[Ridge]
The creaking of the door opening wakes me up. It's probably around midday, so there's no one else in the cabin but me. Laying on this cot is getting old really fast, but Raforn won't even let me up to visit Kadeeth, who's still being contained on the brig of the other boat.
The second boat is slightly larger than ours, but they're currently tied together, taking up almost the entire width of the river. Sileena visited me earlier to explain that they've done everything they can to maximize security on both transports. She was extremely embarrassed that I was attacked under her watch, and that someone was able to board her boat so easily and without her knowledge.
I've only been above deck once since I finally woke up this morning. That was only because I really had to piss. Otherwise, Raforn's confined me to mandatory bed rest, as he calls it. Apparently when Kadeeth caught wind of me going above deck he demanded that at least three guys help me walk. In further attempt to pacify him, Sileena agreed. It was miserable, but it would've been a hell of a lot worse on my own.
I stir for a second, annoyed at being woken up, and then gradually push to a seat as the footsteps start in my direction. I groan, trying not to move my leg as I turn to lean my back up against the wall. The footfalls stop.
"So~ you're the reason for all this mess. Nice ta meetcha." My eyes open begrudgingly and settle on a face I've never seen before. A woman around my age is crouched in front of me with her head cocked to the side like a curious owl.
Her ginger hair is cut short in a mullet, with a few small braids entwined with colorful string sticking out from various places on her head. The craziest, most vile and curious piercings I've ever seen cover her ears. There's barely an inch of either one that's not hidden below different kinds of metal ornaments.
Her deep brown eyes notice my staring. She reaches up to touch her piercings, smiling the devil's smile as she twists one between her long fingers. Where have I seen that smile before?
"Well aren't you a curious little thing." She pats my head, ruffling my hair like you would a cute pet, "Sorry about what happened to ya. Y'know, you've caused a real ruckus upstairs."
I shove her hand away in the most polite way I can, "You clearly have no idea what's going on if that's what you think. I was attacked. None of that is my fault." I explain. Her eyes are wide open, which combined with her closed mouth smile is making me feel insignificant and the center of attention all at once.
"Mm." She hums thoughtfully, "I'm pretty sure you started it. In fact, your whole crew seems like trouble." She closed her eyes and grins. Ah, that's what this strange feeling is. It's familiarity. Recognition. She reminds me of Kadeeth.
Always smiling for no damn reason, with that passive aggressive look on their face. The ones that act creepy and caring at the same time. These are the kind of people I attract. Is there some kind of sign tattooed on my forehead saying, "TOXIC MOTHERFUCKERS WELCOME". It's the only reasonable solution as to why this happens to me that I can think of right now.
"Think whatever you want, your thoughts are none of my business. Who are you anyway?" I ask, repositioning myself against the wall. I wince when a stray nail digs into my back. This thing needs some hefty repairs.
The more time I spend down here the more I realize to what major extent this whole rig is falling apart. How can a major mercenary group not afford upkeep on their only water vessels they keep near their base?
She blinks her wide eyes at me, before her a look of disbelief washes over her face. If I didn't have so many years of experience reading faces like hers I probably wouldn't be able to read her as well as I am. Her smile never leaves, only becoming a bit smaller and only a tad more strained. The real difference is in her eyes. They're dark, so, so dark.
It's definitely a darkness I'm far too familiar with.
"You don't recognize me. Of course, that explains how civil you are. I was confused, " she stands up, dusting off her pants, "since it's such a stark contrast from the aggression last night."
Last night. It dawns on me. Oh shit. I only heard it for a second last night, but now I recognize it.
It was more than a resemblance I was seeing. I've actually met her before. My head shoots up to find her amused eyes staring down at me, just waiting to gauge my reaction. So, react I do.
The anger and the pain fill my lungs. I want to scream at her. Who has the audacity to waltz in here and blame the victim like that? What kind of sick person do you have to be to PURPOSEFULLY NOT tell someone your identity so that you can have a nice chat about the LIFE ALTERING injury you gave them?
HOW COULD SHE KEEP STABBING SOMEONE LIKE THAT UNTIL THE ENTIRE FREAKINF BOTTLE IS GONE???
I react, internally. Then I take a deep breath and clear my face devoid of any emotion. Just like I've always done. The stoic face of a Knight.
That catches her by surprise, and if she's anything like that madman Kadeeth, she doesn't have the privilege of being genuinely surprised very often. I'm not going to let someone like this provoke me.
"Well that's unexpected." She crouches back down, staying just out of reach but somehow seeming much closer than before, "You're actually a pretty interesting guy, huh? Hey, let's talk again when you feel all better, alright?" She says happily. Her eyes are even bigger than before, clearly a little too intrigued by my lack of response.
I hope this doesn't cause problems for me later. I want to show her that her cruel antics don't affect me, I do NOT want her to get attached in any way, shape, or form. The last thing I need is to pique another psycho's interest. Especially one I have no intention of ever forgiving.
She hops back up and unbuttons a clasp on her belt. Strung on the thick strap of leather and buckled into small holders are a collection of glass bottles. They look like they should hold potions or medicine of some kind, but most of them are empty.
She takes a single bottle from one holder and tosses it to me. I make sure not to flinch, and I don't even look at it as I catch it in one hand. It's tiny, fitting easily on my palm. I remove the corkscrew lid and glance inside. It's full of some kind of dried herb.
I look back up to question her, and to return the strange substance, but she's already gone. The only indications that Tristan was there at all are the small glass vial in my hand, and the creak of the door shutting behind her.