pirate king (pirate!au) ➵ ateez ✔️

vial

You drift in and out of consciousness.

Dreams flash through your mind, juxtaposed with reality and hallucinations. You can no longer tell what is true or not, simply choosing to accept them all as you continue falling endlessly into nothingness.

You sit on a rock in a small cove. Men and women clamour around you in the water, tails flickering in beautiful jewel tones as they eagerly offer you all sorts of precious gifts, mother of pearl, a beautiful bouquet of colourful anemone, a silvered shell. You laugh and accept them, your tail shimmering with silver scales under the sun.

You feel a hand holding yours, cool metal brushing your soft skin. A pair of lips, soft and warm, brushes against your temple.

"Wake up soon, alright?"

Storms rage all around you. The sea heaves with massive, turbulent waves, the water grey with froth and lightning flashes. You scream with rage, despair, absolute loneliness and the seas respond, swirling around you as if they're alive with fury.

There's someone next to you. He's reading to you in a chair at your bedside, a book about essential oils distilled from natural plants.

"And the clary sage oil is colourless, with a nutty smell. People say its effects feel euphoric, you know, do you think it's true?"

You're at the beach of a small island, sitting in the sand. The blue sea stretches on for miles, not another ship in sight. A young boy smiles and asks for your name. You don't have one, but you tell him what you are. He can't repeat the word to you with his tongue.

"Please, be okay. Don't go without letting me thank you." Someone sobs, wetness soaking into your shoulder. Another person reassures him quietly, his voice a little more gruff and rough around the edges, but still soft.

A man with green hair, San, you think his name is, dances around the ship wearing nothing but two starfish and a skirt of seaweed.

Okay, that's definitely just a nightmare.

Someone's singing. His voice is beautiful, striking high notes with ease and pulling you into the melody of the song. The notes wrap around you like a lullaby.

You're in a prison cell, the place dank and dirty. In your hands, you hold the cut crystal, running your fingers along the words inscribed into it until you find the catch that separates the chain from the gem. The crystal reveals itself to be a tiny vial, containing a mixture inside that sparkles like liquid diamonds. You close your eyes one last time, remembering the little boy's face, and swallow the contents whole.

"Please wake up." Someone whispers to you. He holds your hands against his forehead as he pleads with you, and your fingers brush cloth. "Please, Chin Hae, wake up."

Chin Hae.

Is that your name?

No, it's not. I don't have a name. But I am ****.

Chin Hae?

Hurry and wake up, Ch*n H**.

Why are you calling me that? My name isn't C*** H**.

Hurry up, hurry up, ****.

Your eyes fly open.

You're in a bed, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, you stay like that, suddenly uncomprehending of who you are or what you are. Every limb feels heavy, as if you haven't moved them in months, and when you finally muster the strength to turn your head sideways, there's a head of green hair there.

You scream.

"Wassgoingon?" The head of green hair mumbles, lifting his head to look for the source of the commotion. His eyes are bleary, tired, until they meet yours, then he freezes in shock.