Icarus Wings, Violin Strings

Valeria

Kuraigana Island was chilly on the best of days, and frigid at worst. The dark, overhanging cloud cover meant that the sun was absent from the sky six days out of the week, and when visible, was too weak to penetrate the thick blanket above to provide any facet of heat. The gloomy kingdom was appropriately named, if unoriginal and trite.

No snow ever fell; the devastating war that had occurred before Dracule Mihawk's arrival must have caused some sort of atmospheric change that prevented such weather. The peculiar, unnatural mixture of colors that composed the sky leant that particular theory evidence. Even if it did get cold enough, it seldom rained to begin with. Not that he liked snow, per say. But it certainly would have brought some variety to the landscape, or might even cover up all those crumbling ruins laying around.

The low temperature seeped into everything it touched. And while the outer wings of the castle he'd taken residence in were nearly always cold as well, the central kitchen rarely saw a moment void of warmth emanating from the stove and oven it housed. Old and antiquated, perhaps, but reliable all the same. It wouldn't be a stretch to speculate that its central location was by design in an effort to push the heat to the outer ends of the stone castle itself.

A low, rumbling hum accompanied the heating stove at his back, punctuated only by the steady chops of his knife to the cutting board. A pot set to boil was seasoned and filled with a variety of peeled and diced vegetables, native to the closest trading island. The savory aroma wafted throughout the room, and he was pleased with how it was coming together. It would be too much for the only two occupants to eat, but it would provide leftovers enough for the following day's dinner as well.

Magdalene, the woman who'd been the castle's sole resident and self-proclaimed caretaker before he'd come along and decided to stay, was probably still pulling paintings and other decorative novelties from the castle's dusty store rooms. Despite never having visitors, she put good effort into sprucing the place up to bring it back to its 'glory days,' as she would say. Mihawk didn't much care about such things at the relatively young age of 26, but if it kept her busy and encouraged her not to turn that withering stare of disapproval at him, all the better.

Having finished chopping the last of the carrots to add to the soon-to-be stew, he looked up at the sudden sound of distant knocking. The harsh staccato of six sharp raps against the wooden door. Magdalene would never knock to enter her own home; she held the key to the entryway should she somehow be locked outside anyway. And the humandrills baboons were much too violent to bother knocking if they had made the decision to siege the castle. They would have broken it down, had they somehow gained the courage to challenge him directly.

Again, the visitor knocked. His eyes narrowed, and with mounting curiosity, he turned down the burner so the pot wouldn't boil over, before turning to head towards the entrance of the castle.

Kuraigana didn't get visitors. If the intimidating aura of the island didn't turn travelers away, then the fierce humandrills certainly did. Only the second half of the path leading up to the castle from the lonely dock at the shoreline could be considered 'safe.' They avoided the residence like the plague, though if Magdalene's account was anything to go by, that was only true after the swordsman had bested the beasts in combat. Simply being in their vicinity had them scattering.

His boots clicked against the stone floor tiles. The increased ferocity and speed of the knocks doing nothing to hasten his steps. Mihawk was not a man to be rushed. And while his observation haki was able to determine that whoever was behind the door wasn't of concerning strength, he didn't recognize the presence it belonged to either. A strange thing indeed.

"What on earth..." A voice behind him muttered. Clearly Magdalene had heard the unexpected commotion as well, and was summoned by the noise. She tidied her short, blonde hair into some semblance of order-her work in the castle store rooms left her dusty and carrying the stale stench of old furniture. "Were you expecting someone?"