in a drinking game in the background.

"No, no, no - " Dawson shakes his head again, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong."

By the way Dougie looks guiltily to the side, Arber somehow doubts he did nothing wrong. But he'll let it go, for now. Dougie's only a liar. He's not a fighter. He's probably too high-class for that, Arber figures with a smirk. "You know you can talk to me about it," Dougie murmurs, reaching out to touch Dawson's elbow. "I'm here for you - not just as your mentor, but as your friend, too."

Dawson pulls away almost immediately. "It's okay. I'm okay."

He is, needless to say, not okay. The kid looks like he hasn't slept in a week. As he finishes speaking, he yawns, as if to underscore that point, rubbing an eye with a tired smile.

#storyline #d.mercer|91 #n.hischier|13 #a.xhekaj|72 #d.hamilton|7

[devils-pirate-crew]

A long moment passes between them, Dawson arcing into Arber's gentle touches as the gunner drags his fingers, feather-soft, over Dawson's spine, his shoulders, his back, relieving tension he didn't even realize was there. It feels so god damn good, just to be - to not have to worry or anything. Simply be, and be held.

Hey, kid. A quiet sigh breaks the serenity of the moment. Your crew was all worried sick about you. They miss you, you know. More than you'll ever know.

Dawson blinks up at the bottom of the table, the carvings of people no longer in love apparent. He raises his good arm, almost on instinct, to trace out some of the letters and words written in the world's most illegible script. His fingers catch in some grooves, and he flicks his gaze over, even as he pulls his hand back to look at the chipped-in writing. EP&TD.

...I'm sorry for them.

Arber listens, pressing his hand firmly against Dawson's hip.

They shouldn't have to - put up with this, or with me, or -

Dawson, Arber breathes out. They love you here. They do it because they love you.

He blinks, closing his eyes again. The stitches in his cheek are starting to burn. Fuck.

Do you want to talk about it?

About what?

About what I saw.

I... Dawson presses his shoulder back into Arber's touch. I don't know. I don't - you - please don't -

You're safe here. They're not going to hurt you here. I promise. Arber gives Dawson's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Are you feeling better?

...Better than before.

The gunner sighs softly, reassuringly, into the connection. That's okay. Do you need some more time or do you want to come up now?

Who's here?

Suzu and Cauf. And Hischier, Hughes, Hamilton. We're still in the elder Hughes's tavern. They're leaving us alone right now.

Oh.

Well, Cole and Jack are wasted, too. Cole's basically falling asleep on Nick's shoulder. And your boss doesn't seem to understand some things about - others.

...Oh?

Arber sucks in a deep breath, preparing for impact. I didn't tell them anything about you. But - they might be starting to put things together.

And the Voices dive straight into a panic at that. Arber winces above the table as Dawson trembles into his thigh; he pulls the younger pirate closer still, even as his head starts ringing from the screaming and wailing. Nico shoots him a confused glance - Arber shakes his head no. Right. Nico's not a spirit talker. He's not going to receive the message to give Dawson space.

God, he wishes Juraj were here.

Juraj would know what to do. Juraj always knows what to do.

But it's just Arber again, always just Arber again.

He's got to figure this damn thing out himself.

#storyline #d.mercer|91 #a.xhekaj|72

[devils-pirate-crew]

Everything hurts, so much.

Dawson groans as he cracks open his eyes, the groan transitioning to a yawn a few seconds later. He has the distinct feeling that he should be wet.

He's lying down, curled up into almost a ball on a bench in a corner of a tavern, considering the bustle and conversation around him. His head's pressing into something warm, seeking any semblance of comfort - as he takes a moment to collect himself, he realizes it's someone else's thigh.

Hey.

Oh. That makes - yeah. That makes sense.

Arber?

Hey, kid. Slept well? Through the connection, Dawson can almost sense a smile on Arber's lips.

I, uh... Did he? He mostly remembers - bubbles, and the past, and drowning in a sea of red. His pulse quickens; the Voices grow louder again.

It's okay. You're safe here. Light fingertips brush up and down Dawson's spine and he finds himself arching his back into the touch, desperate for physical contact. They're not going to hurt you again. I promise.

He nods into Arber's thigh, disentangling his arms from behind his head (how did they get there, anyway?) and pulling them close to his chest. He's shivering from the cold. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

It's okay. Arber sighs into the connection. You're okay. Why did you go back? Didn't we explain to you not to?

Dawson blinks to himself. I had to. I was told to go find Captain. He was in there.

That doesn't mean go and give yourself another - Arber cuts himself off. Dawson. It's so fucking dangerous to re-expose yourself like that. You knew it wasn't a good idea. I barely got to you in time, this time. I thought - he exhales into the connection. I thought we lost you. And I thought we were all going to die.

I'm sorry.

Arber begins drawing small circles into Dawson's back. Please don't be sorry. I'm just happy you're still here. We all are.

Why? It's the only logical question he can think of. As long as he's been alive, he's been a burden, in some way or another. And people are happy about him dragging them down?

Kid... Arber's voice fizzles through the connection, staticky around the sounds of the other Voices. We care about you, you know.

I just... don't know why.

Does there need to be a reason?

Dawson blinks. To make up for it.

For what?

To make up for the fact that it's me.

Dawson...

To make up for the fact that I'm unfixable. Unsaveable. A waste of your efforts and time. He feels himself shaking, trying to pull away, but he feels so weak, so tired, and Arber's hand is now splayed out warm along Dawson's back and he can't help but press into the touch, needing it more than he needs air.

I... Arber feels like he's frowning. I'm sorry that's what everyone's told you, but it's not true. I wish you could see that, see how much everyone here loves you. You're going to be okay. We'll protect you. I promise.

#storyline #d.mercer|91 #a.xhekaj|72

[devils-pirate-crew]

Jack sighs exaggeratedly, pressing his nose even further into Dougie's neck. "You'd take good care of me though, right Dougie? If I were a stowaway on the ship?"

"Uh," the pilot thinks about it. "Depends if I knew you were there. If I knew, I'd have to report you to the Captain, of course..."

"You're no fun," the master-at-arms groans, mouth light on Dougie's shoulder as his lips trace the words in. He lifts his head, licks his lips, and drops his head back to where it had been a few seconds before. "You wouldn't wanna keep me as your dirty little secret? Tie me up in some closet where nobody would find us?"

Dougie scratches at his beard. "It's against the articles," he points out. "I could get marooned for that. And besides, why would I try to restrain you like that? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable for you?"

Arber is pretty sure of two things: number one, the small one wants to get absolutely railed, and number two, the big one has absolutely no idea about it. He glances over to Nick, who's red with secondhand embarrassment, then to Nico, who's writing in his notebook and seems mentally checked out already, like this is a normal occurrence for him. Well. He's not going to ruin Jack's weird ideas of courting rituals.

So instead, he turns to Nick. "How long do you expect us to be traveling?"

Nick's eyes flit around the ceiling, thinking about the question. "Probably around two months, if we leave tomorrow night," he replies. "We should intercept the target ships around day forty, then go straight for New York City. Speaking of, Nico, isn't that close to Prudence?"

"Huh?" Nico closes his notebook and looks up. "Uh - yes," he grants, "Why? Do you plan to go there?"

Nick shakes his head. "We could make a stop in Charleston though," he points out. "It would make our load a fair bit lighter, and probably shave off a few valuable days - or we can just let the crew use those days to be on land again, and not our problem," he chuckles.

"Isn't Charleston a stronghold of the crown, though?" Nico raises his eyebrows.

"I have good information that the pirate hunters should be out of port by then." Nick smiles reassuringly. "And we have full sets of false flags, so we shouldn't be spotted immediately."

"I guess we can visit them, then," Nico grants. "Santé will lead. Jersey Devil will follow." He opens his notebook again, writing it down. "Probably as good a time as ever, right?"

"If you have issues with Charleston, we don't have to go," Nick replies. "You're an equal party to this joint venture, Hischier."

"Suzuki, I've never been," Nico replies, spinning his pencil in his hand. "That's why I'm deferring to your judgment. I've heard nothing good of Charleston, but if you think it's the right choice, I won't stand in your way."

"We could benefit from it," Nick phrases it diplomatically.

"If it benefits us, then I agree," Nico nods, offering half a smile, before he goes back to writing in his notebook and ignoring Jack and Dougie, the latter of whom seems increasingly uneasy and the former clearly isn't quite getting it. Nick exchanges a glance with Arber before leaning back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. Seems nobody wants to leave until Dawson wakes.

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #j.hughes|86 #d.hamilton|7 #n.suzuki|14 #n.hischier|13

[devils-pirate-crew]

"Heyyy," Jack giggles, wandering up behind the table to wrap his arms around Dougie's shoulders, pushing his nose into the crook of the pilot's neck.

Right. Because they're still here.

"What kind of super secret business are you guys up to?" the master-at-arms grins lazily, wet hair falling over his eyes.

"It's not secret," Nico defends. "We were - you're too wasted for this," he sighs, "But we're partnering with Santé."

"I get to spend more time with Cole?" Jack peers out between his locks of hair, grinning into Dougie's shoulder. "Fuck yeah!"

Cole, who's halfway unconscious on Nick's shoulder, merely offers a lazy thumbs-up to that. Nick sighs, patting Cole's other shoulder. "You're going to be on Jersey Devil. We'll be on Santé."

"Yeah," Jack nods, "But we'll be sailing together! And we can talk! And maybe I can even ask Trevor - "

"No asking Trevor," both Nico and Nick intone at the exact same time. They look at each other and chuckle. Well, they seem to have found some common ground in all of this.

Dougie reaches up to ruffle Jack's hair. "I think Old Mallard needs more time. We need to get out of here quickly," he explains, diplomatic. "We've got some urgent business to attend to. We don't even have time to clean the ship properly right now."

"Urgent business?" Jack echoes. "And you didn't tell me?"

"We didn't know ourselves until recently," Nico apologizes. "We've got some information about ships coming in, and we can't waste time if we want to catch them."

"Ohhh," Jack breathes out. "Big ones?"

"Yeah," Nick nods. "It's gonna be good if we can get them."

Arber flashes Jack a smile. "Don't worry, you won't be stuck with us for long."

"Stuck with you?" The master-at-arms rolls his eyes. "I'm stuck with Hisch and Siegs and Pally and Bratter being annoying about my duties. But I like sailing with Cole and you guys."

"You're free to join them," Nico rolls his eyes, tone dry.

"Hey!" Jack snaps. "Not what I meant!" He clings onto Dougie, whose eyes are closed in general acceptance of his fate of being latched onto by a tiny drunk pirate. "I'm a Devil for life! You can't make me leave!"

"You'd probably hide in the powder room if we tried," Nico smirks, the entire table bursting into laughter.

Arber presses his fingertips lightly into Dawson's back - the boy hums, shifting his head so it's pushing further into Arber's thigh. Looks like he's slowly waking up. Hey there, he whispers into the connection. You're safe here. I promise.

No... no... no... Dawson's reply is almost whisper-soft among his Voices. Arber's brow furrows in worry.

It's okay, kid. It's going to be okay.

I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

Shhh... it's okay... you're okay... you're safe here... if you wake up, you'll see...

#storyline #a.xhekaj|72 #j.hughes|86 #n.hischier|13 #n.suzuki|14 #d.hamilton|7 #d.mercer|91