Long Journey || ATEEZ

The Wrath Of The Captain

A couple of days passed, and still no sign of progress from the hostage, still no sign of Shinoko.

Zinnia was a very meticulous and reliable first mate, yet she had found no trace of the half-siren. Perhaps they really had left her on that island.

Cezanne sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Why was everything going so badly, as of late?

She had just returned to her cabin after yet another torture session with Dylan and San, with no more luck than the first time around.

The only difference was that a once-fiery and rebellious demon had become nothing more than a useless, unresponsive limp body, almost. He didn't even flinch like he used to when Cezanne barged in. He didn't struggle like he used to when Dylan put him through the torture, not even when Cezanne got him to intensify the process. He only screamed. Screamed and screamed and screamed until his chest was raw, his voice dead and gone. There was no more defiance in his eyes – it had been drained from him.

But no matter what Cezanne did, no matter how much pressure Dylan put on him, San did not respond, nor speak. Not even when Cezanne pulled him up by the hair, screamed into his face, telling him that his crewmates would not come to save him, and so he should just come out and tell her the fucking location on the map. Though his lip had trembled, the delirium of pain, pain and more pain getting to him and making him believe it to be true, they had stayed firmly shut, keeping the enigma of the second treasure map to himself and himself only.

She sighed again, and settled on her leather chair.

All she had wanted was a bit of fame, to be better than her godsdamned mother. So why the fuck were these stupid pestilences getting in her way?

It enraged her the more she thought about it; that treasure was just within reach, but that stupidly stubborn demon was in her way.

She'd never liked demons.

They were stubborn (as both San and Dylan had proved), and they were never meant to be.

None of the Dark Creatures were.

All they were was a waste of space and when even one person dared show them a little bit of aggression, they'd lose it and become a Rogue. Then cause even more trouble for the innocent, original peoples of Lucidia. It pissed her off; they were incompetent, blundering fools, the lot of them. They didn't deserve a high place in society.

She'd only taken in Dylan as he had proved rather useful in certain situations.

Her mother disagreed, and it had been a big cause of conflict between the two of them when Cezanne was just a bright teenager, part of Mariynne's fearsome crew and not the terrifying, bloodchilling captain she was today.

Mariynne had been an avid believer in equality for all, and treated all of her crewmates equally, regardless of age, gender or species.

Cezanne disagreed – there was a clear hierarchy between species, with those more competent than others. After all, apparently the gods had created these species in the image of themselves – and the gods also had a hierarchy, did they not?

Cezanne ruffled her hair in frustration. What was she doing, thinking about her blasted mother at this time? That so-called 'great' captain was nothing more than a soft-hearted, snivelling bitch in Cezanne's eyes, she'd established that years ago.

The captain rose from her seat, ready to open the door and head out, carry out her duties as captain once more. No use in wallowing in the past.

Before it caught her eye; a shining something, a brass telescope lying abandoned on the floor. Small enough for a little kid's groping, chubby hands to grasp around.