Soldier, Poet, King

Chapter 6: Death on Two Legs (Dedicated to...)

It has been nearly two weeks since Blackbeard and Co. have joined the crew of the Revenge, and all but one has settled into the ship's dynamic. You haven't exchanged a single word since the night of the party, but have run into Izzy several times since, each time growing more avoidant than the last until all he has become is phantom footsteps in the halls. On the far other hand, Blackbeard has grown incredibly accustomed to his new life onboard spending nearly every waking moment by Stede's side, following him around like an enamoured puppy. It is endearing to watch their feelings blossom for each other, though a part of you still aches in jealousy no matter how much you try to stifle your thoughts.

The air is crisp tonight, the mid-September chill sharpening the gentle breeze and ruffling the sea beneath you. In honour of the upcoming autumn equinox, Stede has suggested that instead of the regularly scheduled story-time, that instead you all go around and tell the scariest story you can imagine or have experienced. Some are scarier than others, and some are just plain disturbing. Though you try your best to space out during Roach's all too visceral retelling of the opportunity he was given to dissect a still-living person, you find it incredibly difficult to drown out his impression of their agonised screams. You are more entertained by Frenchie's story than anything else, finding his unrelenting fear of cats humorous.

"...Which is why you should never, ever sleep under the same roof as a cat!" He hugs himself, his own story having spooked him so badly that he has goosebumps running down his arms.

"Well that was quite educational, wouldn't you all agree?" Stede claps his hands, sparking slow applause from everyone, "Y/n, I do believe it is your turn. What haunting tale do you have for us tonight?"

"Er..." You clear your throat, trying to shake the fluttery sensation in your stomach making it hard to speak, "Here goes..."

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Once upon a time there was a mother and a father who had two children. The youngest was a baby girl with a golden laugh and a smile that everyone adored. She was loved and cherished by all who knew her, and in turn she loved and cherished everyone she met. The eldest, however... wasn't like that at all. Troubled, blank faced, never good enough when it mattered and always too much when it didn't, the parents questioned why they even bothered trying for a second child since the first was such a disappointment. For years, when asked about the eldest child, the parents deflected and did their best to never have to bring up their mistake and instead fawn over and rave about how the youngest was doing.

It went on like that until one day, beloved as she was, a young man asked to marry the youngest child, as they had fallen in love. He was truly enraptured by her glowing spirit, and all was going well until his family asked to meet his betrothed. Herein lies the problem, for her family had told his that she was an only child and so when the day came the eldest was forced to hide away upstairs in the pitch black attic with not even a candle to see by. It was when the young man's parents saw the family portrait hanging above the fireplace that they started asking questions.

Soon, the lies began to unravel and unravel and unravel until the mother stood up from her seat and proclaimed the eldest had died. The eldest had heard this and was driven so mad that the family locked the attic door and threw away the key, painted over the portrait so only three figures showed with a faint black smudge where the eldest had been, and did their best to forget. The only last remaining clue that there was anything amiss were the pacing sounds of footsteps late at night, for as the days turned into weeks, the eldest had spiralled into true insanity until they, too, truly believed they were nothing more than a passing spector, lost and forgotten in the darkness of Purgatory.

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"The end..." Your voice quavers, barely louder than a whisper so that the crew have to lean in close to hear you.