1. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    Of all the thing to notice, what stood most starkly to Mako was the spectre's quiet. Part of him had fancied the situation already, ran out what it might be like in his head a number of times. He had imagined screeching, the ghoul-song of a blighted dead aching with jealousy over the living...
  2. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    He thought on that for a moment. Shrugged. "At least we were paid in advance," he said, thumbing at the pouch of coins looted from the captain's chest. By weight, he held enough to ensure their escape from a fate of sleeping under hedges for a comfortable few months. That was worth some...
  3. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    He scoffed having taken offense to her insinuation; "Beautiful? Of course she was. All women are beautiful," he said, and continued just beneath his breath, "even the scary ones." A shiver wracked his spine, wringing gooseflesh from pores puckered against what had once been a warm stirring in...
  4. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    If he was asked, and by the eight's grace he was not, Mako would have babbled on about how surreal the situation felt. Sure, he could accept the captain's murder—man was a prick, hardly liked even by his own crew if the chatter from the mess was to be believed—and the circumstances surrounding...
  5. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    The skies, blessedly clear, simplified Mako's process for identifying cardinal directions. This was known to him, to any who grew up among the flotilla. Any less meant suicide for a vessel bereft its Navigator. He went through the motions by rote, plopping down candle after candle, lighting...
  6. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    Mako, busy nodding along, was caught by surprise at the sudden appearance of an object shoved right under his nose. "The fuck?" he said, pulling back reflexively before leaning in. He squinted, struggling to make some sense of it through blurred eyes, blinking a few times in the process...
  7. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    Drink addled and thoughts a lurid slurry of anxieties that riddled his brain, Mako held himself aloft of surety. Three hours. Less, given their luck. If anything, scarce enough time for him to sober up. A sigh beat back the anxiety, steadied him enough to send a nod Fray's way. "Kill the...
  8. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    “Bones, what?” He caught the bag, the hollow click rattling even as it molded to fit his hand. Maybe it was the shroud of liquor, but it was an oddly satisfying weight, light enough not to overstay its welcome. He frowned. “Cap was one sick fuck.” That damnable slur returned, stronger now as...
  9. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    "What?" Mako rubbed a thick hand over his face, forcing wide eyelids that quavered at touch of that sliver of golden light. He groaned. "Knives ready," he said, barely a whisper, and laid a hand to the door. Mouthing a count, he shoved it open and... "Fuck." A pair of bodies entwined in a...
  10. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    "Should be this way, street or so down," he said, lengthening his stride to keep pace with her as he pointed the way. It brought them out of the alley and onto one of the main throughways where people filtered by even at this subdued hour. Most, he noted, were drunk. Likely sailors at that by...
  11. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    Even drunk he managed to catch the candle. That was a good sign. Still, that last bottle of dock-diluted wine might have been a mistake. One hours gone and long past the point of care. He patted down his trousers, palm crooking the handle of a knife that he presented to her as he followed on...
  12. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    "That night, drunk off vapors and brandy stronger than any I've smelled since, thinking surely if this lithe twit could handle it, what harm could there be? Wrong, how wrong, how naive I was for not seeing the violence made flesh in that one. Serviced, you say? Serviced? As if that would somehow...
  13. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    "Not the worst nightcap," he said, propping himself back ankle on calf. He rubbed a hand from brow to chin, forcing some semblance of sobriety over himself to mixed success. At least he kicked the slur from his words. "Name's Mako. Reckon I'll help you at that. Where do we start?" A shrug.
  14. M

    Private Lacquer and Labor

    The sky was a howling blue, broken only by the filter of clouds that drifted along the dockside breeze. Whiteport, again. Mako lost track of the time he was spending among these cobbled streets, so foreign from the decks that had housed him until now. Already the experiences filled the goblet...
  15. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    "Story?" he asked. "Fetch me a cup of what passes for wine and I'll tell." Mako straddled the bench, weight hefted on elbows planted firm to the table. He'd already forgotten the meal; the odor enough to sustain him. As long as it did not touch his tongue, the contents of his stomach were safe...
  16. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    The woman's words tumbled past Mako almost in step with her pacing. He kept her in sight throughout, shoulders and hips kicked in a wary half-crouch. In the flickering candlelight, the one thing he was sure of was the woman's ill intent. Murderous, if the hairs standing up at the nape of his...
  17. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    Mako watched her go, pouch untouched, the glimpse of a tempest come through his quarters. He lost track of how long he spent frowning after the woman. The words cascaded past him. Tumbled from lips that, to his buzzing ears, could as well belonged to countless effervescent bees. It was always...
  18. M

    Private Dreaming of an Absent Word

    Mako sat in a chair plush for its wear, ankle over knee. A wrinkled map rested on the table before him, held down by emptied bottles that reeked of day spoiled wine and cider. Wrought of thin linen, ink sun-faded, it lent an appearance of undeserved age. Medleys of glass and pottery presided...
  19. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    Hours passed as Mako traversed the streets of White Port. He sought passage south, unaware of the embargo on trade that sullied such wants; the free states were in disfavor, only select ports of call seen beneath the veneer of propriety. Inquires of Seax were met with silence. A wicked, barbed...
  20. M

    Private Sospirando of a Mother's Sleep

    An intrepid dawn stood between Mako and his destiny. It cracked leonine over the horizon, bled into a sea that sloshed loud about the hull of the passenger galleon Magnifience. A bustle of activity greeted him: the captain was posted at the gangplank, wheedling thanks from wringing hands as he...
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