Rapture [Ver. II] •SNEAK PEEKS INSIDE•

CAPITULUS IV | HORIZON

The night came with trouble, in thick, rolling clouds of fog.

Rory jumped down from the last rungs of the ladder that led to the crow's nest. "Can't fuckin' see anything," he hissed. "This fog came out of nowhere, and now we're probably going to run aground in the night while we're all sleeping and meet our end!"

"Rory," Lee complained, elbowing his friend.

The other protested. "What? We can't see shit! We're as good as dead in the water."

Finn was quiet, as he had been ever since his name was pulled right out from his forgotten memory. He traced it over and over, his own name into the fabric at his thigh, and watched the loose canvas bunch and flatten with every loop and swirl. He could almost see his name written in the fabric folds. Finn Nightingale.

He wished it meant more to him than it did.

He'd hoped that in remembering his name, everything else, whatever there may be, would come back to him, but...as it was, all he was left with was this breadcrumb of his former life.

Finn noticed as the captain beside him tilted his head far back, staring into the heights. "Wind in our sails means we're as good as living," he said with finality. "Find Lir, get me our last heading. We'll work from there."

Finn watched Rory and Lee depart with their orders, skirting around the Captain, who left similarly swiftly.

It left him aimless. Everyone surely seemed to know their place-maybe he was supposed to follow the other two?

With a start, he spied them halfway across the deck already, shoving at each other and grinning wide as if they'd made the trip into a contest.

Tripping on a pile of damp line, he clumsily tracked the two up the staircases to the stern walk-but too soon, they rounded a corner, and no sooner did he follow that he lost sight of them both.

There were multiple cabins that could be accessed from this point, but as his eyes traced the doors to each, he found his gaze straying to the horizon in their wake.

It captivated him, even now. He didn't think there could ever be a time when it didn't. He never caught the others looking-hated to think that there could be a day where the sky would seem bland or flat when compared to ceaselessly scrubbing the deck.

In the dusky horizon, rock formations had grown more abundant in the wake of their path. They grew more difficult to traverse, still, at the prow. Fog grew denser and obscured the distance ahead of them.

It was a wonder how they maneuvered such a big, tedious vessel. Or, he supposed, this wasn't terribly big when compared to the ships of the navy lines. Even still, it was no wonder the captain often garnered a reputation as a god, with their ability to traverse such a vessel in such uncertain territory.

He blinked.

The rock formations, scarcer the further back he looked, were almost normal. But one of them...

He blinked again.

His eyes hurt from how he tried to narrow them down, trying to achieve a hawks vision in vain.

Was it...

He lifted his thumbs, and marked the distance between what this rock formation could be, and the ones at either side. He pressed the nail of his forefinger down harshly into his knuckles to mark the measurements.

He had to account for the Imo Gen's movement, for the distance and the swaying...but...

No one questioned him, no one even noticed him as he stood there, holding his hands to the horizon until his arms ached from the strain.