Modus Vivendi
Part XXI: Seaborne
"When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves."
It was a year ago when tales of Aurora had reached Reaver's ears. They'd called it the land of gold. Everything there was beautiful, they said. Pure. Untouched. The people laid in a hedonistic paradise, an epicurean wonderland filled with fruits that melted in your mouth, women and men that were far more hauntingly gorgeous than those of Albion. It was a place of true beauty.
Reaver wanted that. The place, to him, seemed rich for plunder, for pillage. It also seemed unreal, a tale to taunt sailors and pirates with something they could not have.
There was no perfect place. The destruction of Oakvale had proved that to him.
On his ship, The Reaver, the sea seemed to stretch around him endlessly, a deep, ethereal blue that would never change.
Around, his crew sang as they heaved their workload.
"Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree,
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three?"
Reaver didn't believe in this epicurean wonderland. He wasn't sure he wanted to. It reminded him a great deal of Oakvale. Of the gold stalks of wheat, and the black ravens over Ariadne's home, of books with Oroboros on the cover. It reminded him of a young woman with long blonde hair and eyes like the sea around him.
The Reaver rocked back and forth. His hands were sweaty on the wheel of the ship, a casualty of the summer's sun above him. Reaver had considered steering the ship naked, but decided against the idea. He didn't need to give the crew another reason to be distracted.
"Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be,
If we met up at midnight,
In the Hanging Tree."
There were clouds in the sky, he noticed. A storm on the horizon. It seemed fitting, for him, for his mood. There were clouds in his emotions, too. He'd have Reed steer the ship when the time came, Avo knew it was the only thing the stupid little man was good for.
"Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree,
Where the dead man called out,
For his love to flee?"
Reed had predicted that they would be upon Aurora on the morrow, and Reaver could already imagine how it would be. There would be a small desert-bound village for the taking, a place they could plunder and pillage.
Perhaps he could let it burn.
Nothing should have reminded him of Oakvale. Nothing deserved to remind him of Oakvale.
"Strange things did happen there,
No stranger would it be,
If we met up at midnight,
In the Hanging Tree."
Sea-salt sprayed the sides of the ship, and the sea that reminded him so much of her eyes began to become unsettling. The waves were like great jagged rocks, the crew ran from mast to mast, their song a staccato of rising crescendo.
He could spot Reed from afar, helping three other men and one woman pull the rope, the sails rising to half-mast in a tumble of pale white. The white of bones.
"Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree,
Where I told you to run,
So we'd both be free?"
It was beginning to rain. Reaver could feel it, the lightest touch of pressure against his cheeks, the chill that came with ocean rain. And then he heard it, the sky rolling and rumbling as though it had been cracked in two like a great egg.
He hated rain.
"Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be,
If we met up at midnight,
In the Hanging Tree."
Reaver stepped away from the wheel, and called Reed up to take over, and retreated to his cabins with a glass of fine wine.
The morrow would bring Aurora, he thought.
The morrow would bring sun.
"Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree,
Wear a necklace of rope,
Side by side with me."
He dreamed of Sibyl that night.
I IS SORRY FOR CRAPPY CHAPTER AND LONG WAIT.
FORGIVE ME!11!1!
Anyway, I'm going through yet another fine bout of Writer's Block. (damn you!) And not to mention, school began again a couple of weeks ago. So… y'know. Tests. Homework. Teenager angst. Boyfriend issues. Blah, blah, blah.
BTW, the song featured in this chapter of MV is The Hanging Tree song in Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games. Not mine. I'm bad at songwriting. I like the song and it fits well with this depressive chapter.
So poo.
Feedback is appreciated.