v. storm and saints

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CHAPTER FIVE: STORMS & SAINTS

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CHAPTER FIVE:
STORMS & SAINTS

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THE FOLLOWING MORNING, AS the last of Mel's fleeting burst of life faded into a sleepless night plagued by nightmares that Annais sat and bore witness to, the Argo II docked at a bustling wharf. Listening to the faint murmur of muffled voices, Annais stretched the tension out of her limbs and unfolded her body from the chair at Mel's bedside, leaving the snoozing girl to check what was happening above. The others were already gathered at the starboard rail; Hea was between Nico and Hazel, her dark onyx hair pulled back in a tight braid, eyes bright and alert. Annais joined them just in time to hear Hazel ask, "What are they?"

Oh, God. What was it now?

Jason turned to smile tightly at her, golden as ever beneath the sun, though Annais caught the tell-tale signs of another restless night etched in the purple eyebags she was sure matched her own. "You sleep alright?" he murmured so no one else would hear. 

"Did you?" she retorted, and his lips twitched, as if to say touchè. "What's going on?"

Wordlessly, Jason stepped aside, allowing Annais to move in front of him and have a better look at where they'd docked. Venice was striking in its beauty, sharp and colourful. Annais wished she could stop to admire it, truly; red-tiled roofs, glittering green canals dotted by motorboats, sun-scorched streets littered with people and bronze statues in the shapes of lions. There were dozens of them -- on every corner, above the rooftops; they seemed to monitor the streets of Venice, guarding the keenly hidden secrets that were buried in otherwise innocuous streets. 

From these shadows, dozens of monsters had swamped into the crowd, practically bowling tourists over, not that they seemed to notice. Annais had to wonder what they saw, if the facade of the Mist properly disguised the jarring nature of their appearances. They were the size of cows with thick, matted fur the colour of mush. Their heads seemed too heavy for their necks to hold up, their snouts stooping to the ground, obsidian eyes peeking through manes that were not unlike horses.

"The mortals think they're stray dogs," Jason explained to her, pointing out a couple who were petting one of the monsters. In a flash that came and went quicker than Annais could blink, the thing changed to a tiny beagle, its tail wagging back and forth eagerly.

"That's... disgusting," she grimaced, the only word that came to mind.

"My dad shot a film in Venice once," Piper commented. She was leaning over the edge of the railing, her expression matching Annais' with her nose scrunched up at the sight. "I remember him telling me there were dogs everywhere. Venetians love dogs."

Annais couldn't help but think how lonely Piper's childhood must've been with her dad always moving around. At least Annais had her sisters, close or not, in some of their darker days. Piper had stories bought home from a man who was half-father, half-ghost. But no matter what, she loved him. Annais had witnessed it firsthand, Piper McLean's loving heart.

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