No shortage of grisly accounts reached his ears over the coming days and no matter how those foreign tongues spun their tales of woe, Mithras was inclined to believe them. There wasn’t nearly enough evidence presented to rule out any possibility as of yet. All one knew for certain was that far too many ships had been discovered adrift at sea or run ashore. Their crews decimated by whatever mysterious forces had lain claim upon their unfortunate souls. It was all rather worrisome to say the least and with reports only mounting there was little time to waste, something needed to be done… and quickly.
Swifter than these gossipers allowed for of course everyone held their own opinions on the matter and made certain that the commander heard of it. Many wrote it off as a tragedy of the tides. Some dared issue insult upon the missing - they were inexperienced, they didn’t fully grasp the risks carried upon the tempestuous nature of the sea. Others saw fit to merely churn the rumor mill - believed it all to be the work of magical beings, seafaring monsters who could puncture the hull of their ships as easily as a sword to flesh, beguiling beasts who could lure others to their untimely demise with but a glance.
However, no matter what whispers flooded the public, the draconian clung to his own suspicions over these disappearances for he knew all too well what lurked beneath the waves. Though he would not allow assumptions to cloud his mind without a proper investigation into the matter first. A crown shaking as the metallic trim of his heels clicked upon the wooden deck. Certainty holding that if he himself had not volunteered to undertake such a duty it would have been commanded of him to do so.
He knew these waters better than any beneath the Red Queen’s talons, having lived beneath the depths gave advantages others did not possess and yet it made him no more eager to take on this journey. Especially when it entailed being forced to keep watch of any foolish civilians who wished to “prove their worth” within the eyes of the elite. It was a death sentence. Steadying sigh rolled from painted lips as fingers pressed briefly to his visage. All he could hope for was that any who decided to seek a place on his ship would not be insufferable or that would only make an already lengthy journey feel ever greater.
Rumors were abound through the entirety of Crue Efros, the news of strange disappearances flooding the streets of Shanton. Drunk tongues of sailors drawn and anchored at port due to the dangers had easily slithered their way like serpents into the shows of red lights and less savory institutes. They had been coming in droves recently, and while normally, such a thing would be seen asa blessing in many of their lives, there were reasons why such a happening was better left to occasion rather than a constant. The already chaotic enough town of Shanton had grown even more wild and disruptive in recent days. Dark streets that were already dangerous enough found new monsters to plague them. Already, one of the other women she had worked with had been found in the worst of ways. She wanted them out.
So it was that she found herself on the creaking timbers of the wharf. The air was heavy with putrid smells, ones that had become all too common in the Gilded Lily. She would belying if she claimed to know much at all about sailing or boats in general for that matter. Seamen were notorious for being prone to superstition. Many believed that merely having a woman on board their vessel was enough to spurn bad omens for their voyage. Others claimed it was only maidens with crimson locks that invoked the wrath of their guardian dieties. She could only imagine how difficult it was goingto be to find passage now with all this going on.
However, in one of the postings, it was told of an official ship tithe paid bythe queen herself for any and all to come and try to make heads or tails of the dissapearances and other strange phenomenon. It was there her hopes were best aimed, she supposed as she searched the filthy pier for sign of the boat. Upon finally finding it and riffling through the various crowds, she would address the one she assumed to be incharge. Despite his small stature, he seemed rather highly decorated. Judging further by his otherworldly appearance, she also marked him as one of the undead, a nuance of detail that made her skin writhe as if it was possessed by millions of petite parasites. "Will you take me on board, sir?" came her askance, and while annoyance would quite assuredly find purchase over her, there was also a fraction of herself that hoped he would decline her entry.
It didn't take long for the whispers to reach their inky tendrils into the darkest shadows of Shanton's ears. Her great majesty, the Red Queen, was offering a generous prize to whoever could figure out what was going on in the North Sea. Surely there were already countless corpses swimming in the depths, their eager valour and greedy gaze getting in the way of common sense. An abundance of bodies sacrificed to the gaping maw of the swirling tide. Blinded by the allure of coin, of riches beyond a pauper's comprehension. Unfortunately, Naga was among those leashed by the bewitching giles of material wealth. It's what pulled him back into the walls of Grand Lavalles and to the bustling wharf busier than he'd imagined. By some miracle, he'd managed to find a tavern that wasn't packed to the brim with idle sailors.
"Stay here." He'd murmur to the younger man, his sibling through maternal blood.
Fear resounded throughout the seasoned veterans. Stories and superstitions whispered beyond the rim of their tankards. Others simply refused to talk about all of the horrors locked behind their grieving gaze. Then the one thing he needed to hear. "Duke Mithras is setting sail soon, I hear." As Naga exited the tavern, he motioned towards his brother to follow.
"We're looking foooor..." He trailed off as he looked towards the docks before settling his studious stare upon what appeared to be the most intricately built ship of the lot. It was no ordinary fishing trawler nor did it boast a simple sail. If he had to make an educated guess, Naga would bet that this was the ship belonging to a Duke.
"That one. Let's go, Finny. If you get lost again, I'm not coming back for you." A lie, of course. Just like all the other times he made empty threats out of sibling love.
As they rounded a stack of wooden crates, tresses of crimson hair stood out amongst the other heads moving to and fro along the creaking dock. Naga froze for a moment when he heard the familiar voice. His cheeks slightly reddened as he recalled how it sounded in the throes of primal pleasure and it took him a moment to collect his composure though he could do little about the slanted smirk dressing his boyish features. "Uh," He cleared his throat while directing his attention instead to the winged man despite how his eyes craved to see her again. To see her wholly undressed and writhing beneath him. Against him. To see her overcome by the razing hand of completion.
"You the one looking for sailors?" Despite his better judgement, Naga let his gaze drift from the Duke to the hot-headed beauty and her ample bossom with a knowing gleam. "We know a thing or two about... masts."
There came a touch of hestitation in so willingly following after his brother’s steps and yet whatever trouble he planned to get up to would no doubt be far more interesting than sulking about the forge. Anything was better than remaining beneath a scornful gaze for too long. So it was Naga he followed, at least for a time. For as an eye settled upon the constructs of a tavern there came a twinge of annoyance. It wasn’t going to be any fun if only one of them got to do anything for Fineás was certain that one behind the counter would refuse to serve him.
Low scoff resounded in his throat at he shot a glare toward his sibling, another threatening to rise the moment he was told to stay put. As if. Paces striding after the damned soon after he’d slipped within the door way. The boy’s own interest piqued by the none too hushed whispers falling from all around. So many tales slipping from the lips of drunkards and tale weaving bard alike though before he could approach any of greater interest he was quickly ushered back out by the very man he’d chased. Guess they weren’t staying here after all.
A curious path tread toward the wharf with attentions called toward one of the more ornate ships docked at the harbor. They didn’t belong aboard but one could not deny the curiosity held toward the extravagant vessel, “I never get lost idiot, you do.” Not entirely true when each had a habit of wandering off if the other remained stationary for too long or if something else pulled focus when another paid it no mind. It was a cycle that was sure to continue, however, in these moments both held the same fixations upon the intricacies of a ship and - in time - those aboard. Two in particular coming into immediate few.
Hair of fire decorating a woman he seemed to keep running into, not that he was complaining, and another with snowy plumage and tresses just as light. Each of them holding something to guide his roving stare. Unknowing to where his brother’s own eyes traveled, Fineás found focus glued first to the familiar figure of the woman. Her clothing seeming ever tighter than the last time he’d lain eyes on her. So little left up to the imagination with how fabrics clung and dipped upon flesh, strings straining to contain all she’d pressed between them.
Yet it was not only she that eyes would rove over as soon enough attentions flickered to the feathered man the others addressed. His attire a stark contrast to the fiery woman’s own though that did little to deter the boy’s gaze from drifting along the rather short Duke’s frame. Taking in soft features, delicate feathering, and of course the curve of a hip that could be seen beneath the bindings of decorated belt. One cinched just tightly enough to offer a peek at what may lie underneath the coverings of fanciful adornments.
Unashamed of allowing a gaze to drop further. This cursory glance cannot last much longer however, for soon enough Naga’s voice snaps him out of a daze of wandering eyes. Confusion lacing that sole orb as he looked to his brother in disbelief. They didn’t know jack shit about whatever a mast was… or at least Fineás didn’t. And while he wasn’t privy to every antic his brother got up to, though he was fairly certain the man didn’t spend his time sailing the untamed seas. Fixing the vampiric with a judgmental look lyrics fall in hushed tones meant only for him, “What the fuck are you talking about? You didn’t say we were signing up to be some stupid sailors.”
