Feminine Revenge [Ongoing]

Chapter Four: Bad Luck

I have no idea how it went from bad to worse so quickly. Somehow, I had convinced myself that the Captain liked me. At last, he seemed to tolerate me. Ren liked me, I knew that for sure. Taking my hand, teaching me all he could, and always making sure to stand between me and any danger. The rest of the crew too had adopted me pretty quickly.

They adopted the tale of mermaids and changed it. Claimed I was the figurehead of the ship – something it sorely missed – to the point that they expected me to be sitting at the bow every day. I was treated sort of like a pet. Cute, pretty, exciting, and overall quite useless.

It was something I resented. Yes, I basked in quiet evenings and warm meals, but I had fended for myself before dammit. I wasn't some sort of dolly to dress up and set in the corner of your dresser ... well, perhaps that was a little bit of an exaggeration. I was still regarded as human, seen as something of value, and respected. They did not dress me up either, and the closest thing to the dresser would be here at the bow, which wasn't the worst place in the world to be. I had a beautiful view, the air was cool and fresh, and the sun warm. It was unchanging, the same experience every day. There was no need for me to always watch over my shoulder and see for some danger. That was good. Really good.

I never thought about it, you know? The air I breathed on the daily was just that: air. The sea was a murky sort of blue and had a visible end because that's what I saw from the harbour. Was water not always supposed to smell like rot and death? Back home there had been no salty air. The dust from the passing carts settled into your clothes, and only the rich never smelled like sweat and horses.

It was never something I considered. The other side. I never thought about what I didn't know, too preoccupied with the fear of the unknown and the walls which encased every street. There was nothing wrong with that, per-se. Humans weren't made to be solitary, nor abide by the rule of survival of the fittest. No, they lived together. We lived together. Big cities, towns; no one human lived on their own. Then when I did, I felt this lack and lived it too, constantly looking over my shoulder. Learning the busy streets and knowing what every sound meant and how to use it to my advantage.

So no, it never crossed my mind. The idea of judgement-free quiet. Having food that was shared without question. Sitting on a boat in the middle of nowhere so for the first time in my life, I laid my eyes upon the biggest open expanse I had ever seen. The walls of the city had now crumbled to dust in my mind and sunk into the blue water. Eventually, I would have to return, but as of now, the smell of salt and sea blew away the residue of horses and rotten food. Left here, alone in my thoughts, realizing the sounds were lacking. Apart from chatter and the occasional bird, there was nothing out here. Well, in the water perhaps but I was not going to touch on that.

It was what it was. I've spent the last few minutes trying to put an emotion and a feeling into a cohesive thought. Thinking about how to explain intuition to the casual passer-by who only ever used it to choose between two types of scones at a dinner party, or whatever they tended to do there. I've thought about it, tried to make it expressible, but have come away with a mess and tangle of scenes and words.

How does one explain an emotion? Simple answer: one does not. No, to explain an emotion you use words and describe the scenery. Put your thoughts down on paper and explain your surroundings. Try and invoke that exact same feeling in another so that – for a brief moment in time only – they may feel what you feel too. Only for a second, because no one can simply imagine how the other feels. No way to know if you've done it right either, for the same thing goes right back, vice-versa.

Not that it mattered too much. I simply had far too much time to think nowadays. Not about the ocean, done that already, and the room I hid in was far too dismal to examine. Or was I in the too-dismal a mood to appreciate its ancient beauty? Most likely the latter because there was not an inch of this ship – except perhaps it's outside and the storage rooms – that was not intricately beautiful in its own little way. They really should look after the storage areas better.