And At The End Of The Drink, Both Glass And Blue, I'll Always Love Only You

2-A Conversation

Cold.

Bitter cold.

Kenma's fingers and toes ached as his limp body shivered. He laid on the hard wooden floor, his limbs and muscles sore. He was barely breathing, his chest only rising a mere few centimeters. Kenma's clothes stuck to his stinging skin, drenched with icy water. He was weak, his eyes half open and vision blurry. He did not dare cry out for his throat screamed in pain each time he swallowed. He had no concept of time or place.

The boat rocked and creaked, his body sliding across his cell with each tip. His stomach churned but the nausea was cake in comparison the freezing feeling.

The half-Naiad was dying.

Not from the cold.

Not from the malnourishment.

But from the water.

The sea-water.

Leaking through the cracks of the stormy weather and drenching him to the bone. His skin burned and broke, bled and scabbed, over and over.

There was a soft thudding sound. Kenma could barely make it out. He blinked slowly, his eyelashes glueing together for a split-second. A figure came into view, donned in dark red and leather. He could not tell who it was.

His instincts told him to move. But he could not. The sound of the cell door creaking open offered a sharp pain in his ear. The figure moved closer, and he felt a warm hand caressing his cheek. The patch of warmth only aided his scathed face, the rest of his body still frozen and stiff.

The heat suddenly disappeared and he tilted his chin upwards, slowly, as if to follow the soft touch.

He then noticed his body had begun to hover. Someone had decided to carry him, his back making sudden popping noises after laying still for so many hours. Spots of his back felt warm just as his face once had. His head lolled back and his legs swayed with each step his savior took.

He felt a cold gust of wind and harsh pelts of rain against his raw skin. He winced, tears slipping past his saturated lashes.

Then suddenly the rainfall grew muffled. The footsteps were clearer. Kenma's body jolted when he was placed on a hard chair. Deft fingers undid his soaked, linen shirt, peeling the thin fabric off his wet skin.

Kenma wished to protest, his heart racing with fear but he could not. He was weak.

Then off came his pants until he was bared vulnerable and naked to the cold.

However the cold did not last long. A large warm blanket wrapped his body whole, the cloth soft and comforting. He was covered from his neck to his feet in the cloth as he was lifted once more.

A fire, perhaps, by the sound of the snaps and crackling, and the waves of heat that bloomed throughout his body.

In the back of his mind it did occur to him that he was still being held by some unknown being, but his frozen days had made him much more appreciative of this newfound warmth. He still twitched but he curled against the body near his.

His cheek brushed against the being's hot skin, setting his nerves aflame.

He was growing drowsy.

"You must eat."

His eyes sprung open at the familiar voice. He turned his head and his eyes widened in horror.

The captain, dressed in linen and leather pants, was holding him to his chest.

However his face was kind.

Kenma did not protest when the pirate coaxed bits of meat and bread into his mouth, and wasted not a second when he was offered a goblet of fresh water. His dry throat closed in pain but he managed to swallow every last drop. He did find himself a bit uncomfortable, sitting in the lap of his captor, the only bit of clothing a blanket of wool.