"What happened to Yehsung" (Or "What Joo Wrote When She Wasn't Allowed To Write At All")
Blood stained the deck, and Yehsung watched in fuzzy horror as the pirate fell to the floor.
“Are you okay?”
Urgency tinged the voice, but Yehsung didn’t answer, instead choosing to lean his back against the wall and stare blurrily at the knife protruding from his enemy’s back. He gasped a little, closing his eyes in pain, clutching at the locket that hung still and cold around his neck.
He felt a strong pair of arms take him by the elbows, and guide him into the room beside them; the lanterns on the sides of the captains quarters swinging to the tune of the battle overhead. He dazedly followed his saviour’s instructions and sat on one of the scattered chairs lining the table with the map lying atop it and drank from a tiny bottle, one that his new friend had offered. His eyes started to go a little black around the edges.
“You have a pair of caterpillars on your face” Yehsung helpfully informed the man now tearing away his shirt in a hurry to inspect his bullet wound. He marvelled a little at how his eyesight snapped back into focus. “Great, big, black furry ones.”
Skilled fingers found blood, and ripped away pieces of fabric to use as a makeshift bandage. The newcomer looked worried.
“Huge ones.” Wince. “Right where your eyebrows should be.”
Silence, then the man pulled him to his feet. The great windows that surrounded the captain’s quarters had shattered sometime during the previous fray, and it was here that a staggering Yehsung was lead to look out over the swirling ocean; the moon glittered peacefully in the sky, as though mocking, somehow, the horror that was occurring below its gaze. Yehsung looked down, then up, then at the moon again. Land rippled in the moonlight.
Then they jumped, and water swirled up to meet them.