The first of my prompts.
Title: Mare Aeternalis
Requester: vani_nessa-- Drinking Scourge.
Prompt: More Pirate AU? General drunken storytelling fun. ^__^
Author’s Note: I really wasn’t expecting this to get so serious business, it just sort of ran away with itself as these things tend to do. Sorry, Vanessa.
Mare Aeternalis
The whole Roddy nursemaiding business was starting to take its toll on Scourge’s patience. On most of the crew, really, but somehow Scourge had accidentally taken up the ‘amiable story-telling rogue’ position in the boy’s mind and now Roddy spent almost as much time around him as he did around Galvatron.
“Come on, lad, just a few more steps.” Scourge angled himself sideways, walking Roddy back up the gangplank and praying to the gods of both his heritages that they didn’t tip into the water.
“M’coming, just my legs are a bit wobbly.”
“Just one foot in front of the other, easiest thing in the world.”
He just wished the captain would get around to explaining why they had to put on the friendly pirate act. Galvatron almost never explained the reasoning behind his strange orders, forcing the crew to trust that they’d once again come out on top if they did things just so and obeyed his every command-he loved nothing more than pulling off a grand reveal. But nobody could quite figure out why they were keeping the noble bit of rubbish around and not even trying to hold him for ransom.
“There you go, we’re back home again. You’d best sit down before your legs give out.”
“Uh huh.” Roddy flopped down on the deck and Scourge leaned back against the railing, staring up at the starry sky that wavered ever so slightly in front of his eyes. He’d had a few drinks but not nearly as many as he’d have preferred nor anything interesting to do after he’d had them. The captain had made sure Roddy had a nice time at the tavern and then packed him back off to the ship with Scourge so he could go out and have some more decadent fun with the local women. Or Cyclonus. Possibly the local women and Cyclonus, the bastard.
“S’nice night,” Rodimus offered helpfully. “No clouds at all.”
“Very perceptive of you, lad. We should tie you to the mast and use you as a weather cock.”
“Heh heh. That’d look pretty funny, wouldn’t it? Spinnin’ around and around again, y’know?”
“I agree. Seeing you strung up would be hilarious.” There was something comforting about knowing Roddy probably wouldn’t remember anything he said in the morning. Less having to worry about getting in trouble.
The flag of the Dis wavered slightly in the night breeze before lying back down again. It was fitting, Scourge supposed, that a show-off like Galvatron would pick something so utterly bizarre and gaudy as his banner. Sable, a chevron purpure, a tricorn skull argent, Cyclonus had called it, and he wasn’t the sort of person who made up gibberish for the sake of looking smart. If you believed the stories, the flag had appeared the moment Galvatron took the ship, the image pulled right from his own mind. Scourge didn’t believe the stories, but he was quite happy to spread them around.
“Hey, Scourge?” the boy piped up. He was still looking up at the stars with a glazed expression.
“Mm?”
“What did you do before you were a pirate?”
“I was personal solicitor to the Duke of Wellington. Decided to switch to something a bit more scrupulous,” Scourge said innocently. Private life stayed private. Roddy frowned as he thought this one over, then had a delayed giggle as he got the joke.
“So y’like bein’ a pirate?”
“Only thing I could be. Wouldn’t leave it even if Death himself tried to make me.”
The boy tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, trying to push deep thoughts through the rum-soaked mush that was his brain. “Well…wouldn’t you have to? Everyone goes eventually.”
“Who says I’d have to go? You turn out the right kind of person, you won’t have to leave in the first place.” Scourge shut his eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the waves against the hull of the ship and fitting his mind into the right shape. “I’ve heard it spoken around that there’s another way out, a place beyond the veil of death itself for any man who has more seawater in his veins than blood.”
The words sprung to Scourge’s lips on their own like a dolphin from the waves. “Mare Aeternalis,” he said with relish. “The eternal ocean.”
For some reason drink managed to cloud his senses about most matters but only made his sea tales come all the quicker, as if they were only waiting for his common sense to get out of the way. He could make up any kind of rubbish right on the spot, if he had the right kind of prompting, and Roddy’s shiny-eyed encouragements got to him nearly every time.
“Whassit like?” The orange haired boy tried to sit up, wobbling drunkenly with enthusiasm. “S’like a pirate heaven?”
“Oh, better than that, boy, better than any paradise they dream up for people who like dirt under their feet. There’s been a few men, half-drowned and brought back again, who’ve been to those wide seas and come back to talk about it. They’re always a bit touched in the head afterwards, like they’ve left a part of their soul there.
“And who wouldn’t want to, in such a place? It’s the sea, over and over again, stretching on forever. There’s islands and continents and so on, a fiddler’s green in every port for the baser pleasures, but you can sail until judgement day and still never see the whole of it. Every sailor and fisherman and pirate, every true seaman going back to the first savage who found he could float if he cut up a log in the right way and pushed it about with a stick finds his way there eventually.”
Roddy was entranced. He lowered his voice respectfully, as if he was talking to a priest giving a holy sermon. “Sounds…amazing. “You…think I’d go there?” he asked hopefully, pulling one knee up to his chest and trying to keep his head from sagging off to one side. “M’only sort of a pirate, not really much of one.”
“If you prefer that to God’s heaven, fair odds are that you’re going. Might see it in your dreams if the moon’s right” Suggestions were powerful things. Scourge would lay fair money on what Roddy would dream about that night.
“Ooh…” The boy mulled on this for a moment, his head sinking down to his knee again. His clumsy fingertips traced the furrows in the deck aimlessly. “’Y’ever seen it, Scourge?” Y’talk like you did.”
“Me?” Scourge faltered for a moment, dropping down out of whatever narrative world he’d wandered into this time. He made a practice of never believing his own stories, but…
Well, any little child was bound to have strange dreams about ships captained by frogs and crewed by a bizarre mix of men, beasts, and short creatures with curved blue noses. Any lad who knew only that his father was a Chinaman would dream about standing at the bow of a junk with a dark-eyed man whose fond smiles made him swell with pride. And any man who’d seen his share of storms and waves would close his eyes and have the wide sea before him, over and over again, stretching out forever.
“I just tell what I hear, boy, doesn’t mean I go around hallucinating.” Scourge stood up and stumbled for a moment as he tried to get himself stable before tackling the problem of escorting Roddy back to the captain’s cabin. “Now let’s get you tucked away. I think you’ve had enough of bedtime stories.”
Roddy went to sleep almost immediately with a lazy grin on his face. Scourge sat on watch until Soundwave relieved him, then went below deck and drank himself into what he hoped was a dreamless stupor.
It didn’t work.
Requester: vani_nessa-- Drinking Scourge.
Prompt: More Pirate AU? General drunken storytelling fun. ^__^
Author’s Note: I really wasn’t expecting this to get so serious business, it just sort of ran away with itself as these things tend to do. Sorry, Vanessa.
Mare Aeternalis
The whole Roddy nursemaiding business was starting to take its toll on Scourge’s patience. On most of the crew, really, but somehow Scourge had accidentally taken up the ‘amiable story-telling rogue’ position in the boy’s mind and now Roddy spent almost as much time around him as he did around Galvatron.
“Come on, lad, just a few more steps.” Scourge angled himself sideways, walking Roddy back up the gangplank and praying to the gods of both his heritages that they didn’t tip into the water.
“M’coming, just my legs are a bit wobbly.”
“Just one foot in front of the other, easiest thing in the world.”
He just wished the captain would get around to explaining why they had to put on the friendly pirate act. Galvatron almost never explained the reasoning behind his strange orders, forcing the crew to trust that they’d once again come out on top if they did things just so and obeyed his every command-he loved nothing more than pulling off a grand reveal. But nobody could quite figure out why they were keeping the noble bit of rubbish around and not even trying to hold him for ransom.
“There you go, we’re back home again. You’d best sit down before your legs give out.”
“Uh huh.” Roddy flopped down on the deck and Scourge leaned back against the railing, staring up at the starry sky that wavered ever so slightly in front of his eyes. He’d had a few drinks but not nearly as many as he’d have preferred nor anything interesting to do after he’d had them. The captain had made sure Roddy had a nice time at the tavern and then packed him back off to the ship with Scourge so he could go out and have some more decadent fun with the local women. Or Cyclonus. Possibly the local women and Cyclonus, the bastard.
“S’nice night,” Rodimus offered helpfully. “No clouds at all.”
“Very perceptive of you, lad. We should tie you to the mast and use you as a weather cock.”
“Heh heh. That’d look pretty funny, wouldn’t it? Spinnin’ around and around again, y’know?”
“I agree. Seeing you strung up would be hilarious.” There was something comforting about knowing Roddy probably wouldn’t remember anything he said in the morning. Less having to worry about getting in trouble.
The flag of the Dis wavered slightly in the night breeze before lying back down again. It was fitting, Scourge supposed, that a show-off like Galvatron would pick something so utterly bizarre and gaudy as his banner. Sable, a chevron purpure, a tricorn skull argent, Cyclonus had called it, and he wasn’t the sort of person who made up gibberish for the sake of looking smart. If you believed the stories, the flag had appeared the moment Galvatron took the ship, the image pulled right from his own mind. Scourge didn’t believe the stories, but he was quite happy to spread them around.
“Hey, Scourge?” the boy piped up. He was still looking up at the stars with a glazed expression.
“Mm?”
“What did you do before you were a pirate?”
“I was personal solicitor to the Duke of Wellington. Decided to switch to something a bit more scrupulous,” Scourge said innocently. Private life stayed private. Roddy frowned as he thought this one over, then had a delayed giggle as he got the joke.
“So y’like bein’ a pirate?”
“Only thing I could be. Wouldn’t leave it even if Death himself tried to make me.”
The boy tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, trying to push deep thoughts through the rum-soaked mush that was his brain. “Well…wouldn’t you have to? Everyone goes eventually.”
“Who says I’d have to go? You turn out the right kind of person, you won’t have to leave in the first place.” Scourge shut his eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the waves against the hull of the ship and fitting his mind into the right shape. “I’ve heard it spoken around that there’s another way out, a place beyond the veil of death itself for any man who has more seawater in his veins than blood.”
The words sprung to Scourge’s lips on their own like a dolphin from the waves. “Mare Aeternalis,” he said with relish. “The eternal ocean.”
For some reason drink managed to cloud his senses about most matters but only made his sea tales come all the quicker, as if they were only waiting for his common sense to get out of the way. He could make up any kind of rubbish right on the spot, if he had the right kind of prompting, and Roddy’s shiny-eyed encouragements got to him nearly every time.
“Whassit like?” The orange haired boy tried to sit up, wobbling drunkenly with enthusiasm. “S’like a pirate heaven?”
“Oh, better than that, boy, better than any paradise they dream up for people who like dirt under their feet. There’s been a few men, half-drowned and brought back again, who’ve been to those wide seas and come back to talk about it. They’re always a bit touched in the head afterwards, like they’ve left a part of their soul there.
“And who wouldn’t want to, in such a place? It’s the sea, over and over again, stretching on forever. There’s islands and continents and so on, a fiddler’s green in every port for the baser pleasures, but you can sail until judgement day and still never see the whole of it. Every sailor and fisherman and pirate, every true seaman going back to the first savage who found he could float if he cut up a log in the right way and pushed it about with a stick finds his way there eventually.”
Roddy was entranced. He lowered his voice respectfully, as if he was talking to a priest giving a holy sermon. “Sounds…amazing. “You…think I’d go there?” he asked hopefully, pulling one knee up to his chest and trying to keep his head from sagging off to one side. “M’only sort of a pirate, not really much of one.”
“If you prefer that to God’s heaven, fair odds are that you’re going. Might see it in your dreams if the moon’s right” Suggestions were powerful things. Scourge would lay fair money on what Roddy would dream about that night.
“Ooh…” The boy mulled on this for a moment, his head sinking down to his knee again. His clumsy fingertips traced the furrows in the deck aimlessly. “’Y’ever seen it, Scourge?” Y’talk like you did.”
“Me?” Scourge faltered for a moment, dropping down out of whatever narrative world he’d wandered into this time. He made a practice of never believing his own stories, but…
Well, any little child was bound to have strange dreams about ships captained by frogs and crewed by a bizarre mix of men, beasts, and short creatures with curved blue noses. Any lad who knew only that his father was a Chinaman would dream about standing at the bow of a junk with a dark-eyed man whose fond smiles made him swell with pride. And any man who’d seen his share of storms and waves would close his eyes and have the wide sea before him, over and over again, stretching out forever.
“I just tell what I hear, boy, doesn’t mean I go around hallucinating.” Scourge stood up and stumbled for a moment as he tried to get himself stable before tackling the problem of escorting Roddy back to the captain’s cabin. “Now let’s get you tucked away. I think you’ve had enough of bedtime stories.”
Roddy went to sleep almost immediately with a lazy grin on his face. Scourge sat on watch until Soundwave relieved him, then went below deck and drank himself into what he hoped was a dreamless stupor.
It didn’t work.