imperatrix-mnyx

[imperatrix-mnyx]

Day 67

It snowed. 

The captain noted quietly to himself, stepping out to the main dock. His boots crunched the thin layer of snow beneath him, the ship's rich dark wood now coated in white. Each miniscule fractal sparkling under the sunlight, blinding his eyes in the process. This was not the sight he wanted to see first thing in the morning. Squinting his eyes as his face scrunched up into a scowl, he quickly slammed the door shut and retreated back inside before the coldness of the breeze could bite into his skin. 

It’s been getting colder, he noted. He had to keep adding more layers on his body each morning to prevent himself from freezing, but he didn’t expect it to snow. Then again, it was the first time in a handful of days in which the ship could rest. Having just wrestled winds that threatened to drag him away, to then evade thunder that seared through the clouds and narrowingly escaping a few creatures that were rather unhappy to see a stranger like him going through their territory, it finally felt like a break to keep the ship idle for even a day. 

How foolish he was. To believe the world would dare give him a moment of reprieve. 

I guess it isn’t the worst thing to deal with. 

He thought to himself, even if he had to rummage through empty crates that were once filled with gear, now either lost overboard or too worn out to be used properly. Splintered wood, broken tools, weathered rope… any scraps that remained he hastily threw to the floor behind him. Squinting his eyes in the dark, searching in frustration for an item he swore was there. He knew his supplies weren't the best right now- if anything, they were getting a little too low for his liking- but he knew he had something to get through it. As his fingers finally clasped around the tattered box of matches, a sigh of relief slipped past his lips. Standing back, his hands were quick to empty the box of its contents, quite literally only a couple sticks falling into the palm of his hand. His lighter ran out long ago after he stupidly left it out on the deck during rainfall, so he had to resort to using the emergency stash of matches. 

Regardless, he searched around the dim emptiness of his chambers, eyes settling on a candle. Already standing at half the size it typically was, drips of wax cascaded down its side, frozen. It would have to do for now. Swiftly striking the match against a rough surface, missing the mark once, twice- the spark finally igniting the little stick in his hand into a flame. Reaching over to kiss the charred string, quiet seconds before a larger flame finally erupted. Lighting the room with a faint orange hue, the cold chamber felt marginally warmer. 

His eyes squinted, the frown on his lips persisting more as he got a proper look around at the mess strewn about the ground. He had convinced himself his supply was better than this,  but he couldn’t choose to ignore the truth that was laid out in front of him. Even as he threw the leftover items back into its storage, he could see the bottom of the crate.  A reminder that he was at his limit. 

He shifted to gaze at the makeshift closet he made for himself. Not that it was the biggest collection, but he could promise there was more than the single shirt that’s left hanging. What had happened to them? Rips, wear, tears, he even recalls willingly shredding up a few of them to repair the sails. Once more, an annoyed groan makes its way out of his lips, squeezing his eyes shut and furrowing his brows. 

It was… bound to happen anyways. Running out of supplies- he wasn’t stupid after all. Still, he had hoped he could last longer than this. The idea of returning to land, to the world where people scrutinized him and frowned upon his achievement of leaving those floating islands…

He didn’t like to think about the life he left behind- his friends, his family- all in pursuit of a little dream. To step beyond the land, to soar out into the sky amongst the clouds and break past the confinements of land. Perhaps he was insane, but he wasn’t about to let the limitless drop beyond the edges stop him. He will not allow the gods to keep them- keep him- locked on those stupid islands to be forever tormented and forced to tolerate their complacent nature. 

But he knew that in the eyes of others he was seen as equal to these gods. As selfish, as greedy and as someone far too arrogant to go into a domain humans like them weren’t meant to conquer. But he wasn’t human. 

‘Half-God’. The word rang in his ears, and he could feel his chest tighten up. That’s what he was now. 

And as much as he may hate his title, he cannot hate his passion.

He had to take a few seconds to blink. Bringing hands up to rub his eyes as if to clear his mind of the fog that had started to form. Taking a few heavy breaths to look around, to remind himself of where he is, how he got here, and the amount of effort he put to stand on this very ship he built from hand. Never once had he regretted his decision, nor will he start now. 

What he will regret is not packing enough stuff. With no prior knowledge or experience, he had to be creative. Both in preparation and in the face of dealing with circumstances he could not even fathom. After all, no one else had been brave (or stupid) enough to venture out to the skies. He had experienced momentary satisfaction with knowing he was able to scrape by and continue his journey regardless of the challenges, but that satisfaction has since whittled down slowly but surely and is instead replaced with slight weariness. A conscious reminder to stay diligent as luck won't always be by his side. 

Once more, a loud groan leaves his lips as he can't help but roll his eyes. Foot frantically tapping against the wood, arms crossed over his chest as he contemplated in silence. He has to go back, he knows it. He’s not going to be stupid and stubbornly persist. If there is one thing he learned, it is the fact he wasn’t invincible. And even if the thrill of danger is a part of the journey, he wasn’t about to be cut short because of stupid things like starvation or hypothermia. 

Yet he pushed the door open and walked out, the cold instantly sinking through the thin layers of his clothes and biting  his skin within mere seconds. Going through his routine- albeit with more curses that slipped past his clattering teeth or his body jerking to desperately create any sense of warmth. He didn’t keep track of time, but he knew it was just mere minutes before he had to quickly run back inside into the safety of his chambers. Slamming the door shut and throwing himself on his rugged bed, red swollen hands gripping the sheets as he curled up. A groan muffled against the flaccid pillows, the flame tauntingly flickering behind him as its glow touched his form but did not ease the cold in his bones. 

…. Fuck, he really will have to go back to land. 

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ 1263 words [Edited]

[imperatrix-mnyx]

Day 39

Heavy boots clicked on the hardwood of the ship, still heavy from sleep. A yawn slipped past the man's lips as his arms reached up, tension pulling at his muscles before he dropped them at his sides. One hand comes up to rub his eyes, urging himself to take in his surroundings to its fullest. From the dark rich woods wet with morning dew, piles of tangled rope he had hastily casted off to the side, the fabric of the sails dropped low and hanging still. He could feel his own body sway slightly, moving in rhythm with the gentle rocking of the ship as it floated in the emptiness that was the sky. 

Dragging his heels he brings himself to lean against one of the ledges. Half lidded eyes peering out to vast void shaded from greys and blues to slivers of gold as morning started to approach. His eyes flicker down for a moment, a pitless drop with seemingly no end present before him. The fear of falling is ever so present, but right now his main concern was the rumbling of his stomach. As he went to address the issue, his eyes caught onto the life that inhabited the sky with him- flocks of fish that swam in mesmerizing patterns, fluorescent scales of bigger fish catching the light. Long, lacing curtains hanging off translucent bells of jellyfish that hung quietly from above, like silent wind chimes. He was never fully alone out here. 

The weariness of waking up eases slightly at the reminder, his hand coming up to tussle his unruly cherry red curls before letting it rest on his shoulder. 

Off to his duties he went, but not before getting dressed. Doing so with such delicate care, constantly shooting looks in the old mirror he had hanging up in his personal chamber, which is already starting to gather dust at its edges. Carefully putting each layer of clothes, no regard of time as he had no reason to count. A white blouse with loose flowing sleeves, its colour still clean as by his mindful steps to make sure it stays that way. A leather corset he had to pull tight with belts, hooking it into hoops to where it properly supports his back and torso (‘its supportive for guys too.’ he’d murmur almost instinctively in protest, even if there was no criticism his way). Black denim pants followed by lacing up his leather boots, making sure they fit snug even if the creasing wrinkles are starting to protest. Standing up with another groan, stretching himself in his proper attire, he takes another good look at himself. 

Did he really need to do all this? A part of his brain nagged, to which a frown twitched on his lips. Of course he did- he learned that the hard way. The ship he led is empty and bare, with only he himself able to control what happens on it. With that in mind, he technically didn't need to get ready, or dressed in proper clothes, or make himself look presentable. He could walk around naked and no one would care. He was free out here sailing the sky. And he took advantage of that, mistaking laziness as liberation. The first days, week, almost the entire first month he started his journey out here was a mess. 

Getting attacked was a necessary wake up call. His teeth clenched almost instinctively, his eyes tracing over the scar on his arm. Even if it was now beneath the fabric of his clothes, he knew where it was. Unprotected, careless, stupid, a whole list of words he had already furiously written out and thrown over into the sky (a couple weeks-) long ago.  It was yet another reminder, that even if most of the animals were docile, it doesn’t mean they won't attack something in their territory. 

Then again, what's a human like him doing out here?

He paused, brow furrowing in thought before his hands started searching around the room. Feeling for a certain something, specifically the one that is his pirate hat. It was a silly little accessory he made, but even now he couldn’t deny its whimsy. He could always feel his shoulders relax, his eyes sparkled as the inner child in him jumped with joy at the idea of wearing it every morning. Physical proof that he had managed to get out here, to go beyond the islands to truly explore the world. The ship that now floated in the sky may have been evidence to others that he was serious in his claims, but to him the ability to don the  hat was the only security he needed. 

Pitiful. That only him could enjoy such childish wonder.

Adjusting it on his head, he could only bear to cast one last glance on himself before turning away. Remerging on the main deck, taking his sweet time as he prepared his ship. Pulling and tugging ropes, letting the sails drape freely. Tying knots absentmindedly, sweeping the deck and moving empty crates across the hardwood floors. He would knock at each piece of wood, checking for any damages or signs or rotting. He’d ring out dirty clothes and start scrubbing the floor. He’d climb up the mast and clumsily restitch seams that may have come undone. Mumbling out curses whenever the sharp needle pricked his thumbs.

This is too much work, he thought once more, but he did not stop his movements. He cared far too much- he had to. Keeping himself busy was the only way to forget his loneliness, or how much his heart yearned for the acceptance of his peers or for someone else to join him on his journey. But if he has to do it alone, he must. If it meant to travel the skies, to ride the wild winds, to open his eyes and to truly be free. Even if melancholy settles in the quiet of night, or even if his mind starts forgetting the voices of others. He will continue alone, simple because he could not extinguish the call for adventure.

Such is the way of a half-god. 

Finally stepping up the stairs into the high deck controls of the ship, his eyes are met with the blazing rays of the sun. Glaring at him from over the horizon. Sunlight blinding him but warming his body, kissing his skin with warmth and letting the morning dew shimmer on the wood. He simply stood there, basking in it all before the shadows of the sails overtook the power of the sun, leaving him behind in shadows once more. Closing his eyes, he takes a heavy breath, staying still before letting his worries huff into the morning air. 

“Day 39.”

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

1127 words [Not edited]