Out of the Gray

It was not that Zac disliked confined spaces, in fact, he spent most of his life in Zaun in them, squeezing through tubes and gutters and oozing through sump pools, but rather, he disliked anything that tried to keep him contained. That feeling reminded him of his earlies days of consciousness when he lived in a glass vat and, in the eyes of most, he was little more than an oddity to be poked and prodded and experimented on. Most, but not all.

His parents had been scientists working at the lab that had found him. They studied him alongside the chem-baron's other researchers, but rather than see a monster that could be used to pulverize and intimidate the baron's enemies, they saw a young child that was curious, lonely and had the capacity to be kind if he were only given a chance. So they did what no rational person would do; they stole from Baron Takeda.

What followed was the best time of Zac's life. The scientists adopted him as a son. They taught him right from wrong, all his manners, how to laugh, how to look after himself, which food stalls had good snacks, which ones had bad snacks, and which ones had snacks that tasted good but weren't good for you, and so many more important things. These memories should always have filled him with a warm, comforting feeling, but when those you love are gone, even the best of memories can sometimes bring sorrow.

Right now, stuck in a chem-cask, he did not want to dwell on negative emotions. Losing himself to them and doing something reckless was not something he wanted to risk. He needed to remain calm. He needed to remain still. He needed to remain hidden.

It wouldn't take much to break out of the cask. It was not particularly well built, though mercifully, it did not leak. He had warned the smuggler, a jumpy, skittish woman who made Zac feel nervous himself just by spending time near her, that it was likely he may even break it by accident. But this cask was the best she could do given the suddenness of the request and the vast amount of him that needed to be carried.

And stealth was a necessity. With Baron Takeda still wanting to "reclaim his property," Zac understood that he would have to be smuggled out to avoid unwanted attention. Someone with his unique physique would turn a lot of heads trying to make his way through customs. But the odd, friendly, fuzzy man was adamant that he take a vacation from the city.

"Sett," Zac thought, remembering the man's name.

He had run into Sett several days ago. Drawn in by the emotions of anger and fear, Zac had sensed that there was a fight on a street near him and when he arrived, he found the Ionian standing up to a group of thugs threatening to attack a boy and his mother. Together they had fought off the attackers and, when they were dealt with, Sett had offered to get the two of them out of Zaun and away from the gangs. Sett put up a tough front, but Zac could sense that buried under all that muscle there was compassion.

"But bloodlust was in there as well," he reminded himself as a new wave of worry washed over him, "he really enjoyed fighting. Really wanted me to fight for him as well. He promises that the pit will feel different than the streets. I don't know."

Perhaps this trip wasn't going to be as calming as he hoped it would.

He tried to focus his attention onto something he did enjoy, the movements of the ship. The steady rolling and rocking moved Zac's entire gelatinous form in a rhythmic way that that he was not used to feeling. It was soothing when it was gentle, exciting when it was rough, and when the waves came in short quick slaps upon the ship, the feeling was akin to how a tickle on more normal anatomy had been described to him. If nothing else, from this journey Zac learned that he found boats delightful.

Sleep, or his body's equivalent of it, seemed close at hand with the ship lulling him still, but a thumping sound alerted Zac that someone was approaching. His cask was completely covered to keep his presence hidden but that also prevented Zac from being able to see the outside world. He was not, however, blind to it.

Over the course of the weeks long voyage, Zac had learned to identify many of the passengers by the emotions they gave off. Sett had this grand energy of eagerness, as did most of the Ionian crew. All of them had homeward thoughts, filled with longing and love, and this sentiment only seemed to grow stronger as the days passed.

Then there were the feelings of the other Zaunites. Sett had recruited two others to come back to the pits with him and both of them radiated a deep restlessness mixed with agitated unease from seasickness. Opposite them was Mairead, the mother with the augmented leg he and Sett had saved. She too was restless, but rather than undertones of anticipation for coming conflict, she was concerned for her son and the kind of future they would have in this foreign land. Her anxiety made Zac's own form shiver and he frequently wished for nothing more than to burst out of the cask and inflate his limbs to ridiculous proportions; something he knew his own mother always laughed at.

And lastly, there were the feelings of her son, Isidor. His emotions were closest to Zac's own; curiosity and fear in equal measure, a profound sense of homesickness, and a tentative hope that this will all be worth it. He was afraid to be leaving Zaun, everything he had ever known, behind and travel to a new land with only a few chests of belongings. He felt like he was doing something wrong, like he was abandoning someone or something in the city by leaving. But despite it all, he kept his hopes up of for his mother. He wanted to be strong to ease her worry. And he passed those feelings along to Zac.

Zac remembered a conversation he had had with the boy the day after setting sail.

"We have the winds in our sails. Janna is with us," Isidor had said, "even if we are moving away from her city, she wants us to be safe."

"She does?" Zac had asked.

"I think so. Mum said she is a kind goddess, deeply protective of Zaun."

Zac's parents had never been devotees of Janna, preferring instead to put their faith in their own ingenuity, but there were times in Zaun where he had thought he could feel a presence even when nobody else was there. It was a serene sensation, otherworldly but familiar. He could feel it on days when the winds would lift the Gray from Zaun or when he heard a bluebird sing merrily, piercing even the constant din of Zaun's machinery.

"And Ionia is supposed to be a place of spirits, right?" Isidor had continued, "And a goddess is like an incredibly powerful spirit, so who can say that she isn't also in Ionia. So when I feel the wind on my face there, I'll just think of the wind back home in Zaun, and the way it rushes up and down the fissure. If it's her wind, it should be the same, right, just without the Gray?"

He had laughed nervously, trying to mask his fear with it. Zac had laughed alongside the boy, also trying to mask his uncertainty. His rumbling chuckle had made the cask vibrate. That had seemed to calm Isidor and, by extension, Zac as well.

But it was not Isidor that had come down the stairs. It was Sett, and he had announced himself so loudly that Zac did not need to guess at who it was. He slapped the top of the crate the cask was stored in. Excitement positively rolled off of him. It was more than enough to shake Zac from his mellow languor.

"How ya doin' in there big guy?"

"Hungry," Zac admitted, "I could use a snack, but mostly fine."

"Not gettin' stiff?"

Zac wasn't sure if the question was asked in earnest or was an attempt at humor. He chose to answer it honestly.

"I want to stretch," Zac answered, "but the ship moves enough that I am not uncomfortable."

"Well I've got good news for ya. It's on the horizon. Home sweet home. We'll be dockin' by nightfall."

Excitement and anxiety flipped through Zac's mind like a golden hex bouncing between gates or gears.

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie 'bout this. Ya wanna see it?"

"Yes."

Sett opened the crate and pushed aside the blanket covering the cask, revealing Zac, completely formless underneath. He reached down, hoisted the cask up, and began carry him towards one of the portholes on the ship. Zac was not accustomed to anyone being strong enough to lift him, never mind him and the weight of the cask. It was not unpleasant though, just unusual.

It took Zac a moment to remember where the golden orbs that served as his eyes were (he had just kinda let them float aimlessly through his body over the weeks in darkness) and move them closer to each other to more closely resemble a humanoid face. He knew his unhuman form did not seems to frighten Sett, but knowing where exactly he was looking from made it easier for Sett to tilt the cask so he could look out the porthole.

"Ya see it?" Sett asked.

"Yes."

Though it was scarcely more than a thin sliver on the shimmer blue horizon, Zac saw the faint bumps rising from the sea in the distance.

"Ionia," he said.

"Ionia," Sett repeated, "and your next adventure. Hope you're ready, big guy, cause I've got big plans for ya and I can't wait to get goin' on them."

"I hope so too."

Zac's eyes remained fixated on the island. His mind was swimming with all the thoughts and wonders about what awaited him in this strange new land, so far from home, with no deep sumps, no safe tubes or pipes, no familiar sewers and ducts, no stalls where he knew which ones had good snacks, which ones had bad snacks, and which ones had snacks that tasted good but weren't good for you, and no cover of Gray.