Shoosh~
Flap. Flap. Black flag that etched skull and bones flutters with the gentle sea breeze. Smell of death swirl in the air, scattering with lush rotten stench and wet fishy smell.
A huge tattered, old, black ship sail through the ocean current. Eerie black fog shrouded the entire ship, making anyone unable to tell what's inside.
...
Clank! Little Richard threw the wooden pale after he spilled the whole content into the floor. After fetching the long- handled brush, he begins to brush and swipe the moss and algae clean.
Brush. Brush. Brush. Little Richard saw this particular moss was quite stubborn and refused to be clean. Annoyed, his eyes grew bloody red, gritting his teeth he started brushing that particular spot with more strength. Let's see who will survive in the end.
He was so focused with eliminating his target, that he didn't notice a huge shadows that was slowly creeping behind him.
With a loud pang! Little Richard was taken off guard and his head quickly stab through the handle of the long-handled brush and penetrated his left eye out through his head. Cookson, the big man the seems to weight a ton and wears a red apron hit Little Richard with his silver ladle.
"Damn you! Do you want to dig a hole through the ship?!" Cookson was strolling around the deck while checking every corner of the ship. He is the ship's carpenter. Though, he loves cooking, furthermore, he was a son of a former chef. His talent lies on creating, repairing and designing a ship. This ship, in particular was his most absolute masterpiece– Jolly Roger. Together with their Captain, this ship was made.
With the cursed surrounding the entire ship, even with the greatest protection, it is still not guaranteed that the ship could last after being submerged under the water for a very long time. That's why Cookson, every night, rounded up an inspection. And just as he though, after ten years, the once glorious Jolly Roger now turned into a ghost ship. A rotten ship that could be destroyed with a pinch of a finger. So, when he saw Little Richard immersed with fighting off the floor, Cookson got nervous.
Little Richard curses under his breath. He was bewildered at first. He didn't know what happened, but after awhile, when he heard Cookson's angry and shocked voice, he was shake awake– super mad as well. "...ye...Cookson!"
"Aaaarrrrgggghhhh! Davy Jones' Locker! What have ye done?" Cookson saw Little Richard struggling just to get off the brush handle out of his brain and felt a little guilty. Though, they didn't feel anything– pain, temperature, any sensation– all their wounds will never trully heal.
They were all undead, as long as their basic structures were well and working, they will not trully die. And even if they're bodies scattered and crumbling, their consciousness are still there and they could only watch as their body disappeared into sprinkles.
Nevertheless, Cookson did not hesitate to push Little Richard off his place. "Go. Go. Don't clean anymore. It was useless anyway. If you have no work to do, go to Roberto's yard."
"Arrgg!" Without looking back, Little Richard left with large stride. While he walk, he broke off the handle of the brush and threw it somewhere in the ship. He cursed Cookson in his heart before he hurriedly climbed down from the deck towards the hatch and went to the small room beside the bunk, where Robert Mulins' place is. So he could get this wood off his eye.
Seeing this, Cookson just shook his head and went on with his ship inspection not minding the idiot anymore.
...
With a rush harsh kick from little Richard, the poor wooden door was pushed opened. Half of the brush's handle is still stab through his skull. Afraid that he will lose his eye forever, he didn't dare to pull it out and could only broke the handle.
When little Richard came in, he saw Skylights with his delicate little face and luxurious clothing sitting elegantly on the table while holding a golden mirror, glaring at him with fierce bloody red eyes. Half of his face is peeled off, revealing a nasty yellowish skull with reddish eye ball that keeps on moving around creating a squishy sounds.
Little Richard couldn't help but gulp down his anger and become nervous instead.
Why did he felt that he was so unlucky today?
This Skylights, despite having that small body and delicate face that could win against any woman have a nasty temper and a hard head. Though he looks timid like a mouse, this narcissistic guy is a master Gunner. How could a mere powder monkey can compare.
(A/N: Powder Monkey– British naval term used to describe young boys who made up the gun crews)
"Yo Skylights, your here again. What's up? Where's surgeon?"
Ignoring the idiot, Skylights lifted his mirror and continue looking at himself. His reddish eyes already dissipate leaving a blue iris that is full of self pity and regret. With his other free hand, he caresses his scarred half face lightly and gently. After awhile, he answered little Richard.
"His with the Captain. If you want your eye, still, wait for his return."
Without any other choice, Little Richard walked towards on of the stool and sit on it. With an awkward silence surrounding the entire room, little Richard waited while feeling as if he sat on tiny needles. He wiggled his butt, finding a comfortable position on the stool while looking out towards the open door, feeling uneasy and anxious.
He really felt that something bad will happen. If not tonight, then in the near future.
...
...
...
"Currently, we are here." Robert Mulins pointed on the map. "Based on our current speed and the measurements I calculated from the stars, it will take us at least a week. If we hasten our speed four days is enough and we will reach the foggy region within the fifth night."
Pop.
Looking at his little book again, Robert Mulins peak a glance on his Captain. Amongst the undead in this ghost ship, there Captain is the only one who looks out of place.
Long hair that was neatly braided like ropes and casually styled half up and half down. Two hair rope-like hair strands were left running down his face, and with straight nose, thin lips and sharped chiseled face that was curved into perfection. Robert Mulins can't help but feel his throat dry but could only praise their Captain's handsomeness inwardly, afraid of being killed if he blurted out his thoughts.
Shifting his yellowish eyes down in their Captain's clothes. Robert Mulins felt a little envy. Such luxurious and clean clothes were really rare sight in this ghost ship. A standard influential gentle man's attire that were tailored suit just for a pirate are the Captain's usual clothes.
A baggy white shirt under a black vest with large triangular red collar designed with golden lines on the edges. Instead of leader belt, red sash was tightly tied on his waist with long tail ends with golden feathery threads. Black tight pants and a knee length boots, trully luxurious and high fashioned. Even that narcissistic Skylights can't prevent his clothes from turning rotten. But looking at their Captain, Robert Mulins can't utter any words of complaint and could only sigh, swallowing his grivience towards this unfair treatment.
He can't help but compare. His clothes looks like a rug, and his white shirt looks almost gray. Even his supposed to be soft and comfortable black coat was now stiff and looks like a trash. Unlike their Captain's redcoat that is clean, looking warm, soft and comfortable that is currently hanged up on the wall...
Pop.
Robert Mulins shook his head awake after hearing that popping bubble sounds once again.
Pop.
Pop.
Still ignoring the sounds, Robert Mulins stared at their Captain waiting for his opinions.
"Will continue as is. We're not in a hurry."
...
Closing the door softly, Robert Mulins heave a sigh as he move on out of the Captain's Cabin. He looked at his open book which contain many observation notes from the stars to the sea, between the sea and the stars. Robert Mulins is a sea painter, writing down the measured degree of latitude using the constellation was already a habit because of his short memory span.
(A/N: Sea Painter– the Ship's navigator.)
Reading his notes again, Robert Mulins thought that they will arrived at their destination on schedule, unless accident happens. They have a week to sail towards the foggy region. "...alas, that lad is still missing..." Murmuring silently, Robert Mulins counted the days"...if that lad still don't come back within a week..." He was sure that their Captain will 'blow down the man' when that lad returns. Thinking about this, he can't help but shake his head in sympathy towards that lad. However, it's better than having that lad have an accident.
...
...
...
"...still no news from your master..." A deep magnetic voice sounded inside the quiet cabin. It sounded indifferent, but hidden within this apathetic stance is a hot magma of anger and worries.
After Robert Mulins went out of the Captain's cabin. Their Captain– Captain Hook, spend a little while of silence before turning to looked at the carefree little nymph playing with the water at the side.
Pop. Pop. Pop. The little nymph, opened it's mouth and let out a bunch of bubbles that popped after it touches the polluted air of miasma surrounding the ship.
Unlike the normal glistening aqua water Nymph. This little nymph is corrupted by the same cursed. It's pure water body is polluted and turned into a dirty grey waters, almost looks like a mud. Its looks pitiful, very much unlike it's carefree attitude while playing. It's looked at Captain Hook and stop blowing bubbles, the moment it heard the Captain's call.
It stared at Captain Hook for a moment, then it tilted its head and widen it's eyes looking cute and pitiful.
Unfortunately, the Captain didn't budge and his gaze still stared unwavering at the little nymph.
What could a little Nymph do? It's sigh, and it opened it small mouth wide. A soft melodic hummed sounded out from the nymph, seemingly saying something towards the stubborn Captain.
The song was nice to hear, but it was abrupt and ended shortly. But no matter how beautiful it sounded, a vein harshly pop out in Captain Hook's forehead.
In anger he slammed down his right arm, forgetting that he didn't have a hand but a hook in that arm. Consequently, making the hook embedded deep into the wooden table, doubling the Captain's raging anger.
How could Captain Hook not feel any anger when the little Nymph dare gave such a casual answer.
<I don't know. Don't asked.>
Within that brief beautiful hummed, lies an impudent words. As expected of water Nymphs. Despite already losing its beauty and power, it still possess the pride of being one Oceanus people.
And Captain Hook could only swallow his anger and suffer internal injuries without refuting the little thing's words.
Because it's the truth.
The little Nymph, didn't know a thing. A month ago, it's connection with its master was suddenly cut off, resulting them not receiving any news about him at all. Although, it's worries is the same as the Captain's, it can't do anything at all. It can't even leave the ship, what can it do? Among everyone in the crew, this little Nymph is the most vulnerable one. It could only sigh and wait for its master to initiate a contact by himself.
Knowing all that, Captain Hook gritted his teeth and clenched his fist tightly. No one knows how worried he is feeling right now.
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