#thread.krish

Krish had to stop visiting the Siren’s Nest, they didn’t have the funds to continue doing so, depending at least on how long the siege of the Crown would last. It was already lasting deep into their funds. But this was what was needed to keep them from stealing a boat and sailing off to kill some soldiers of the Queen simply because their fingers were twitchy. 

They were in fact, twitching. Their fingers brushing over Matias’ forearm, up to his biceps, enjoying the sight and the warmth. They were drunk on the beauty all around them. Not just the Sirens themselves, but the whole place. Where the world outside of these doors looked paper thin, the Siren’s Nest was like a full book, written with love. 

“Let me tell you a story, it’s about dragons.”

“If it isn’t my good man,” Krish said loudly, as they spotted Alejandro appear in the same alley they’d been walking into. “It’s been long.” They frowned, but there was a smile on their face. They took a few steps towards the other, as they did, pulling their sword out from its scabbard. “I recall myself telling you that next time I’d see your face, you’d taste the end of my blade!” 

Having spent many years at sea, Krish had doves of former lovers. They were like the beach, their love came in waves. Crashing down upon the beach before retreating again slowly. And when it was gone, it would return on a different part later on. But it always left something behind. 

Krish came out of the tavern with one drunkard on slung over their shoulder. Who they disposed on the side of the road, still walking straight despite the amount of alcohol in their system. Humming along with some song they’d heard earlier.

They stopped mid-sentence when they saw Xavier. Former lovers aplenty, it was at times surprising to see them again. His surprise changing to amusement, a grin on his face. “The stories I tell of our love, they always start in the dark like this!”

Before Alejandro could get up or think to escape the blankets that lay covered the both of them, Krish reached out, hands on his hips and pulling him back against him. Their naked skin warm where they touched, Krish’s lips on Alejandro’s shoulder. “I do not need to fight you to make you stay, no?” He grinned as his hands snaked around his chest and waist. “Can I tell you a story? Just long enough for your energy to replenish. Or do you have better things to do?”

If Krish could sell their stories, they’d be rich. But there was little coin to be won and more to be spend, and all it earned them at times was a free drink, or a free fuck, or a bloody nose. It was a life they’d learned to love. They’d earn coin by spilling blood, and spilling blood would earn them a name their blade alone could not reach. “It was not the ship we were expecting on the horizon,” they told Arden, smiling as they did. “But it was too late to turn around and attempt to win a chase. So do you know what we did?” they asked. 

The many stories told by the former-prince were not all true, some certainly were less true than others, and of most of them it was impossible to say whether they were or not: unless you came from that part of the world. Though even kin of his own shores, Krish managed to confuse and entertain, to a point where they too knew not what he was speaking of. 

“It’s an old tale,” he told Anika, watching her dark eyes, so vibrant against the darkened interior of the Siren’s Nest. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it. Of the snake that killed the tiger with the help of a spider.”

When people had a lot to lose and little to gain, what fool would purposely attempt to lose some more? 

Krish happily appeared in the cask. Though not to spend money, merely to find a new crowd to entertain. But alas, the place was empty. Empty enough that his voice rang hollow amongst the few still at the tables. He eyed one of the employees, a deck of cards, an empty table, and sat. “A slow day, or perhaps the calm before a storm. I once met a man who never lost a single game of cards.”

Krish was the type who sought nearness in situations like this. Not necessarily the blockade: but just too much time on land. And when he couldn’t find it for free, he gladly threw money at the problem. Gladly. Dorian had the best brothel this side of the Caribbean. Perhaps all sides of the Caribbean. And they spoke with experience.

“You look like you could be a prince,” he said, his fingers trailing Dutch’s cheek. “Perhaps one stolen from his castle or lost at sea?”