Tii's Art

playing with some new techniques and drawing some neglected oc’s

Warmup Pidge

Terms:

Aes - Yes

Rana - Eyes

Viatzezil - Blood sucker (vampire)

Kopak - insult related to drinking blood

Zillist - blood

The waves that rocked the ship would normally not make the blue-blood so queasy, but tonight was different. He hadn't had any proper sustenance  in far too long, and keeping up appearances was getting harder and harder when your senses grew more and more sensitive with each passing moment.

Emilod Certia adjusted his goggles once more before stepping onto deck. The sun was shielded mostly behind clouds and his lenses were darkened, but that didn't stop it feeling like needles piercing his eyes. Em certainly wished the ship hadn't taken the detour it had. The next few days were going to be agonizing in this state.

Stepping aside to avoid the activity on board, Emilod made his way to the railing on one side. He had never been aboard a ship long enough to pick up the terms, but his best guess would have been port-side. That very same best guess would have been wrong.

Threading his legs through the railing, Em watched the horizon. It was supposed to calm motion sickness, but it did nothing of the sort for Emilod. Frustration was something he rarely felt outside of working on machines, but today was certainly trying his patience. Even above deck, the rolling of the ship and the din of sailors was nearly unbearable.

“Excuse me,” one of the other passengers touched Emilod's shoulder, jerking him from his brooding, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Aes,” he answered, trying to smile politely. By the way the other frowned, he assumed it was more off-putting than intended. “I am just motion-sick.”

The other passenger looked skeptical and Emilod got a whiff of fear. “Me and some of the others, we're just worried.” They swallowed, and there was more of that putrid scent. “The doctor on board said you haven't been eating, either.”

Emilod nodded. He couldn't eat food any more, but he was sure that wasn't something the others wanted to hear. “I am sorry for being worrisome, I did not expect the journey to be so long. Once I am on land, everything will be alright again.”

Before he could turn back to watch the horizon once more, the nervous stranger cleared their throat. “I'm not so sure?”

Fixing a stare at them through the goggles, he sighed. “And why not?”

“Your rana.”

Instinctively, the blue-blood looked down and away, suppressing the urge to swear. “They are simply light sensitive. During my last job, I was caught unaware by the light of a welder.” Even to Emilod, it sounded hollow and practised.

More fear, some fidgeting. Emilod could hear their pulse and how anxiety made it quicken. There was the scent of something else, and before he could turn his face away, the stranger was reaching for his goggles. “Then you'll be alright showing me your rana.”

Swifter than the evarean eye, Emilod's hand snapped up and caught the wrist of the stranger. “Do not,” he said, a dark edge to his voice. “It would be ... detrimental.”

The stranger yanked at their hand, eyes wide. Emilod almost didn't let go, and the prolonged grip left bruises when he did release the other. Quickly, he turned back towards the ocean. He didn't enjoy hurting people like that, but his strength was hard to control when he was so damned thirsty.

Taking measured breaths, he listened as the stranger turned and fled. He knew this was going to mean trouble, and only hoped it would be resolved closer to land. The middle of the sea was a harsh place for anyone, but especially those that could hardly swim and fed exclusively on zillist.

He closed his eyes and listened, ignoring the way the wind cut at him through his jacket, the salt in the air feeling gritty with each breath, the way the stomping boots around him caused vibrations he could swear he felt in his bones. There was some voices below, but even he couldn't make out words. No way would he chance going down there and confronting the rest of the passengers, either. He would wait until they slept, then go down and retrieve his bag of tools and scraps for his trade. The rest of the trip would be spent above deck, no matter how much the daylight hurt.

Unfortunately for Emilod, the other passengers weren't so patient. By the time sun set, the word had spread to the rest of the crew. Lamps were lit as it grew darker, and the Captain approached Emilod once everything was taken care of for the night. Emilod knew her by her footsteps, they were calculated and firm.

“Your name is Emilod, right?” Her voice carried the same qualities as her footsteps, and Em admired that. In the lamplight, she was imposing and ferocious and beautiful.

“Aes,” he said, standing and giving her a polite bow, “Emilod Certia.”

“You've been causing trouble?”

Sheepishly, Emilod nodded. “I suppose I have, and I apologize.”

She eyed him, and he flushed under the gaze. If things had been different, Emilod would have wanted to get close to her. “As Captain, I'm giving you some orders. First, step away from the rails.” Once Emilod had complied, she nodded over her shoulder. There were other crew members waiting, and they made him nervous when they stepped forward. It could have been their bulk, but it was probably the ropes in their hands.

“Your other orders?” he asked, standing stiffly, alert now.

“The second, you will not fight my crew.” After a reluctant nod, she continued, “Third, hold your hands behind your back, these gentlefolks will be immobilizing you for a moment.”

After another tense moment of hesitation and eyeing the crew members, he did as she told. “May I enquire about what this is for?”

“There have been some accusations made.”

Emilod winced as a rope pulled tight over his wrists. Each loose fibre scratched at his black skin. “Will I be allowed to defend against such accusations?”

“Perhaps,” she smiled at him, waiting for the crew members to step away. “The other passengers are saying you're a viatzezil. Open your mouth.”

Emilod bowed his head. His fangs were dulled by a metal edge, but were still distinctly fangs. The sharp sound of steel on steel made his head ache, and he turned away from the sword at the Captain's side. The cold blade touched his cheek and he sighed.

“I only meant to travel,” he said, “I am a mechanic, first and foremost.”

“I never asked for your life story. Look at me and open your mouth, kopak.”

Emilod did, the cut from the Captain's sword pressing into his cheek healing quickly. She leaned in to see, but stayed far enough away he couldn't reach her without that sword cutting through him. “I paid my passage fees.”

His words made her jump, and he knew it was no use. Fear was a deadly motivator that didn't listen to reason. With a flash in the lamplight, her sword cut the leather strap on the side of Emilod's face and split the skin underneath. The sudden brightness made him curse and shut his eyes.

“Kopak,” she said coldly, “Show us your rana.”

He did. Briefly, he saw the other passengers, and the smug looks on their faces. Their capacity for cruelty he didn't understand. Had he caused trouble? Sure, he might have made some remarks on the first day. He didn't deserve to die for his existence, and he knew they would all disagree.

The Captain made a motion when Em glanced at her again, and someone brought his bag over. “This should do fine as a weight.” She nodded at Emilod before turning to the others, inviting them to watch the spectacle. His heightened senses made his fear feel sharp as his large backpack was lashed to him.

The disappointment on the faces of the crew and passengers almost made his complacency worth it when he was finally ushered to stand by the gap in the railing, a ladder leading down to the depths he would never get a chance to reach for. He waited for the Captain to formally utter his crime and the punishment she saw fit before turning to look down at the cold water below.

“I never asked to be a viatzezil,” he said, hearing someone reaching for him. The shove was no surprise, and neither was the temperature of the water.

It shocked some breath from his lungs all the same as he tumbled in the wake of the ship. A few times, he felt the wood brush against him. Near-misses to having his body broken against the glorious boat. As he sunk, he curled up.