Rising Tides | 2doc | Gorillaz siren!AU

Prologue

My true love has always been the sea. The amazing chilled breeze and salty must brushing my face as I sail the roaring tides of the deep waters never ceases to pump life into my veins, and quite honestly the waters were all I've ever really known. It was more than just my lifestyle, it was a part of me. I always felt that a little bit of my being was the sea itself. It's very own sentience. She could never be tamed, and I felt that wild spirit in myself. Ah, yes. She was a beaut, but get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and she can be the eye of death. It was this danger that drew me to her.
But yet because of this imminent threat, I was intimidated by her vast presence. I could never escape her however, especially being a part of my brother's crew. I never really had a choice, and I don't quite know how I ended up there. But someway and somehow I found my livelihood helping scoundrels murder and steal in the middle of the endless ocean.

As a pirate you never make friends, only enemies. Perhaps this is where I've gotten my cold exterior that shielded me from the world and developed the cold bitterness I carry on my chest to this day. You had to be tough. Emotion meant vulnerability and weakness. And weakness meant certain death. Because of this, I never got along well with anyone, really. Friendship was never something I knew before. Truth was, even my own crewmates hated my guts and my brother resented me to the ends of the earth for god knows what reason. Everything that Captain Hannibal did was followed by the crew, and whatever he said went. And because of this hatred towards me, Hannibal would place blame onto- guess who? Me. No, he, of course, was a perfect sea captain, incapable of flaws and error. And me? Well, I was always led to believe that I was the definition of human error, the very mistake that any god could have ever made, a blemish to the human race. Bets were they'd be having a grand laugh knowing what they've created. Or so the crew thought. Yes, I was only there to be treated like monkey shit and follow every command set place by Hannibal. And yet, I let this happen. These pirates were ruthless and cruel, and I know I best kept my trap shut if I wanted my precious life. And so, because of this, I was trapped in a shite cycle of following ridiculous bottom-of-the-barrel orders and compliantly taking everyone's shit just to keep the skin on my balls. Not the way to live. This was miserable by all means, but I had ways to manage my time and make my life not quite as wrenchingly abysmal. If the sea was my first love, music was my second. It kept me on my toes, -or instead kept me tapping my toes, and made the long nights on the high waters a bit more tolerable. I was always pretty gifted with many instruments, and could pick up about anything. I even collected instruments from all around the world as we made our rounds. Throughout my life I picked up quite a few chanties, too, most of gorgeous foreign woman, rum, and sailing. It was music that kept me going, and it was clear that music was what kept a sliver of sanity in any of us. We all enjoyed drinks and sang these chanties, playing along soulfully and with good cheer on our various instruments. That was probably about the only thing I had in common with the rest of the crew, and the only time we'd ever get along. Song was important and was a language in itself that transcended barriers. It's strange how powerful it is, how it can unite and empower with so little. It felt like it gave me strength when I had the strings of my lute on my fingertips or the cold mouthpiece of my flute softly pressed between my lips. I even sang a bit, though I kept it to myself. I enjoyed singing, but I was starting to get sick of everyone insisting my voice was rubbish (which was not true, it couldn't have been. I was Murdoc Niccals, who the bloody hell did they think they were?). But even if my voice didn't have the lure of a siren, what does it matter? It was what I enjoyed most.

It was the things that made me feel invincible and weightless that I kept closest to my heart. Music let me pour my soul and manifest it through the strings, but I give credit to the deep blue for building the soul to pour. I heard the brave roars of the waves, and the sweet whispers of every ripple revealing to me their secrets. This was my home, my family. I knew her so well and it almost felt like she knew me. Her being is so vast, so wide; yet so personal. So gentle, but unforgiving. She's a surreal body, like a deity. She creates, she destroys. She provides, and she takes. A manifestation of perfection in crystal blue. She had me in her grasp like a nurturing mother, but still would show no mercy in her scolding storm, bringing reality back to me within her angry clash. Though ruthless, she was also non-discriminant. Much more than I could say to anything else, especially the human race to which I belonged. She never judged, but rather ruled with a level eye.

Indeed, my one true love has always been the sea. She understood me, and I'd like to believe I understood her calling, though she was still much of a mystery. But perhaps that was her greatest appeal. Her danger and her mystery. Her gorgeous shimmering blue, and her unbiased and strangely forbearing hand when the rest of the world has turned their backs. She was all I had now. And she was all I'd ever have.