LiS: All Wounds

Slipping

Life is Strange
All Wounds

Chapter 8 – Slipping

–

"Sail on after me, Love. Will you sail on after me?
Will you fight the waves of oceans? Will you still believe?"

"You know that it's a long way down
You know I may not come around
You know that we're a far way now
To where we're coming from

What have we become?"

~ KoetheKoethe, Sail Away

–

The waves rippled and wrinkled, they did. The rain splashed and sprayed. 'Twas a stormy evening, indeed. The air was thick with salt but so hungry they were for the taste of sand, they could smell it through the haze. Their sort was one with the sea and all that, but...hell, one needed a good grog now and then. A fresh grog.

And there she was: land ho and all that. Chlo could make 'er out through the drizzle. Storm was fading fast.

"Cap'n!" she shouted, turning to look down from the crow's nest.

"Aye!" bellowed the gruff Cap'n, nodding e'er so slightly with anticipation. Chlo hadn't even needed to say nothin' 'bout no land, the Cap'n could just tell from the sort o' shout what she'd bellowed.

Cap'n Maximus had an iron grip on the wheel, her face stoic, but her eyes emblazoned with determination. Cor, she was determination incarnate. Aye, Maximus Hawkmoth was a pirate of pirates, brave and true...Ne'er was a First Mate so o'er the moon for her Cap'n. And as First Mate, Chlo Morpho had assumed bodyguard duties for her Cap'n, as well as, ehrm, duties which closer proximities might require. The crew knew. Course they did, t'weren't a hiding sort o' thing. And any who protested were thrown o'erboard, and that was that.

As Chlo whipped down the ladder with a bold, rain-slicked slide, a wide grin poured 'cross her face as she remembered what it were they was lookin' fer at all.

Treasure, 'o course. What pirate weren't lookin' fer that, eh? But this? Nah, t'weren't any ol' thing. Sentimental, it was. Valuable, too, certainly. Ideally, a fine stash o' gold n' jewels and what-have-you would accompany it. But t'was the Crown what Chloe and the Cap'n were most lookin' for.

Aye, the ol' Crown of Pirate Queen Ray Sunlace. Been years since the Queen'd stalked the high seas, and none were the wiser o' where she'd retired off to. Some rumors'd have ya believe she'd taken to a quiet life on land. Others were she was hopping 'cross the Caribbean, having her fill of pleasures with the riches she'd taken o'er the years. But the most common rumor, one which way or t'e other, were that Sunlace'd stashed away her Crown and some riches somewhere close to home in the hopes that her ol' crew might find it and carry on her pillaging duties. And Chlo, being an ex-member of said crew and previous confidant o' the self-appointed Queen, was quite interested in such an expedition.

So it was that Cap'n and First Mate were patrollin' antiquated waters for the first time in many moons, sniffin' round for clues. They set anchor down at the crowded docks of Arcadia Bay. Leaving their skeleton crew to their tasks, Chlo and her Cap'n put boots (and wooden peg) upon soil – odd feelin', that – and were quick about heading for the Two Whales.

"Ya think'll do us any good?" Chlo asked through the rain. She made to take Maximus by the hand – proper escort n' all, eh? – but the Cap'n's grip weren't so ironclad that evening, and the hands didn't stick for long.

"Aye," the Cap'n growled in a stoic reply. "Someone 'ere, they'll give us somethin'. All 'bout askin' the right questions."

The pair popped right into the Two Whales. 'Twere as busy a pub as Chlo e'er recalled. Assorted lollygaggers hummed n' grunted their shanty songs. A pair o' Brits in their stuffy naval suits hovered with their tea at a table out back. Shot Chlo n' her Cap the stinkeye. Ha, and what wouldja know, there was ol' Brownbeard Frank nursing a can o' beans with his beer. Gods below, Chlo found herself hungerin' for beans all a sudden.