"What will we do with a drunken whaler? What will we do with a drunken whaler? What will we do with a drunken whaler early in the mornin'?"
Clop. Clop. Clop. Shhhhsht.
"Way-ay up she rises. Way-ay and up she rises. Way-ay up she rises early in the mornin'."
Clop. Shhhhhhsht. Clop. Clop. Shhhsht.
"Stuff 'im in a sack and throw 'im over. Stuff 'im in a sack and throw 'im over. Stuff 'im in a sack and throw 'im over..."
Clop. Clop. Ker-plunk!
"...early in the mornin'."
Emily Tippit, a small smuggler ship coated in an ancient, sopping red dust, groaned ominously as she entered the west side of the port, water lapping at her sides greedily. From her port side, and through the thick grasp of fog, a man with a tall, heavy-set stature dumped a large sack over the railing as she trolled toward the docks. The bay sagged in exhaustion as the burlap sack slowly sank, disappearing from view in a trail of sickening bubbles. A gull screeched overhead.
Feed 'im to the hungry rats for dinner. Feed 'im to the hungry rats for dinner. Feed 'im to the hungry rats for dinner early in the mornin'.
Emily was home. The fog hung in the air as the sun rose (burning at a pace that was no more than lazy). The soft hum of the trolling motor of Emily Tippit reverberated off of the water, cutting out only when she reached the docks.
Way-ay and up she rises. Way-ay and up she rises. Way-ay and up she rises early in the mornin'.
Serkonos, The Red Jewel of the South, was waking up, and she was not happy.
---------------------------------------
"Alright, we're here. Now get off," Billie grunted, arms crossed.
Adonis ignored her, pale emerald eyes focused on the distant docks of Karnaca. They were bustling now, in the morning, when the whaling crews pulled into port with their fresh catch. He could see the little ants working about the shore, pulling goods on and off of rickety, bloodied ships. "Were we not headed for Dunwall?"
A pause. "I changed my mind."
"You expect me to swim?"
"Take the skiff."
"I won't return it."
"I know."
Shifting his arms, Adonis tugged at the collar around his neck, attempting to shield his sun-shy skin from the stifling ocean air. "You're frightened of me, Billie Lurk." There was no emotion in this conclusion.
Billie turned her head, already heading toward the skiff to rig it up. Old Daud, a tiny cargo vessel, had been stolen from the docks of some poor merchant near the edge of Karnaca, renamed and maintained faithfully by Billie Lurk herself. The plan had been to return to Dunwall--for what reason, she was no longer sure of. Maybe it was to abandon The Outsider on the doorstep of Dunwall Tower, or maybe it was for her own trepidations about what was to come if she were to stay a moment longer in Serkonos. Whatever the case, she soon discovered that Old Daud would never successfully reach Dunwall the way it was. With bloodflies and leaks in the cargo hold, she had plenty of work cut out for her.
If Billie Lurk was going to abandon The Outsider anywhere, she might as well do it here.
"No, you're wrong. I'm not afraid of you--not anymore." You're powerless now, Outsider. You can't hurt us anymore.
YOU ARE READING
The Discovery Tour
FanfictionHere he was, on the cusp of humanity with eyes as green as peridots. He was here. He was now. He was alive. In the past, he would have believed such a feat to be folly--a foolish dream of a boy, helpless at his own funeral. But here he was, the assa...
