#saltstone

[itsleander]

Salty but enlightened! 😂🤪 #candle #saltstone #salty #enlightened https://www.instagram.com/p/CmzcG1SNkjT/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[sleep-deprived-luka]

THEY HAVE WEDDINGRINGS????

[alexanderbayon]

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[eljeebee]

02 Saltstones: Lavender Lee

To kill time in-game, I furnished Lav's flat!

As soon as you enter her home, you'll be greeted not by a living room but Lav's at-home Fortune Telling shop! Since she had to close down her apothecary, she resorted into fortune telling, with the Covey's permission of course. Sure, she could ask them to let her apothecary open, but she doesn't want to raise suspicions....

At the back is her kitchen...

And cauldron! When her landlords asked what was the cauldron for, she said she's doing homemade herbal medicine. With Mrs. Covey's Filipino roots, they allowed her to have this totally not suspicious cauldron, as long as Lav will supply the Missus salabat (ginger tea).

Also, Lav's herb garden lol

[the0maski]

I like that we all agree that Wind and Spirit Track Link (Spirit?) need to be separated as an lu headcanon. Since we haven’t actually seen any proof in lu canon that Wind mentioned something about trains or Malladus.

So my speculation was that 1. Wind hasn’t had his third adventure and, because of the location of ST, he has the quest after lu. The same way Wild will go through totk after lu.

Or 2. Jojo will never touch on anything about ST. Wich would be sad, but I have a theory on how it would actually work.

So Spirit Track takes place in New Hyrule, a kingdom found by Tetra and her crew and later reformed to be a new beginning for the once lost kingdom. By then the Triforce of courage had been fix by Wind, what meant the incarnation cycle has started again. Spirit was the next incarnation of the hero’s spirit.

Now going back to lu lore. Later in the timeline thanks to the War of Ages, time is broken and the timeline come together, creating one single timeline (ignoring aoc but that isn’t lu canon as far as I know).

With the timelines now as one. There are Ritos and Zoras (Yona gave me massive downfall river zora vibes). Saltstones(?) which were used as evidence that Hyrule had been underwater. The mention of some hero’s from the past, etc…,

Now to the part why I think ST could had have happen in lu lore, yet doesn’t affect Wind nor Spirit if he is an stand alone link in comic.

Three timelines would mean three Hyrules become on, and that is true but one isn’t actually a kingdom anymore. My Theory is that when all the branches united the strongest Kingdom stayed, while the oder faded into it and can only be noted subtle. Causing Déjà-vu’s and the feeling of familiarity but not being able to explain why, to all the people.

Wind’s Hyrule doesn’t exist anymore, so nothing is taken from there. But New Hyrule exist! And this is the interesting part.

New Hyrule isn’t where the old Hyrule was. It’s probably somewhere else entirely! It’s also important to know that the people from New Hyrule (Nyrule?) don’t take a lot from the old believe of the hylians, but rather found themselves starting from zero. Rather than the goddess, they worship spirits. It’s not Demise/Ganondorf but Malladus in the legend.

So I theorize that somewhere there is an other kingdom with a royal bloodline from the goddess Hylia and an incarnation of the hero. But there both have different cultures, legends and maybe enemies. While Hyrule has Zelda, Link and Ganon/Ganondorf, Nyrule has Zelda, Link and Malladus or someone being controlled by him as the never ending cycle.

The quest in lu has all the Hero’s of Hyrule come together, Spirit not belonging to that Land of Hyrule may be the reason he will not join and why ST isn’t taking any importance at all. But that’s just my theory on how to take ST into account without rewriting the story of the game, but also why Jojo hasn’t made any reference to it. And also to expend more countries beside Holodrum, Labrinna and Hytopia.

Sorry if it is complicated to understand, I am really bad at giving my brain a voice…

[milkydraws8]

| 'X'Hals Padagoa', TAMARAN |

A thin strip of ocean bisecting the continent Bruaumu, it is famed for its massive deposits of saltstone.

Currently under the heavenly mandate of the Luand'r Sheikhdom, its name is derived from the religious philosophy of X'Hal-Hedonism - based on three massive saltstone islands that bear a close resemblance to a sleeping figure submerged in the ocean.

X'Halinas travel from across the continent and beyond every four years on a religious pilgrimage known as 'X'Hashim' or 'X'Hal's Thrashing'

Roughly 380 megakants of saltstone, sludge-reed, and marcil are harvested from X'Hals Padagoa each year, and current estimates predict resource depletion within the 400-600 years.

-

LANTERN CORPS INSTRUCTIONAL DATALOT SECTOR INDEX 2828 / TAMARAN /

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Alqualondë

And here it is! My attempt at a layout of Alqualondë. A more detailed breakdown of some of the sights in the city by sea can be found below the “keep reading” cut.

5. Seafarers Square: Fresh seafood and pearls can be found here.

The City:

1. Saltstone Keep: The palace of Olwë, where he holds court. The layout is based on the shape of a turtle. The palace gets its name due to the white stone obtained from quarries by the Saltstone Cliffs.

6. Plaza of Merchants: Traders from all over Valinor and  Alqualondë itself, come here to sell their wares.

7. Assembly Hall: Public meetings, hearings, and dances are held here.

8. Plaza of Guilds: Every guild, from shipwrights to bakers to weaponsmakers to apprentices, can be found here.

9. Plaza of Troupes: Entertainment. Fire dancers and jugglers and acrobats can be found performing here during the times allotted for each troupe.

10. City Square: Town criers make public announcements here.

11. Plaza of Steel: Chain mail, arrowheads, and other steel goods are produced here.

12. Plaza of Stone: Sculptors of stone and clay can be found here.

13. Plaza of Gold: Gold and silver jewelry of all sorts are produced by smiths here.

14. The Library: The rarest of books, parchments, and engravings are stored here. The library is also used as a school for elflings.

15. Starlight Grove: A park open to the public.

16. Cobblers Square: The ideal place to find all kinds of shoes, sandals, and boots.

17. Plaza of Glass: Glassmaking, glass art, and artists who specialize in stained windows can be found here.

18. Plaza of Jewels: Gems can be cut, polished, brought, and sold here. 

19. Plaza of Weavers: Everything from sails to garments is made here.

20. Eru’s Temple: A place dedicated to Eru. Weddings are held here.

2. The Singing Trees: So named for the strange but beautiful sound the trees make when the wind blows through them.

Others:

1. The Labrinth: An ancient forest with a complicated network of trees. It is easy to get lost in this forest. Only experienced hunters and trackers go here.

3. Eagle’s Bluff: The only place in all of Alqualondë where eagles can be found. 

[artghutry]

Danielle Carelock, “Foliage Mugs,” earthenware, hand-painted luster overglaze, 2 × 4 inches. Photo courtesy of Saltstone Ceramics

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

I just had the most big brained idea

Pepperfeather falls in love with a cat with the prefix Salt (full name Saltstone maybe?)

their kits have the prefixes Garlic, Sage, Paprika, Cinnamon, Thyme, Vanilla, and Mustard

the spice family

the............the spice girls

[altavolare]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓

⚔️ 𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑻 ⚔️ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ⚔️ 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑺 ⚔️

Welcome to Saltstone Fortress human paladin: Ushijima Wakatoshi.

✚ OPEN CHARACTERS: Sugawara, Nishinoya, Daichi, Tendou, Lev, Yamaguchi and more.

[caranelguild]

November 10, DY 26

The morning dawns clear upon the mountains, and round two of the combat contests begins! Zilybar draws a very difficult opponent in the human barbarian Meyil the Bold and, despite putting up a good fight, is ruled out by final blow. Lagoruth also faces a tough challenge in an old coworker of Roy’s, an assassin in the employ of the city police, but the eladrin fares better and moves on.

Everyone else comes out with a win during the day - and even Zilybar tastes victory in the preliminary round of the figure skating competition.

During the sprawling lunch break, the mountain rumbles again . . .

But Ser Lars has other things on his mind: the belligerent dwarf spies the mech-suit competitor suiting up and identifies him as none other than Terrifica von Bismarck! Obviously some foul play has to follow. When Ser Lars is prevented from just straight up attacking the scrawny teen by a trio of burly guards, he rethinks his plot and changes tack to target a member of the competitor’s entourage, a scholarly gnome that he assumes is the designer of the clockwork suit.

With Ywan’s assistance, but mostly just with the element of chaos on his side, Ser Lars manages after a good deal of misadventure (taking a few solid knocks from the guards, for example) to capture the gnome in a net - and LaLa runs off to the mountains with them. Ser Lars and Ywan meanwhile dodge their pursuers in the crowd before Ser Lars follows his son.

The mountain continues to rumble as evening arrives, and Ser Lars and LaLa have barely begun to interrogate the gnome when Semlen arrives, saying she is heading up the mountain to investigate. She fears the worst.

Ser Lars volunteers himself and his companions to accompany her and she says she’ll wait for them at a point up the slope. The dwarf summons an elk steed and sends LaLa with the trussed up gnome back to Augleth and his wife, then heads to the tourney grounds to collect his companions.

As soon as he has, two things happen concurrently:

A tall Black woman approaches Roy, asking if he is Roy from the Kanye West guild? and

The earth suddenly rumbles heavily and, miles away, it appears as if a white wave has broken over the shoulders of the nearest peak. This avalanche rushes towards the foot of the mountain.

“Yep, the Kanye West guild,” says Roy, keeping an eye on the phenomenon in the distance.

The woman introduces herself as Gali, Kuene’s cousin from Dharak (Vulcan’s Corridor on northern maps). She says Kuene sent her and that she has important information that might be more pressing than she could have thought - likely relevant to whatever is happening upon the mountain’s slope.

Our adventurers follow her away from the tourney grounds, but before they are fully away they look over their shoulders and can see that the avalanche is not one of snow, but of people and monsters - humanoid soldiers in armour of snow and ice, yetis, ice wyverns, and other such beasts.

Ser Lars hesitates, then makes the choice: he will join the competitors already arming themselves and forming up in ranks to repel the invasion. Though he may die, it is the only choice! He passes a few personal effects to Zilybar and heads off to be a hero. Ywan tags along.

The others join Gali in a carriage she had hired to wait outside the grounds, and as the sounds of slaughter fade away, taken over by the sounds of the four swift carriage horses, she tells them a tale.

She is a servant of the Immortal Resh Kan, the God Emperor of Dharak, and was recently promoted to duty in the throne room. While polishing the uncomfortable saltstone chair, she had the chance to contemplate the adage scrawled in ancient words upon its seat - a message carved there by the “second” Resh Kan (each assumes the title Immortal and claims unbroken selfhood from the first): “Knowledge is Power” is how it has filtered down into cliche, but the historical translation is “You sit upon a throne of knowledge.” Now reading its actual text for the first time, Gali, a hobby historian who knows the ancient script and tongue, was able to translate the word usually rendered as “knowledge” more accurately as “secrets.”

Apparently this is not an unknown translation of the adage; the fifteenth Resh Kan justified his expensive spy network on this interpretation. However, reading it in person, Gali couldn’t help but wonder if her people through history had been blinded by their love of story and metaphor; perhaps, she thought, the second Resh Kan had meant the adage literally. Then, “You sit upon a throne literally built of secrets.”

She looked closer at the text and noticed a hairline crack, as if a character had been carved too deep and it split the stone - but following her instincts, Gali got a blade into the crack . . . and lifted up a portion of the uneven seat to reveal a secret compartment! Within, she found two scrolls.

Not particularly loyal to her God Emperor and more loyal to history and knowledge, she brought these scrolls home in secret to study with her family. They discovered that one scroll contained a fable that told of a time when Vulcan’s Corridor was a seabed. The legend says that the first Immortal Resh Kan was given a throne by the Moon Goddess, or stole it, or built it of stone harvested from the moon, or something like that (translation is still ongoing), and when sitting upon this throne was able to banish water from his realm. The second Resh Kan, not wanting such power to be available to a single person, dissembled the throne and dispersed its parts.

The other scroll contains harder to decipher poetry and imagery detailing the pieces of the throne and where the second Resh Kan hid them around the continent - but these details have yet to be translated, and Gali’s family is hard at work at this task.

Gali, knowing her cousin Kuene had emigrated northwest, where the Flooding had hit hardest two and a half decades ago, and that he was starting an adventurers’ guild, thought it may be in the continent’s best interests to inform him of this discovery, in the hope that he may put together a stalwart party to find the pieces of the throne. Little did she know how relevant this quest would be when she set out!

With the fate of the world in the balance, our adventurers agree to take on this quest and set about preparing to accompany Gali to Vulcan’s Corridor, the first stop on their new, realm-hopping adventure!

[thiscuriousisland]

C H A P T E R  T W O

in which we meet cybelline rose montgomery

Cybelline Rose Montgomery has red hair. She also has marvelously frizzy black hair and a streak of blue hair. She also has an area on the left side of her head where there is no hair at all. She thinks her hair is beautiful, so it is, and nobody can tell her otherwise. She has rich brown skin, lovely brown eyes, and a single dimple, on her right cheek, which makes an appearance if she really likes you. There, now you know almost as much about her appearance as she does; Cybelline Rose has never much felt the need for mirrors.

Cybelline, you may be curious to know, has the best parents in the world. This may be a shock to you, if you are fortunate enough to think the same of your parents, before you remember the nature of her world; that is, it is not quite the same as yours. In fact, if you were to go back in time and then forward again and if your parents had forgotten to have you and had instead found themselves on a small island in the world’s northernmost ocean—well, they may just have ended up as Cybelline’s parents instead; too bad for you.

Let’s pretend you had been born, but perhaps to different parents if necessary, and again in the city of Arualt. Perhaps this version of you, having finished up at the census office, is taking a pleasant sunshiney walk down an industrial avenue because you like the round grey stones of the buildings’ architecture. You may be surprised to come upon, in such an area, an enormous gathering of human beings, unless you at first suspect it is some manner of workers’ union collecting to seize the means of production, in which case you should support them in whatever way you can. But such a first impression will be very quickly dispelled by the fact that roughly half of the gathered are children, identified easily enough as a group by their uniforms, if not by their statures. Unless your thoughts immediately turn to a Dickensian workhouse, you may suspect that despite the unsuitability of the area, there must be a school nearby. And, in fact, there is. Pressed in between a railroad tar manufactory oozing out a hot stench on the right and a railroad rail manufactory clamouring a violent noise on the left, is Saltstone Academy. It is the first day of a new school year for the gathered children, who will, by and large, board here until the end of term.

Cybelline Rose is one of these children. She and her mother (“Meeps”), father (“Pips”), and brother (“You Dweeb”) are standing near the plaster arborist’s looming stone building across from the school having a discussion.

“Honestly, you dweeb, you can’t think that your science textbook is more important literature than JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings!” It is important to note at this juncture that The Lord of the Rings most certainly exists in this world despite what you might think.

“Don’t call me a dweeb, you lump!”

“You know, she’s right, Chilton—I really don’t know where you picked up that heresy.”

“Awe, Meeps! How could you! I thought you loved science!”

“She does, but . . . The Lord of the Rings, you scamp!”

“Pips, you’re supposed to take my side! Cybelline’s got Meeps; them’s the rules!”

“Oh, drat.”

Meeps laughs.

“Cybelline, dear—em—the thing about The Lord of the Rings is—well, it doesn’t really teach you . . . about chemistry, does it? Important stuff, chemistry!”

“Weak, Pips!”

“Yeah, Pips, I need better than that!”

“Uh, well,” Pips grabs the textbook out of Chilton’s hands and flips desperately through its pages, “it does have nice illustrations and—Oh, for goodness’ sake, Chilton, this is impossible! Rules be dashed!”

Cybelline crows in victory, Meeps wipes a tear of amusement from her crow’s foot, and Chilton kicks a stone in defeat, striking a crow on the foot. You may be curious to know that crows never forget, and are remarkably intelligent and vindictive animals. For the rest of his school life, Chilton will be haunted unceasingly by the murder of this crow—not, you understand, by its death, for it is in fine, if angry, health, but by its friends and family.

Chilton retrieves his textbook from Pips and slips it under an elastic cord wrapped around his chipped-paint steamer, already holding what looks to be a small library in place.

“You’re lucky you got the trunk this year,” says Cybelline, watching him adjust some precariously secured books to sit more tightly under the elastic. “I had to give my roommates items every time they visited in order to get my supplies in—hope Yelmy brought my chem set . . .”

“We should really just get you another one,” says Pips. “But—”

“Hm, maybe next year,” says Chilton quickly.

Cybelline shoots a look at her sibling. “Yeah, next year, sure—when you get the new one.”

“—But that,” says Pips, grinning as his kids energetically argue.

“Speaking of getting supplies in,” says Meeps, “start-of-term assembly is in fifteen minutes. We had better let you get in there so you can drop off your things before you’re late!”

“Alright, Meeps, we get it,” says Cybelline, “you’ve got a game to catch.”

Every year after dropping their children off at school, the Montgomery parents race off to the nearby amphitheatre where they participate in (Meeps) or watch (Pips) the annual Saltstone Academy alumni lacrosse match. Meeps had been fouled out of last year’s game for knocking a tooth from the opposing team’s goalkeeper. Needless to say she had been extremely proud and is, in fact, wearing the tooth today as an amulet around her neck.

“Love you both!” calls Pips, hurrying to catch up with Meeps who is already halfway down the street. “Your mum does too!”

And that was that: Cybelline and Chilton drift apart as they move into the school grounds, each heading towards their dorm rooms wherein they will deposit their belongings.

*

Surely you find descriptions of maps as tedious and incomprehensible as any other reasonable person, so you will find no such attempt made here to describe the grounds of Saltstone Academy. Suffice it to say that, behind the large main building that fronts onto the industrial avenue, there is quite a large plot of land all surrounded and cut off from the nearby industries by a looming stone wall, and in this large plot of land are found the school dormitories.

The dormitories of Saltstone Academy are divided between three locations, being the Lake, the Tower, and the Woods, and these three locations are divided into two houses each, each populated by  “boys” or “girls” respectively, more or less, except in the case of the two houses of the Woods, Lodge and Treehouse, which are peopled by those students who file for placement with the school administration or whose guardians do not really care if their child happens to sleep near a person with a different gender identification than their own.

Cybelline had been placed in the Lake’s Beach House her first term by lottery and has roomed there ever since. Beach House is a sprawling wooden building sitting on a round stone foundation looking over the shallow pond that occupies nearly a quarter of the academy grounds. An observant individual could quite easily intuit that Beach House has grown since its initial construction: additions are set at odd angles and none of their various shapes possess wooden slats of quite the same colour. Even more telling is the haphazard first storey—that is, the first above ground level—protruding from the center of the building, still surrounded by scaffolding on three sides and constructed from as-yet unpainted wattle-and-daub. Wattle is a framework of wooden slats, if you’re interested, sealed up by a mixture of mud or clay called daub.

Cybelline groans as she beholds it; last year, she and her housemates had been responsible for daubing the wattle: this year it will presumably be their responsibility to paint it. The stacks of paint barrels shedding white flakes in Beach House’s lobby confirm Cybelline’s suspicions as she walks in, but she has only a brief moment to feel a deepening dread before her face is full of curly black hair.

“Your solution is here!” cries a muffled voice from Cybelline’s collarbone.

“My what?” Cybelline pulls her attacker to arm’s length.

“Your solution! Because I brought your chemistry set!” Yelmy looks excitedly at Cybelline, her thick eyebrows nearly at her hairline.

“Sorry, Yelmy, I don’t get it. But thanks for—”

Yelmy cuts her off. “Solution, Cyb! Your solution.”

Cybelline is still at a loss, but smiles at her friend and brings her back into an embrace. “I’m glad to see you, roomie.” In case you, too, missed it, solution is a term widely used in—ah, but to explain a joke is to ruin it; sorry.

“I’m glad to carbon dioxide,” comes Yelmy’s muffled response. She pops her face out of Cybelline’s collar to look up at her. “I’m glad to C-O-two, get it? See you too?”

“Oh dear,” says Cybelline. “Walk with me to the room?”

“Let me carry your bag!” Yelmy tugs at the multicoloured and multitextured satchel slung across Cybelline’s back.

“Careful with the new stitching!” Cybelline fends Yelmy off. “I already had to add a new patch this fall.” She stiffarms Yelmy to a safe distance and begins to move towards a hallway to her left. “I can carry it myself.” She lets out a laugh at Yelmy’s dramatic pout.

“Just trying to help,” Yelmy mutters.

“Your periodic assistance is all I require,” says Cybelline with a sideways grin.

Yelmy almost laughs but catches it behind her teeth and forces her eyebrows together into a frown. “I don’t get it,” she says stubbornly. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“Oh, Yelmy, I love you,” Cybelline laughs. Yelmy joins in after a second, and their laughter fills the hallway as they make their way to their room.

“I put your set on your bed,” explains Yelmy as they near the open door featuring the familiar brass 2134 nailed crookedly and just off center, “and Tirzah and Bug were unloading your books there when I left to find you.”

Two steps more reveals the truth of this to Cybelline and she pauses in the doorway, a smile spreading across her face.

Tirzah, her hijab dropped around her shoulders to reveal a bird’s nest tangle of thick black hair falling down her back, and Bug, translucent white skin nearly glowing beside the coarse darkness of her roommate’s voluminous hair, have their backs to the door and are engaged in carefully perching a book on a stack already a dozen high on a trembling mattress.

Yelmy does not pause and bustles past Cybelline. “Cybelline has arrived!”

Bug, startled, dives over the mattress, narrowly missing the stack of books, and is in a split second peering up over its edge with wide, dark eyes. Noticing Cybelline at the doorway, she stands. “Oh,” she giggles nervously, “it’s you.”

Tirzah guides the wobbling stack of books down to the mattress before turning to greet Cybelline. “Welcome back, Montgomery!”

“It’s good to see you two,” says Cybelline. “Ripping dive, MacLeary.”

“She’s had practice,” chimes in Yelmy. “Her dive when I came with my things was not nearly as graceful.”

“I’m really glad to be back,” says Bug quietly, placing long gentle fingers on a yellowing bruise all-too visible on her cheekbone.

“Oh, my dear,” says Cybelline, quick-stepping to her side and pulling her into an embrace. “You’re safe here, Bug. Sorry about commenting on your dive, okay?”

Bug smiles and detaches herself from Cybelline’s arms. “Thanks, Cyb. It’s okay.” She twirls around, tossing her arms into the air in an effort to mimic a ballerina. “I am quite graceful, aren’t I?”

The tension broken, all four girls laugh.

“Has Dylan already left for the assembly?” asks Cybelline, tossing her bag onto the bed beside the books.

“She’s transferred again,” says Tirzah. “Her family moved up north.”

“What’s even up there?” asks Bug.

“North-ing much,” says Yelmy immediately.

“Ah, too bad!” says Cybelline to Tirzah. “I hardly got to know her last year! Her family moves a lot, eh?”

“Yeah,” replies Tirzah, “and they didn’t even wait for their flat to sell. It was still empty when we drove up.”

“We should get going to the assembly,” says Bug. “It never pays to be late.”

Cybelline casts an eye over the mess on her bed. “Yeah, I can clean this up later. Come on.”

Tirzah tucks her hair back into the hijab, a rich purple today, and fixes its clasp when it is in place. “All good?” she asks.

“You look fit,” says Bug.

“I sure do,” replies Tirzah, and leads the way out of the room.

[eljeebee]

01 Saltstones: Guest Bedroom and Master Bedroom

I just realized I finished their apartment! Will put up pictures on their walls tomorrow or when I get a free time. Now on to the next story updates...

[thecooler]

Some ocs I drew toyhouse icons for + a little boy for @arowanashine

[sloth-seeking-the-stage]