зубы

She should be resting. She should be recovering. How long has it been since she was in a place even remotely safe? But that phrase was exactly what was haunting her, keeping her up.

She was not safe. Deep in her bones, in the pit of her stomach, she knew that whatever had devoured her ship was still out there. Stalking. Waiting. 

She touched the pages of her salvaged journals, inspecting them by candlelight. Emma turned the pages delicately, noting the spots where her meticulous handwriting had been turned into black smudges by salty ocean water. Lines between her brows appeared as she let a frustrated groan escape under her breath. 

She’d have to rewrite this whole page, wouldn’t she? God, of course she would. 

Suddenly a creak shattered the calm quiet of the room, making her jump in the process. Panic gripped her throat, invading her chest. Still, she managed a whispered shout, albeit one tinged with fear.

maksim keeps his steps heavy-- to announce himself by sound before sight, so the wood aches under his body. this ship is quieter than the agathe. while english craftsmanship lacks the indulgence of the french it makes up for it with spine--  solid and ugly, business without pleasure. the low entryway forces maksim to bow his head when he enters, and obligates him to adjust the curvature of his shoulders to avoid hooking splinters into his treasured wool coat, or knocking down books in a space built for smaller bodies. he’d been born with the bones of the krivichs. bred into his hands-- sizable with thick fingers, knobbed knuckles that jut as he clenches, eases and spreads before raising a hand in mock salute. “if i had more sensitive ears, perhaps you would have scared me away.”

this one, emma, reminds him of his mother’s cats. the silver ones the tsar had imported from france, soft things, small things, unable to draw blood with their weak jaws. but, ah. he supposes even ornaments have purpose, and she is not entirely invaluable.

“if you are so afraid to be caught alone you should avoid it.” he taps a finger on an open page of her journals. “have these taught you nothing?”

THE CAPTAIN — how do you define guilt? is it scar or rosary?

THE CHAPLAIN — what do you hold most sacred?

THE CHRONICLER — what is a secret you never wanted to learn?

THE CLAIRVOYANT — who do you see in your future?

THE COMMANDER — which spurs your ambition most?

THE DOCTOR — what is the greatest joy to be found in living?

THE DEVOTED — how do you define loyalty? is it noose or halo?

THE DOE-HEARTED — what do you wish you still believed in?

THE ENIGMA — what lights your soul on fire?

THE EMPRESARIO — what is one material item you hold most dear - and why?

THE GODKILLER — who would you hunt to the ends of the earth?

THE HARUSPEX — where is the line between adventure and tragedy?

THE IDOL — what is the action that defined your fate?

THE INTREPID — how do you get people’s attention - how do you hold it down in place?

THE LOVER — who is the only one fearless enough to match you?

THE MARKED — do you believe ghosts are only spirits, or ideas?

THE NOBLE — what is the greatest ideal of your childhood?

THE PURSER — which cause would you stand and fall for?

THE ROMANTIC — what is one of the most overlooked wonders?

THE SCION — which words do you want for your epitaph?

THE SHADOW — what would you never forgive in a soul?

THE SOCIALITE — who - or what - would ever make you slow down?

THE SONGBIRD — which uses do you find for art - is it gild or bravery?

THE STOWAWAY— what are the things you could always get away with?

THE VETERAN — what - or who - is your oldest memory?