A/N: Hello everybody! I know it's late, but with the crapload of stories I am working on, I have to put time into all of them. Oh, and I have a favour to ask of those reading... could you go check out my story "What If?" It's my very first one, I've edited some of it and posted the first
chapter of it. Anyhow, on with the story!
*thoughts*
I don't own Dragonballz
~*~*~*~*~
"Bulma..."
The blue-haired young woman turned her head sharply. Once again, the voice she presumed to come from Zenith had no physical body, and never repeated itself.
*I'm losing it... I must be... there's no other explanation... unless he's trying to talk to me from wherever he is... but that's impossible.*
Looking down, she could see that the crew of the Suzanna-Iris had assembled on deck, with everything that the ship carried. It wasn't a lot, the Griffin was running out of supplies when Yamucha's ship had come into view. She saw Yamucha barking out orders, and pirates soon
flitted from the Griffin onto their own ship, coming back to take parts of the ship that were inlaid with valuable metals.
Bulma still sat on the netting, even as everyone boarded the Suzanna-Iris. There was one person left on the ship, a dark skinned man who looked as if he didn't know when to stop eating.
"Hullo up there, you planning on joining us or are you just going to stay?"
Bulma glared fiercely at the man, but her look was lost, as she was too high for him to see. Her words, however, were not lost, for her voice was powerful.
"I do as I please, did I not mention that?"
"I was merely asking."
"Leave me be. I will join your crew later. What is your name?"
"Popo."
"Very well then Popo, goodbye."
The rotund pirate made his way to the Suzanna-Iris, and Bulma then noticed something that was rather strange about him. He was garbed in materials with twirling patterns, bright colours and even an array of jewels. To us it would be recognized as Arabian.
*I'm surprised his shipmates don't tear his clothes off his back! Where in this world did he get that kind of clothing? It's odd, very odd. I don't understand it at all. He's not from around where we've been sailing, that's for certain. His skin is much too dark, then again...*
Bulma looked at her own skin, and found that it was MUCH darker than before, though not nearly as dark as Mr. Popo's. It certainly wasn't the pale tone she had when she lived with Maelyn. She was completely bronze, perfect all over, not one difference in shade.
*My parents must have been models or something...*
The puzzled woman took a loose rope from up top and swung over to the Suzanna-Iris, causing some of the pirates to stare when she landed gracefully on the deck.
*I'm going to have to get Yamucha to clear out a room for me... it shouldn't be TOO hard.*
Bulma found Yamucha barking out orders to his crew, and waited patiently for him to breathe. It did, however, surprise Bulma that she had any such patience left. It had already taken them far too long to take the supplies off the Griffin, at least in her opinion.
"Yamucha."
"Yeah?"
"How many spare rooms do you have?"
"None."
"I don't believe that's the answer I want to hear at this point."
"None at the moment. I'll ready you one as soon as I can."
"And just how soon is that?" inquired the siren, pointedly showing Yamucha the hilt of her dagger.
"Right about now." the captain answered hastily. He walked below deck, Bulma right on his heels, intimidating him greatly. Yamucha told the first pirate walking by that he would have to share his room with another crew member.
"Oh, that's fine. I hope you enjoy the decor, Bulma."
"I imagine I might, Popo."
Truth be told, Bulma almost smiled at the prospect of getting Popo's room. She guessed it would be filled with a myriad of intricate colours and designs, much like his clothing. It fascinated her, everything was usually so plain, boring and dreary.
*Maybe that's why I can't think straight these days, I haven't seen any colour for years.*
Captain Yamucha stopped at a door where a small, golden elephant was pinned on the door. Opening it, Yamucha was thrown aside by Bulma, none to gently I might add. A small rug was on the floor, with patterns of what seemed to Bulma a far off land... or even world. The whole room brought a smile to her lips, and not a malicious one, but a true smile of appreciation.
"It's absolutely perfect. Give Popo my thanks."
Yamucha simply nodded and left, not wanting to put the savage siren in a bad mood. Bulma sat on the cot that was there, thrilled to actually have blankets again. Curling up, she immediately drifted off to sleep, due to exhaustion and the fact that she had cut out too much rest time for the amount of training she had been doing.
When she woke, Bulma found herself staring into the face of her lost love. She parted her lips as he came closer...
"Bulma?"
The image vanished, and the blue haired warrior was now truly realizing how badly things were.
*Can I even get over this?*
She turned in the direction of the voice and saw a green skinned man with pointy ears. He must have been over six feet tall, and he had to duck just to stand in the doorway.
"What do you want." Bulma snapped, trying to hide her uneasiness.
"You were talking in your sleep. The whole crew heard it."
*Oh shit.* "What did I say?"
"Let's just say that almost everyone is deathly afraid of you-"
"As they should be."
"and some are experiencing mental breakdowns."
"What exactly did I say?"
"You kept repeating 'I'll take your blood and paint a picture, take your heart and give it to him, your hairs as my brush, your skin as my canvas.' over and over."
Bulma's face went pale and she started shaking. Tears, tears she vowed not to shed while in the presence of others were falling from her eyes. The tall man came forward and put a hand on her
shoulder.
"Don't touch me. Tell me your name."
"My name is Piccolo."
The blue-haired siren gave a dry chuckle through her tears, then spoke.
"Hello Piccolo. The reason you shouldn't touch me is because I'm completely insane. I also don't think there's a cure. You might catch it."
"You can't catch a mental illness from physical contact."
Upon hearing this, Bulma flung herself into Piccolo's arms, to his great shock. Crying away and burying her face in his chest, she clung onto him as if he was her only hope... and at that point, he probably was.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Disturbing? It was meant to be. Somewhat anyways. And yes, I know you're all waiting for Vegeta. He will come, in due time, as will many others, just you wait and see. Please review and have a nice day.
chapter of it. Anyhow, on with the story!
*thoughts*
I don't own Dragonballz
~*~*~*~*~
"Bulma..."
The blue-haired young woman turned her head sharply. Once again, the voice she presumed to come from Zenith had no physical body, and never repeated itself.
*I'm losing it... I must be... there's no other explanation... unless he's trying to talk to me from wherever he is... but that's impossible.*
Looking down, she could see that the crew of the Suzanna-Iris had assembled on deck, with everything that the ship carried. It wasn't a lot, the Griffin was running out of supplies when Yamucha's ship had come into view. She saw Yamucha barking out orders, and pirates soon
flitted from the Griffin onto their own ship, coming back to take parts of the ship that were inlaid with valuable metals.
Bulma still sat on the netting, even as everyone boarded the Suzanna-Iris. There was one person left on the ship, a dark skinned man who looked as if he didn't know when to stop eating.
"Hullo up there, you planning on joining us or are you just going to stay?"
Bulma glared fiercely at the man, but her look was lost, as she was too high for him to see. Her words, however, were not lost, for her voice was powerful.
"I do as I please, did I not mention that?"
"I was merely asking."
"Leave me be. I will join your crew later. What is your name?"
"Popo."
"Very well then Popo, goodbye."
The rotund pirate made his way to the Suzanna-Iris, and Bulma then noticed something that was rather strange about him. He was garbed in materials with twirling patterns, bright colours and even an array of jewels. To us it would be recognized as Arabian.
*I'm surprised his shipmates don't tear his clothes off his back! Where in this world did he get that kind of clothing? It's odd, very odd. I don't understand it at all. He's not from around where we've been sailing, that's for certain. His skin is much too dark, then again...*
Bulma looked at her own skin, and found that it was MUCH darker than before, though not nearly as dark as Mr. Popo's. It certainly wasn't the pale tone she had when she lived with Maelyn. She was completely bronze, perfect all over, not one difference in shade.
*My parents must have been models or something...*
The puzzled woman took a loose rope from up top and swung over to the Suzanna-Iris, causing some of the pirates to stare when she landed gracefully on the deck.
*I'm going to have to get Yamucha to clear out a room for me... it shouldn't be TOO hard.*
Bulma found Yamucha barking out orders to his crew, and waited patiently for him to breathe. It did, however, surprise Bulma that she had any such patience left. It had already taken them far too long to take the supplies off the Griffin, at least in her opinion.
"Yamucha."
"Yeah?"
"How many spare rooms do you have?"
"None."
"I don't believe that's the answer I want to hear at this point."
"None at the moment. I'll ready you one as soon as I can."
"And just how soon is that?" inquired the siren, pointedly showing Yamucha the hilt of her dagger.
"Right about now." the captain answered hastily. He walked below deck, Bulma right on his heels, intimidating him greatly. Yamucha told the first pirate walking by that he would have to share his room with another crew member.
"Oh, that's fine. I hope you enjoy the decor, Bulma."
"I imagine I might, Popo."
Truth be told, Bulma almost smiled at the prospect of getting Popo's room. She guessed it would be filled with a myriad of intricate colours and designs, much like his clothing. It fascinated her, everything was usually so plain, boring and dreary.
*Maybe that's why I can't think straight these days, I haven't seen any colour for years.*
Captain Yamucha stopped at a door where a small, golden elephant was pinned on the door. Opening it, Yamucha was thrown aside by Bulma, none to gently I might add. A small rug was on the floor, with patterns of what seemed to Bulma a far off land... or even world. The whole room brought a smile to her lips, and not a malicious one, but a true smile of appreciation.
"It's absolutely perfect. Give Popo my thanks."
Yamucha simply nodded and left, not wanting to put the savage siren in a bad mood. Bulma sat on the cot that was there, thrilled to actually have blankets again. Curling up, she immediately drifted off to sleep, due to exhaustion and the fact that she had cut out too much rest time for the amount of training she had been doing.
When she woke, Bulma found herself staring into the face of her lost love. She parted her lips as he came closer...
"Bulma?"
The image vanished, and the blue haired warrior was now truly realizing how badly things were.
*Can I even get over this?*
She turned in the direction of the voice and saw a green skinned man with pointy ears. He must have been over six feet tall, and he had to duck just to stand in the doorway.
"What do you want." Bulma snapped, trying to hide her uneasiness.
"You were talking in your sleep. The whole crew heard it."
*Oh shit.* "What did I say?"
"Let's just say that almost everyone is deathly afraid of you-"
"As they should be."
"and some are experiencing mental breakdowns."
"What exactly did I say?"
"You kept repeating 'I'll take your blood and paint a picture, take your heart and give it to him, your hairs as my brush, your skin as my canvas.' over and over."
Bulma's face went pale and she started shaking. Tears, tears she vowed not to shed while in the presence of others were falling from her eyes. The tall man came forward and put a hand on her
shoulder.
"Don't touch me. Tell me your name."
"My name is Piccolo."
The blue-haired siren gave a dry chuckle through her tears, then spoke.
"Hello Piccolo. The reason you shouldn't touch me is because I'm completely insane. I also don't think there's a cure. You might catch it."
"You can't catch a mental illness from physical contact."
Upon hearing this, Bulma flung herself into Piccolo's arms, to his great shock. Crying away and burying her face in his chest, she clung onto him as if he was her only hope... and at that point, he probably was.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Disturbing? It was meant to be. Somewhat anyways. And yes, I know you're all waiting for Vegeta. He will come, in due time, as will many others, just you wait and see. Please review and have a nice day.