As A Stranger Or A Friend?: The Swallow And The Drowned Sailor

Axtapor - 3 Evening Star, 1245 A.D.

I returned to Port St. Croix back then simply because I didn't know where else to go, but everywhere I looked, I saw her ghost. And I wandered around like one too, going back to the places where we'd happened upon one another and spending too much time at each one. What was I searching for by returning there or anywhere we'd been? I had no idea. There wasn't anything to go back to. She would not simply reappear, no matter how much wandering and remembering I did. I survived it for just three days before buying a boat and going wherever the wind would take me.

She told me that I probably had some life I wanted to return to and somewhere I belonged. She was right, of course. There were plenty of places I could return to where I would belong, but none felt like where I should be. The only place that felt right was my dreams because there, she and I could be together. She could have the freedom I promised her; she could stop running, maybe even be happy! But the dreams rarely came. Instead, the times when I lay with my eyes closed became spaces of terror. I started to wish the wind would take me to the very end of the world and throw me over its edge, but it didn't. Rather plainly, it brought me back to this place, which only seemed more wretched and empty than ever.

The turning of wheels and the rhythmic creaking of an approaching carriage pushed my eyes open. I supposed it was time. I sat up with a sigh and got out of bed, slipping on a silken robe, then peered out the window with a frown to see the aforementioned vehicle coming to a stop at the end of my drive. I stuffed a few leaves into my lip and made my way down. The halls here were rather neglected, but then again, I'd been away so long and left this place without any servants or slaves to look after it; it should not be surprising for it to be in such a state.

A loud, echoey knock came from the direction of the main door, with it, his obvious impatience to be greeted. I did not, however, hurry my pace. After all, I'd already waited plenty long for him; I should only return the favor. I finally unlatched the door and was met with his flat, annoyed, and ever-present, inconvenienced expression; just like my father's. They were brothers, after all.

"Your father, Lord Sraekex, has decided you're finally ready to stop being the failure of the family, Axtapor." He said in a rich, deep voice and in place of any real greeting.

"Aye, that be true." I responded as I pushed the leaves from one side of my lip to the other, biting on them as they went.

"Stop chewing your cud."

"Be ye here to teach me anythin' or just to whinge and moan like a bitch who nay been tended to, Lord Rojundrog?" I bit back, spitting the chewed leaves at his feet.

He looked down at the pile for a moment, then back at me. "You're a parasite on this family. Your father was a fool for listening to our mother when she intervened on your behalf the day you were born. He should have ended you, but he was too weak, and now, you've grown large to the point that such a correction would be deemed as murder. A shame, for you are not worthy of the name Oxlo."

"'Haps, I will take my wife's name one day then. Will no wear yers into the mud that way." I responded, moving out of the way to let him inside.

He eyed me for a moment, then slapped me across the face hard, leaving the taste of blood in my mouth. "You must think this is all some sort of joke. Your night terrors put everyone in this clan at risk. If we are toppled, all of this goes away, do you understand? You will damn not just your siblings but the descendants of this family for generations. Most of all, you will ruin us. Do you honestly believe you have the luxury of sitting in this abandoned castle because of your many dedicated years at sea? Pillaging and drinking and raping—"

"I am no a raper." I hissed.

"Oh, yes you are. To rape is to take by force, and when did you ever stop to ask anyone if you could take something from them?"

I growled at him from a low place in my throat.

By that notion, I was a raper, but then, wasn't he one too? And my father and my uncles, weren't they all rapers? After all, no one gave them the power that Clan Oxlo had amassed. They just took it.

"Then you be one too." I countered.

He cracked a smirk. "Everyone is you half-wit."

"Nay...there be one who is no." I responded, finally closing the door behind him, "Teach me to dream and Dream."