A/N- I got nothin' to say for myself, just another offering of my personally hand crafted garbage.
Warnings for this chapter-
-Character death, some of the descriptions get a little graphic.
-Attempted suicide.
Sweet sunny skies and favorable tides soon blessed the Victoria Punk, allowing her to carry cherished family a great distance in shortened time. The new log pose aided them in maintaining steady course, never losing progress despite the expected flash storms or monsoons and stilling previously audible complaints about their navigator's compass being broken or cursed.
Alas, nature is indiscriminate, her small stretch of slumber benefiting more than this lone ship as those aboard were suddenly alerted to incoming danger. Another pirate ship, seemingly headed in the opposite direction though she'd altered course to meet them head on- Clear indication of her crew's desire to fight. Like clockwork, Kid's own crew settled into the usual rhythm of battle, manning their stations like a well oiled machine as they had countless times before. And yet that day's victory would come at the cost of one of their own, win streak meaningless in the face of basic human mortality.
Kid watched on as Fletch thundered his way through the infirmary door with one of the four recruits over his shoulder- Brendan, was it? Something like that. Returning his focus to the spoils of war, he made his way into the opposing ship's bowels, confident in the fact that Beau would patch the bastard back up again and send him on his way. He had half a mind to forego his own visit for her services, but knew she'd simply fuss over his scrapes as they settled for bed. Preferring to be treated in the infirmary where he could better quash unruly desires sparked by tender touch, he dumped the collected portion of communal pickings into their own ship's storage and meandered back up towards his little lady's place of work.
Immediately upon opening the door, unease settled over his skin. Medical supplies were haphazardly strewn about the place, jars of various ointments emptied and discarded as Fletch slowly tried to get a handle on the mess- But a cleaner he was not, awkwardly tossing the refuse into a pile one piece at a time as he spared glances towards their crying doctor. Kid's shoulders tensed- Was she hurt in the conflict? He was sure she'd hidden away in here well before the first shots were fired, had he missed something? Whipping her head around at the sound of his approach, Beau stared up at him with grief stricken face, desperation clear in her eyes as she chewed her lower lip.
"C-Captain! I can't get it all out, I don't know what to do- I can't-" She cried out, gloved hands shaking as she clutched a tray and a pair of tweezers, bloodied pieces of metal and bone littering the steel surface.
It was then that he saw the man she tended to, laying in a daze on the bed as grey eyes flickered their way from side to side wildly. His shirt was torn open, the right side of his torso completely covered in Beau's hand made clotting paste though the shreds of his right pectoral remained uncovered.
"Buckshot, gottim real bad" Fletch explained, moseying over to stand beside his Captain as Beau continued to do her best.
It occurred to him then that he could help- Use his powers to remove any of the metal that remained inside of his subordinate, though there wasn't much he'd be able to do about the shards of bone, or the amount of blood he'd already lost... As if a final breath of air coursed through his veins, the dying man's vision steadied on the face of his tender, blood soaked hand reaching up to shakily dab wet tears away from reddened cheeks.
"Hey," He rasped as Beau set down her utensils and hastily grasped his arm with both her hands, "What're you cryin' for, Munchkin? I-" A rattled cough interrupted him, eyes growing distant again for a moment as he fought for oxygen, "I get to die lookin' at a pretty face, what more could I wan-"
Unable to complete his sentence though intended message was understood, the man's eyes finally glassed over, staring far off into a realm beyond the living as his body grew limp. Beau pressed her cheek to his hand desperately as the press of his fingers disappeared, still clinging to his arm and jostling it gently.
"Don? D-Don?!" She called, releasing her grip on his arm to instead push at his shoulder, "B-Brandon!"
"He's gone, girlie" Fletch sighed, elbowing Kid in the arm and nodding towards Beau.
Brandon? He could've sworn it was Brendan... Kid wasn't usually one to feel guilt at the loss of those he hadn't grown close to, but the fact that Beau knew this man's name and he did not despite knowing him far longer tugged at something inside of him- How long had this guy been on his ship? Months longer than J.C and Rocco, or Beau herself, and yet he'd been too mentally preoccupied to spare a second thought for remaining recruits and their status as potential additions to his crew. There was nothing he could do despite Fletch's insistent nudge, watching silently as Beau peppered the dead man's face with desperate kisses through her continuous stream of tears, futile attempts to bring back what was already lost.
Reality threatened to undo her as panic set in, clinging desperately to the remains of Brandon's tattered shirt as she shook him. She'd never experienced death before- Not like this. On three point island people would come to her for any injuries sustained in day to day tasks, most deaths occurring out of sight or overnight to the fault of accident or age. Never had it been so close and personal, coating her skin with cooling blood and filling sensitive nose with the smell of iron and ammonia. An anguished yowl tore it's way out of her chest, grief palpable as it met the ears of those outside the infirmary and all but summoned them to the scene, filling the decently sized room beyond reasonable capacity as most present began crowding in after each other.
Of course, most of their fellow men had no clue how to handle her frantic howling either, awkwardly watching her sob in a silence that starkly contrasted her own irrepressible cries. None of them ever reacted like this. Sure, there was the odd tear shed by those particularly close to whichever individual met their end, but most of their grieving was done the traditional way- Through partying and punching until the hangover dulled inner pain and physical violence gave them wounds that would actually heal. This was foreign, and though they were getting used to the sweet way she treated them whenever so much as a cut marred their skin, not a single one of them had thought about how she might respond to loss. Would she cry like that for each of them if they fell? Could she even handle living like this, where violence was a certainty with death as it's ultimate price?
Killer's arrival brought an end to the uncomfortable scene, possessing enough social tact to gently peel Beau away from their deceased despite continued protests, working his fingers into her grip and removing tattered fabric from clenched fists. With carefully selected words of reassurance, he peeled bloodied gloves from her hands and turned her away from the mess, pulling her to unsteady feet before simply opting to carry her out of the room, shushed promises of tea and a warm cloth to clean her up doing nothing to calm her as she re-clenched her fists into the fabric of his favorite shirt.
"... Boss?" Heat piped up, looking his frozen Captain over with a cautious stare.
Kid allowed himself another moment to consider his next move. He couldn't bring back the dead, but at least he could honor them. After one final glance at what remained of a man who deserved better from him, he turned to stride out of the room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his brightly patterned pants, pausing in the doorway to give decisive order.
"Prep a raft for him."
With those five words, he'd made it clear that the man was posthumously accepted, his three remaining friends soon to be seen as permanent additions to Kid's hand picked crew. Those more in tune with his way of thinking also knew this was his version of an apology- Of knowing he'd slacked as their Captain, ignoring their efforts and waiting to acknowledge their potential until it was too late for one of them. He wouldn't carry the death with him, Brandon would be gone regardless of his status on the ship, but the negligence expressed over these past few months was his rightful weight to bear.
Making his way towards the Kitchen as the remainder of his crew returned to prior tasks, he wondered what could possibly be done to calm their smallest down. Should he even be approaching her? Or should he simply let Killer deal with her grief? Regardless of what conclusion he might've come to if given more time to think, the redhead soon found himself standing in the doorway, watching silently as Killer wiped blood from Beau's arms and face with a warm soaked cloth. She was a mess, grimacing as she continued to cry through puffy red eyes, prior howls quieted to pained whines as she simply sat and allowed masked friend to tidy her up. Still unsure of exactly what he was doing, Kid awkwardly closed the distance between them, settling a hand atop her head as she looked up at him and sniffed.
"Hey short-" He began, cutting himself off at memory of Rocco's quip about picking a kinder nickname. He mentally scrambled for a fix, spitting out the first word he could come up with that made even a lick of sense without being rude, aware that his several second pause hadn't gone unnoticed, "Cake. Shortcake. Hey."
His blunder seemed to momentarily distract her from the situation, Beau tilting her head lightly under his hand as she questioned his words.
"D-do you," She paused to sniff, Killer quickly passing her a dry cloth to act as much needed handkerchief, "Do you want me to make shortcake, Captain?"
"No, I was just- Forget it. It's stupid." He grumbled, doing his best to ignore the way her ears lowered as he brushed it off.
"He was calling you 'Shortcake' as a nickname," Killer began to clarify, much to his friend's horror, "Because you're tiny and sweet"
Her eyes rose to Kid once more, the occasional hiccup still shaking her core. The eye contact was fleeting as she dipped her sights back to the cloth in her hand, lips set into a hard line as she attempted to avoid further sobs.
"I'm sorry" She eventually squeaked out, "I- I tried, I really tried, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"
Content that he'd cleaned what he could from her skin and hair, Killer tossed his cloth into the kitchen's laundry basket, sighing as he rose to retrieve freshly boiled kettle. His lack of response made it clear to Kid that he was being given his own chance to comfort her, having stalled to a halt at the initial incident. Swallowing, he crouched down below eye level with the sitting woman, reaching up to poke at the tip of her nose with an index finger in order to properly regain her attention.
"Hey, Shortcake, come on. You did everything you could, so it's not on you, promise." He attempted, comforting her over something he couldn't fix with promises of protection or displays of violence proving to be a task he was, expectedly, poorly equipped for.
"But it hurts," She whined, clutching both fists at her chest as she squeezed her handkerchief, "It hurts so much, he's never coming back!"
"Where's it hurt?" he asked, brows furrowing further at the notion she might've hid an injury of her own. One of her hands released it's grip, open palm placed over her heart as he realized her pain was internal. He closed his eyes, sighing out through his nose before asking- "Want me to kiss it better?"
Frantic nodding was her response, all too eager to pull down the neckline of her shirt and expose the skin above inner pain. Kid carefully dipped his head to press painted lips atop her breast, cheeks tinted with the shame of knowing Killer idly watched their sweet exchange. Before he could pull away, Beau wrapped her arms around the back of his head and neck, burying her face in his wild mess of hair as she pressed his startled face to her chest.
"Please," She begged, "Don't ever, ever die! I don't want to l-lose either of you, it'd hurt so much, I don't think I'd be a-able to breathe!"
Kid remained frozen a second longer, face smooshed against soft skin as her words registered. She was scared to lose them. To lose him. Begrudgingly accepting the reversal of their usual embrace, he turned smothered face to the side, resting his ear above her heart and hearing the desperate rhythm it continued to assault her with. He couldn't promise her the safety of his life, or Killer's- It would be a cruel lie, death was just part of living, the common end to every mortal's story. All he could do was wrap his arms around her waist, accepting the iron grip she held him with in silent comfort as she shook and cried.
It was strange in a way, seeing Kid offer up comfort so willingly, but as Killer busied himself with Beau's favorite teapot he found himself smiling under striped mask. The day's tragedy aside, it was still good to see an increase in his friend's emotional range. Removing well steeped mixture after it's allotted time, the blonde carefully moved it to his kitchen table, taking hold of Beau's matching mug in order to offer first pour. She slowly unwrapped herself from Kid's face, giving quiet thanks to Killer as she cupped her mug in both hands and blew on it, offering the initial sip out to Kid before he'd had a chance to stand.
"Oh- uhh," Lacking the heart to deny her, he simply placed his mouth to the mug's edge and sipped, careful not to scald himself by taking in too much, "Thanks"
He finally stood, Shaking out his legs to get rid of the ache from kneeling on a solid wooden floor, and noticed Killer acquiring a third mug, filling it for him as a silent suggestion that he should stay. He took the seat across from his friend without protest, simply accepting the drink as the blonde in turn began nursing his own. Unexpectedly pleasant silence accompanied the trio as they drank, chamomile's soothe aiding their smallest in relaxing as adrenaline worked it's way out of her system and left her drained. Heat's comparatively gentle knock alerted the kitchen's inhabitants of his presence, poking his head in to inform his Captain that preparations were complete.
"You had them prepare a raft?" Killer asked, blue head of hair departing as Kid confirmed they'd be on deck shortly.
"Hm? Yeah. Figured we owed him that much"
"A raft?" Beau asked, unfamiliar with her found family's traditions when it came to honoring dearly departed.
"It's something we do when one of our own dies," Killer began, "We place them in one of the spare rowboats, cover them with a sheet and pour out a bottle of liquor on top before lowering it to the water. Heat then sets it alight, or if he isn't available we light a torch and throw it down, giving them a proper burial at sea. The dead have no use for material possessions, so by using our resources to facilitate such a tradition, we honor their contributions and their place among us"
Beau's eyes remained on her nearly empty mug, nodding in understanding come explanation's end and draining the final sip. With crockery placed in the sink for later cleaning, she followed along as Kid slowly strode for the door.
Somber as the atmosphere was among the gathered crew, no more tears were shed, Beau's own supply exhausted as she quietly held Killer's hand and watched Fletch lower Brandon's funeral vessel to the ocean's surface, aided by a series of pulleys and ropes. He stepped back among his brethren and at Kid's nod the raft was lit, Heat's flames fanning over vodka soaked cloth from high up on the deck, quickly filling the evening air with smoke and ash, the smell of burning flesh unpleasant though more tolerable than the loss of the man who now burned atop the endless ocean. All twelve of them watched in silence as the small rowboat burned away to nothing, final embers falling below the waves with a sizzle as struggling flames were snuffed out.
Free to leave at their own discretion, the gathering thinned in twos and threes, Killer eventually excusing himself to begin dinner's prep work though he insisted Beau need not trouble herself. The desire to argue was there, but her lack of energy prevented much fight, quickly conceding to the blonde's decision and releasing his hand from her grasp. She turned weary eyes to their Captain, his own gaze still locked on the ocean though he spared her a glance as she almost timidly bunted the top of her head against his forearm. Answering her silent request my placing his hand atop her head, he felt the tackiness of dried blood clinging to her locks, remnants of what Killer couldn't wipe away.
"Come on, lemme wash this outta your hair."
A simple offer, but one he hadn't extended since their first shared bathing experience back on Ginko island, aware the tub was far too small for the both of them, the shower more manageable though he avoided it due to the forced proximity it would require. Current circumstances warranted an exception, somber mood more than enough to keep Kid's more carnal urges in check for the time being. A nod confirmed her willingness to take part, hugging the arm she'd bunted for comfort as he lowered the hand from atop her head.
"Captain?" She asked en route to his room, cheek firmly pressed to the arm she held.
"Mm?"
"Can I wash yours, too?"
He pondered innocent request for a moment, before deciding to simply allow himself such gentle reprieve, usually troubled mind lacking enough steam to overthink things to the usual extent.
"... Yeah, I think I'd like that."
Thus Eustass Kid found himself sitting cross legged on the floor of his shower, butt naked for the third time in front of the miniature lady he held begrudging romantic interest in, internally ashamed of how eager he was to feel her fingers against his scalp again. Sighing at the release of tension he hadn't intended to hold, he tilted his head back against Beau's hands, surprised when she bent forwards to place a gentle kiss atop his soapy forehead. How did he end up like this? Why had he never experienced these things? Had life really been holding such comforting things just outside of his reach, taunting him with fears of weakness and vulnerability while others simply enjoyed mutual softness?
No- He'd denied himself those things. Inexperience had led to false assumptions, and as much as he loathed to admit it, he'd robbed himself of such tender contact by labeling it a burden. It was sheer circumstance that led him to this, allowing Beau so close and growing comfortable enough to accept offered tenderness, no longer overcome with the desire to maul her for every gentle touch. He knew for sure now that if they'd met under different conditions, he truly would've loathed her- Possibly even given into the overwhelming urge to squash her like a bug as soon as she showed any sign of pity towards him. He still felt resistance towards the idea of being openly sappy, fearing such things could taint carefully cultivated reputation, but behind closed doors he no longer had reason to squash such things down quite as much, content to enjoy adoration willingly given while reciprocating to the best of his meager ability.
Speaking of such things, it was her turn now, muscled man rising to his feet again despite his urge to ask for more. Ever flustered by how willing she was to share naked presence, he swallowed the lump in his throat and concentrated on lathering fresh scented shampoo through sopping wet hair, attentive enough to properly scrub the areas where lost friend's blood had clumped solid. Kid thanked whatever might be listening that she'd closed her eyes, glad she could be spared the sight of reddened water as it undulated down the shower drain, washing away the last remnants of her perceived failure as water finally ran clear.
"Hey, Beau? We don't got a washcloth in here, but... Mind if I wash your back?" Why was he asking? She'd already done it for him. What, was he scared to touch her? Stupid...
"Ah- Yes please! I... I don't mind if you touch my skin, I'm umm..." She fiddled with nervous fingers in front of her belly, cheeks rosy though their shift in hue remained secret, "I've been curious, a-about how it might feel if you touched my skin l-like that, it's always nice when you trace patterns over my shirt at night, so I thought m-maybe it'd be just as nice?"
Kid blinked once, then twice, unable to form an answer to such an admission though perhaps one wasn't needed. Once sure her hair was thoroughly rinsed, he parted it down the middle and draped it over her front to keep water weighted tresses out of the way. Almost timidly he began secondary task, sliding soap across soft skin and rubbing the suds across both shoulders and spine. Anticipation's tension left her almost immediately, released alongside a soft sigh as calloused palms and fingers glided across her skin, tingling trails left in his wake as she happily pressed back against him. Yes, if it was the Captain's hands, she was safe- She was sure of it now. Only his skin was allowed such proximity, only his eyes were allowed such sights, and as much as she trusted the others aboard to treat her well, she felt a distinct disinterest in engaging such activities with them.
A final rinse should've meant shared shower's end, but much to Kid's horror Beau turned to face him, resting her head against him as tired arms wrapped solid torso in a hug. There was nothing between them, no barrier to prevent the rub of skin on skin as her chest pressed to tensed belly, stunned to utter silence as he scrambled for what to do. She trusted him- Perhaps too much, though he knew not to abuse it, even if he'd craved the closeness in many a wandering thought. In a strange way he felt grateful, as if she'd heard prior desires and was granting his wish, regardless of the thought's impossibility. No, she did it because she wanted to, because such closeness made her happy and his presence was safety incarnate. Giving in, he indulged her desire to simply stand below steaming downpour together, resting one hand atop her soggy head and wrapping his other arm behind shoulders pinked by liquid heat.
Dry and dressed, they milled about Kid's room for a while in mostly silent company, the redhead flicking through recent newspaper in search of anything he might've missed, half sat on his bed and leaning atop piled pillows and the wall as Beau curled against him, damp hair tickling his semi exposed chest.
"Captain?"
"What's up?"
"What's it like to be strong?"
Amber eyes shifted from the paper to the top of her head, the thin fur of her ears still clumping together in little dark patches due to remaining moisture. Knowing a proper answer was needed, he thought for a moment about his own strength- About the thrill of a fight, about victory, remembered the times he'd struggled tooth and nail against the odds and come out on top as him and his crew blazed their way through the grand line, going wherever they wanted and seeing sights unimaginable to those lacking the spine to explore.
"Freeing" He finally offered, content that the one word summarized it all well enough.
A thoughtful hum was her only response, snuggling even closer as she draped free arm across his middle. Feathery touches graced his skin as she mindlessly trailed fingers back and forth, admiring the dips and curves created by years of hard work and endless skirmish. He was so sturdy, so warm, and she wanted nothing more than to remain like this for the rest of time, safely slotted against the person she loved most as he silently flipped through chosen reading material. Supper's call came as eventual interruption, bursting the short lived bubble of peace and leeching positivity from Beau's mood once more as she followed Kid to the dining room.
Killer watched from the corner of his eye as their half Mink friend picked away at her food, aware that grief lessened one's appetite and resolving not to push the matter so long as she at least took in a few mouthfuls. Others lacked such situational awareness however, Sunnie observing the scene with a frown as he inhaled his own meal of fried rice and assorted meats.
"Thought you'd moved up to bigger meals already, how come you ain't eating?" He asked, nonchalantly nodding to Beau's prior trouble with food.
"Oh, sorry I just-" Communal silence became deafening as she cut herself off, spoon lowered to the table much the same as her gaze.
"Hey, I miss him too Munchkin" Came quiet admission from table's end, the man's voice reminding his Captain he'd yet to make things official.
"You three, you got names?" Kid asked after a moment of silence, free arm tucked against Beau's uneased stomach at the requesting tug.
The trio looked at each other for a moment, bewildered that he genuinely didn't know after all these months. What, was he thick? No, they'd seen his intellect at work several times during their stay so far- Maybe his memory was just selective? With a shrug of resignation, one of them raised his hand into the air, twisting the flower-like designs that decorated his upper arms and shoulders.
"I'm Broccoli" He offered, lowering outstretched arm to scratch at ash blonde hair.
"Nu-uh, no way- Too close to Rocco's name." Kid snapped, though it lacked significant bite.
"Call me 'Broc' then if you wa-"
"I'm callin' you 'veggie'. Next?"
"Steak" Said the middle of the three, the same one that'd spoken to Beau, eyes hidden under striped yellow hat that matched the rest of his ridiculous outfit.
"No fuckin' way, forreal?" Their Captain asked, mirth curling his lips at the thought. A nod of confirmation was given, and Kid turned his eyes towards the final man expectantly.
"Albatross. The Munchkin calls me 'Ross' though." Dark tattoos crossed his chest in the shape of chains, completely in line with the ridiculously edgy vibe of the crew as a whole- Minus their smallest, who seemed to prefer the opposite though no complaints were ever voiced.
"So we've got a vegetable, a hunk'a beef and a chicken," Kid mused with an incredulous chuckle, "Oi Killer, reckon they'd make a good pot of stew?!"
"I doubt it, unless you've got a taste for unwashed hair" Rocco quipped, eyeing up Broc's darker locks with the usual amount of suspicion.
"Look man, how many times do I gotta tell you- This is just my natural color. It ain't gonna change no matter how many times I wash it"
"You wash your hair?" Ross poked quietly, words nearly drowning in the drink held to hidden mouth.
A mug to the face later and the usual mood had returned, several more joining their scuffle at the chance to weaponize their utensils, others simply seeking revenge for spilled drink or ruined food. Peaceful chaos, a return to equilibrium after a slight shift in the status quo, and as Killer punched Heat square in the chin for throwing his remaining meal into the air, Beau finally found the appetite needed to finish her own.
Following days were both boringly ordinary and distressingly different, with the same shared chores and communal meals as always, as if Brandon had never been there to begin with though the missing presence left a visible gap in the watch schedule as well as at the dinner table. For most of them it simply triggered the odd moment of pensive thought, a few seconds spared remembering someone they weren't exactly close with but who they acknowledged none the less, possessing the capability to carry on in the face of such events as if they were as common as a bad smell- Unpleasant and preferably avoided, but a guaranteed part of life. It seemed most of grief's burden had fallen on Beau, hiding herself away near the back of the ship or within Vic's mouth to sulk and stare into the sea. Several days of mopey silence translated to irritation for Kid, unable to properly channel concern and festering it instead into offense at her seemingly not wanting to be around him as much as he'd grown accustomed to. Even at night, when he usually claimed her attention solely for himself, she'd settle into whichever position best fit current climate and simply close her eyes, mind entirely elsewhere as her body rested.
'Give her time', Killer said. 'She needs to grieve, these sorts of things are tough for the uninitiated'... Fat load of good that advice did for him, he needed a way to solve the problem, waiting wasn't helping, it just caused him further irritation as he watched her slink around the ship with a vacant expression on her face. Growing tired of being avoided when he'd made considerable effort to be sweet with her in both tamed actions and softer names, the grouchy redhead stomped his way to the front of the ship, finding Beau huddled down next to the railing within his ship's figurehead. Yet again, she stared down towards the ocean, ignoring his approach if she'd even heard it to begin with, earning a firmer frown from Kid as he crossed his arms and stared down at her impatiently.
"You still sulking?" He grumbled out, moving his own eyes to the seas ahead as if disinterested in her presence. Receiving no response, he huffed in irritation and flicked one of his loose coat sleeves towards her, unwilling to harm her but still intent on gaining her attention, "Oi, you in there? Beau. I'm talkin' to you."
The brush of red fur against her upper arm brought unfocused senses back to reality, brown ear nearest Kid flicking as she blinked and turned her face to him, head cocked in silent question for whatever request he may have. There it was again, that half vacant look... As if she was shifting her body towards him while failing to pay proper attention- A far cry from the endless adoration she usually lavished him with. Sucking on his teeth, he swallowed a snarl in favor of disgruntled sigh, tapping a finger against folded arm impatiently as he thought on what to say.
"The fuck's gotten into you?" He settled on, patience too thin to attempt gentler mannerisms.
"How... How is everyone so calm?" She finally asked in response, voice quiet as it carried subtle shake, "Someone died... I don't understand how e-everyone's just acting normal..."
"People die all the fuckin' time, moping around ain't gonna do shit to change that."
"But- Doesn't it hurt?"
"No skin off my nose- I hardly knew the guy. He did a good job but he's gone now, ain't gonna lose sleep missing the dead. If I had that kinda attitude I might as well give up and die." He shrugged. Sure, he held responsibility over the man as a member of his crew, but no one was immortal- Or bulletproof, for that matter. He couldn't understand her view, sure it hurt to lose closer friends but even then it was best to carry on and live, why throw yourself into such a rut and imitate the lifeless?
"Oh..." Came nearly silent response, green eyes dipping back to the ocean at hurtful reply.
Frustrated at the sight of her tuning out again, Kid allowed prior suppressed growl to escape his throat, running tense fingers through wild hair as he thought on what else to say or do, anything to get his little lady to cut it out and go back to the usual affectionate creature he was accustomed to coexisting with. When nothing came to mind, he simply turned on his heel and stormed back from whence he came, butting into people's shoulders as he passed and snapping needlessly at any insignificant issue his eyes happened to land on- Anything to instigate a fight. Maybe if he got roughed up a little, she'd actually fucking look at him for more than five seconds, maybe she'd look at him again rather than right through him as she had these past few days, leaving him feeling invisible on his own damn ship.
Left to her own devices once more, Beau curled closer to the railing, mind busy with it's own roller-coaster of thoughts as she picked through what the Captain had said. Did nobody miss him? Wasn't Brandon their friend? He'd been around just as long as all of the others she'd met on this ship, weren't they all supposed to be in it together? She couldn't understand the distinguishing line between 'recruit' and 'crew-member', not when said 'temporary' people had been around far longer than she had and showed no signs of going anywhere. Or did he mean that this was how they viewed death in general? It couldn't be, could it? She hurt so bad inside her chest, none of her ointments or teas helped it feel better, all they did was numb the skin or cause her to doze off. Then why? Why would no one miss Brandon? Was he just not seen as important enough? Who decided that, the Captain?
Was she unimportant, too?
A girl who could do nothing but mix plants together, cook, and sometimes catch a few fish. She never helped them fight, nor was she really necessary in the kitchen- Even her medicine could be prepared by others if they followed all the notes she'd been keeping and read through the recipes she'd collected. The Captain said Brandon had done a good job- He'd fought hard and worked an equal amount, earning himself a proper funeral at sea as recognition for his effort, and yet no one thought he was worth missing. Beau never fought, she helped tend to the aftermath of battles and could hardly even lift a crate full of groceries, let alone carry it to the appropriate storage location. Half the fish she caught at sea required that someone assist her with reeling once they passed a certain size, she couldn't even reliably practice the one craft Faust had passed onto her.
By the crew's own logic, she wasn't worth missing.
It made her chest hurt worse, and all she wanted was for it to stop. Having never experienced such pains before, she had no guarantee it would ever end, frightened by the prospect of pain that she couldn't avoid no matter how well she behaved or how hard she worked. Any cuts or scrapes she earned in recent weeks had healed so fast, so why wouldn't this heal too? Why did it keep digging at her ribs from the inside, refusing to go away despite the occasional peace she felt by simply staring into the ocean and allowing it to distract her? It'd hurt for days, nothing hurt for days, only when she'd been punished with seastone and forced to heal at slower paces without the aid of force-fed powers.
Staring down into the ocean, a shiver went up her spine. It looked so deep and dark, swallowing sunlight like a starving void as rays failed to pierce it's depths. Was it cold down there? It must be, surely no warmth could reach such deep places, shielding cold blooded fish and other such ocean creatures from a sunburn they'd surely prefer to avoid. How many people were down there, too? Were they eaten by the ocean's inhabitants as they sank below? What about Brandon, could he feel the cold? Did he miss the sunlight? Did everyone who ended up resting beneath the waves simply float along the tides, destined to go wherever the currents chose to carry their remains?
It still hurt.
Would it still hurt if she let the ocean swallow her whole? If she wasn't worth feeling this kind of pain for, then it would be fine, wouldn't it? For her to make such a choice for herself and seek soothing numbness in the sea's darkest depths? The thought caused her teeth to clatter against each other, scared by the thought of death's unanswerable mysteries, but more terrified still by the incessant stabbing pain she felt with every breath. Slowly, Beau rose to her feet with a steady grip on the railing, considering the possibility of simply falling forwards, but dissuaded by the idea of bumping against the ship as she sailed on. Instead, she slowly made her way towards the back of the ship, the crew going about their business as usual and simply allowing her to pass them by in silence as she'd done many times over the past few days. Staring out over the back felt more intimidating than her prior post, the waters choppy in ship's wake and further below the elevated rear end of the deck- But it was ok, wasn't it? She just wanted the hurt to stop, and if she hadn't been able to heal it yet despite being perfectly healthy in every other aspect, she doubted it would ever go away.
Yes, it was alright. This was how it had to be- She'd drift along the currents with countless others, perhaps others who knew that they weren't missed either. With hasty decision made, she climbed her way over the back railing, sitting atop it for a moment longer before simply allowing herself to fall forwards and be welcomed home by salty waters. With her fate all but sealed by her own hand, Beau's mind wandered to the people she left behind, and in that moment experienced regret at the thought of never seeing them again. Ah, she was so stupid- It hurt so bad and she wanted it to stop, but she wished she could've found a way that allowed her to stay with everyone, and with the Captain. Perhaps she could've made herself useful somehow, become someone worth missing. The water was cold, like iced needles against sensitive skin as she sank like a stone, pulled down by the curse of her powers as struggling lungs took in mouthfuls of seawater on sheer reflex alone. It was alright, everything would be alright. No one would hurt her again- Not with their hands, nor in ways she couldn't numb with her various anesthetics. With that final comforting thought in mind, Beau's sight grew dark, not conscious enough to ask whether it was her awareness or the sun's limited rays that faded so quickly beneath the waves.