hellraiser || minsung

0.

𝖯𝖱𝖮𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖴𝖤:

"Focalor's Covenant."

★

[1957, the middle of the yellow sea.]

the pitch black sea reflects the night sky; a starless abyss, devoid of light from any celestial body.

dead of the night. travelling across 7 ominous oceans, where the water was darker than a sea witch's soul.

the pirate fidgets with the ring on his thumb. the waves felt... tense, if that made sense. or maybe it was just him, he thought.

the frigid air howls, blowing upon his skin sending a wave of goosebumps.

it's not easy being a pirate. one minute you find yourself listening to the merriest of shanties and the next you're forced to make hostages walk the plank.

he didn't want to be one. never did. but he had debts to pay and a family to feed. this was all he could do.

the wave's rise and fall grew stronger, changing the ship's rhythm in response. the sudden turbulence makes the pirate clench his jaw.

the clouds mimicked smoky haze, obscuring the moon's light. the moon itself resembles an eye, peering through a thin black cloth, unusually large.

all this combined made the pirate have a terrible feeling boiling in his guts.

the ship was trembling by now. the waves made the vehicle roll from side to side. he felt the ship's strength wane in the face of the brewing storm.

thunder and lightning glows tandem in the near distance.

the buccaneer realized too late; the calm has ran it's course.

"men! hang on for yer life!" the captain burst of their room. his fellow crewmates scrambled around the deck in mania & panic.

the sudden rain showered down so strong it poked holes on the ship's floorboard. violet lightning raced across the previously pitch black sky. waves slammed against the ship's side. the winnowing wind rendered him unable to stand up properly.

as if gale spirits were circling around their ship, turning into their plaything like a child with a toy.

spirits.

the buccaneer suddenly recalls a legend in the midst of the chaos.

a ruler of hell, said to have dominion over the wind and seas.

"do you not know the strength of the storms that have been sent by the hands of Focalor himself!?"
the captain slaps a hand on the pirate who seemed to be frozen in his place. that was the name.

"focalor." the pirate says out loud.

the ship tilts dangerously, nearly capsizing. the captain falls and slides across the wooden floor, hitting his back on the ship's railing. the momentum finally causes him to be thrown of the ship and falling into the merciless ocean of darkness. his yells of panic were drowned out by the lightning's bellow.

the pirate stares, paralyzed, clinging on to the varnished taffrails for dear life.

childlike laughter echoes within the storm, making his heart pound and pump.

the bucaneer whips his head in every direction in bewilderment.

he catches a glimpse of the moon, now liberares from the cloth-like haze, glowing in a mercurial flush, threateningly close to earth.