*breaks down the door like big bird* I'm sorry! This is Very Very far overdue! I got a job, I had to quit, I had to go to school, finish thesis, and then graduate! I got very very busy over the last few months... and months... and so this chapter is ultra, ultra late! About six months or so- aa!
I also got really hyper-focused on my BNHA fic but now that I have more time on my hands, everything should continue at least on a better schedule than it was before!
(I'm also struggling with this fic because I started writing it when I was fourteen and, yes, there's been many a edits since then, there are still sections that I would write Very Differently today or sections that I would simply cut out for how convoluted and long-winded they are and I'm heavily contemplating going back and making serious edits/almost rewriting sections, if not the whole thing. And- I mean- I wanted to get readers opinion on it?
I still love Quinn, Ace, Kat, Spice and a lot of what I had planned and pieces that I had written, it's more that I would change how it's all presented and I'm just not sure if I should keep writing, with writing how I write things now, or go back and make the earlier chapters a bit more friendly to new readers. There's also the fact that this story, at its focus, is about depression and I was using it to try and think through my own experiences with my own mental illnesses at the time and many of the original thoughts that I had around the theme of this story have gotten more defined and much firmer.
That said, I've noticed I've gained a couple new readers to this story and am interested in seeing their opinion, and, truthfully, anyone's. If they have one. Because, at this point, it's just a question of my own personal time commitment vs. potential worth to gain through editing/rewriting bits and pieces. And if enough people truly just enjoy the first 20 chapters just fine, then I see no problem keeping it the same. Shows my growth as a writer, for example! But I also don't want people to have to slog through early chapters, if enough people dislike them, looking back- to get to the parts that I enjoy writing.
Because there's parts I really like and parts that I look at and am like... this is a lot of exposition that may be boring or difficult to get through. So- think I should go back? Think I should truck onwards and just let it be? Think the old parts are convoluted? Hell! Do you think I should rewrite it entirely? (Something I've been contemplating also and been trying to weigh the value of.)
I, unfortunately, have the perspective of 'the author' and taking a step back to get my own unbiased opinion is a bit difficult, because I'm sure some of you know, its very easy to look at and find all the negatives.
So- old and new readers, lemme know what you think, please!)
:D Shout out to MidoriOokami, if it wasn't for them and their awesome support, trust me, this chapter would still be struggling to be written!
It's a bit of a short one though, keeping everything I had originally for this section made it a lil' hard to follow since it involved a lot of shifting perspectives.
It was night.
Still, even noting that, she wouldn't be surprised to see the sun rising on the horizon soon enough.
It was quiet.
Not completely, but there was a sort of numbness in her ears that drowned out almost everything else. The radio buzzed lowly with the murmurs of voices discussing some political ravings that she couldn't care to listen to or even understand. The squeal of the car tires against gravel though, it had her snapping out of her head- not entirely but just enough and she...
Sat there, pretending not to nurse a bottle between her legs, wrapped in a slightly torn paper bag that twisted up to the loose cap. Quite honestly, she's surprised she hasn't completely spilled all over the seats. Coupled with the fact that her seat belt was lazily tossed over her and not actually clipped to anything- she's surprised she's made it anywhere.
(The streets are empty and the ground is flat with no trees for miles and miles. Even if she had run herself off the road, the only danger to her is herself.)
Her hands are gripped firmly on the steering wheel, eyes dazedly looking ahead.
She doesn't quite remember taking a sip from her drink. Doesn't quite remember draining it either. But, eventually, she knows that she's tossed it behind her and is ignoring the shattered glass covering her back seat.
She came out here to see the sunrise.
But it looks like it's taking a bit longer than normal.
The cliffside gives her an ocean view- something that she, admittedly, had never seen before and she's hard pressed to label this as her 'first time'. The great expanse of blue. It doesn't seem as impressive as it should be, perhaps that's because it's still so dark out and all she can really make out is what her headlights illuminate.
Which is not much.
She opens the door of her car, ignoring the rusty squeak grating on her ears, and her ratty old shoes sink into the loose gravel. There's wooden made parking blocks set up in rows, but no fence blocking the eventual drop, and she finds herself sitting on one, silhouetted by her cars headlights, and picking at the old wood with her fingers. It comes off easily, slightly rotten and festered with termites.
She chews on her bottom lip. Feels the flesh peel uncomfortably and stares.
The car radio is even more distant now.
Muffled white noise that plays like static in the back of her head- there's a line of yellow accenting the horizon. A gradient of red that flushes out the purples of the night.
Her shoes hit grass.
The waves are loud tonight, she thinks, even if she has no concept of how loud they usually were. They sound like they're right in her ear and she feels a strange numbness fall over her at the sound and, for some reason, she can feel rocks digging into her hands and her face feels oddly wet.
The sun is rising on the horizon.
Yellow glinting off the wet rocks that peak out of the shallows of the ocean and it looks absolutely-
Her neck hurts.
-glorious, a sight that she could have never have truly imagined and she can't even blink away. Eyes opened lazily to take in the blinding whites that burn-
Her neck hurts.
-her retinas and make dark spots appear in her vision. It seems to knock her stomach straight out of her body, dropping low, low, low . Unnatural. Almost as if she was falling-
"Son of a bitch-!"
Quinn comes awake with a loud gasp that may, in some people's terms, be tentatively described as a shriek. And is instantly racked with pain and nausea and- She's unable to hold it in, rolling over despite the screeching from her bones, and vomits into the...
Clouds.
She vomits into clouds.
Admittedly, it all gets washed away fairly quick.
There's water lapping at her legs and torso and she realizes, belatedly, that half her body had been submerged in ocean water and she was now practically drenched from head to toe. It explains why her limbs feel unnaturally limp and shaky but it doesn't explain how her bones aren't all completely shattered- though, perhaps, and here she tests the clouds beneath her on wobbly hands and knees, the ground was simply bouncy enough to break her fall for the most part.
"For the most part."
She's pretty sure she's nursing a couple cracked- if not broken- ribs and her side is cut to hell and back.
Quinn hisses as her hand drifts to her hip. Right along the lower edge of her stomach. "The bastards...!" They had had horrible talons, one's that'd managed to sink deeply into her skin and she wouldn't be surprised if they left scars.
(Three long gouges, each one shorter than the last, and all incredibly tender to the touch.)
It'd need stitches, she was sure. But all she had on her was whatever supplies she had in her bag, not much in terms of medical supplies other than some spray and bandages, and- and-
Yellow Jacket was there. The blade unsheathed from when she'd cut the ropes tying her to Kat. Laying there on the ground not very far away. Innocuous.
(Quinn is relieved she hadn't lost it so soon after being given it. But, to be honest, she doesn't know how she'd managed to hold onto it.)
-she wasn't expecting it's companion however.
"Is that…?"
The name, at first, eludes her. Because she'd only heard it mentioned once before but she knows not to forget it- not truly. It's too important to Spice to simply forget.
"The Weaver- !"
The Sage Weaver.
Spice's sword.
It sticks up from the cloud-made ground, it's monolithic blade halfway carved into clouds and the jeweled blue centerpiece at the base of the hilt glitters in the sunlight.
Quinn doesn't know why but she's getting mad Sword in the Stone-vibes and something's telling her: she is not worthy.
But there is no Spice around to claim his blade. Not even a sheath so she can put it away.
So she makes a face, places her hand on the grip, and pulls-
...
...
The wind is rushing.
Her ears are popping and she half expects, half thinks, that they should be bleeding.
The suddenly rising elevation is almost suffocating and she can feel her head fill with bubbles and her throat constrict as the air grows thinner and thinner and just all around harder to breathe. She's being carried, there's scales and balloon-like creatures and this is honestly so ridiculous that she's just finding it hard to think.
"Quinn-!"
She hears someone call her name, their voice is gruff but it immediately has her snapping her attention over towards them. Trying not to think of the horrible expression that had twisted Ace's face as he realized her plan or the broken wail that Kat had whined as she allowed herself to be ripped from their grasp-
"Spice, look for thick clouds-!" She shouts over the howling wind in her ears and the high-pitched ringing that threatened to blow out her eardrums. "We'll be able to stand on them!"
(It's all so stupid and insane and she's lying to herself because she loves it-)
Fuck. She sounds crazy to her own ears. But she's telling the truth despite it all and her desperation must show on her face because Spice nods from his position in the other lizard-bastards grasp. He's doing a much better job. Practically riding the thing, sword at its neck in threat-
"If you drop her, I slit your friend's throat."
Oh. That was nice.
Spice actually cared.
And, boy howdy, did he sound like he meant it.
"Quinn, shut the hell up. Don't look at me like that."
Quite hysterically, she manages a fit of laughter. It falls away within seconds, the lack of air choking her, and the Occamy grabbing her growls in a wicked anger at Spice. He doesn't drop her though.
She thinks she remembers them saying something. She can't quite remember if she's being honest, the whole thing is… it's a blur.
But she remembers the Occamy howling in rage and she remembers Spice letting out his own enraged shout and she remembers seeing a White White ocean and thick, oddly shaped clouds and she remembers seeing Spice flinging his blade and thinking: "Huh. What kind of dumbass swordsman throws his sword ." Before everything drops and the world is flipping in on itself and-
Quinn shakes her head.
Black strands fall from her hair tie, wildly scattering into her face and sticking up from her head this way and that. She's sweating like a pig, only partially because of her injury, the rest because Spice's sword is way too heavy and she can barely lug it around alongside her.
The Weaver is a gorgeous blade, well-cared for and only kinda dripping blood at the moment; it felt completely wrong to hold in her hands, as if she was committing some great transgression and she would hate to bear the consequences of it.
(Spice's reaction to her leaving his beloved sword behind, though, that was something she wanted to avoid even more. )
"Where the hell even am I…?"
The fucking sky, her brain unhelpful and cheerily supplies, as if that wasn't immediately obvious.
She ignores it. Instead, focusing on just keeping her footing, because the clouds were like walking on the world's worst trampoline. Each step sunk into the ground and each next one was met with a sudden buoyancy that was even harder to get used to. Coupled with the fact that she was holding an unsheathed giant blade that could very easily cleave her head off if she took so much as a single misstep… Quinn was rather obviously having a tough time.
Also her 'Out of this World' shirt was torn to shreds and hanging off of her and she was actually very upset about it.
(She's being silly.
But she had liked the bad pun and the fact that it matched with Kat's usual style of aliens, aliens, and more aliens.)
Groaning, she wipes a hand over her forehead, sight fading in and out slightly. Sweat is collecting on her brow, more than she would have liked, and she feels her breath coming out in pinched heaves.
"...cking bullshit that Zoro and Luffy were able to recover from this in an instant..."
What's worse is that she knows they were on a way, way higher elevation than whatever sky island this was. And she was pissed about it being as hard as it was to breathe even like this, just a ladders length away from actual solid ground- literally.
(She can't help but wonder if there actually is some spiritual force out there… one that just loves to knock her down.)
"Hey, uh…!" She stumbles, using Spices sword as a walking stick as she climbs a hill of clouds, the White White Sea still lapping at the shoreline behind her. Close enough that she could still hear it well enough. "What was it? Uh, her- hew- oh? -h-hes... Hes-oh?" Yeah, that sounded about right. "Heso ?"
Nothing.
It didn't seem like there was anyone around. At all.
Grumbling, Quinn pulled herself the rest of the way up the hill, head bobbing with weariness.
Hopefully Ace wasn't very far behind them because she'd hate to be all alone up here, separated from Spice, and- Is that a castle?
Quinn squints before her eyes grow slightly wide with amazement.
Because, straight out of some Disney movie, stood a goddamn castle. Or perhaps she should say Ghibli, since they literally have a movie titled 'Castle in the Sky and… She's getting off track. The point is; Quinn is staring at the backside of a castle overlooking a kingdom.
She's high up, perhaps on the highest point on the island. So she's treated to the most amazing view of a kingdom lying before her and wonders- dimly, if this is why CEO'S of major companies work in such high building offices- as the glittering morning sun rises on the cloud covered horizon and nearly blinds her.
"...Eh, I've seen better."
It's true. Even if those sights weren't... you know, real .
(Oh, movies and television, how she missed them.)
But this sight is certainly no joke either.
Trudging down the cloud bank- ha! And wasn't that a phrase she'd never thought could be legitimately uttered in a million years- the Kingdom steadily grows closer and closer and the castle bigger and bigger. She hadn't really gotten a good concept of the sheer size of it all. It was… absolutely massive.
Of course, she expected as much, it was a castle but...
"Damn it. Is he compensating for something or what?" Quinn scratches her head, wondering whether or not she should even try approaching. In her vast expanse of knowledge on kings and queens, she didn't think the majority of them were exactly welcoming of uninvited strangers. Especially uninvited foreigners.
(Now, it might be thought that Quinn is handling this shockingly well.
It would be an inaccurate thought. Quinn can feel her heart beating in her chest, skipping every other beat in a stutter that probably wasn't indicative of good health- she was washed in a cold, clammy sweat that seemed to cling to her skin and worsen her general attitude.
Being separated from everyone on the first island of the Grand Line… it was exasperating and frustrated and all around completely expected and not at all out of the realm of possibility. She just wished that she hadn't been forced to go it alone. She'd much rather be lost with someone than lost by herself, it was- this was not the fun adventure she'd signed up for, okay?)
It would be a fair assessment to assume that she was unwanted in this area.
An even fairer assumption to make that she was probably, like, trespassing or something.
It would also be correct.
"What business do you have here, Blue Dweller?"
"It's Quinn. And I'm lost."
She's so confused.
So, so- so confused.
Apparently there's a border patrol of flamingos.
Alright. Cool.
She'll bite.
Whatever.
The world's already so goddamn weird.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Uh. Believe it." Quinn deadpans because she doesn't really know what to say. She's got the Weaver on her shoulder, the blade delicately balanced to keep from injuring herself, and one hip cooked out. Given him a look that just screams how done she is with this whole situation. "Look. I've had a rough day, I'm just trying to figure out where the ladder is and where those damned Occamy went-"
"T-The Occamy-?" The guard seems to stutter, jaw dropping. "What could you want with those- those-" He seemingly can't find the words, quite literally shivering in fear.
"They attacked me and my crew and kidnapped-"
"And you survived?!"
"Yes, why is that so surprising?"
Okay. Not really a fair question to ask. Quinn does certainly look like she's about ready to keel over at any moment.
Hell, her legs are still visibly shaking. And, having been pulled to a stop by this guy, she could just feel her weariness finally catching up to her and starting to weigh her down significantly. It was as if, now that she was semi-cut off from her destination and was actually standing still, her body was finally registering all the warning signs it'd probably been trying to give her this whole time. And Quinn was not appreciative of this discovery, she had places to be and people to see thankyouverymuch and she wasn't about to let her own limitations keep her down.
...At least, that's what she was trying to tell herself.
"The Occamy are some of our greatest foes-" The guard started talking and Quinn was only vaguely aware of the explanation, head pounding in a sudden headache that she thinks may be the result of a concussion. It would certainly explain her previous unconsciousness. "-we have a long history of warfare and only recently gained peace. If it had continued... I would not be surprised if I wasn't standing here today, we owe our peace to the King and his-"
"Uh-huh. That's nice. Can I go now?"
"No, you may not!"
Quinn doesn't pout.
She also totally doesn't kick the ground like a spoiled child.
Quinn misses her bed and their wonderful, lovely ship that those bastards stole and she just wants to go home. Take a nap, read a book, maybe, and listen to the sounds of her crew beneath warm blankets and the gentle sound of the ocean rocking them.
(She does not think about what was once her home.
Because suddenly that seems so far away and she feels guilty- she feels practically corroded by it- that she misses that little ship with it's one room for living more than she could any childhood apartment or cityscape.
That, for some reason, the emotions that had once threatened to make her burst open and scream, don't seem so awful anymore. It's still there, at the back of her mind, and she doesn't know if she'll ever be rid of it- is scared to let go of it- but it doesn't seem as-
Important.
She misses the Stellar.
It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet and she's just pissed that some no-good birdie lookin' lizards stole her crews home.)
"The Occamy are jerks. I got abducted. I fell. I am now lost." She lists, voice dry as the desert. "Please, kind sir, won't you bother someone else ?"
The answers no.
Of course it is.
"If you've been in contact with the Occamy," The guards feathers fluff, "then we have reason to suspect that you are also knowledgeable about El Blanco and La Golondrina-"
"Who?"
"-and their crimes. And so you must be taken before the King!"
Quinn stares at him, long and hard and unimpressed and feels every bit of frustration begin to slowly come to a head as her lips press into a slow, thin line. Now, because of Quinn's propensity for... perhaps not violence, but rather- oh, what's the word? Fury . It would be reasonable to think that she might finally snap at this point and try to attack the poor flamingo guard who is only trying to do his job properly, that she'd try and see if she could actually wield the Weaver or not.
(Or, more likely, she'd just punch him. Or curse him out. Throw him the bird.)
It would be a reasonable and acceptable expectation of her. Especially considering how much she's been hanging out with Ace recently.
But Quinn is tired. And the sword is heavy.
So instead she plops down on the ground, legs and arms crossed, lays Spices sword across her lap and says: "Well I'm not moving!" And feels not unlike a five year old throwing a tantrum.
The thing is, though, she can't bring herself to care.
"So you'll either have to carry me yourself or bring the King here!"
For good measure, she flips him off.
(Quinn is a dork. She's a massive dork of epic proportions and she's surprised that she'd forgotten what it felt like to throw a fit.
Relieving at first.
And then, oh wow, here comes the instant regret.)
Completely embarrassed, and all too aware of the sword she carries- God, it's like she can feel Spice's judgmental eyes on her and it makes it so much worse and she actually has to check around to make sure he hadn't seen- she slowly stands back up, trying to ignore the humiliated flush to her cheeks and the dangerous creaking sounds coming from her bones, and tries to at least conduct herself with a bit more dignity. At least with the dignity of someone who deserved to follow a Captain like Ace.
"Allow me to try that again: I will not be going anywhere. If the King wishes to see me, he will have to seek an audience." She pauses, robotic voice trailing off, then adds. "Because my time is valuable."
Apparently, for some odd reason that she can't explain, the guard takes this as an insult and she is rewarded with a sword to her face for her effort.
...
...
All in all, not the worst choice she could have made, Quinn thinks. At least she's not stuck walking there herself. Though, maybe, being dragged across the ground is not much better in this situation. The flamingo guard has her by the scruff of her shirt, thankfully the back of it, and is struggling to drag her on her ass into the castle chambers.
Let it be said that she wasn't above making this as difficult as possible for him.
The guard clearly needs to work on his reps. He's twice her size and Quinn is pretty sure she doesn't weigh too much. Certainly not enough that he shouldn't have been able to pick her up.
(She doesn't... think so at least.)
It's not so bad anyway. The ground is oddly soft to the touch and it wasn't even as if there was any dirt to get her all dirty, in fact, it made her wonder about the immune systems of Skypieans from before the rise of Jaya and how they probably had to deal with a number of new, fresh illnesses caused by the sudden switch in nature and animals. She wouldn't be surprised if a good amount of their population didn't survive-
Quinn doesn't think about it much longer, can't really bring herself to dive into the semantics and possibilities and the may haves. It doesn't really affect her and she thinks that the only reason her mind is even wandering right now is because the flamingo guard has finally dropped her.
She groans.
Eyes fluttering open and closed as she blink black spots from her vision, the world is just the slightest bit blurry and vaguely dull. Not a descriptor she should use given the area she's found herself in, she knows, hell, even the ceiling was way too ornate or shiny to even feel real. Quinn only begins to move when the hard floor begins to make her back ache and she rolls over, body screaming in protest with every twitch of her muscles and- She freezes for a minute, just one, and stares at the floor, hair splayed out across it in front of her. It'd gotten longer and, usually, by this point, she would try and cut it but- hmm. Maybe she would keep in long this time.
(It may seem pathetic to realize that she'd been laying on the floor for who knows how long nursing her injuries but Quinn is honestly curious why no one attempted to rouse her, she could hear whispers from flamingos who thought themselves hidden and she could hear sneers as well. Yet everyone had given her a wide berth, even though they clearly either didn't want her there or were incredibly curious as to why she was there in the first place.
It almost seemed like they were waiting for something to happen.
And call her curious, masochistic, or just too lazy to actually ask, but she had wanted to figure out what they were all chattering on about, as if she couldn't hear them. And Quinn knew enough from Mean Girls and what-have-you movies- which she probably shouldn't be using as reference for these kinds of things she'll be honest- to know that, whatever it was… well, it probably wasn't going to be all that pleasant for her. Still. Curiosity wins out.
But, unfortunately, her patience does begin to wear thin.)
"So..." She cracks her neck, the sound echoing in the room and she can see some of her unwanted observers shiver and flinch at the sound, "Where am I?"
She can't help but find it a little strange that they haven't tried to take her weapons away. Her sword was still hooked to her bag and Spice's was now being disrespectfully used as her walking stick because she still had no idea how to hold it properly without falling over.
No one answers her.
Instead, they all share a look and a few throw their heads back and laugh- and, let it be said, flamingo's laughter is weird .
It's somehow high-pitched and hoarse all in the same vein.
She waits awkwardly, just for a moment, simultaneously trying to appear intimidating. It's not very hard. She's covered in blood and wielding a big ass sword- heck yes.
(There is some childhood fantasy that she is acting out and by God is she milking this with every bit of childish glee that she can.
There is something… timeless about being a woman with a sword. A Big Sword. Emphasis on the Big.)
Yet no one provides even a "We're in the castle" which wouldn't have been helpful, since she already knows that much, but she would've appreciated the attempt nonetheless.
The throne room is, perhaps, her best guess at a specific location. Because there certainly is a throne and Quinn has half a mind to go and sit in it.
She doesn't, of course. She's not a complete idiot.
But the urge is still there.
The flamingos watch with bated breath as she approaches the throne and all sigh in relief when she doesn't make a move to actually sit down or even touch the seat, just glances at it before moving to the side- where it looks like a door is and-
"Where do you think you're going?!"
An indignant shout rings out, from maybe that border patrol guard that'd dragged her here in the first place, but she ignores it. If no one is going to tell her anything, then she might as well investigate herself. Besides, if they really cared, they wouldn't have brought her here in the first place.
Quinn, against what is probably her better judgement, opens the door.
-0-
Spice is much better off than Quinn is. Or was.
A decided lack of injuries to his person and lungs only slightly protesting at the rapidly changing oxygen levels, he sits on the body of the Occamy as they steadily rise. Yawning into his hands.
"Look terrified, you bastard, we're taking you in! To the boss!"
Yeah, yeah.
"Why aren't you scared?!"
He yawned again.
"You threw away your sword to save your pathetic Blue Dweller woman-"
"There are multiple things wrong with that sentence." He grunts, nonplussed. "Quinn will watch my sword for me." He doesn't know exactly how he knows that, he just does. "And the likes of you aren't allowed to call her pathetic."
He crosses his arms behind his head and leans back and waits.
"And she isn't my anything!"
They won't try anything. Not with him so close to their throat.
(Spice may prefer a sword. But he does not need one.)
Where Quinn's memory blurred is where Spice's adrenaline spikes, the clouds rushing around them and the open air, he waits and he looks-
Solid clouds. It's crazy and stupid and Spice believes her without a thought. He can't really throw any logic at the wall and get it to stick- because this place thrives on breaking logic, Quinn had already warned them.
He turns his head away briefly, for just a moment, feeling Quinn's attention begin to wane- most likely from blood loss mixed with stress, the Occamy were not doing her any favors with the wound they'd given her, and it was leaving a tiny trail of red droplets in the whiteness beneath them-
(Spice does not like the persistent feeling in his gut. It's not quite worry, but it's not much better than that.
He does not have the time nor patience to waste on worrying about someone else. It's not what he's here for anyways.
He's here because he doesn't trust Quinn to handle this situation on her own.
He's worried
Quinn should have been strong enough to get herself out of this. Instead, she isn't and he's left picking up after her. For some reason, he doesn't mind this fact. For some reason, his head is replaying the scene of her cutting her rope and letting go and not expecting to be saved-
He is worried and he is angry and he's wondering why he hadn't noticed )
-the horizon is filled with clouds and, if Spice is correct, then he does believe that that's a city in the sky over there.
Huh.
What do you know?
That's pretty amazing.
So fascinated, so caught by wonder, he nearly misses it. The leer of the Occamy that holds Quinn, the squeeze of claws still caught in her wound, and the uncomfortable- pained- gasp that escapes her. It's hoarse and yet somehow squeaky and he can see the way her face tenses and her eyes shudder with an attempt to keep herself from screaming-
Spice's vision goes a bit red, he will admit. The sword swinging from its place at the Occamy's throat- and they begin bucking wildly trying to throw him off once they realize it's gone, but he's got too firm of a hold on their feathers and skin to be thrown off so easily- and is rearing back his arm with a grunt of strength. He has it by the hilt and the blade pointed forward as he lines up the shot and sees the Occamy's face turn to panic as he realizes what he's doing.
"Wait- if you do t-that-?!"
Too late.
The Weaver pierces through the air like some kind of bullet, the wind whistling with the force of its body whipping through the air. And the tip of the blade pierces into the Occamy's side, into their grip, and loosens Quinn from their hold. Her face lurches, her eyes have enough time to blink once, realization coming over her, before she's opening her mouth and screaming at the sudden drop in her stomach.
She descends but, for a moment, instinctively scrambles to hold onto her Occamy abductor, and it has her hanging, stalled in the air for just a moment as her hands try to gain purchase on the rough scales.
Her body swings around, Spice can see the moment her wound screeches in protest because it's what has her grip loosening and her finally descending down, down, downwards- Spice is glad she hadn't been able to hold on, though he has to give her a mental apology for the suddenness of it all, the drop taken without any warning.
"Fat chance." Spice snarls, "The clouds are solid beneath us. I can tell."
And he watches as Quinn disappears alongside Weaver into the clouds that aren't holding any weight, but he knows- and hopes- about what lies beneath those. He'd seen the city they held up and, perhaps, she lands on the edge of it, but he just has to trust that she'll make it.
(Spice is not thinking about how she may have missed the cutoff. How if she lands wrong then she may even snap her neck. How it will be his fault if something does happen. He is also, soundly, not thinking about the horrified, blood curdling scream she'd let out as she felt herself drop and how quickly it stopped-)
Spice stares up at the sky, the closest he's ever been to it. The fairy-like fluffiness of the clouds passing by was enchanting in a way and made him think of cotton candy and the possibility of making sweets, even if he had never particularly liked them, he was sure the others would appreciate it. Distracted by his thoughts, Spice is only half aware of the Occamy shifting beneath him.
And then he is aware of an annoying sound that had his face pinching.
The inflated body that he lays on is quickly losing air, inflated sacs letting out bursts of oxygen that create a breeze and help to propel the Occamy along even further. He takes this to mean that they've finally reached their destination, whatever destination it was they intended, and Spice leans over to take a look at the footing-
All in all, it doesn't look good.
It's more clouds in the sky. Not even a bed of sea connecting them to anything. It almost seems like… it's it's own island.
It makes Spice incredibly, incredibly wary of the ground.
Because it looks like one wrong step and he could go falling right off.
Given that he could see the Grand Line far, far beneath them… it wasn't looking very good. "If I fall, I'm dragging one of you down with me." He mutters darkly, making sure to keep a hand on one of the Occamy's scruff as he leapt off. Waiting for the lack of impact, of his feet hitting nothing, and for the struggle of dragging one of the flying snakes with him.
None of that happens. Instead, Spice lands and hears what sounds like a cross between a rubber band and a trampoline beneath him, and is startled by the… buoyancy of the ground. Not exactly what he'd been expecting but still, somehow, not all that surprises. Then again, he didn't know what he had thought clouds would be like.
The Occamy he has a fistful of, sneers, "Scared, Blue Dweller? Well, you should be, there's nowhere for you to run and you can't fly-"
He makes a high pitched squeaking sound when Spice's grip tightens around his throat.
(Not unlike a squeaky toy.)
"Is that our ship ?"
The Stellar lays in a bed of clouds off to the side, thankfully, it doesn't look destroyed or broken in any way.
But it does look ransacked.
Spice's already hard expression turns cold. "Did you toss my kitchen out on the ground? All our utensils?" He sees a vague trail leading from the above storage. A… suspicious trail. "And ate... our food."
The darkening tone of his voice has them sweating.
"You're not in a position to be talking."
"Dear Valks, shut up- !"
That was the one that Spice had in a chokehold. He almost feels bad for him.
Almost.
He grabs the thieving- Oh, the hypocrisy! To think they would call them thieves when they were obviously no better- and drags him along, knowing that they won't make a move to attack him so long as he has one of them in his grasp. Slamming him into the ground when he tries to struggle free and pulls him onto the Stellar.
Spice can see other things tossed about.
Clothes, books, supplies. But nothing, other than their food seems to be missing, and it doesn't seem like they'd even caused the ship any harm. Besides knocking down their hammocks and a scratch on the bathroom door that seemed to dent into the wood more than slice it. Spice's frown was getting dangerously more prominent on his face.
"Come out, Blue Dweller! Do not try to hide from us!"
"Is he always so chatty?"
The question is rhetorical, because the answer is obviously yes, but he doesn't expect an answer from the one he's currently got a hold of. In fact, their breath is coming out raspy and hoarse.
Spice leans over him.
"You know, I'm the chef on this ship." He states blandly, blocking the things' view of everything but him. "And now that you've done such a great job of fattening yourselves up... I wonder what you taste like?"
Aa. He hears a whimper. Like music to his ears.
As fun as this is, he supposes that he might as well carry on. Short of picking up the ship and dropping it off the cloud face, he doesn't think it's going to be coming down anytime soon. He side-eyes the Occamy, not unless he enlisted their help and part of him doesn't want to take the chance of them trying something petty. Because, even as much as he intimidates them, they have enough autonomy to want to get back at him, he thinks.
"Onwards. Before I decide my next meal."
...
...
He's being watched.
The feeling prickles the back of his neck, a creeping paranoia that has his shoulders tense and lips pressed into a thin line.
Caves in the sky. They'd taken him amongst the clouds and the fluff condensed in the sky, to the point that holes were burrowed into the white, creating dark and endless infrastructure that- with one wrong step- could have him plummeting to his death. It's a little tension inducing. Knowing that he could very well lose the upper hand if the Occamy were just a little bit smarter, a little bit less... odd.
Spice yawns.
"So where is this..." His lips purse. " Boss. Of yours."
Part of him wonders if he's already there, but he knows that's wrong. The cave is too small to fit another Occamy in. It's almost too small for just them walking and they're forced to take a single file as they head onwards. Spice's head is ducked and he's partly glad that his sword isn't here with him- he wouldn't have been able to wield it in such a tight space anyways and the Weaver would have sung with a need to try slicing into something new that he might've not been able to help but want to satiate his blade.
His eyes flick.
...It still somehow feels like he's being watched.
But no. That's not right.
It's too encompassing. Too surrounding. As if there is someone on every corner to observe every tiny little movement he makes and the feeling is not one that he can say that he likes.
"Oh. I see." He pauses as a serpent shape reveals itself. Large, massive and lying in the dark at the very back of the cave; a place that begins to open up into a larger cavern that he can actually stand up in and jump without getting close to touching the ceiling. "You were smelling me."
Blind eyes watch him emptily.
A tongue flicks out, as if tasting the air.
"Yes. I was."
It certainly explains the feeling of being watched.
It's because he could probably smell him drop his sword a mile away.
Spice licks his lips. And knows that the look he gives is long and suffering, "How... nice. " Yeah, he doesn't know how to feel about being tracked via smell. That was just plain ol' weird. Still, Spice is not one to break his composure, so, instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and meets the face of the lead Occamy- whose face is old like an eternity and who's blind eyes are white from seeing all the faults in the world, and who doesn't seem the slightest bit frail despite the quiver of his limbs and the wrinkles and whitened hair that would mix into the clouds if they weren't in a space barely lit by the sun spilling through the half-translucent ceiling. "I take it you're the one that ordered the attack on me and my crew?"
"Perhaps." He hisses. "If it was warranted."
(He speaks with a deepness that Quinn would describe as bordering on eldritch. It's not incomprehensible. But it's booming and layered, unnatural. As if he has sets upon sets of vocal cords, both vaguely human and vaguely not.)
"It wasn't."
Spice deadpans.
Because what the hell else is he going to say?
There's a breath like smoke being wheezed into his face and Spice squints as… something washes over him. Half disgusted as it quickly disappears as the old Occamy sucks the breath back in with a deep sniff of the air and- pauses. "You do not smell of lies. Nor of El Blanco." He sighs. "As I was afraid… the idiots got the wrong Blue Dweller."
There's squawks.
Spice feels a smirk creep over his face.
"B-But we smelt El Blanco on them earlier-?!"
"Y-Yeah! He must've done something! There's no way that we were wrong-"
Spice is having too much fun with this, smirking at the two as they prostrate themselves before their annoyed and frustrated leader. A leader who looks two minutes away from whipping them both across the face with his tail. "You weren't wrong. You were jumping to conclusions." He bites out, voice rumbling deep and making the clouds vibrant under his feet. "Tell me how badly you have gotten at scenting that you would mistake a passing whiff as something more."
"...Aa."
It seems that they've already found a solution for their little snake threat.
-0-
The first thing Quinn hears is a loud, distinct scream. Honestly, the only thing she could describe it as, and she honestly hates this description, is 'girly'.
Stereotypically... girly .
"Don't look! I'm not dressed yet!"
"Oh, sorry."
Wait.
Why was she apologizing?
"-Hang on, you're a flamingo!" She points at him- her?- the... bird! "You don't need clothes. And why would you- Why would it matter if I saw a bird naked?"
The flamingo- white feathers with red tips, there's a mix of pink but it's nowhere near as similar as all the rest of the flamingos she'd seen- gasps. "You don't mean to compare me to those little voyeurs-?! How dare you call me a- a-" He seethes . "Common Pigeon!"
She makes a face.
Ignoring the fact that he just implied that, not only were most avian species as intelligent as the flamingos on this Sky Island, but they were also all voyeurs, Quinn took the chance to get a good look at the place.
At the castles... what? Chambers? She'd never been a fan of books that involved castles and kingdoms and so she didn't know much of the proper terminology behind the basics.
The room was an overly large one, once again, with it's high ceilings and walls. It had a privacy shield that the flamingo had gone shrieking behind with dramatic woes and she frowned at him- the place was decorated with pillows, but the most curious item of all was the large golden cage sitting amongst them all.
"Is that... a bed?"
"My, oh my~ inviting me to bed already, and here I thought you said I was simply a bird ."
A long pause.
"Gross."
"How dare you, you sniveling-!" Quinn grips the Weaver with wide eyes as the flamingo flings himself from behind the privacy shield, wings a flutter and talons raised as he shrieks in offense-
Before, all at once, it just… stops.
"Blue Dweller."
He breathes.
"A lovely little blue dweller... brought right to my doorstep."
It should be noted that throughout this interaction, the flamingo had yet to take even so much as a glance in her direction. The sudden lunge to her throat- that had her heart racing and he'd teeth gritting- had been the first time he'd turned to her, finally, finally seeing her for what she was- A human. And, specifically, a Blue Dweller.
Quinn feels...
Very uneasy.
She shifts from foot to foot, hand grabbing Yellow Jacket, the small sword a better weight in her hands than Spice's sword.
"...What of it?"
Silence. Then, a giggle. It's high pitched and creepy. "And here I was… thinking you were some impudent guard wanting to be executed today." He sounds too cheery as he says that, too positively joyful. "But, no. A Blue Dweller. My, and you're just as pretty as the little one they've taken to calling El Blanco-"
"... El Blanco? The... The White One or... The target?"
"I hear it's interchangeable these days." He giggles. "She was a rambunctious one, could never quite pin her down, unfortunately. And that bastard's son- La Golondrina- had spread such a nasty little set of rumors to her about me."
He pouts.
Quinn takes a step back.
"My, how the flamingos speak of their King these days... absolutely dreadful."
Wait.
King?
Oh shit. Yeah, no, she should have come to that conclusion herself already. A castle and a throne room- of course, naturally, they would have a King.
"But you-?!"
Quinn stumbles back as he suddenly launches himself into her face, having to duck to avoid his beak piercing one of her eyes. It doesn't have her in a good position. Large, monolithic wings on either side of her head- a sword too heavy for her to carry and another that feels so, very small all of a sudden.
The King is much larger than she'd first thought. And somethings telling her it's not all just plumage.
"You are a gift."
Fuck that.
"Oh, joyous occasion! You are quite the pretty thing, aren't you?" He chirrups as he twists into a normal standing position. Quinn chews on her bottom lip, doesn't take her eyes off him, even if he's leering at her and doesn't seem the least bit intimidated by her blades. "And so bloodied-! Such amazing wounds you've received... tell me, how does it feel? To feel the blood in your veins and feel your skin so close to the air-?"
She takes a step back.
A chortling laugh.
It's creepy.
"Tell me."
She takes another step back and her back hits the wall of the room.
"How does it feel to be you?"
(Read the above notes for more info and a question about this fic.)
OOF OOF, bit of a shorter one than normal. Also, remind me to never leave in the middle of an arc again because sorting through my old notes was the biggest nightmare ever and is what made this take especially long omg.
Anyways,,, sorry for the delay with this chapter and thank you so much for reading it and thank you so much to the amazing people that have enjoyed this fic since the beginning and been supporting it all the while!
