A Land Of Sea

Cynical Ceasura

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i

Starting anew. Hope. Unity.

Dream watched as Tubbo, the smallest of them all, climbed the tree with a nimbleness that could only be accredited towards his teenage years.

He'd been chosen for the job not only because of his agility and quick thinking, but also because of his size. If Dream's hunch was to be correct, whatever they were looking for would be at the very top.

And the very top happened to have quite the number of ready-to-snap branches.

Dream was also aware he had plenty of other crew members able and willing to do the job, but this time he felt Tubbo deserved it- they never would have found this tree in the first place had it not been for the boy.

It wasn't long before Tubbo had disappeared up into the leaves completely, leading Dream and his men to stare idly at the sky and wait.

A voice surfaced behind him. "I don't know how I missed it, really. A sundial. Simply genius, isn't it?"

Dream glanced at Wilbur over his shoulder, a bit of a smug smile sitting on his face. "Well, you can't win every time. It takes a lot to outsmart the greatest name in history; guess you're just not there yet."

Dream patted Wilbur on the back, for effect. The taller man rolled his eyes. "I shouldn't have said anything, you of all people really don't need an ego boost."

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ii

Conflict. Compromise. Balance.

The ship was quiet. George loathed it.

And he felt stupid, because he really shouldn't hate it for the reasons he did.

The quiet was familiar; it reminded him of home. Of the still ocean, and nothing else.

Was it selfish to miss the clamour of the crew? He had no business actually enjoying the constant noise of humans.

Oftentimes at night, it would be quieter, but even then it was never a full hush. He would hear snores from the cabins above him, and footsteps on the top deck, even if faint. He would hear late-night conversations under quiet voices that honestly didn't need to be so quiet, but were, out of courtesy for sleeping crew members. Sometimes a lot of the crew would stay up, and he could hear them tell stories, laughing, drinking, scolding Tommy and his friends for stealing Wilbur's drinks.

Sometimes he would hear Dream walk down to lower decks, and George would wonder if he was coming down to check on the mer.

George was torn between two thoughts, despite the wrongness of one.

And even if he missed Karl and the rest of his pod, he felt a lot less homesick than he knew he should have been.

After all, it wasn't so bad here.

But that meant something George definitely didn't want to think about.

He needed to figure out what to do next, because right now he was trapped between those two thoughts, and neither one was going to relent any time soon.

Because right now, he only had one option. George was stuck on a ship, captured by pirates, but the weight of his thoughts screamed at him that he had the ability do something about it.

The choices?

Simple: live this life as it is, or do something about it.

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