oceanlass

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I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul.

Bram Stoker, Dracula (via perfectquote)

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[oceanlass]

Drabble ; Mikeala’s Deal with Calypso.

It had taken time to get here, deep into the murky waters of the swamp and alone with the corpse of her former Captain. It felt eerily disturbing how no one questioned her, if anything, the gatekeeper (an old man with eyes that have clearly seen too much in his time) merely motioned her with his cane. “She be expecting you.”

She’d heard stories in her childhood, what she had engrained into her memory and refused to forget. Her mother had spoken to her before about Calypso, of the myth that they were akin to Calypso’s granddaughters, of sorts. How the goddess had felt taken with one of the men as he sailed and had spent a time favoring him until she bore him a child—a daughter. Now they’re family consisted more of women then men—and most of the women born in the Faheem lineage carried a gift of the sea. Some stronger or weaker then others.

Mikeala’s mother had a gift for sensing bad storms and at times even knowing when danger lied ahead. It was how she had ensured Mikeala’s escape and safety when they lost their home—and yet, for her gifts, she was still murdered. Mikeala shook her head gently, her loose hair spilling over her shoulders as she pushed away the haunted memories of her past.

She was here for a different reason. She glanced at the burden she shared the boat with, steering it with care as he remained unmoving. She kept him covered, wrapped as well as she could manage with pale sheets and—to remember him better with the dignity he carried alive instead of dead.

It was a hard word to wrap her head around after all she’d been through as his first mate. The shock on his face that mirrored her own when the bullet passed into his chest, and at last he felt.. and bled. She hadn’t wept, too shocked to really cry and too pained to let the tears fall. He’d looked so pale…

The sound of wood creaking drew her attention back to the approaching dock, where a woman in a dark dress and shawl stood expectantly with two tribal men—locals she suspected. Mikeala felt herself still when she met the woman’s dark gaze, her heart suddenly jolting in her chest and hammering loudly in her ears. She felt a strange pull to the woman, and swore when the woman’s mouth curved into a smile that she knew who Mikeala was at once. Maybe she did.

She climbed and secured the boat out of habit, and watched wordlessly as the two men worked and lifted her corpse—bringing it inside the shabby hut then leaving. Tia Dalma waited by the entrance, waving a hand expectantly towards her. “After you child.” Swallowing down her nervousness, Mikeala guided her boots up the step, straightening her back slightly as she stepped inside.

“I had heard of Barbossa’s death, but I cannae say I was ready for his corpse to be delivered tae my door.” Her grin was all too knowing, her steps eerily light as she moved around Mikeala. Those dark eyes watching her every step. “To think one of my kin, would come out of hiding tae see me.” She giggled, resting her hip against her wooden table. “A child with tae blood of my blood.”

“You..” Mikeala had to wet her dry lips, feeling herself rooted in place. “You know me?” Tia’s dark mouth curved upward, her lashes low and veiling her dark eyes briefly. “I sense it—-She feels it too, don’t she?”

Yes, she did. There was something about the enigma of a woman behind her, goddess, witch—whatever names she went by—she pulled at something that hummed in Mikeala’s veins. It felt as if she’d found something lost and precious, and yet her instincts were still screaming at her to be cautious. Instincts that have kept her alive still.

Tia’s black gaze looked over Mikeala’s form thoughtfully, taking in her battered clothing and features. “Why bring me Barbossa?” As if she didn’t know—no, this was how she was, Mikeala realized. She wanted to hear it straight out of her own mouth. She swallowed and felt her fist clench then unclench. “To bring him back..”

”Why?”

Mikeala hesitated again, feeling her stomach roil nervously. She lowered her gaze. “Because he was my captain—and should have had a better death then the one he was cheated.” Just as the curse was broken—-he died. She knew, at least now as she thought back on it—Jack had not taken any grim satisfaction in killing his former first mate… However, they’re rivalry was something built upon years of betrayals and battles and simply.. being pirates. If Barbossa and Jack chose to kill each other again afterwards, by all means they could—so long as the fight was honorable between the two men.

“Donnae lie to me child.”

The words were ominous, and Mikaela held her ground as her head jerked up, Tia Dalma—no, Calypso, circled her like a predatory shadow. “I can sense the call of the sea in yer blood.” She grins, bearing her teeth. “It be a song that hum’s in her blood, hm?” Her hands settle on Mikaela’s shoulders, warm and light—yet she feels herself suppressing a disturbing chill that raced down her spine. The hairs on her neck and arms rose when Calypso breathed by her ear, the scent of sea salt and brime dizzying. “Aye, I can sense you be another daughter of tae sea—Kin of my kin an’ blood from long ago.” She moves slowly, until she’s face to face with Mikaela, Calypso’s hands cupping her face.

“But like me, her heart was taken by one who loves the sea an’ woman hm?” There’s a knowing look, a shadow of sorrow that comes and goes as quickly as it came. An understanding that flickered within the depths of her dark eyes. It startled Mikeala, causing her eyes to widen slightly. She felt Calypso’s finger sweep back her hair, toying with one of her thinly woven braids. “You knoa there be a price for this.”

She nodded, swallowing thickly. Mikeala had heard the stories—and as she brought his corpse with her (it hadn’t felt right, seeing him unmoving and without life—she kept him covered with a blanket out of respect). Her heart had felt heavy since his death, no—Murder by the hands of Jack. She couldn’t re-join the pearl’s crew, didn’t want to even think of it. She’d told him before, I’m your first mate. and had meant it. Never let it be said she wasn’t a woman of her word.

“What be your price, jidda?” She asked, lowering her head. She wasn’t sure what she could give but didn’t care. Calypso raised her chin lightly, holding her gaze just as her hand drifted down, hovering over her chest— “Her heart.” She said, the tip of her fingers skimming over the skin beneath her collarbone.

“All tae love you burned and carried—no more.” Mikeala’s eyes widened. “I.. It’s not like that—I respect him and served as his first—“ Calypso’s hand rose up, stopping her rambling and for a moment Mikaela thought she imagined a look of brief pity on her face. “You cannae deny how yer heart burns and aches no? Like a snake be squeezin’ at your chest when you remember his dying hm?”

Mikeala recoiled, taking a step back. Calypso clicked her tongue, shaking her mess of dark hair. “You heart burns for dis man—what I ask in price is a gift tae my kin. Donnae let her heart be taken by he—Men of the sea betray us all in the end.” In a lower voice, she added, “No matter how she loves deeply. It be their nature.”

“…Can you really do it?” Calypso tilted her head, dark eyes narrowing. “I am a ‘oman of my word. I be need’n his revival, but price must be paid.” Mikeala hesitated, raising her hand for a moment. “…After your done with him though, you let him go free.. Promise?” Her great aunt sighed, nose crinkling before she closed her hand over Mikeala’s. “Word promised child.”

A strange sensation washed over her, something that made her heart both ache and seize as she gasped and fell to her knees. Calypso did not release her hand yet, watching her thoughtfully. “The price is accepted.” She released her and turned, Mikeala grasped her chest. She looked at her chest, seeing a dark tattoo manifest over her heart; a tribal clock. “When the clock finishes its lap, it shall no longer burn for the Captain of the Pearl.”

Mikeala watched in growing horror as Calypso disappeared to the back of the hut, no doubt preparing to revive barbossa. She closed her eyes, keeping her head bowed as she felt her eyes stinging. All the times she’d felt too stubborn to give this feeling a name, this pain and ache that lingered in her chest.

”…I’m… such an idiot.” She lamented, pressing the heel of her palm against her eyes, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. “Sorry.. Hector..” This would be her burden… Her curse in exchange for his freedom.

[oceanlass]

[oceanlass]

Your key go to a chest. And it is what lay inside the chest you seek. Don’t it?

What is inside?

Gold? Jewels? Unclaimed properties of valuable nature?

Nothing bad, I hope

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006) 

[oceanlass]

The Beginning of a Pirate Legend --- @seinfluch​ 

Tortuga was a hell of a place--one of the free ports north of Hispanola. It was a pirates paradise, sinful and foul, brash and violent as well as recklessly carefree--and yet it still remained afloat with its lucrative and dangerous business. Mikaela already knew her way around scrupulous folk--as she roamed through the bolstering crowds, she easily filched a few coin purses until hers was decently heavy. It’s been nearly fifteen odd years since she’d had to scourge the land by herself, surviving her own hardships since the loss of her home and demise of her blood--betrayal. 

She’d gained something of a reputation, if only as a navigator from some of the merchant ships she’d joined beforehand as well as her own unique skillset. She wore worn down leather vest over cotton shirt and breeches--and leather boots. the vest was long, its tails trimmed just near her thigh. Attached to her belt was her own uniquely-carved blade ( curved and narrow in shape, and about the size of her thigh, different from usual swords), pistol and whip. She hadn’t cared much for hats but had customized a cowl for her vest to help with the shade--tho she’d nicked a bandana as she walked passed a drunken pair and patted it over before tying it over her crown of dark hair that she kept woven into a thick braid. 

Her reason for lurking around Tortuga was a simple one--to confirm the rumor of the Black Pearls arrival--and their need for more crewmen, mayhap’s even a good navigator. She remembered the ways of the sea instilled into her as a child, and proved on the other vassals a way to navigate out of a hurricane. The original crew owed her their lives, and wanted her to stay on--but they weren’t the sort she needed for her own agenda. She needed strong men. Strong pirates---for her revenge.

Getting the interview was easy, sign the paper, fill out your name and skills ( Mikael Faheem, navigator, rigger, and occasional cook )--the real challenge was being interviewed by the captain and being accepted. She’d found most of the Pearl’s crew hanging at one of the more infamous taverns. Wordlessly, she filled out the form, and followed the direction of one of the crewmen who pointed to where she’d speak with the captain. Her boots creaked lightly against the wooden floorboards, and she stepped into the room and didn’t blink as the door was nearly slammed behind her. A chittering sound drew her gaze to the window, where a monkey sat--clothed--and screeched in her direction. She fished out a piece of dried tangerine from her pocket, and kneeled down to offer it to the curious critter.

❝ Now, I don’t think you’re the capitao of the ship, hm?❞ She spoke in a neutral voice, one she’d practiced and forced into habit over the years to hide her true gender. The monkey took the fruit, leaping away immediately as another voice chuckled lowly. She rose up to her full height slowly, turning her head to the source---The Captain of the Black Pearl, Barbossa. 

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“For the first time I tasted death, and death tastes bitter because it is birth: anxiety and terror in the face of frightening renewal.”

— Hermann Hesse, from Demian

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It is not all you have! Eleanor, this place is just sand! It cannot love you back. You know this. You must know this.

MAX + iconic lines

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max + flower belt & blue overdress