Journey (GI x SBI) *Discontinued*

Chapter 5

May 15, 1965

Were my eyes foggy... No... They were adjusting to the light -- a light that barely shone through the rough burlap hood over my head. As I came slowly to consciousness, I realized that I was being rocked side to side. If I wasn't frightened out of my mind, this rocking might have been a pleasant sensation. It was when I heard the rapid lapping of water against wood that I realized I was on a boat (actually, not a boat.... rather, a ship). Despite my unclear mind and compromised sight, there was the distinct sense that I was on a massive vessel. Voices -- many voices -- were calmly dictating and executing orders. I was not alone.

Once I sussed where I was (as best to my knowledge), a pit of concern raised in my stomach. Where are my family members? Surely, they must be nearby. Yet, there were no familiar voices and I did not feel in close proximity to any other abductees. I started to quietly wriggle my body -- my hands were bound by jute and lie on my lap. My legs were free, but there was some form of thick belt around my waist. Like a junkyard dog, I was tethered on a short leash. I gently kicked my legs and felt them meet a soft mass, a body. The body was lifeless.

I kicked harder and heard a moan. Although no words were spoken, I knew that moan, that voice. It was Tubbo. He, too, was just coming into consciousness. Relief. I might be bound and tied and on a foreign vessel headed to who-knows-where, but I was not alone.

"Yo, Boss? The girl's awake." A voice to my right said. The burlap was harshly pulled from my head. I blinked a few times before adjusting to the dim green light. A man stood in front of me, maybe six feet tall. He had messy blonde hair and a bright green eye. Or maybe he had two eyes but a mask covered half his face. It was white with cracks running down the side. The mask appeared to have once held a smiling face, however it was now faded and hard to see.

He wore fingerless gloves, which seemed to be made of leather. He wore a dark green cloak which covered the rest of his body. He stared at me with a menacing grin.

"Looks like she is. Now, Yvette," he said, his eyes gleaming, "You're going to tell me where your father has gone. He and his 'accomplice' have been... messing with my plans. You've heard of Mondstadt Cathedral's anniversary, correct?" I nodded. Of course, I had heard of it. Who hadn't? It seemed that the preparations for the countless festivals honoring the cathedral had been in planning stages for several years.

I attempted to scheme my response to this odd man's query. But, I couldn't get past the nefarious pale of the man's mask. The villain in a mask is a classic trope. But, I've never heard of a freakishly faded smiley face on a half-chipped ceramic mask. If this guy's plans were as unsettling as his mask, I was in a world of hurt.

"Hey Boss... The other one's moving too."

"Well,Sap, maybe it's time we bring this haul of miscreants to my cabin. I haven't quite decided whether to kill them with kindness... or, just plain kill them. Either way, we'll get the information I want."

Someone yanked at the belt around my waist. A large figure hoisted me to a standing position, as if I were a toddler (this, clearly, was a large person). I heard Tubbo start to ask a question that -- too bad for Tubbo -- was met with a strike across his face. Behind me (until now, unforeseen), other moans and murmurs started to fill my ears. I turned and saw my entire family in various degrees of bondage.

It seemed like only moments ago we were quietly sharing a meal at our dinner table. Now, my family and I were to be interrogated. Whether we had the information -- or even chose to share the information -- was to be determined. Our quiet dinner table had flipped to a scenery where we, ourselves, might soon become the main course... a family at sea with the threat of becoming shark chum.

A distinct smell rose from the deck of the ship -- an aroma reminiscent of burning cinnamon and myhr. I remember my father talking about an herb called Honerium. As part of my family's bizarre weekend education sessions, my father would brief us on all manner of herbs, flowers and shrubs. He'd always said that -- if one knew the gifts of the forest -- any person could be a master of his own health and fate. I clearly recall the scent of Honerium because Tubbo not-jokingly recommended that we spread the herb on toast with a bit of honey.

My father indulged Tubbo's request and the results were nothing short of hilariously illuminating. About five minutes after Tubbo ingested the herbal treat, my father asked him a few innocent questions about some recent mysteries surrounding our household. Before my father could finish the questions, Tubbo had confessed to eating our brother's secret stash of candy, stealing my favorite knife and taking a half medallion coin from my mother.

You see, Honerium is what's known as a truth serum. And, our not-so-welcoming host was about to learn all of our secrets.

One by one, we were brought into the captain's cabin. Instead of our hosts interrogating us one at a time, we were brought in as a family. The honerium was waved under our noses and the captain slowly and patiently started asking questions. Like a spider in an abandoned shed, the captain exhibited that patience of someone who had been seeking something for a long time.

He lined us up like choir students and the interrogation began:

"Earlier today, you two were at a certain waterfront flowershop... What were you looking for?"

Almost in unison, Tubbo and I shared the story of meeting Niki and Eret and the theft of silk flowers.

The captain continued, "What is your interest in silk flowers?"

Almost in a collective staccato, all family members gave their recollection of the note my father received with the mystery coordinates. This seemed to particularly pique our host's interest!

His arachnid-like patience suddenly transforming to the whip of a cobra strike, the captain curtly yelled, "Give me the coordinates!" His demand was met with a pallid silence.

Tik, Tik, Tik. The captain stared at us. Waiting, expecting an answer. I smirked. Another thing my father had taught our family about honerium is that only questions would be answered. A demand could not be met.

The captain must have come to the same conclusion as us, as his next sentence was one that scared me.

"What are the coordinates?"

Me and the rest of the family tried to fight against the honerium. I bit my tongue. The captain waited patiently. A smirk graced his face.

PING. PING. PING. Like a can of tuna fish being opened by a giant, there was a sudden curl of metal from the back wall opposite the captain.

"Well, well, well, never thought the infamous Dream would resort to kidnapping an entire family. Why'd you stoop so low, old friend?"