As the passengers filed aboard, and Cove slowly peeled himself off the ground. Thankfully, the guests had done him the courtesy of leaving all of their star tickets punched and signed at the gangplank entry. Kneeling down to check the gangplank, he noticed the trampling of the crowd had left a crack in the middle. He really had to invest in a nice staircase for his guests instead of a makeshift plank made up of 8 two-by-fours sewn together with rope.
"Ever think you'll get tired of the show to the point of casting your anchor, Covey?" a quaint voice teased.
He rocketed off of the floor and swung his head around, locking eyes with Rebecca Lockheart, his first and best friend from the shores of Palintar. They'd first met when she stopped him from stealing a long stick of bread from a distracted vendor, before buying him the bread and sharing it with him on the docks. She showed him how the sea provided almost everything you could need, and how beautiful the ocean really was at sunset. They'd go fishing in the bay any time they could on his off days and she'd always end up snagging the best catch. Rebecca was fun to be around, and... she'd been his main inspiration to start the show. She meant a lot to him.
And despite all of that, he couldn't forgive the silly nickname she'd given him all the way back since when they'd first met.
"Rebecca, what did I tell you about calling me that!" he replied back, crossing his arms in a fake pouting manner.
"Hmmmm, I seem to remember that you said as long as no one else was around, then it would be fine" she said, smirking as she helped pick him up.
"Y-you're putting words into my mouth, I never said a darned thing like that!" he stuttered out. Thankfully, with a glance over his shoulder, she was right in saying that no one else was nearby. The guests were all gathered up near the helm and in front of the stage. He exhaled a deep breath of relief, only to regain his sense of annoyance as she rustled his trademark bleached white-gray hair.
"Hahah, so tell me, how've you been getting along with the high seas show business?" she asked sincerely as she fixed her flowing brunette hair behind her head.
"It's been quite stupendous! I added some decorations with the left over money I had after purchasing the catering for tonight, and I'm glad to see that the guests seem pretty delighted with it!"
"They certainly are lovely. The lights especially, remind me of our sunset trips in the ocean... We should do those again... When you have time of course Cove," she said with a sad undertone.
In all honesty, Cove had been trying to free up his time to spend with his friend. But between the constant demand for his show upon the Cerulean Mirage and the brainstorming of his stage play, he hadn't a lick of time for anything else besides staring at the docks for a few spare minutes before it was showtime. He didn't want to make excuses, he'd have time eventually, so he gave Rebecca a slight somber nod, like he always had when she'd discuss this with him.
"Well, I'll leave you to your duties Captain, knock the crew dead with your next act, won't you?" she said, brightening up as she skipped off into the crowd without looking back.
"Yeah sur-!"
Suddenly, a large figure brushed him aside, nearly toppling him down the gangplank. Cove looked back ready to berate the passenger for his rude mannerism, but when he met eyes with them, he stowed his tongue, going slightly pale. They were a slim, yet burly figure, easily 8 foot tall, and towered over Cove's measly 5'8" of height. Donning a tattered black cloak, an eye patch, and a black cowboy styled hat, he had the same look as Cove, but with a haunted, almost deathly appearance. They carried a smog over their stature, but their eyes pierced through the veil, revealing them to be a bright, crimson red. Cove involuntary shivered at the sight.
"Mi scusi signore, credo di non averle mai dato il mio biglietto," the figure said in a smooth, beguiling voice.
"Could you... repeat that sir?" Cove slowly asked of the daunting figure.
A bony hand emerged from the tattered cloak, holding a ticket, extending it towards Cove. He picked up the ticket carefully off the hand, and went back to staring at the figures eyes, perplexed with irrational fear. There was nothing to fear about a passenger producing a ticket to see the performance, right?
"Oh uhm, thank you... Mr...?"
"Mommotti."
Cove gave a quick nod, and inspected the ticket. It was his handiwork and design... but on the back it was all scribbled with what appeared to be black ink. No, wait it said something, it was just really faint and written in pin point accuracy and size.
|| The Wheel of Fate has decreed your death swift, Cove Washwaters. ||
Looking up to meet the stranger's gaze again, he was nowhere to be found as the ticket melted into a viscous black puddle in Cove's fingers.