OMAKE ~ THE TRIANGLE

By: ExNativo

~

There is no how, or why, or who.

It is situated on the Grand Line; where. It has always been; when.

What is it, exactly? Some would say water. Others would say a sea.

The Triangle is so much more than just a simple patch of water.

It is unaware of what it truly is, beyond all that touches its waves. It has no dreams, it has no ambitions. It has no form, nor does it compassion. It is not alive, not dead.

It merely hungers.

Those of flesh and blood discount the damage that The Triangle inflicts upon them with its mere presence. Hiding underneath the illusion of their own strength; The Triangle would laugh at them had it the physical or psychological capability.

The Triangle has broken men and women before. Snapped them apart inside its fog and doomed their vessels to travel alone for the rest of their days. The Triangle feeds on their lies. It swells with every second they deceive themselves.

Mighty warriors, brought to their knees. Their supplies dwindling in their holds. Their bodies tearing themselves apart until nothing remains but bones and dust.

The Triangle isn't alive. It isn't dead. It isn't heroic, and it isn't evil.

All it has ever done is feed.

It's so hungry.

Many who sail into its fog do not make it out. There are those who have escaped its jaws; The Triangle can acknowledge that, and it respects those who manage. The seas are always less turbulent for them for as long as the ocean remembers that respect; they have lived, alive, bested the waters at their worst and the fog at its most dense. Rejected for the rest of their mortal existence or not, the ocean never forgets.

There are those who live in the fog. The Triangle has stopped trying to consume them; they are strong enough to remain, and so remain they shall until they wish to leave.

The Triangle doesn't care.

Perhaps if The Triangle could wish, it would wish that it could care.

The Triangle can't wish. It can't care.

The Triangle is hungry. It's always hungry, but now that a meal has escaped, it can feel the hunger down to the bottom of its trenches. The ships have long since left its borders, so when another appears above, the waters flatten out beyond what nature would entail.

The Triangle isn't part of nature. It isn't natural.

This new ship is resilient. Only a handful of occupants are bothered by The Triangle's fog, so it decides to put some more effort in. The tougher humans are always the tastiest, and The Triangle hasn't had a decent meal in decades.

Not since the musicians.

At first, it is almost working. Tensions are running high, though The Triangle can tell that it is only the catalyst. Something else is in play on this ship, and just as the fog descends on what has become its first true objective, vibrations cause it to fall short.

Singing. And not just any singing...

The Triangle doesn't know what to do. It knows nothing beyond what has existed within itself, and this ship has since lost its crew.

The throne's abdication was felt the world over.

So how could the King possibly be atop The Triangle?

The singing from the ship has grown rambunctious. The Triangle can tell that it has lost this meal, but somehow, it still feels full.

The song can be felt by their ship. It can be felt by the air. The Triangle can feel this crew, these legends in all but reputation, cutting through the waters that have already been opened up for them.

For the first time since it has known itself, The Triangle's fog turns yellow. From the depths, The Triangle can feel the meals it has consumed rise for the surface.

They have been summoned by their King. And thus, for the first time, The Triangle allows the souls within itself to ascend.

The water isn't empty. The trenches run deep. The many sunken ships are a welcomed weight upon the bottom of The Triangle.

The Triangle is much more than a patch of water. For example; currently, The Triangle is the destination of the most momentous party in action.

The Triangle doesn't know what the feel. The Triangle is unable to feel.

It writhes, it swells, it breaks. It feasts and it famines.

But, perhaps for the first time, it does not hunger.