Why The F*** Are Pirates So Damn Attractive (Theyna)

Stone Heart

After three thousand years of wondering and speculating, Zoë finds that death is nothing like she had expected. It's not cold, there's no fire or endless screams.

It's silent, peaceful almost, it's not warm, nor unbearably cold. It just simply is. It's comforting almost, at least it would be if not for her slightly creepy company.

Bianca, as she introduced herself, is silent and more than that, she won't look at Zoë for longer than three seconds. What Zoë has managed to glean from the girl can be summed up in two words: she's dead.

Not the most comforting sentiment. Bianca had failed to elaborate more than that. She'd simply told she was dead and dragged her into what Zoë assumes is the younger girl's home. However, the longer Zoë sits there, the more she became accustomed to the fact that the girl clearly doesn't live alone.

Clothes much too large to be Bianca's litter the floor and two beds are pushed against opposite corners of the cabin. One which was much messier than the other. Bianca has failed to speak to her since bringing her into the home, and at the moment Zoë's in too much of a state of shock to care.

Death, as it would appear, is extremely anticlimactic. Instead of having to face whatever travesties she's surely committed over her long, long life she's subjected simply to the sound of drizzling rain on the roof and the minor uncomfortableness from being unable to breathe. Bianca pays her no mind, simply watching emotionlessly as a grey fire dances beneath her fingers.

Despite the fact that water continues to drip from her lips despite her best efforts, she's left with Bianca, who appears strangely untouched. The girl can't be any older than 12, with round cheeks and dark eyes. Her hair spills from her skull like ink and Zoë's struck with she's seen that expression before. Where is unclear.

"May.... May I ask thee a question?" Her voice sounds so strange to her own ears, carrying with it that strange wet quality that she's yet to figure out how to rid herself of. Bianca's eyes don't leave the fire, nor does she give any indication that she's heard Zoë; however, before Zoë can ask again she speaks.

"Wait until she gets back." Five simple words that offer no explanation.

"Who is she?" Zoë is unable to stop the question. Bianca doesn't answer, instead, she lifts a twig and carefully lays it in the fire, the flames lick over her fingers without leaving any sign of touching. Zoë's stomach bubbles uncomfortably.

"You're new here." Bianca still doesn't look at her, "you're bound to have a lot of questions, but she has seen more of this place than I ever will. She can explain."

"Who is she?" Zoë repeats. Slowly, Bianca's gaze lifts from the flames. Zoë's learned over her thousands of years of experience to never underestimate anyone based on their age, and she's met the eyes of monsters and gods alike. What she sees in Bianca's gaze scares her more than any of that. Bianca's eyes are so incredibly alive. In a place where even the air in her lungs is dead, Bianca thrives. Dark eyes drag their way up her skin like a rusty dagger to plant themselves into her own. Zoë chokes on her nonexistent breath and burns underneath Bianca's gaze. She's dying within the embrace of death.

Bianca doesn't answer her, simply leaves her suspended within her gaze and Zoë can't look away, it's just like the first time she met Artemis. She can't help but feel she's looking into the soul of someone much, much more powerful than she could even imagine.

"Bianca?" The voice is different than any other Zoë's heard so far in this place. Bianca always speaks as if some's rationed her syllables. This voice, on the other hand, is powerful, commanding. Bianca's gaze slowly slides from Zoë's and she's released from whatever spell she'd been under.