Future of Calamity [Under Rewrite]

Chapter 15 - Turbulent

"Well, yesterday went better than I expected."

The morning sun shined through the wailing sails as they flapped in the serene gales; silver clouds smothering the bleached teal sky in their choking aura. The waves lapped as gentle as ever, swelling against the ancient hull that groaned in protest, foam spitting out among the group that gathered at the stern.

Dyle's tongue flickered out in rhythmic bursts as he commanded the helm, surveying the calm seas that could rupture at any moment. Rokurou stretched as he began the conversation, "But it seems we've ended up with one extra," he assessed with a smirk. Out from behind the gathering group, came a frowning Velvet that simply huffed at his directed mention. And from behind her, peered the soulless green eyes of the small blonde malak child that had yet to make a sound. The woman scowled and stomped away from the boy, who soon followed like a confused puppy, much to the daemon's perpetual chagrin.

A certain witch hopped along with a grin of glee, orbs of lime brimming with mischief once again. Magilou hummed with excitement, "Oooh, he looks like he'd be a scrumptious midday snack for you!" she goaded with sly grin. The daemon said nothing, turning away with a glaze over eyes of dead gold; an uncomfortable thought running through her head.

"A snack?" The boy's lifeless tone questioned with no sign of fear.

Rokurou stepped forward, bearing thar familiar wolfish smirk as he barely attempted to calm down the malak, "She's just teasing."

The boy's eyes snapped up, not a single shift in expression as his words came out like a machine. "No, if that's an order. I accept it," he welcomed with no sign of self-preservation. His gaze looked through the group, and lay hollow, unkempt existence springing to mind as if misguided. No sense of self.

The samurai frowned slightly in concern, turning his back to the boy as he lowered his volume, "Should we really be taking this kid along?" he asked with a hushed tone.

Velvet looked up with no evidence of care, reverting back to her chilling demeanour as she appeared irritated by the question. "His artes will be useful to us," she simply answered, until her fists balled tight at her side, unknown to her allies. "And we can always get rid of him."

"Precisely," the blonde woman answered with a cheerful skip, placing her hands behind her head as if her interest immediately died. "Malakhim are tools. Use 'em and ditch 'em!" she stated with a confident wink. "Isn't that right, Number Two?"

"Yes." No hesitation. Velvet scowled at the soulless interaction.

"Speaking of tools..." Magilou began with a fiendish glance, "...Where's your dinner you've been craving so badly?" she childishly questioned with a toothy smile; zeroing in on the bandages that lay dormant at the woman's waist.

Upon understanding who she spoke of, Velvet growled under her breath with closed eyelids, anger spiking as the metaphorical blows exchanged the night before still sat fresh. "He doesn't matter, as long as he's still useful," she answered with gritted teeth, that only increased in pressure at the Witch's knowing grin.

"Glad to hear I'm still welcome." A familiar but flat voice reigned from above their heads. Eyes flicking up, the group spotted their half-malak ally leaning over the bow railing with a severe frown by his standards. "Not that I'm too pleased about it either," he spat with a narrowed glare. It didn't take much thought for them to understand his target. Indifferent, the daemoness pushed her weight onto her opposite foot and let out a dismissive tch, relaxing a casual palm upon her hip. However, you could see the twitch in her brow grow agitated as he continued his stare. The tension upon the silver winds suddenly weighed heavy, and the stormy skies faceted a scornful cry as it seemed to darken.