#i sort of feel bad for dione here but it's finneee

[quilloftheclouds]

She did this, you know. But not on her own.

The consequences of the runaway’s regrets are finally falling into place. 

Deadzone - 939 word excerpt from One Siren’s Soul

From Chapter Fourteen: Capsized

(CW for described pain. Not any blood or anything, just... plenty of pain.)

I touched the ceiling of the captain’s cabin as I raised myself to my feet, leaning down to peer out the porthole towards land. Little torchlights danced along the coast towards the Hydrangea, mirrored and warped by the churning waters below. Curious, that they had not been extinguished by the approaching storm’s winds.

Although still disoriented from the interruption of my trance, the urgency of the situation was clear enough from Wysote’s unrest. Something else struck me as odd, however: why had Solarin not responded to this?

A tug at my cloak drew me further towards consciousness. I pushed the offender to the side, not yet finished in my rest. Without enough time reserved for proper circulation of the magic throughout my form, my spells would not function correctly, including the one sustaining my animation.

The distraction returned, this time more determined. I again ignored it, drawing my crossed legs tighter together.

Sharp pricks on my palm jolted me awake.

Wysote whined beside me, guilt in his eyes in response to my glare as I rubbed the hand sore from his teeth.

“I-I’m sorry I just---” He bounded towards the cabin’s door and returned, lifting his paws to pace in place, ears swiveled back, wide eyes flickering around, agitated, nervous. He could not stop moving. “There’s---Dio there’s people coming I could see their lights and I don’t think they’re friendly and I didn’t want to yell or bark I guess because that would let them know I saw them and I didn’t think that was---I didn’t know what to do you weren’t waking up and---” I set a gentle hand on his head to attempt to calm him, the action only partially succeeding.

I touched the ceiling of the captain’s cabin as I raised myself to my feet, leaning down to peer out the porthole towards land. Little torchlights danced along the coast towards the Hydrangea, mirrored and warped by the churning waters below. Curious, that they had not been extinguished by the approaching storm’s winds.

Although still disoriented from the interruption of my trance, the urgency of the situation was clear enough from Wysote’s unrest. Something else struck me as odd, however: why had Solarin not responded to this?

I replicated this question in gestures for Wysote to see, using a sign for fire and a bird instead of spelling out her name.

“Wh---But… but when I tried to stop them Phoenix told me you said she and Allison could head off in the night and we would join up with them when they finally infiltrated the fort I---” Of course they had left. Of course. I prayed the Goddesses would let the two imbeciles live long enough through their rash judgement to still help with retrieving the spell tome.

The Hydrangea shuddered, my hand flying out to catch my balance on the cabin’s table. A glance through the window revealed the silhouette of the land, the glowing outlines of individual wharves and ridges closer than they had been before, growing gradually larger. The Hydrangea was being blown into shore, the gusts brewed by the storm too strong for the anchors to defy. Far too strong for me to direct away, even through charging one of my charms. Another tremor jolted through the wood, through my frame, the chains tethering the ship straining with disjointed, grating, booming echoes as they finally caught stable ground.

I released my white-knuckled grip on the table’s edge, stepping back with a deep breath, an attempt to calm my flurried nerves. 

A normal storm should not be powerful enough to dislodge an anchor, not on rough shoals. What had caused the tempest to accumulate such strength, as if it had been focused?

I shook my head. Wysote was rambling without direction; he required guidance to leaven the concern in him. The ceaseless fidgeting, the worrying energy to his words and movements. None of it aided my own anxiety.

“When?” My tone was harsher than I intended. The inquiry paused him momentarily.

“It was I think it was---it was a few hours ago? Phoenix told me not to wake you up I-I-I didn’t think that she would---Why, why are there people coming down to the ship why i-” My eyes widened. Wysote had not stopped, his gaze flicking erratically between the door and my face, his ears pinned back to his head. But his words had.

The high-pitched whining of a dog filled the cabin instead, the rapid shift disconcerting. Frightening.

Why was my translation spell no longer working? He was right here, it should not have---

Everything lost sound for one second. Wysote’s panic, the howling wind, the beating waves, the creaking timbers of the ship. Muffled. Gone.

A beam of light pierced my eyes from the porthole. But the Hydrangea was anchored just outside of the lighthouse’s range, had we truly moved that far into th---

My ears burst with a blast of ringing, the pervasive din drilling agonizing thorns into my head. My hands slammed tight over my ears. A futile attempt---it came from inside.

Wysote watched in horror when I fell to my knees, my body curling forward as the pain twisted down my spine in waves, radiating out through my veins like barbed vines, blocking and constricting each individual blood vessel, each time-frozen cell. Tears blurred my vision, my mouth wrenched open in a soundless scream.

The affliction subsided to leave me shaking against the cabin’s floor, spasms raking through my frame, my forehead pressed to the cold wood. Even as they quelled, I was unable to respond to Wysote’s fearful barking, or the shouts and gunshots from above deck.

The door screeched on its hinges, slamming into the inside wall, a gust of storm-choked air sweeping through the cabin.

Wysote fell silent.

“Lovely to see you again, princess.” Her words dripped with malice despite the sweet honey-dipped tone she said them with. I tiredly forced myself to lift my eyes. Acharya stepped down on one knee, her fingers soft as they hooked underneath my jaw.

She inclined her head, her lips parting in a venomous smile. “You’re not getting away from me. Not this time.”

I... I don’t think I like Rose anymore...

Something magic’s going on. Or rather... not-magic. “Deadzone” is such a fascinating word, isn’t it?

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