Ok, hold it! No! Shush! You in the back, shush! Don't make me sick Digger on you! Shush! Zip it!
Before anyone berates me for not updating any of my other stories, Forced especially, please take notice of this. I can't take full credit for this story. Me and my sister, you may know her as IceAgeCrew, came up with this. Erm, kind. I came up with the general foggy beginnings of this plot, she started writing it, and I've been helping her edit and perfect it.
…There's also the issue that she has confidence issues, and said 'They won't like it as much if I post it! You post it! You have fans!' and I'm like, uuuuuh… dunno of I have any 'fans', but since I love my sis I'm gonna post it for ya'll, and hope you leave a nice little review! ^.^ or a big review, I don't really care 'bout review size XD but you should review regardless! XD
ALSO! Shoutout to two of the most awesome authors I know, KaylaDestroyer for her new fic 'Rescued Us', and to The What-If Writer, for her new fic 'Going Under'. Both of these stories are mega-awesome, and you should totally check them out!
I, unfortunately, don't own Ice Age! :'(
Onto the story!
Morning on a pirate ship was often an orderly thing. The crew would be going about the newly swabbed deck at exactly six a.m., just as the sun was first pecking over the horizon, setting everything in order, straightening and sharpening weapons, inspecting the fruit storage, abandoning any rotted morsels over the edge. One individual would often prepare a morning meal, a simple, nutritious breakfast to fuel them for a day of hard work and grueling exercises to hone their skills of weaponry. It was especially this way on one particular ship.
However… not this morning.
Identical twins Ruth and Vic stretched themselves awake at noon. The slightly older twin glanced over at her sleeping sister, stretching her long, elegant arms high above her head, before swinging a perfectly manicured hand through her long, perfect honey colored locks. "Ah…" she stood up slowly, placing both hands on her spine and bending over backward, her movements fluid and graceful. "Mm…" smiling, she tapped her sister thrice on the forehead.
Vic's pale blue eyes blinked open, and instantly she smiled. "Today's the day."
"Yep."
"Let's get ready."
She sat up, running her hands, equally well-manicured, through her hair, before standing and stretching herself with practiced grace. Her older sister by thirteen minutes handed her a comb, carved of a thick, smooth substance; moose antler, if she remembered correctly. She and Ruth sat before their vanity area, a large, oval piece of pearl, hammered done and perfectly smooth so they could see their reflections, and twin chairs, and various devices for touch ups. They brushed one another's hair, just as they did every morning. Then they began styling, Ruth giving her sister a thick, fancy French style braid that kept all bangs out of her face, while Vic tended to her face, making sure to curl her eyelashes with impossible precision with her long nails, knowing one slip up could take her eye out. She gave herself a dusting of purplish blue powder made from ground up flower petals, just above her eyes, just a ghost of it. She sliced a strawberry in half and used the juicy inside to gloss her lips.
Then her braid was done, and they switched positions, Ruth putting on subtle touch ups on her own eyes, while Vic braided her hair back in a complicated fishtail. They were identical, with honey blond fur and pale, pale crystalline blue eyes, full lips, high cheek bones and long eyelashes, blessed with their mother's beautiful figure, and daily, rather harsh excessive exercise kept them toned and perfectly built- in short, puberty had been very, very kind to them. Everything about them was exactly alike, from their make up to their height to the little rain drop shaped birthmark on their right temple. With their hair down, it was virtually impossible to tell them apart; without their slightly different hair styles, no one would have a clue who was who. But that was ok, it had always been that day. They had always been a pair, a package deal, they were always Ruth and Vic, always Vic and Ruth, never Vic and Ruth, never Ruth and Vic.
"Kay sis" Ruth grabbed her sisters hand, smiling at her, affectionately tucking a stray strand of hair, left out on purpose, behind her ear. Vic grinned, returning the gesture. "You ready?"
"You betcha."
"Great. Then let's go."
Just as they were making their way up to the top deck, a squealing ball of pinkish-purple fur came flying at them, grabbing Ruth's right ankle, Vic's left, hugging them. The twins smirked at the little kangaroo joey, Vic reaching down and grabbing her arm, setting her on her feet. "Woah there Mira- where's the tsunami?"
She giggled, her bronze eyes wide and happy with childish innocence. She was a good bit younger than anyone else on the crew; when the twins were ten, as was the rest of their generation, Mira's older brother had died in a terrible accident involving a hurricane water tornado and a big sword, and so Mira had hurriedly been conceived as a replacement. "Happy birth-a-day, Ruthie! Vicky!" Ruth smiled tightly, as did her sister, none-too-fond of those nicknames. "Are ya excited?!"
"Oh, no doubt" Vic put the small child on her shoulder, where she perched like a parrot, hugging her neck with her small arms. "We get to be in charge for the week! What's not to love?"
Ruth smiled widely, her grin suddenly wolfish, hungry. "Yep. So, Co-Captain Vicious, what's our first order of business?" Vic smirked as they made it to the above deck, decorated for the occasion.
"Happy birthday, girls."
Both gasped. "Omigosh, DADDY!"
Forgetting their composure, the twins charged their father in disbelief. After all, this was their mother's ship. There were plenty of pirate crew that sailed the ocean, and everyone once in a while, two of the same species would meet up, and a romance would spark. In this particular case, their parents had been lucky enough to be blessed with twins; one to take over each of their ship's when it finally came to that time. Of course, that meant there were a few issues regarding custody, but it was simple, one month with their mother, one with their father, and repeat. But it was the middle of the month!
The sisters couldn't help giggling at how easily they were picked up, one balanced on each of his strong arms, arms around his neck and purposefully ruining his… eccentric, hair. "Oh wow, what are you doing here?!" he deposited his firstborn back on the floor, before releasing Vicious.
"Yeah, we didn't think you'd make it!"
"Pfft, yeah right. Like he's gonna miss his 'precious little girls' sweet sixteen." A sarcastic, snide voice remarked from nearby, scoffing. Both glanced down, before squealing gleefully and making a grab at the little gray thing. "Ask! Hey! Put me down!" he ordered, waving his knife. "Oh gross, no, don't!"
Ruth held up the squirming ball of first, and her sister leaned in teasingly, smacking her puckered lips against his cheek, drawing out the smooching sound to annoy. "Mmmm-wah!"
"Ewwww! Gross! She kissed me!"
He was so busy complaining be didn't notice being transferred to a different hand, and didn't notice the other girl leaning down until her strawberry-glossed lips smacked against his other cheek with another loud smooch.
"Oh, they both kissed me!" he screamed. "Gross! I'm infected! Contaminated! I've got girl germs! GETTUM' OFF!" as he ran off screaming and wiping his face in disgust, the twins shared a giggling spell.
"Doing that to him never gets old!"
"Now girls," their mother approached, laying a hand on each of their shoulders, standing between them. "Focus. This is an extremely important responsibility, and any mistakes can be fatal" her blue eyes sharpened, and she held up one hand, spouting her long, perfect claws. Painted blood red and professionally sharpened, they could easily be made into murder weapons. And they had, quite often. "Are you sure I can trust you to take care of this ship? This your home, my home, and the home of fifty generations of pirates before us. It's a precious heirloom- you know that, right?"
"Of course, ma." Ruthless assured, though looking a bit distracted. Her mother looked different than usual; her hair was down, lose and falling past her shoulders, down to her waist. She almost always had it in small braids and wrapped up in a formal bun on her head. They noticed her hat was gone too; a fancy tricorner piece sewn of black animal hide leather, decorated with pearls and various jewels. "You've only been telling us that since we could walk."
"Well, I'm going to keep saying it till its drilled into your thick heads!" she snapped, minisce amount of patience already gone. "I swear, you're both as bull-headed as your father! You hear what you want and that's it!"
"Aw ma, that aint't true!"
"Anyway" she continued, composing herself. "I'm gonna hope and pray you two studied up on steering. If there is so much as one scratch on my ship when you're through with it" she held up two fists, showing off her deadliest weapons. "You will regret it."
"Y- Yes ma'am." They both agreed, a bit uneasily.
It was at this moment that another familiar face arrived. Their father's weapons mistress, a mean, temperamental kangaroo jill, surprisingly tall for her gender, suddenly hopped into view, nodding at each of the girls, her expression cool but her eyes betraying her emotion. In her arms she cradled a wooden box, delicately carved, maybe a foot long and half as tall. The corners of her mouth pulled up in a smirk and she opened it, revealing the contents.
Ruth's pale blue eyes widened drastically. "Oh my…"
"Gosh…"
The inside was nothing special to the common eye, but to two girls raised under Pirate culture for sixteen years, it was the biggest deal in the history of their lives.
Twin hats, mini-versions of their mother's, tailored to fit them, as they were just over three quarters the size of an adult, and not as bedazzled. Simple tricorner pieces of fine brown leather, the top brims studded with white pearls, and at the front and center, black pearls formed the traditional skull and cross bones.
"Oh… I…"
"We…"
"Say… what…"
"Dunno…"
Ruthless moistened her lips, before violently rubbing her eyes on her wrists. No, it was still there! This was really happening!
Scytha laughed at her twins' shock. "For the condemning of the krakken!" with grace and precision, she flicked both articles up, swiftly depositing one to each of her daughter's. "There…" she stepped back to admire them, adjusting their crowning pieces. Then she shocked everyone by dipping her head. Both Ruthless and Vicious gaped in disbelief. You didn't just bow your head to anyone! "You're ready."
…
Vic leaned heavily on the helm, one elbow down on the wide, polished wood, hand supporting her forehead, trying to rub her headache away, glaring at the cheerily twinkling stars beginning to appear in the twilight sky as her other arm dangled at the side. She was practically sick with nerves, her stomach long since having turned into a mosh pit of narwhals. It felt like there were cannons being fired in her head, and the ammo was now bouncing around her skull. Needless to say, ouch.
The ship seemed far too quiet with her parents both gone. They, and the adults of both crews, had left on their father's berg, heading off to one of the pirates' islands, saying something about trading. That wasn't uncommon out here; crews would trade maps, foods, medicines, weapons, various other supplies,and sometimes, crewmates. She wondered briefly what they were trading… probably the overabundance dragon fruit they'd accumulated last week from a newfound grove.
Her head pounded, and she rubbed harder. Double ow…
"Uh… Captain?"
It took her a moment to realize the voice was addressing her. This was ä rite of passage, a test. Once the heir, heirs in this case, to the title of captain to a ship, reached the age of sixteen, the adults were left at an island for a week, and the teenagers were left to govern the ship for a week, to manage it, handle it. It was also training for when the time came for them to take over; permanently. This was the single most important test in their lives; it was pass or fail, and if they were to fail, the punishment for them all was disownment and death.
"Um, yeah Xenia?"
The possum wore half a carefully carved wooden mask to fit perfectly over the left side of her face, carved to mimic it perfectly, hiding what was horribly burnt and scarred, the fur forever charred away and a few layers of skin gone forever, along with her eye. She still kept it, oddly enough, having managed to salvage it during the accident, pickled in a carved stone jar in her room. "Uh, Captain Ruthless says you're takin' us off course."
"Huh? Oh, oh yeah. Right." She tugged at the helm, heaving it a few inches to the right.
"Erm, Captain ma'am?" though they'd been friends for life, Vicious was known for her ferocious temper, inherited from her father. "That's northeast…"
"Gah!" she shoved it the other way, and they tilted drastically a moment, before the ship corrected itself. "Oh jeez…" she fell forward, hands raking into her hair, thumbs jamming violently into her temples. That only made the ringing in her ears worse. "Xenia, tell Klin ta get his sorry tail up here. Now. And yell at Sade to make me some hot milk."
The possum skittered away to do as told with an obedient "Aye aye Captain!"
As soon as the wolverine known as Klin, younger than her by only two weeks, arrived at the helm, she barked an order to keep them on course through the night. "And at three, go 'head and wake up Sade ta take over."
"Yes captain."
Feeling uncharacteristically cranky, she grabbed herself a bowl of sautéd grilled banana drizzled with strawberry juice, and found herself retiring to her bedroom. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't long before she could hear her sisters' smooth, flawless voice singing one of her favorite songs and cheery music from above deck. Sighing, she forced her supper down as quickly as she could without choking, before abandoning her wooden bowl and spoon on the floor beside her bed. She lay down on her bed, made of leaves and cotton, shoving her thick fur blanket to the floor, letting the cold air creep over her.
She wondered if she'd make it through the week. She didn't know is she could do this. Sure, she'd been in training since the day she could walk three steps on her own, back when she was still teething, back when she was still a thumb-sucking diaper brat. Sixteen years' worth of training to get her ready for today. But she still wasn't ready. And this wasn't even the worst of it. Someday, that is, if she passed the test, she'd either be taking over this ship or her father's, and would be expected to lead the crew all on her own. Ruthless wouldn't be there to help her. That scared her, that thought right there, to think in just two years she'd bid farewell to her sister.
'No.' She shivered. 'Pirates don't show fear…' she mentally reprimanded herself. 'They don't show it, and they don't feel it.'
She snorted.
Well, she wasn't a real pirate yet, not till she passed this initiation test.
If she passed.
No fear. No fear. No fear. No. Fear. None.
None.
Well, there you have it! Like I said, leave a big fat review! Or a small, skinny one. Or, ya know, just an average run-of-the-mill review.