Zypher lounged in the hammock strung across the front quarterdeck, his brow furrowed in frustration as he stared out at the vast expanse of the open sea. The salty breeze tousled his dark hair, but he paid it no mind, his thoughts consumed by the missed opportunity earlier that day. His fingers idly traced the edges of the hammock as he replayed the events in his mind, cursing himself for letting the chance slip through his fingers. The dagger, a tantalizing prize, now seemed further out of reach than ever. A growl of annoyance escaped his lips as he leaned back, the rhythmic creak of the ship’s timbers providing a backdrop to his mounting frustration. Though his pointed ears caught the approaching sound of footsteps rushing up the wooden planks of the stairs. Coming from the main deck to the quarter deck. Soon enough, he heard a voice.
“Oi, Zyph,” Mciver called up, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. Zypher glanced down, his annoyance momentarily interrupted by the interruption. “What is it, Mciver?” he grumbled, not bothering to hide his irritation. Mciver leaned against the railing, his expression animated as he relayed the news.
“Mate, you won’t believe what’s brewing down in the kitchens,” he began, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Captains got his hands full with a stowaway. And get this—she’s the same lass who nabbed that fancy dagger everyone’s been yakking about.” Zyphers eyes widened just a bit now. He had not yet mentioned to anyone the dagger in which he’d tried to steal previously in the day. Perhaps the crew had caught wind of the missing dagger while out and about the port.
Zypher sat up in the hammock with a grunt, throwing his legs over the side of it and looking down at Mciver fully now. “Really?” He played along.
“Yup! and get this,” Mciver continued, a chuckle bubbling in his throat. “I actually ran into her at the tavern earlier. Redhead, tried to make a pass at her. Spicy little thing, she is.” He paused, relishing the memory. “She seemed into it.” Mciver winked and let out a laugh. Zypher rolled his eyes, grabbing the edge of the hammock and dropping his body from it, hanging for a second, and letting it go, gently landing on his feet. His boots making a thud on the wood. This would be interesting.
Zypher walked past Mciver, who followed alongside him, still yapping his jaws.
“Im tellin ya’ under that cloak of hers is probably a hell of a body. Cap’s keepin’ her on the ship.” He let out a low chuckle as he send a playful elbow to Zyphers side.Mciver’s relentless chatter trailing alongside him like an annoying echo. The man’s crude remarks grated against his nerves, each word laced with a repugnant suggestion that made Zypher’s skin crawl. “Don’t worry, I’ll send her your way after I’m done with her.” The perverted man cooed.
Zypher turned on his heel to face him, eyeing daggers at him. “Are you done?” Zypher’s voice was laced with icy disdain, each word dripping with scorn. His demeanor radiated an unmistakable warning, “Because if you think i-”
“Zypher.”
His fathers voice cut between him and Mciver like a knife. He looked down onto the main deck from where he stood at mcivers throat at the top of the steps. His father stood just out of the doors locked eyes with him for only a moment before turning and making way up the stairs of the opposite quarterdeck, headed to the stateroom. Zypher let out a huff and jabbed a finger at Mciver. “You’re better than that.” He growled. Then, he descended the steps, following the captain.
Zypher followed far behind. Reaching the stateroom around a minute after the captain himself did. Zypher let himself in. The room was dimly lit by flickering lanterns, casting dancing shadows across the walls adorned with nautical maps and weathered charts. At the center of the room, the captain stood by his sturdy oak desk, the worn surface littered with scattered parchments and a well-worn logbook. The captain’s silhouette was illuminated by the warm glow of a lantern, casting a halo of light around him as he poured himself a generous measure of rum from a crystal decanter.
As Zypher approached, the captain glanced up from his drink, his piercing gaze meeting Zypher’s with unwavering intensity. The weight of his father’s stare hung heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the expectations that loomed over Zypher’s shoulders.
“I’m sure Mciver has informed you of our little pest?”
“He has.”Zypher replied evenly, his voice calm despite the turmoil swirling within him. He took a seat in one of his father’s leather armchairs. As Zypher settled into it, the creak of aged wood echoed in the somber silence of the stateroom.His gaze flickered towards the bottle of rum on the desk, but he made no move to reach for it.
“None for me?”Zypher’s tone was light, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words as he nodded towards the bottle. His father corked it back off with a sharp motion, his expression unreadable.
“You have a problem,” the captain stated bluntly, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with his son.
“I wonder why,” Zypher retorted, his voice laced with bitterness as he met his father’s gaze head-on. His father knew the root of the problem. It was him. The tension between them was palpable, thickening the air in the room as they stood in a silent standoff. Roland broke the gaze first.Zypher watched him still, a mixture of resentment and frustration simmering beneath his composed exterior.
Captain Roland O’neil sighs a deep sigh. He lowered the decanter of rum onto the polished surface of his desk, the amber liquid swirling gently inside as he raised his glass to his lips. He then opens the drawer of his desk, pulling out the oh so familiar velvet box. “She stole this from Yarrowton’s blacksmith,” Roland announced, his voice carrying a mixture of frustration and begrudging admiration. With a subtle gesture, he nudged the box toward the edge of his desk, a silent invitation for his son to inspect its contents..With a delicate touch, he lifted the lid for the second time today, revealing the gleaming dagger nestled within its protective casing. The blade shimmered in the dim light of the cabin.. Zypher’s fingers closed around the hilt. He felt the familiar weight in his palm.
“Chameleon Metal.”
“FaeCrafted” Zypher adds on. He actually takes the time to examine it now. Partially so that his father doesn’t think he’s seen it already, and partially to admire it properly this go round. The metal shimmered under the soft glow of the cabin’s lanterns, its surface displaying a mesmerizing array of colors that seemed to shift and dance with each movement.
Roland quirks a brow, bringing his glass away from his lips. He eyed his son with a look of amusement. “I forget you’re smart. Like your mother.” Zypher clenched his jaw. He hated when his father mentioned his late wife. His mother had been a beacon of light in his life, her fae heritage infusing him with a sense of wonder and magic that had shaped his worldview from a young age. Her absence had left a void that nothing could ever hope to fill, leaving Zypher to navigate the complexities of his dual heritage alone. He missed his mother. Her death caused this. All of this..
Zypher carefully replaced the dagger in its case, his movements deliberate as he closed the lid. “Impressive. Though I suppose she did get caught. Just not by the guards. I heard it stabbed her?” he remarked, his tone casual despite the underlying curiosity.
“Worried?” Roland inquired, his gaze piercing as he studied his son’s reaction.
“Not at all,” Zypher replied coolly, shifting his weight against the back of the chair. “Why am I here?”
Leaning back in his chair, he regarded Zypher with a steady gaze, as if silently daring him to challenge his judgment. “She stole this. She must be at least half-decent,” he added, the implication clear that he saw potential in the audacious thief.. Zypher quirked a brow at this, watching as his father drained his glass.
“I’ve put her under contract.”
“She’s a woman.”
“That she is.” Roland huffed out a laugh. “Since when are you sexist?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Zypher hurried to clarify, sensing his father’s misunderstanding. “I meant she’s the only woman.”
“There’s Chef,” Roland pointed out.
“Chef is also well into her nineties,” Zypher countered, his frustration evident. “She won’t last. The crew—Mciver alone!”
“-Won’t lay a hand on her,” Roland interjected, his tone firm as he raised an open palm to halt Zypher’s worried rant. “By the gods, Zypher. She is not going to be a pet.``Roland leaned back in his chair, regarding Zypher with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You underestimate the crew. They may be rough around the edges, but they have their own code of honor.”
Zypher remained unconvinced, his brow furrowed in skepticism. “And you expect me to believe they’ll abide by that? You know as well as I do what can happen on a ship with no other women aboard.″A hint of frustration flickered across Roland’s features, but he maintained his composure.
“If you are so concerned, Zypher,” Roland began with a tone tinged with frustration, “then help keep an eye on her yourself. I have better things to worry about.” Zypher felt a wave of annoyance wash over him. If his father cared so little, why didn’t he just toss her overboard? Why bother with her at all? He suppressed a sigh, opting instead to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Zypher drew in a breath, and started to argue when he was cut off again.
“Enough, Zypher,” Roland said, his tone firm. “You have your orders. I need you to attend to your duties. The girl should be arriving at my office shortly.” He gestured towards the door, indicating that their conversation was over and it was time for Zypher to leave.
ns216.73.216.133da2
and then Add to home screen.