The Painter Of Port Royal

Chapter 20 - Things have changed

Like waves of encouragement, the air brushed by Lydia's bare feet. It would often tug at her body yet nothing could tear her balance away. The muscles in her feet would bulge as she wobbled along, focused eyes closed tight. A smooth wood held her up high, Lydia being on the top of the main mask she could feel how high she was. Not that was the concern. That was the last thing to think about. Her brows furrowed as she continued to tiptoe across the mask, her eyes never opening. Steadily, she pulled her sword out, the tip brushing the air like it was excited to be free from it's leather cage. The sword settled by her side as she took her final couple of steps, right to the edge of the mask. This ship wouldn't move, she'd learnt that several days ago.

Deep breaths, in and out. Eyes blinking, desperate for Lydia to open them. Desperate to know she isn't too far over the edge. If she was she would know. She would have connected to the ground by now. A shifting was felt on the wood of the mask. Her opponent was here. One of the many.

Spinning on one foot she pointed her sword out to them, their barnacled face sneering at her. Lydia didn't flinch. Not even a wobble. The fish creature jumped forward and their swords clashed, Lydia smooth and steady while her opponent shook as they struggled to keep their balance. They couldn't beat her. It was only a matter of time until she won. Like she did with every other fight. Dancing down the mask Lydia spun her sword in her fingers as if it was weightless, taunting the creature. It blinked quickly at Lydia's moves, nerves slotting in. Smiling, Lydia brought down her sword in one quick swipe, cutting down the creature and sending them into a cloud of dust.

They faded away expressionless. Lydia only wiped her sword down the crook of her elbow, before stabbing it behind her at the creature that attempted to sneak up on her. Stupid barnacle face. Sliding her sword back into it's handle, Lydia raised her head and felt the breeze push her hair back. When she came here she was scared, she couldn't fight, or just not that well, and she was merely a nervous girl. Things have changed. So had Lydia. Perhaps it's true that death changes a person. You can mourn for years but if the person you mourn for comes back you find they aren't who you loved anymore. The cold bitterness shifts your gaze away from small insignificances.

Yet you never forget who you came here with. Though death tries to make you a new person some things never change. Like love you feel for someone. It could blare into your mind images of the rotting corpse that you are yet it can't overshadow those memories that mean so much. Those meant more to Lydia. Remembering all the good times, like painting in her shop. This place, the locker, supplied the bare minimum yet if you want something it'll pop into the air for you. She guessed Davy couldn't take her complaints that she didn't get any art supplies. It did have it's downsides however.

Like the blazing sun. It was never night here. You could got hours staring at the sun as it relaxed in it's same position. Laughing at you. Lydia wondered if this endless field of white had any water. She'd guessed that's why she was in this location of all places. Her place was the sea, so taking that away was to drive her insane. Though it was hard to drive her insane when her parents were right there to ground her. Comfort her. No matter how many of Davy's men were sent to test her, fight her, she had them for help. She grew used to the visits. So much she'd become such the fighter. A Mahogany was destined to become a seasoned swordsman. Another one of Davy's mistakes. Letting her to stay with her parents who were two of the best Pirates known to man. Silly fishface.

This place was hot. Always day meant the air was always dry. Lydia hadn't seen a pool of water for what must have been weeks, only having her families endless supply they were provided. She couldn't die again so even if the water was taken away she'd still survive. Although the pain of dehydration would last an eternity. Their ship was sat upright on a endless white field. All they could see were the faint mountains in the distance. A baby blue sky reflected off the bright oak of their ship. The ship that died along with her parents. It was just as beautiful as in her dream. Like it was still manned by a full crew, it was neat, tidy and clean, for only three people inhabiting it. Gold accents sat along the railings, just a bit chipped in places but begging to be touched. The masks blew in the wind peacefully. This ship was everything Lydia could have ever imagined. Climbing down to the main deck she heard her father clapping her as she reached the bottom.