Fic, "Rock"
Title: Rock
Rating: PG for language?
Media: Fic
Characters: Sanji & Zeff (gen)
Word Count: 300
Prompt: The Ocean
Hours spent listening to an old man rasping beside him, seagulls arguing overhead for the bodies but never coming close enough to be grabbed, and most of all the ocean crashing against the narrow base of the island had given Sanji a sense of hearing that was too keen. Like the sunlight without any shelter, or the smell of salty water drying against the rocks below, his senses all felt expanded by his physical contraction. Only touch protected him, the warmth of a body barely warmer than his own, the reassuring feeling of a large chest that had once been much larger still rising and falling with unsteady but stubborn breaths.
After they'd been found, the old man had still wanted a ship. Another ship, and a trip out to sea to live in that desert again. He understood what the old man was dreaming of, but some part of him still wanted to hold back. He'd have to be crazy to want to go out there again, after what had happened. After knowing what could happen. Have to be crazy.
He couldn't let the old man think he was scared, though, so he kept his lips shut. And as his feet unsteadily stepped off of the docks onto the small boat meant to ferry them to their new home, he realized something in a flash of familiar salty scent, the sound of waves and the sensation of something rocking back and forth gently. The terror vanished, replaced by the comforting familiarity. Sanji's unsteady feet found their balance on the moving surface just before a peg leg slammed into the back of his head, sending him sprawling flat to the deck.
"Get a move on if you're sill coming, stupid little eggplant!"
“Of course I am, you shitty old geezer!”
Rating: PG for language?
Media: Fic
Characters: Sanji & Zeff (gen)
Word Count: 300
Prompt: The Ocean
Hours spent listening to an old man rasping beside him, seagulls arguing overhead for the bodies but never coming close enough to be grabbed, and most of all the ocean crashing against the narrow base of the island had given Sanji a sense of hearing that was too keen. Like the sunlight without any shelter, or the smell of salty water drying against the rocks below, his senses all felt expanded by his physical contraction. Only touch protected him, the warmth of a body barely warmer than his own, the reassuring feeling of a large chest that had once been much larger still rising and falling with unsteady but stubborn breaths.
After they'd been found, the old man had still wanted a ship. Another ship, and a trip out to sea to live in that desert again. He understood what the old man was dreaming of, but some part of him still wanted to hold back. He'd have to be crazy to want to go out there again, after what had happened. After knowing what could happen. Have to be crazy.
He couldn't let the old man think he was scared, though, so he kept his lips shut. And as his feet unsteadily stepped off of the docks onto the small boat meant to ferry them to their new home, he realized something in a flash of familiar salty scent, the sound of waves and the sensation of something rocking back and forth gently. The terror vanished, replaced by the comforting familiarity. Sanji's unsteady feet found their balance on the moving surface just before a peg leg slammed into the back of his head, sending him sprawling flat to the deck.
"Get a move on if you're sill coming, stupid little eggplant!"
“Of course I am, you shitty old geezer!”