Making A Splash

Chapter 8

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It took Morgan longer than she thought it would to catch up to the pirate ship, even taking into account her new, nearly superhuman swimming speed. For almost an hour, she was worried her hesitation would lead to the ship totally outpacing her and disappearing into the open ocean, but eventually the distance between her and it began to shrink. She kept her pace up until she could just start to make out the figures moving about on the deck, at which point she began to hang back, trailing in the ship’s wake and using the next half hour or so to really think about how she planned to approach Red Molly. Before she could really come to any solid decisions, the ship slowed and Morgan could see it approaching the coast of a small nearby island, eventually coming to a full stop, a loud splash indicating that the anchor had been dropped.

Swimming just close enough that she could keep watching the crew moving across the deck, Morgan felt herself hesitating; the hyperactive energy from her bold declaration to Captain Silas plus the inflated confidence she’d felt ever since discovering that she was now over six feet tall were going to war with her caution and reason. She diverted her path, swimming towards a trio of narrow formations of white rock that protruded out of the water, hiding behind one of the pillars so she could discreetly observe the ship at a distance.

“Okay, you’ve caught up to them,” she whispered to herself, only slightly winded from her exertion, her heavy breaths visibly fogging in the cold ocean air. “Now what?”

She’d been agonizing over that exact question for most of the trip, and still hadn’t reached a solid decision. Sure, she’d decided she wanted to join the pirates, but that didn’t automatically mean they’d accept her in return so easily. She had basically nothing to offer except a head full of dubiously useful facts and tidbits from a world that wasn’t this one and two years of after-school judo classes. For “self-defense,” she’d convinced her parents. She supposed her being some kind of fantastical hybrid of human and shark had to count for something, especially since she was just so big now, but until she learned how to crew a sailing ship or actually fight, she would just be another mouth to feed, and there was no telling if pirates would be willing to put up with that for very little gain.

Still unable to come to a conclusion on exactly how she wanted to approach the ship, or how she was going to go about convincing the odd, yet intimidating woman who was its captain to take her on, Morgan let herself get distracted trying to figure out why the pirates had stopped at this particular island.

The island itself was a tiny thing, relatively speaking, roughly oval shaped and not much bigger than a parking lot from one end to the other. A sandy outer edge quickly gave way to flat grassy earth, broken up here and there by a smattering of bushes and towering palm trees. The small island had just enough room at its center for a single modest structure and a square of neatly arranged vegetation which Morgan could tell was a field or garden of some kind, and Morgan could make out a pair of figures waiting on the beach while a rowboat steadily made its way towards them.

“What are they up to?” Morgan asked aloud again, instinctively narrowing her eyes to try and get a better look at the island, despite no longer possessing, or needing, her glasses.

“They are acquiring some extra vegetables for tonight’s dinner,” a cool voice behind her spoke unexpectedly, and Morgan let out shrill yelp that she was sure carried across the ocean. She spun around, finding Poppy’s head emerging from the water, her curtains of dark hair plastered to her face and making her look a bit like a lake monster, emerging from the depths to consume her.

“W-w-what are you doing here?” Morgan sputtered as she pressed herself against the rocky column, at least as much as the fin on her back would allow. Poppy's eyes, wide and wet and pitch black except for the red rings of her pupils, narrowed ever so slightly at her question.

“You followed us,” Poppy said, and Morgan had to stop herself from biting her lip so hard, not just because it was a bad habit, but also because her teeth were a lot sharper now.

“O-oh, right, I guess I did…” Morgan said, chuckling nervously. It had been kind of a stupid question, in hindsight, like she’d just called someone up on the phone only to then demand they tell her why they’d called.

“Many of the crew did not believe you would,” Poppy said, and Morgan winced a little. She wasn’t sure which was more concerning, the fact that her fascination with the pirates had been so nakedly obvious to everyone but her, or that her cowardly and hesitant nature was equally as apparent.

“However,” Poppy continued, before Morgan could become completely crestfallen and lose her nerve entirely. “Captain Molly was certain that you would.”

“Oh!” Morgan said, a little too enthusiastically. It wasn’t that much different than some of the crew doubting her, but the fact that Red Molly actually, in a roundabout sort of way, believed in her, was enough to buoy her spirits and convince her that she hadn’t made a huge mistake.

“And, uh…” Morgan began to ask, spurred on by her newly reinflated confidence. “What did you think I would do?”

Poppy stared back at her for a few moments until, for the first time, breaking her unwavering gaze and turning her head away from Morgan before answering.

“I trusted in Captain Molly's judgment, as always.”

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. It was kind of cute, the way Poppy’s frightening appearance contrasted with how easy it seemed to fluster her. The irony of how poorly her own meek personality matched with her new no doubt fearsome shark-like body was not lost on her.

“So, uh-” Morgan cleared her throat, stopping that train of thought before it could go any further off the rails. “I guess it’s obvious why I’m here, right?”

“You wish to join Captain Molly’s crew,” Poppy said. It was a statement, not a question, but Morgan nodded anyway.

“Y-yeah,” Morgan confirmed, looking over her shoulder, past the rocks at the looming shape of the ship in the distance. “Though now that I’m here, I wonder if it’ll really be that easy.”

“It will not,” Poppy said, drawing Morgan’s eyes back. “Captain Molly may be an eccentric woman, even by pirate standards, but she has standards of her own, and if you are found not to meet them, you will be rejected outright.”

Morgan blinked. That was no less than she expected, but to hear Poppy state it so plainly was another thing.

“You’re very blunt, you know,” Morgan said, chuckling a little to show she wasn’t actually that bothered by it.

Unfortunately, Poppy did not seem to get the message, and her head sank back a little into water, her pink eyes dipping. One of her hands came up, grasping for the edge of a hood that wasn’t there before settling on tracing a lock of her long black hair.

“My apologies…” Poppy said, and Morgan’s heart jumped into her throat.

“No no, it’s okay!” she hastily tried to reassure Poppy. If they hadn’t both been bobbing in the ocean she’d have reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but that just meant she tried extra hard to push as much sincerity into her voice as possible. “I mean, I like it much better when people are straightforward, instead of trying to hide what they really think behind words they don’t actually mean!”

Poppy’s eyes raised, studying Morgan with the searching, analytical gaze she was begging to grow used to. Thankfully, she didn’t seem at all phased by Morgan’s sudden intensity, and she was sure she saw the corners of her mouth turn upwards, just by a fraction.

“Thank you,” Poppy said quietly, then took a deep breath through her nose, straightening her back and resetting her face into a flat mask. “Come, we should get you aboard the ship before the crew finish their errand. Captain Molly will not want to be kept waiting much longer.”

“Oh, okay,” Morgan said, starting to circle around the rock she’d been using as cover, but pausing, an impulsive thought occurring to her.

“Hey,” she called out before Poppy could glide too far ahead of her. When she looked back, Morgan put on a grin that she hoped looked friendly and didn’t show too many teeth. “Want to race there?”

Poppy looked back at her, her expression still unreadable, but after a moment she dipped her head in a nod.

“If you wish,” Poppy said, and moved back towards the rock at Morgan's insistence.

“Ready? I'll count,” Morgan offered. Once Poppy nodded her assent, Morgan took a deep breath and began her countdown.

“Three…”

Morgan shifted her body, planting her feet on the rock behind her. Beside her, Poppy just sank lower into the water, leaving only her eyes and the top of her head visible.

“Two…”

Morgan felt her heart rate speeding up as the anticipation built inside her, fueling her spirit of competition. She knew it would only be a short race, and afterwards she'd have to go back to her usual unsure self, but for now she was going to relish these feelings and focus only on one thing.

Winning.

“One!”

With a shout, she pushed off the rock, one arm outstretched, legs kicking behind her as she slipped into a familiar and reliable freestyle stroke, which was only improved by her not needing to come up for air as she swam. She was focused on her technique first and foremost, but she couldn’t help sneaking a sideways glance to see how Poppy was doing, and was hit with a shocking revelation. Not only was Poppy only slightly behind her, and even gaining slightly, but she was also, like Morgan, completely naked. It took her only a fraction of a second to rationalize that fact away, that the collection of cloth wrappings she’d seen Poppy wearing before could only barely be called clothing, and she’d likely removed them before entering the water. Morgan also got a look at the way Poppy was swimming; she was slicing through the water like a snake, her arms pinned to her sides and her legs kicking as one, her whole body undulating like a wave. Even more surprising was the look of fierce determination on her face, her eyes narrowed to slits and her forehead and cheeks scrunched with the effort of her exertion.

Wow…

Morgan felt that one thought rise to the surface before she tore her eyes away from the other woman, refocusing her effort on her own wheeling arms and pumping legs. Try as she might to pull ahead of Poppy, Morgan could only manage to delay being overtaken for a few more moments before she lost the lead and, a second later, the race, as she and Poppy slapped a hand each against the wooden hull of the ship.

“That was… a close one…” Morgan panted slightly, catching her breath while Poppy guided her towards a dangling rope ladder that hung from the railing overhead. Poppy turned back towards her, one hand on the first rung of the ladder, and her expression gave Morgan pause. She looked… upset? Maybe even mildly angry, her brows knitted together, her thin mouth turned downward in a disappointed frown.

“I suppose it was,” Poppy said, hauling herself out of the water, and Morgan quickly averted her eyes. “Though I am not sure why you would challenge me to a race, only to let me win.”

“Huh?” Morgan asked, almost glancing up at the leech girl as she climbed after her, but catching herself at the last second. What was she talking about? She'd been swimming her ass off back there!

“I… I didn't let you win!” Morgan insisted, her eyes still downcast, so she couldn't tell if Poppy was looking back at her either. She felt herself reach the top of the ladder, and one of Poppy’s cold hands on her own, helping her over the wooden railing, onto the ship.

“Then, tell me,” Poppy said, her red eyes seeking out Morgan’s before she could turn them away again. “Why were you swimming like a land-dweller?”

“I… what?” Morgan asked, confused.

“Why were you swimming so close to the surface? Why were you not using your tail?” Poppy clarified, and Morgan felt her eyes widen.

Turning her body and craning her neck, Morgan looked back over her shoulder at the appendage in question. She'd noticed it was there before, the first time she leapt from the water upon first waking in the middle of the ocean, but she hadn't had much time to spare to really consider it. Her tail was about as thick around as one of her thighs, and sloped smoothly out from the base of her spine. It featured one backwards facing hook shaped dorsal fin near the base, then tapered for a bit before flaring out into a tall, vertical, crescent shaped caudal fin at the end. It shared the same coloration as the rest of her body; dark, steel-colored gray on top, pale silver on the underside, streaked with dark jagged shapes reminiscent of a tiger's stripes. And it was long, over half as long as her entire body, so much so that it would have been dragging on the ground if it didn't curve upwards slightly at the end. It was so large and took up so much space that nobody would be able to stand behind her without bumping into it, and any way you looked at it, it would be impossible to ignore that it was there.

“Oh,” Morgan said, distantly. With a thought, she flicked her tail from side to side once, then met Poppy's gaze and chuckled nervously.

“I forgot?”

Poppy’s face softened at that, and she once again narrowed her eyes at Morgan.

“Are you certain you did not hit your head?”

Morgan felt her cheeks heating up as Poppy leaned in towards her, eyeing her intently. She cursed internally at her carelessness. How could someone just forget an entire limb? Not only was Poppy unlikely to believe her, but even if she did, would that give away that Morgan was not truly what she seemed?

“A-ah, uhm, no… I mean…”

“Ah-hem.”

A deep, gravely voice cut into Morgan’s flustered rambling, and she jolted, realizing for the first time that the two of them were not alone on the deck of the ship. Aside from the few crew members she could see busying themselves with some task or another, there was also an odd-looking man leaning against the nearest mast, grinning directly at Morgan and Poppy.

He was large, about as tall as Morgan was in her new body, and wider too, with broad muscular shoulders that were left bare by his sleeveless shirt. His skin was dark and ruddy, with occasional pale splotches, his hair was entirely white and braided, pulled back into a short ponytail, and, most shockingly, he seemed to have little red and white mushrooms sprouting up randomly across his shoulders and scalp.

He looked on as Morgan gaped at him, his grin widening, showing off a mouth full of broad, brick-shaped teeth.

“Am I interruptin’ somethin', ladies?” he asked.

Morgan's only reply was to let out a shocked squeak before scrambling to hide herself behind Poppy, despite the leech girl being more than a full head shorter than her. It must have made for a comical sight, because the man burst out laughing, slapping one of his hands against his thigh.

In front of Morgan, Poppy’s shoulders rose and fell as she took in a deep breath through her nose and let it out in a sigh.

“This guppy is who th'cap'n was waitin’ for?” the man asked once he'd regained his composure, and Morgan shrank back even further. “I thought you said she was s’pposed to be big!”

“Chef Balthazar, you are being very obnoxious,” Poppy stated plainly, which only made the man, Balthazar, chuckle again.

“Chef?” Morgan asked, lifting her head and peering out from behind Poppy.

“Aye, ship’s cook, that's me,” Balthazar said, thumping his chest. Morgan took a closer look at him, past the red skin and mushroom growths, and noticed a large belt resting across his hips that was laden with knives of all shapes and sizes.

“Oh,” Morgan said, nodding her head. “I, uh, I imagine it must be a difficult job, keeping a ship of this size properly fed.”

“Hah, y’can say that again!” Balthazar laughed again, putting a hand over the side of his mouth as though he were about to share a secret, but he continued speaking at full volume. “Don’ tell Hollis, but I’m the real reason this ship runs even half as well as it does.”

“Uh, who?” Morgan asked, furrowing her brow.

“He is speaking of Quartermaster Hollis,” Poppy explained. “Chef Balthazar derives some manner of joy from pestering and belittling him, despite ostensibly being his subordinate, due to the relative difficulty replacing him would entail.”

“S’called ‘job security,’ lass, and yer one ta talk,” Balthazar said, smirking and pushing himself off the mast. “Well, I have ta get back ta preppin’ for tonight’s feast, jus’ wanted ta get a look at’cha while I had the chance.”

Morgan frowned as the man walked away, disappearing down a set of stairs into the bowels of the ship.

“You’re right, he is kind of grating,” Morgan said.

“Do not mind what he said, I believe he was only attempting to get a rise out of you for his own amusement,” Poppy replied, then turned her head to peer back at Morgan. “Could you please remove your hands from my shoulders now?”

“Oh! Sorry!” Morgan squeaked, yanking her hands back and clutching them in front of herself. She hadn’t even realized she’d been clinging to the smaller woman while trying to hide herself from the rest of the crew.

Poppy nodded, ducking around Morgan and bending down, retrieving a pile of cloth from the deck.

“You may wear this to cover yourself for the time being, if you wish,” Poppy said, holding out a cloak that Morgan recognized as the one she’d been wearing earlier. She took it, and stared for a moment as Poppy began wrapping herself in the long strips of white cloth. Her curiosity momentarily overpowered her decency, and she couldn’t help but note that Poppy’s torso appeared to be completely featureless, lacking either nipples or a belly button, but thankfully she managed to stop herself from looking any lower, and quickly spun on her heels, throwing the cloak over her shoulders and pulling down the hood to hide her suddenly burning face. It didn’t exactly fit perfectly, with her fin in the way, and it only came down to just above her knees, but she was able to pull it tight enough to cover herself.

“May I ask you a question?” Poppy asked from behind her, and Morgan nodded before realizing she probably couldn’t see that.

“Y-yeah?”

“Were you raised primarily among land-dwellers?”

It was such a strange, surprising question that it took Morgan a few extra seconds just to make sure she’d actually heard it right.

“Huh?” she asked, half turning to peek around the edge of the hood.

“It is simply an observation, but I have noticed you seem to exhibit many of their traits, including the same extreme aversion that some of them have to nudity, which is not often shared by our kind,” Poppy explained, and Morgan might have been imagining it, but she thought she could hear a hint of humor creep into Poppy’s voice at that.

“Oh, uh, y-yes, I was… raised among humans,” Morgan hesitantly answered, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Poppy was finished wrapping her midsection at least. She turned back around to face her, finding that a miniscule smile had crept onto the taciturn woman’s face. “That’s why I act… differently than you might expect.”

“I see,” Poppy said, kneeling down to tie the last of the cloth wrappings around her lower legs. “Were they kind to you?”

Morgan thought of the other kids at school. She thought of Mandy. She thought of him.

She thought of her parents.

“They were… not unkind,” she said, hesitating a moment as though she thought anything she might say here would ever make it back to anyone from her home world. “Some of them were nice and some of them weren’t. I was different, and that bothered some people.”

She figured it wasn’t technically in the way Poppy probably thought she meant, but it was the truth, and it felt nice to say. Poppy stood up, her outfit, such as it was, once more in place, and Morgan saw the smile she wasn’t even sure had been there was gone. She spent several long seconds just staring at Morgan, so much so that she began to grow nervous, pulling the cloak even tighter.

“W-what?” Morgan asked, averting her eyes, unable to meet that intense gaze any longer.

“Oh… my apologies, I was… distracted,” Poppy said, her voice somewhat distant and her brow furrowed. She shook her head once and visibly composed herself, standing straighter and once again stilling her face. “Come, we have wasted enough time.”

With that, she turned and motioned for Morgan to follow. Confused, and more than a little apprehensive, she did so, trailing behind Poppy as she headed for the stern of the ship. There, situated between the two staircases that led up to the helm, were a set of closed double doors, which Morgan knew would lead into the captain’s cabin. As they approached, she began to wish she’d spent more time thinking about what she was going to say when she was presented to Red Molly.

The doors opened without a sound and Poppy led her into a large room that sent Morgan’s heart racing, because it looked almost exactly like she expected it to. As far as furniture went, there was a rectangular table situated in the center of the room surrounded by chairs, and a pair of well-worn couches on either end of the room, and several disparately sized shelves arranged against the walls with no apparent thought put into their placement. That alone wasn’t that exciting, no, it was the fact that the room was an absolute mess that Morgan found so enthralling. There were books piled onto and spilling out of shelves or left randomly shoved into one corner of a couch, there were scrolls, scraps of paper, and even clothes scattered everywhere from the table to chairs to the floor, and there were so many unidentifiable trinkets, bobbles, and knick-knacks everywhere it made Morgan’s head spin to try and identify them all. There were half-melted candles stuck to the tops of shelves and what looked like a half-eaten wheel of cheese resting on the table with a large knife stuck into it. Beyond the table, past the far wall, Morgan could see through another half-open door into the bedroom beyond, and she could swear it looked even more cluttered and disorganized than this first room.

It was, in Morgan’s opinion, exactly what a pirate captain’s cabin should look like.

Beside her, Poppy’s shoulders rose and fell and she let out an extended sigh, lowering her head.

“I apologize for the state of things in here, Captain Molly is… not a very organized woman,” Poppy said, and Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.

“I think it’s perfect!” Morgan said, giggling as Poppy turned to give her a dubious look. “It’s like something out of a mov-er, a story! If you asked me to picture the captain’s quarters on a pirate ship, this is exactly what I’d imagine.”

“Please do not let Captain Molly hear you say that,” Poppy said, and Morgan had to bite her tongue to not laugh even harder at that, but she couldn’t quite wipe the grin off her face.

Thinking of the captain, she turned, noting the open door and the bedroom beyond. She realized, after a moment of listening, that she could in fact hear voices wafting out into the cabin, one that clearly belonged to Red Molly, and a second, much quieter voice that Morgan couldn’t place.

“Who is she talking to?” Morgan asked, quietly, since she was a little wary that her previous outburst had disturbed some important meeting.

“She is most likely conferring with Mavis,” Poppy answered simply. Too simply, Morgan noted, as she’d noticed Poppy tended to refer to her fellow pirates by their titles as well as their names, but whoever this “Mavis” was did not warrant one. She obviously noticed Morgan’s confusion, as after a moment she elaborated. “It is difficult to explain the exact details of her… relationship to Captain Molly. You will see, in time. Perhaps.”

Poppy seemed to have added that last bit as an afterthought, since she herself had said Morgan’s acceptance onto the crew was by no means a sure thing. Eventually, the conversation in the bedroom concluded, and the half-ajar door was kicked — yes, actually kicked — the rest of the way open, and Red Molly swaggered out into the cabin with an enormous grin on her face. She had removed her hat and her large red coat, and Morgan now saw that the high-necked black shirt she wore had no sleeves, leaving her thin but toned arms bare.

Morgan kept watching the doorway for a few moments, expecting someone else to follow, but when no one did, she simply shook her head and met the pink eyes of the pirate captain.

“Well!” Red Molly began, rounding the table and strolling right up to Morgan so fast and forcefully that she felt herself pressing back against the closed doors behind her. “Look at you! I didn’t get a good look atcha before, all curled up like a dying spider, but you’re quite the specimen!”

Morgan nodded sheepishly, then jolted slightly when Red Molly reached out for the cloak she was shielding herself with, clearly intent on getting a closer look at the rest of her body. Thankfully, Poppy’s hand flashed out and she deftly smacked the back of Red Molly’s own outstretched hand, causing her to yelp and yank it back.

“Oh, fine, I suppose I saw enough earlier to know you’re built like a gunboat,” Red Molly said after momentarily nursing the back of her hand. Taking a step back, she put her hands on her hips, stuck out her chest, and grinned up at Morgan. “So! I take it your presence here means that my rousing tale of me and my crew’s seafaring exploits has inflamed your passion for adventure, and you wish to pledge yourself to service aboard my ship?”

Morgan stared back, blinking as the full-on, almost tangible force of the captain’s personality hit her square in the face.

“Ah, well, I wouldn’t exactly put it that way, but… yes?” Morgan replied.

“Ha!” Red Molly barked in response, putting a hand on one of the swords hanging off her belt, one that featured a red jewel in the pommel, and began to speak down at it. “You see, Mav, I told you! I saw that look in her eyes, and I knew she’d be washing up on my deck before sunrise!”

Morgan waited for… something, anything, to happen, but the interior of the cabin remained silent in the wake of Red Molly’s exclamation. She turned, looking to Poppy for some signal of what she should do, or what was going on, but Poppy’s eyes were fixed firmly on the captain, and her blank and impassive face had no help for her.

Is Mavis… her sword? Is she talking to her sword? Was she talking to her sword in there?

Morgan began to feel, perhaps a little belatedly, that it was possible she was making a mistake coming here, if the captain of this ship talked to her sword like it was a person. She had been certain that she’d heard a second voice from the bedroom though.

“Ah, she’s pouting because I was right, again,” Red Molly said, shrugging and removing her hand from the weapon. Morgan decided to reserve judgement as best she could for the moment. “Well, I suppose we ought to hear you out then. Come, tell me a bit about yourself, you know, impress me. Poppy, do we have any more of that cherry wine?”

“Yes, Captain,” Poppy answered, already moving from her spot beside Morgan.

“Great, pour us some, would you, dear?” Red Molly asked, dropping sideways into one of the couches, knocking over a stack of books that had been resting on one of the arms.

Morgan hesitated for a moment, before moving to pull out one of the chairs from the table and take a seat in it, facing the couch. She had to maneuver her tail a bit before she could sit properly, but thankfully the chairs seemed to have been built with extra space between the seat and backrest, specifically for people with tails like hers to sit in.

“Uh, I’m fine, thank you,” she said, watching as Poppy moved to one of the many chests around the room, producing a bottle that audibly sloshed and a pair of metal cups. She knew that she was supposed to be using this new life to experiment with new things she’d never experienced, but she wasn’t quite ready for something as outrageous as underage drinking yet.

“Your loss,” Red Molly said, shrugging, accepting the cup after Poppy poured out a generous portion of the dark red liquid into it, and taking a sip that seemed just a little too long to be reasonable.

“Uh, yes, well, I’m not really sure where to start…” Morgan began to speak, but quickly lost steam again, tapping a finger against her chin.

“How ‘bout your name?” Red Molly asked, her broad grin dyed slightly red.

“Oh!” Morgan jerked in her seat, unable to believe she’d forgotten the most basic of common courtesies. “Right, sorry, my name is Morgan, Morgan Hunter.”

“Huh, really?” Red Molly said, cocking her head to one side and raising an eyebrow. “Morgan, Morgan… that sounds like a human name.”

“O-oh?” Morgan stammered. She didn’t know what else to say, since until a few hours ago, she was a human. Her brief conversation with Poppy earlier sprang back into her mind, and she leaned forward to hastily add, “Well, yes, that’s because I was raised around humans, you see.”

“Aaaah,” Red Molly said, tilting her head back and taking another sip from her cup. “That’d explain it… And your family name is ‘Hunter,’ huh?”

Morgan nodded, sighing internally, and leaned back into her chair, racking her brain for anything else she could say. It wasn’t like she hadn’t spent months writing and rewriting her college application until it met her, and her parents’, exacting standards, but how much of that could be applied in an interview to become a pirate?

“Right, so, let’s see… I’m eighteen, and I just recently graduated with high honors from Dakota High School. I was a member of the student council, the swim team, and the chess club. I have never received an academic suspension and I won the perfect attendance award three years running. I like to think that I am studious, observant, self reliant and p-punctual, and… I…”

Morgan trailed off as she saw the look of confusion on Red Molly’s face only grow as she went on, feeling with certainty that she was bombing this interview. It didn’t help that she knew for a fact how many of those statements were misleading half-truths. She had been a member of the student council, until the incident with Mandy, and she absolutely hated chess. The only reason she hadn’t been suspended after that same incident was due to her parents pulling strings at the school, and similarly, perfect attendance was hardly an achievement when it was her parents making certain she never missed a single day of school no matter what. The only completely true statement was that she was, in fact, on the swim team.

“Poppy,” Red Molly said after a few moments of tense silence, broken only by the faint creaking of the ship around them. “How much of that did you get?”

“That miss Morgan is eighteen, Captain,” Poppy answered, also regarding Morgan with a curious stare. “And possibly a student of some academy, a very strange one at that.”

“Sorry, sorry, forget I said any of that,” Morgan said, shaking her head and waving her hands in front of her. With a sigh, she rubbed her forehead and glanced at Poppy, still holding the uncorked bottle in her hands. “Actually, I’ll take some of that wine now, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Poppy retrieved the second metal cup, pouring out a markedly smaller amount and passing it to Morgan, who accepted it with a nod and a thanks. She stared into the cup, at the dark red, fragrant liquid inside, and steeled herself. As much as she wanted to try and drain the whole cup in one go, she knew that would only result in disaster, so she settled on taking a single timid sip.

The wine was tart, very tart, and Morgan felt her lips wanting to pucker at the taste. Scrunching her face up, she swallowed hard, feeling the dry, fruity taste quickly give way to a burning aftertaste as the alcohol ran down her throat. It stung, but it also helped her clear her head, and she slammed the cup down onto the table beside her.

“Okay!” she began again, locking eyes with Red Molly. “I don’t know what to tell you, but I know I don’t have much to offer, the only thing I’ve ever been good at is taking tests and swimming. I have never sailed on a ship before, I don’t know the first thing about ropes or knots or sails or cannons. I have never stolen anything in my life and I’ve never been in a physical fight, and honestly the thought of doing either of those things is kind of terrifying!”

Morgan knew the volume of her voice was steadily creeping higher as she went on, but for once she was beyond caring. She grabbed the cup beside her and took another, longer sip, before springing to her feet.

“But that’s exactly why I’m here! I want to learn how to tie knots and fire a cannon! I want to learn how to fight, actually fight, so I can stand up for myself when someone tries to push me around, and maybe I want to take things that don’t belong to me! I want to curse! I’ve spent my whole life reading books and following rules and preparing for a future that doesn’t even exist anymore, so now, if I say I want to be a pirate, then I’m going to be a pirate, g-goddamnit!”

Morgan cringed a little as she failed to stick the landing, and realized at some point that she’d started to pace around the room as she ranted and raved. She turned back to her audience of two and drained the last of her wine, raising the cup as though to toss it in some random direction, but getting ahold of herself at the last moment and just placing it down on the table with a little extra force.

Red Molly and Poppy shared looks of wide-eyed bemusement and mild shock, respectively. After draining her own cup, Red Molly rose to her feet, her black lips pulling apart into the widest grin Morgan had seen on her yet.

“Morgan Hunter, present yourself,” Red Molly said, standing with a hand on her hip.

“Uh…”

Was she asking her to…

Red Molly rolled her eyes. “It means c’mere,” she said, waving Morgan closer with her free hand.

Oh, thank goodness…

Morgan nodded, hurrying to stand in front of the captain at as close to attention as she could while clutching a cloak around her body.

“Well, I have to say, that was quite a presentation,” Red Molly began, extending her cup towards Poppy, who filled it while the captain continued. “First, some of the most fluent gibberish I’ve ever heard, the likes of which I haven’t encountered since the last time I crossed swords with Admiral Massimo, and then, a passionate confession of utter uselessness. You are, by your own admission, one of the least qualified persons to ever board my ship, and I’ve taken actual children on board.”

Morgan furrowed her brow as Red Molly paused to take another unnecessarily long sip of wine. Her words were harsh, and entirely at odds with the way she said them; with a broad, enthusiastic smile and a hint of laughter in her tone. After she swallowed, Red Molly’s head turned, looking somewhere over Morgan’s shoulder.

“Oh, hold on, Mav, I’m getting to it! Tides take you, woman, it’s called buildup!” she shouted into the empty air before fixing her eyes back on Morgan’s own. “Anyway, what I mean to say is, even a lump of mithril is useless without the fires of the forge and the skilled hands of the blacksmith.”

“Technically, even unrefined mithril has many uses,” Poppy offered from behind. Red Molly shot her a withering glare, but it was gone in a flash and she once again beamed at Morgan.

“Anyway, what I’m sayin’ is, it’ll take a lot of work, hard work, backbreaking work that’ll leave you sore and bruised and wishin’ you’d never crawled out of the ocean in the first place, but if you’re willin’ to swear the oath and put in that work, then I think we just might have room for you aboard our ship.”

Red Molly finished with a flourish, knocking back her cup and draining it. Unlike Morgan, she did toss the empty cup into a far corner of the room, where it clattered noisily. Behind her, Poppy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, but Red Molly just grinned her sharp-toothed grin and stuck a hand out towards Morgan.

“What’d’ya say?”

■ ■

Contrary to what Morgan expected, just simply shaking Red Molly’s offered hand did not instantly make her a full-fledged pirate. She would still have to “swear the oath” before she was officially accepted, which was apparently something of a small ceremony that would have to be carried out in front of the whole crew. Since the entire crew was already gathered in the mess hall, awaiting a late supper from Balthazar, Red Molly decided it would make for perfect timing to carry out the ceremony then and there, and sent Morgan off with Poppy to find her some clothes while the captain gathered the items she would need.

“And these are my quarters,” Poppy explained, opening the door ahead and leading Morgan in. The room was located on the mid-deck, situated right under the captain’s cabin in fact, and almost as large. But Morgan saw that the extra space was not devoted to luxury, as with Red Molly’s cabin, but to turning the room into a combination sick bay and laboratory of sorts. There were four sturdy cots recessed into one wall, a long table that held an impressive array of what appeared to be chemistry equipment, as well as a tall cabinet with shelves stocked full of glass vials and jars containing innumerable liquids, powders, and, in some cases, entire body parts from what Morgan hoped were animals. There were even a pair of window boxes situated under a row of portholes, the moonlight from overhead shining down and causing a few of the plants they held to give off a faint blue glow.

“Woooow…” Morgan breathed, taking in not just the sights, but the smells of the room. It reminded her of walking through the garden section of a home improvement store, the air heavy with moisture and a faint chemical tinge, similar to the one Poppy gave off. “This is really nice.”

“Thank you,” Poppy said, and to Morgan’s delight, she said it with a pleased smile clear on her face. This was, Morgan figured, possibly the place Poppy felt most comfortable, allowing her to relax from her usual buttoned-up state.

“Is that where you concoct your poisons?” Morgan asked, pointing towards the array of glass beakers, vials, and tubes on the table.

“I do not only make poisons,” Poppy said with a bit of a frown. “But, yes, this is my alchemy equipment. Captain Molly has gone to great lengths to procure all of this for me, and I am quite grateful to her for that.”

“Huh,” Morgan said, taking a moment to move past the word “alchemy.” Although alchemy, in her world, was currently thought of as nonsense and fiction, it had been treated like an actual science for much of history, but given all she’d seen so far, she was fully ready to believe that potions and magic were real, tangible parts of this world.

“I can see how having an alchemist on board would be really useful, yeah,” Morgan said after a moment, pretending like she had any idea what she was talking about. “So, uh, about those clothes?”

“Ah, of course, my apologies,” Poppy said, momentarily slipping back into her usual stiff self as she pivoted and knelt before a large trunk containing several neatly folded piles of cloth. She quickly selected a few items and stood, holding them out to Morgan. “These are tailored for shark-kin, they should fit you.”

Shark-kin? Is that what I am now?

“Thanks,” Morgan said, accepting the stack with a smile. She was about to throw off the cloak and begin dressing, but paused, as Poppy was still just standing there, looking expectantly at her. “Uhh…”

“Ah, yes,” Poppy said, turning her back to Morgan to give her a hint of privacy.

Sighing with relief, Morgan unslung the cloak from her shoulders and held up the clothes she’d been given. It was a simple shirt and a pair of pants, both in shades of green, and both oddly crafted in ways she initially couldn’t understand. The shirt had a high collar, almost no sleeves, a huge hole in the back and long slits up both sides. Morgan realized why as soon as she pulled it over her shoulders; it was made to accommodate her back fin, with the side slits allowing her to actually get the shirt on over it, with two rows of cloth strips so she could tie them closed once she did. Similarly, the pants had a large segment cut out from the seat to accommodate her tail, with two longer strips of cloth Morgan initially couldn’t puzzle out the use for. Eventually, she figured out they were meant to be wrapped around, under, and then over the tail before being tied in place, which then left one last set of laces in the front to pull the whole thing tight against her hips.

“Interesting…” Morgan muttered to herself as she finished tying the last knot in place. Like the chairs in Red Molly’s cabin having extra room for her tail, these clothes were clearly made for someone with a fin and tail just like hers, further solidifying the fact that she was not a member of some mythical undersea race of sea creatures, but just another type of person who happened to be part shark.

“Did you say something?” Poppy asked, and Morgan jumped, clearing her throat.

“Ah, no, no, it was nothing… Actually, I was kind of curious, why do you have so many clothes in your room?” Morgan asked. She also wanted to ask why the leech girl herself didn’t wear any of them, but that seemed kind of rude.

“It is wise to have spare clothing on hand, especially when injuries are common and surgery is frequently required. The integrity of a crew member’s clothing is not considered when I am attempting to save their life, so I’ve taken to having replacements on hand,” Poppy explained, and Morgan couldn’t help but stare in awe at her back while she talked so cooly and casually about saving people from life threatening injuries.

“Oh,” Morgan said, a little dumbstruck, then remembered where she was and what she was doing, and cleared her throat, making a few last minute adjustments to her new clothes. “Uh, well, I’m finished now, you can turn back around.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Poppy turned and Morgan, a little belatedly, tried to adopt a pose that she felt would suit her new attire well. She put her hands on her hips, threw her shoulders back, and held her head up high, hoping she looked half as impressive and pirate-y as she felt.

“Hmm.” Poppy’s only response was a quiet hum as she stepped closer and tilted her head this way and that, clearly checking how the clothes fit on Morgan but hardly acknowledging Morgan herself. Which, Morgan mused, was fine, she didn’t need it to be anything other than that, but it would have been nice if the other girl had shown some kind of reaction.

“So, uh, if you’re the doctor, I guess you’ve examined a lot of bodies then?” Morgan asked, her mouth getting ahead of her brain for once.

“Yes.” Came Poppy’s simple reply.

“How does mine compare then?” Morgan asked, and when Poppy’s eyes met hers she tried to smile casually, unsure of how good a job she could do when her mouth was full of so many razor sharp teeth.

Poppy stared back at her for a long time, her red eyes traveling up and down as she, for the first time Morgan suspected, took in Morgan’s appearance itself, not just her new attire. Slowly, her brow became furrowed. She opened her mouth, then closed it again a second later, then opened it once more before bringing a hand to it and clamping down tightly.

“Uh… Poppy?” Morgan asked hesitantly, unsure if Poppy was just having a hard time thinking of what to say, or if something was actually wrong. She had wanted to impress the other girl but now she was worried she’d done something wrong, asking so forward a question.

Without a word, Poppy turned on her heels, facing entirely away from Morgan to stare at the back wall of her room.

“You look… the clothes fit you quite well… they are… very striking,” Poppy explained haltingly, crossing her arms behind her back and clasping her hands together. Her voice had gone flat again, and Morgan began to feel disheartened.

Oh, geez, I’m making her uncomfortable in her own room…

“Well then, we should be going now, the others are waiting,” Poppy said.

“R-right,” Morgan said, her shoulders drooping. She waited, but Poppy made no move to turn around. “Uuuh…”

“I have… something I must see to,” Poppy said, and Morgan saw her clutching her own hands even tighter behind her back. Her tail, Morgan noted, was curled tightly around one of her legs. “If you would… please… wait for me outside, I will be but a few moments.”

“Uh, okay…” Morgan said, feeling faintly lightheaded. She wasn’t sure if the single small cup of wine she’d had was enough to seriously effect her, but she was definitely beginning to feel overly warm despite the suddenly chill atmosphere in the room, so she quickly turned and strode for the door. Behind her, Poppy continued to stand, statue-like, staring at the opposite wall.

Closing the door behind her, Morgan let herself rest against the wall of the corridor next to it, letting out a sigh.

“What was that about…” she muttered to herself. Behind her, she could faintly hear Poppy beginning to move again through the walls. She wanted to believe that Poppy really had remembered something urgent she needed to take care of, but she couldn’t help but come to the more realistic conclusion that she had done something to upset the leech girl. She just wished she knew what had set her off…

“Sooooo, this is the new recruit?”

A new voice in the hall broke Morgan out of her thoughts and made her jump. She looked frantically from left to right, searching for the speaker, before directing her gaze lower, finding…

“Ah!” Morgan yelped, stepping back instinctually, and immediately feeling guilty for doing so. The figure who had appeared before her was short, about four feet tall by Morgan’s estimate, only coming up to about her waist, and he appeared to be some kind of rat man. He had messy black hair that was slicked back on his head, and two large, round ears covered in black fur. Despite being so short, he had the face of a man in his thirties, with a neatly trimmed little beard that stuck out from his chin in a sharp point. Morgan could see a thin, pink-skinned tail waving in the air behind him, and as he grinned up at her, she saw that he had quite prominent front teeth, though one of them appeared to be made of gold.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Morgan hastily explained, then winced, as she had been on the receiving end of exactly that phrase, with much less sincerity, many times, but the short man didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Of course you didn’t, I didn’t want you to see me,” the man said, chuckling and taking a few skipping steps backwards. Morgan saw that he wore a loose and overly showy shirt that was left unbuttoned almost to his navel, and a pair of snug black tights that wrapped around his bare, clawed feet, reminding her of the ballet leggings she’d seen some of the girls at school wearing. Slung across the man’s back was some kind of stringed instrument, a mandolin if Morgan remembered correctly.

“I see,” Morgan said, feeling her heart rate settle again, and remembering the question the man had asked before startling her. “Yes, I am, er, I will be the new recruit, my name is Morgan.”

“Kazrat, call me Kaz,” he replied, lifting one of his legs off the ground, balancing on the other while dipping into a bow.

“You must be the ship’s musician, then?” Morgan asked, and Kaz chuckled.

“Nae, I’m the master-at-arms,” he replied, obviously joking, and his tail moved behind him, the narrow tip plucking one of the strings of his mandolin. “Aye, musician, bard, story-teller, jester, I does it all!”

“Really?” Morgan asked, tilting her head. “Is that all you do?”

“Well, these hands o’mine are a great deal more valuable than those of the common swabbie, so ‘tis only fair I don’t have to risk them fighting or lifting anything particularly heavy…” Kaz explained, holding up one of his hands and exaggeratedly inspecting it. Morgan saw that, like his feet, his hands were tipped with tiny black claws.

“Of course,” Morgan said, pouring on as much sarcasm as she could. She recalled from some book or another that entertainment on ships had been in high demand, to help pass the time during long stretches out at sea, and to keep morale up, so she wasn’t at all surprised that this ship had a dedicated musician. What was surprising was that he did not seem to have been taken captive and press ganged into performing for free, but was considered a part of the crew, and one that was apparently exempt from the harsher duties of pirate life. She wondered if that was just standard practice in this world, another of Red Molly’s quirks, or if Kaz was simply a very shrewd negotiator.

Beside her, the door to Poppy’s quarters opened, and Morgan moved back to make room as she stepped out into the hall, once again wreathed in her dark cloak. Her movements were smooth and her face was a mask of indifference, showing no signs of her earlier agitation.

“I apologize for the delay,” Poppy said immediately, not quite meeting Morgan’s eyes when she turned her head.

“It’s, uh, it’s fine, really,” Morgan said, waving her hand dismissively. As much as she valued being honest and forthcoming, now was not the time. She could ask Poppy what had happened another time. The leech girl clearly had some difficulties when it came to expressing, or not expressing her emotions, depending on the situation, and Morgan didn’t want to cause her any more stress than she already had.

Poppy bowed her head in thanks, then turned, peering down at Kaz, who had been watching on with keen eyed interest.

“Good evening, Musiker Kaz. Is there something you need?” Poppy asked, and Morgan thought perhaps her tone was a bit colder than usual.

“Nae, I’m just peachy, thank ye,” Kaz replied, already starting to walk backwards down the hall. “Jes’ wanted to give my own personal greetin’ to our newest recruit. I’ll go on ahead and leave you two to it, but don’t dally now. I’m hungry, and Captain said we’re not eatin’ until the oathtaking is finished!”

With that, he spun nimbly on his heels and all but skipped down the hall, disappearing through another doorway shortly and leaving the pair alone once more.

“He’s… interesting,” Morgan said, after a moment of tense silence.

“I do not like him,” Poppy said plainly and bluntly, in a way Morgan was quickly growing accustomed to. “He enjoys making a nuisance of himself, even more than Chef Balthazar, despite not being nearly as irreplaceable.” Poppy sighed and began to walk, leading Morgan away from her room and towards the mess hall, where she knew the rest of the crew would be waiting. “Unfortunately, his claims of being one of the best musicians on the sea are not mere boasts; he is quite good.”

“Well, you know how it is with rock stars…” Morgan said, chuckling nervously.

“I… do not, no, what does that mean?” Poppy asked, glancing at Morgan as they turned a corner.

“Oh, uh, nothing, it was just a joke that doesn’t make sense here, nevermind,” Morgan said, shaking her head. Poppy didn’t look satisfied with that as an answer, but didn’t press.

“So, uhm…” Morgan began, slowing her walking a little. “How are the rest of the crew? Are they… nice?”

Was that a stupid question? It felt like a stupid question, they were pirates, they robbed, and possibly killed people, for a living. As much as Morgan wanted to romanticize it, that was still an unavoidable fact, and she couldn’t help but worry about what types of people a job like that attracted. Then again, it had attracted her as well, hadn’t it?

Poppy’s answer came as something of a pleasant surprise, however.

“Nice? Well, if you are asking if they will be kind to you, then, yes,” Poppy said, having stopped entirely, sensing Morgan’s hesitation. “Once you swear the oath, you will become a part of the crew, and though we may sometimes squabble, the crew looks after its own. Should you ever feel as though you are being slighted, you should not hesitate to inform one of the officers, or Captain Molly even. Disharmony sinks ships, as they say.”

Huh…

That sounded a whole lot like the speeches about bullying delivered by unconvincingly-sympathetic public speakers that the school brought in any time there was an incident, but much, much more genuine. To hear Poppy tell it, if Morgan ever found herself having a serious issue aboard the ship, she would be fully allowed, even expected, to voice her concerns to those in charge, and could expect to actually see something done about it.

Did she really believe that? She was hopeful, sure, but it was still too early to be certain.

Still, it was such a refreshing outlook that Morgan almost wanted to pinch herself a few more times, just to make sure she still wasn’t dreaming.

“Does that assuage your fears?” Poppy asked when Morgan didn’t reply, and she nodded her head quickly.

“Y-yes, yes it does, very much so, I was just surprised,” Morgan answered, picking up her feet and resuming their walk, a little more casually now. “Is that how all pirate ships operate?”

“Of course,” Poppy replied at once. “To call yourself a pirate is to join a covenant that pledges itself to… well, the oath will explain it, but, yes, since the days when the very first pirates cast off the Empire’s chains, it has always been our way to band together and ensure the sea will never fall to tyrants.”

“Wow…” Morgan whispered, entranced by the sudden fervor she heard in Poppy’s voice, that not even her cool demeanor could hide. She’d suspected it ever since observing Captain Silas’ overly mild, then outright friendly reaction to being boarded by pirates, but that had been the most conclusive evidence yet that as far as this world was concerned, the word “pirate” meant something completely different. It also helped to blow away the last lingering vestiges of doubt that Morgan had been clinging to. As the pair approached the door to the mess hall, the air began to fill with muffled chatter and the tangy smell of seafood being cooked, making the empty pit in Morgan’s stomach clench tightly. She paused just outside the door and took a deep breath, standing with her back straight and her head held high.

She did have to lower it again though, as at her height, she was just slightly too tall for the door, so she had to duck slightly to follow Poppy inside.

The mess hall—Or, since we’re on a ship, is it just called “the mess?”—was one of the largest rooms Morgan had seen on the ship, big enough that she suspected it took up a whole third of the second deck. Both walls were lined with a row of six tables with benches on either side that, upon closer inspection, were attached to the walls beside them by a simple hinged mechanism, allowing them to be flipped up into a waiting alcove and stored away when not in use. Which was, Morgan mused, oddly practical for a pirate ship, but then she had to wonder if this had always been a pirate ship.

The arrangement of the tables left a corridor of empty space in the middle of the room, creating the illusion of some kind of grand entrance or runway, which was helped by the twin rows of evenly-spaced support columns on either side of the gap. As she looked around the room, Morgan counted the number of those seated at each table and how many of the tables were filled, and what had initially felt like an infinite sea of faces was revealed to be, in fact, just a small crowd of about fifty people. As they quieted and stared at her, she stared back, noting that many of the people she saw had obvious fish-like features, same as her; fins, tails, scales, and gills, as well as skin that featured oddly familiar patterns, like those of sea life Morgan was certain she’d glanced at in passing during one of the school’s regular aquarium field trips. She saw a large, crimson-skinned woman whose body seemed to be partially covered by segments of chitinous armor, as well as several smaller figures seated around her with similar shell-like growths in shades of deep purple. She saw another woman with an even more outlandish appearance who seemed to be some kind of bipedal cephalopod, seated next to a man with large brown and black feathered wings and talons instead of feet. She saw more elves, more strange mushroom-covered people like Balthazar, and even a hulking man with tanned skin and large black horns like a bull. It was such an eclectic spread of fantastical races that the sight of an actual human was somehow the most surprising thing.

He was, well, a normal human man, somewhat on the buff side, with dark hair, standing against the far wall, leaning back with his arms crossed and speaking to a fishy looking man with green and black scales. He caught Morgan staring his way, and smiled at her, giving her a polite nod before turning back to his conversation.

“There you are!”

And, of course, standing in the middle of the rows, once again decked out in her full captain’s garb, coat and hat included, was Red Molly, who beckoned Morgan closer with her hand. She’d done her best to steady her nerves, thankful that the crowd she’d soon be performing some sort of pirate ritual in front of wasn’t very large. She didn’t think she could fall back on the old standby of picturing everyone naked, since she could hardly imagine what some of the more unusual figures that made up the crew even looked like without clothes.

Except Poppy, she reminded herself, then immediately tried to un-remind herself.

“Huh, is the wine gettin’ to you?” Red Molly asked, misdiagnosing the source of Morgan’s suddenly reddening cheeks.

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I’ll be fine.”

Nodding, Red Molly led her the rest of the way to the empty space at the head of the tables. Beyond that, she could see through a wide window into the adjoining room, where Balthazar and a few other figures toiled away in what was evidently the galley.

“Well, good, I’d like to get this underway quick. Whatever Balthazar is doing to those crabs smells good enough that I’m worried the crew’ll mutiny if I delay dinner much longer,” Red Molly said, standing opposite Morgan while, behind her, she spotted Poppy, having reappeared with a large scroll in her hands.

“She’s right!” a voice from the crowd shouted, earning a round of good natured chuckles from the whole room, which only made Red Molly beam even brighter.

“Alright, alright, settle down you lot,” she eventually said, plunging the room back into a silence that bordered on reverence. Her demeanor shifted, and the cocky, almost manic smile slipped from her face, and in a moment, Red Molly resembled the fearsome pirate captain Morgan knew she truly was.

“State your name,” Red Molly commanded, and Morgan’s already stiff back straightened out even more as she replied.

“Morgan Hunter,” Morgan said, which caused a brief susurration to run through the crew, before Red Molly silenced it with a sidelong glance.

Wordlessly, Poppy moved, passing the large scroll into Red Molly’s hands. Fully unfurled, Morgan saw it was a sheet of coarse, sturdy-looking paper, about the size of a poster, with signs of wear and age evident along its edges. Clearing her throat, Red Molly began to read.

“Do you, Morgan Hunter, swear to pledge yourself from this day forward to service aboard this ship, The Red Tide, and all that it entails; To follow the orders of its captain and officers to the best of your abilities, to consider her and her crew as your kith and kin, and to never knowingly bring harm to either, for as long as you shall serve?”

Red Molly looked up expectantly, and Morgan realized that was her cue.

“I do!” she answered, perhaps a little over-enthusiastically.

“Do you swear to uphold the tenets of the free peoples of the sea, as set forth by the First Fellowship of Pirates and the Council of Crassus; To suffer not the tyrant, the hoarder, the extortioner, the unjust, and consider them your mortal enemy? To take from those whose wealth outstrips their needs, to humble those who flaunt their ill-gotten gains, and to render swift aid to those who suffer under their chains, for as long as you shall serve?”

“I… do,” Morgan answered again, at a more reasonable volume. While she had expected the contents of the first oath, the second surprised her. So, it really was true, to be a pirate in this world was not to be a lawless bandit of the sea, pillaging and plundering any and all without remorse, but rather, to stand against and take from those who abused their power over others.

“And, finally, the third oath, the oath that is individual to each captain and, in my opinion, the most important,” Red Molly said, her stance relaxing somewhat, her familiar sawtooth grin returning.

Morgan nodded, taking a deep breath and preparing herself. If she understood that right, these would be Red Molly’s own personal tenets, the most important things to her, and Morgan was determined to give them the respect they deserved.

“Do you swear to not be as stuffy and boring as the rest of the shit on this list, to live your life to the absolute maximum, to use your time aboard my ship to forge a tale worth telling, and, lastly, do you swear to never cheat at cards and not to drink the last of my good wines if I’ve already passed out, for as long as you shall serve?”

After that last line, and before Morgan could answer, Red Molly turned her head to the side, speaking in the same way she did when she was talking to her sword, “Mavis.”

“And yes, I did add that line just because of you.”

Morgan stared at the woman who, for all intents and purposes, was already her captain, her brain momentarily shorting out at the jarring shift in tone between the first two oaths and the last, and another display of Red Molly’s questionable sanity. She wasn’t sure how it worked, but she was pretty sure she couldn’t back out now, since she’d already sworn two out of three. While the first two had been easy to agree to, speaking surprisingly strongly to Morgan’s own personal sense of right and wrong, the third had her hesitating. Could she honestly say she was going to be able to live her life “to the maximum” when she’d never done so before? Was she even capable of doing anything that people would bother to tell stories about? She didn’t know.

But she sure as hell wanted to find out.

“I do,” Morgan answered, her voice firm as iron.

“Splendid,” Red Molly replied, grinning wider, and flipped the paper around. Morgan saw, in large sprawling text, the oaths she'd just sworn taking up most of the page, the first two in neatly ordered rows, the third in a much sloppier scrawl, and below that some kind of circular sigil about as wide across as her hand. “Now, you just need to apply your blood to the seal, here, give me your thumb.”

Morgan froze, her eyes going wide. Partially because of the casual implication that she'd be signing this contract in blood, but she'd almost been expecting something like that. No, she hesitated because the knife that Red Molly produced with a flick of her wrist was very visibly stained with blood.

“No!” Morgan yelped, clutching both her hands against her chest. Red Molly's eyes narrowed, and Morgan heard mutterings spread throughout the room behind her, so she hastily explained, pointing. “No, I mean, not with that knife, it's covered in blood! That's unsanitary!”

“What, this?” Red Molly asked innocently, tilting the knife and inspecting the blade. Then, she stuck her tongue out, and dragged it across the flat of the blade. Morgan recoiled while Red Molly grinned. “It's just juice, from the heart-fruits. This is my fruit knife.”

“T-that does not make it better!” Morgan sputtered, her exasperation mounting. Sighing, she looked at her hands, clenching them tight, then raised her left hand towards her mouth, using one of her many new sharp teeth to puncture the pad of her thumb.

“Ow…” she hissed, despite expecting the pain. Holding her thumb up, she squeezed the sides until a fat red blob of blood had formed, then pressed it to the center of the circle.

With startling speed, several things happened in rapid succession. The sigil lit up with a bright inner glow, Red Molly removed her hand from the top of the page, and the whole thing began to burn from the outer edges inward. Morgan tried to pull her arm away, but found the limb unable to move, like she was trapped in an impossible strong handshake with an invisible force. The glow spread up from the circle, reaching the inked words and causing them to take on a light of their own, even as the page burned out from under them, leaving them hanging in the empty air. Then, the words melted into the smoke that wafted around her, swirling faster and faster before diving for her still outstretched hand, disappearing into her body through the small wound in her thumb. Morgan wasn't sure how, but she could feel them, the words, traveling up her arm and settling somewhere in her chest, her very core. With that, the spell was broken, and she drew her hand back, placing it over her chest, where her heart hammered ferociously.

All around her, the crew — no, her fellow crew members — exploded into rowdy cheers and raucous applause. A hand fell on her shoulder and she raised her head, meeting Red Molly’s shining pink eyes and madwoman's grin.

“Welcome aboard, lass,” she said quietly, only for Morgan to hear, then raised her voice and shouted to the room, “Now let's eat!”

Morgan was quickly shuffled out of the way and Balthazar burst forth from the galley, flanked by a small crowd of other crew members, all bearing serving dishes piled high with food. There were skewers of roasted red and yellow peppers, onions, and mushrooms, there were buckets out of which poked dozens of crab legs arranged like a grisly bouquet, and a wide tray bearing two perfectly-cooked filets from a fish that was longer than Morgan’s arm. And, finally, the much anticipated crab cakes, a tray full of little golden-brown pucks stacked up in the vague shape of a pyramid, steam lifting off them and filling the air with the mouth-watering scents of fried batter and crab. All these were placed side by side on a waist-high countertop built into the far wall, followed soon after by stacks of wooden plates, wooden mugs, and buckets of mismatched cutlery.

As Morgan watched on, still not fully recovered from… doing magic? Or having magic done on her? Whatever that had been, Morgan had not yet finished processing it when she saw the pirates forming a long, only slightly disordered line in front of the countertop, filling their plates before returning to their seats.

“Huh… buffet style…” she spoke distantly, mostly to herself, and couldn't help but laugh. Something moved at her side, and suddenly Poppy was standing beside her, facing forward.

“What is so funny?” Poppy asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Morgan said, shaking her head, finally letting her arms drop to her sides. The wound on her thumb was gone, and her heart rate had returned to normal. Now that it was over and done with, and the room was rapidly filling up with the mouth-watering aromas of the meals Balthazar had prepared for the crew, Morgan realized just how hungry she was after all that swimming. She was actually kind of surprised she wasn’t hungrier, considering her new body technically hadn’t ever eaten anything before. Her stomach rumbled like the growling of some terrible beast, and, beside her, Poppy’s flat mouth twitched up into a tiny, but unmistakable smile.

“Come, we should get in line,” Poppy said, motioning for Morgan to follow. It was probably Morgan’s imagination, but it seemed as though Poppy’s cold attitude from her earlier bout of irritation had completely dissipated, and she even seemed to be somewhat happy.

Wishful thinking, she’s probably just excited about the food, Morgan thought, moving to follow the other girl.

They fell in at the back of the line, moving quickly through it until it was Morgan’s turn. As hungry as she was, she wasn’t worried about overestimating her appetite, and grabbed a bit of everything.

In addition to the food, several large barrels had also been brought out and arranged on stands next to the counter, with spigots inserted. The barrels had their contents burned into the wood, and Morgan knew well enough to avoid any of the alcohols; the single cup of wine earlier had been more than enough for her for one night, but she was delighted to see a barrel marked “lemonade,” and quickly filled her cup with the pale, lemon-scented liquid.

Predictably, Poppy did not look for a seat amongst the other already-eating pirates, but made her way towards one of the few entirely empty tables. She didn't say anything as Morgan continued to follow her, nor did she protest when she settled onto the bench beside her, and Morgan took that as something of a good sign. She was still eager to get to know more about the mysterious and fascinating leech girl, but first she needed to eat.

She tried one of the skewers first, marveling at the lightly charred vegetables; the peppers and onions had a pleasant amount of snap to them, with the peppers tasting mild and bright, while the onions were surprisingly sweet. The mushrooms were crisp on the outside and tender on the inside, filling Morgan’s mouth with juices as she bit down. All of them had also been coated with some kind of fragrant oil or vinegar that gave them a buttery aftertaste.

Next, she lifted one of the monstrous crab legs and easily snapped it open, exposing the tender flesh within. Whereas the vegetables had been good, the first bit of crab she filled her mouth with sent her reeling, the sweet, juicy meat melting on her tongue and making her head swim.

“Mmmmh! Oh my god, I’ve never tasted crab like this…” Morgan muttered, uncaring that her mouth was full. She wanted nothing more than to devour the rest of the legs she had grabbed as well, but she remembered she had other dishes to try, and picked up her fork, using it to slice into the bit of the ruby-red fish filet. It was seared, its outside a brown crust flaked with herbs and spices, its edges a pale pink, while the inside oozed with juices, squeezed from the many thin bands of fat that Morgan couldn’t stop staring at. If she thought the red tuna (as Captain Silas had called it) looked delicious, actually tasting it went above and beyond anything she’d been expecting. Creamy, buttery, the mild herbs and the sting of a peculiar type of salt, it was all she could do to not drop her fork and fall on the slab of fish and rip into it with just her teeth and claws.

Finally swallowing, she breathed heavily, and her eyes fell on the centerpiece of her meal, the little fried disk of crab and batter and only Balthazar knew what else. With trembling hand, she reached out and grabbed the crab cake by the edge, raising it to her mouth and taking half of it in one powerful chomp, feeling her eyes forced shut as her face crinkled up in pure bliss. The familiar flavor of the crab was there, but bolstered by the other ingredients, the batter tasting strongly of mustard and lime, intercut with crisp, watery celery, and a blend of spices that left her tongue practically tingling as she slowly worked her jaw.

By the time Morgan managed to pry her eyes back open, she was met with the faces of the entire crew, all turned to face her, staring in silence, and she realized she may have been making a bit of a scene with how enthusiastically, and loudly, she’d been enjoying her meal.

“By the tides, girl,” the woman with the red shell called, breaking the silence. “If you get that ferocious just eatin’ a meal, I can’t wait to see what you’re like in a fight.”

Morgan flushed, and at first she thought the woman was mocking her, but then several of the crew made noises of agreement, nodding their heads or slamming their cups on the table. Morgan resisted the urge to shrink down in her seat, and instead chuckled along, baring her teeth at the crowd before going back to her meal.

As she ate, a bit more slowly and carefully now, she pondered over what could have come over her. Sure, she liked seafood well enough, but nothing she’d eaten on Earth had ever tasted that good, good enough to make her forget where she was, even for a moment. Some part of it could be chalked up to Balthazar’s obviously exemplary cooking skills, but she suspected her new body was more to blame. She was, at least in part, a shark, a voracious predator that could and would consume any sea life it could, so there was no doubt she’d find just about any seafood utterly delicious.

All in all, that didn’t seem like a downside at all. Just another perk, along with her newfound size and strength.

Morgan finished her plate, then went back for seconds.

After the food was gone, the drinks remained, and as the dishes were cleared away, the already celebratory atmosphere grew even more lively. Decks of cards and sets of dice were produced, and Kazrat hopped up onto a table, unslinging his mandolin and beginning to strum a jaunty tune, one that was picked up by a set of drums and a tambourine, both played by the cephalopod woman with tendrils for hair. The atmosphere shifted from “dinner” to “party,” and Morgan found herself making her way towards the exit. Surprisingly, no one stopped her, and, even more surprisingly, she was followed by Poppy. Pausing at the door that led out of the mess, they shared a glance, and Morgan tried to give her her best smile. Poppy stared back, eyes wide but impassive, then nodded at the door. Confused but not defeated, Morgan opened the door and together they slipped out while the pirates reveled behind them.

(~~~)

“You don't like parties either, huh?” Morgan asked as she followed Poppy through the mid-deck, letting her take the lead since she didn’t actually know her way around the ship yet at all.

“I do not dislike celebrations in general,” Poppy replied, casting a glance back over her shoulder. “But I am feeling somewhat out of sorts tonight, and would prefer to retreat somewhere… quieter.”

Of course she is, I should probably just let her get back to her room in peace.

“Ah, I can understand that,” Morgan said, chuckling a little to hide her conflicted thoughts. Morgan didn’t often get invited to parties, and on the rare occasions that she did she would often have to excuse herself to an empty bedroom to cool down or, if she was lucky, play with the owner’s cat, if they had one.

“Honestly, I’m amazed I managed as well as I did, having to stand up in front of everyone like that,” Morgan continued. She had her head down, and followed Poppy up the stairs she’d led them to, not yet noticing where they’d ended up. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to give a speech or… something…”

Morgan trailed off as she felt the cool night air on her back, lifting her head and finding that they had emerged back onto the main deck. She continued to look up, and up, until she was almost bent over backwards, staring up at a sky so full of stars it momentarily took her breath away. Hearing footsteps on the wood, she lowered her eyes and found Poppy heading for the stairs that led up to the raised quarterdeck. She climbed until she was about halfway up, then stopped, taking a seat upon the steps.

“Are you not coming?” Poppy asked when she saw Morgan still frozen halfway off the other stairs where she’d left her.

“Oh!” Morgan jumped slightly, realizing Poppy was inviting her to sit with her on the stairs. She hopped the rest of the way up onto the deck and then followed Poppy’s lead, climbing the shorter staircase, one of two that flanked the door to Red Molly’s cabin, settling down beside Poppy with her elbows on the steps above them and her feet resting on the steps below.

“Woah…” Morgan breathed as she took in the sights and sounds before her; the ship creaking as it ever so gently bobbed on the water, the wind whistling through the ropes and gently jostling the stowed sails, and the ocean slapping at the hull. But, above everything else, the sky demanded the most of her attention, sprawling out overhead for miles and miles in every direction, filled with more stars than Morgan had ever seen growing up in suburban Michigan.

“It’s beautiful,” Morgan whispered, suddenly feeling overcome with wonder. Everywhere she looked she saw something new and fascinating, from clusters of stars that were completely alien to her, to the fact that the moon that hung huge and bright in the sky was slightly pink.

“I wish I had my telescope with me…” Morgan sighed wistfully. Beside her, Poppy shifted, turning her head to look at her.

“Oh, are you an astromancer?” Poppy asked, her eyebrows raised, not bothering to hide the look of excitement on her face.

“W-what? No, no, uh, I just like stargazing,” Morgan said, and Poppy nodded, but she didn’t seem disappointed. In fact, she seemed even more excited.

“Ah, that is perfect then, wait right there!” Poppy said, suddenly hopping to her feet, dropping down onto the deck and moving with purpose towards the ornate doors to the captain’s cabin. Before Morgan even had time to ask if she was allowed to just go in there, Poppy had already disappeared inside, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Okay, now I’m just confused. But it seems like she doesn’t actually dislike being around me, right?

Poppy emerged a few moments later cradling something shiny and cylindrical in her arms. With a smile on her face, she presented her prize to Morgan, revealing it to be a large collapsible telescope made of brightly polished brass.

“This should be sufficient. Captain Molly has a larger one, but it’s somewhere in her bedroom, and I don’t want to dig through the mess to find it,” Poppy said as she returned to her seat beside Morgan, extending the telescope with a series of staccato clicks before handing it to her.

“T-thank you!” Morgan said, finding Poppy’s enthusiasm infectious. She raised the telescope to her eye and pointed it skyward, leaning further back on the stairs. After a moment, the stars swam into focus, and she couldn’t stop a massive grin from spreading across her face.

“Amazing,” she said as she slowly swept her magnified gaze across the sky with no real goal in mind. It took only a cursory glance to know that she wouldn’t find any familiar fixtures in this sky, but that just meant she could look at everything with fresh eyes.

“You said you enjoy stargazing for fun, how many of the constellations do you know?” Poppy asked after Morgan had had a few moments to gaze aimlessly. Morgan lowered the telescope to meet the other girl’s eyes, her own growing wide.

“O-oh, uh, one or two, I… couldn’t ever remember all of them,” Morgan said, trying not to wince or break eye contact while delivering the lie. It was a bit of a blow to her pride to have to pretend not to know, but it was preferable to having to explain the truth just yet.

“I see,” Poppy said, cocking her head to the side and rubbing her chin. She glanced up at the stars, then back down at Morgan, a timid smile playing across her lips. “Would you like me to refresh your memory?”

“Y-yes, I would love that!” Morgan replied immediately, and Poppy moved, sliding across the stairs to place herself closer to Morgan’s side. Not too close, not close enough that their knees were touching or anything, but close enough.

Poppy sat up straighter and cleared her throat, adopting a scholarly tone as she pointed upwards. “Well, obviously the first and most important star to know, the Traveler’s Lantern,” she said, aligning her pointing finger with Morgan’s eyeline, directing it towards a point at the near center of the sky. “It’s that bright yellow star right there, and if you follow that string of three stars beside it, that leads to Farron, the Traveler.”

Following Poppy's directions, Morgan raised the telescope, tracing the three stars that formed what she guessed was the outstretched “arm” of Farron as it led into a brighter cluster of five stars in roughly humanoid shape.

“Now, the reason it’s so important to be able to locate the Lantern is because it can help you find your way if you’re lost,” Poppy continued. “If you look just above it, that bright red star there, that’s the Traveler’s Compass, the other half of the constellation, and if you combine it with the lantern it always points towards the north.”

“Oh, I see,” Morgan said, shifting the telescope ever so slightly to spot the red star in question. That was a very helpful bit of information, if Morgan ever managed to find herself lost and separated from the crew. From her crew, she reminded herself.

Morgan listened with rapt attention as Poppy explained over a dozen constellations, most of which corresponded to various deities. She learned of Farron’s brother, Ferros, and the dome of stars that represented his forge and hammer. Right over there was Colin, the prankster, with a crescent string of stars representing his cunning smile, across from his rival Koura and her scales, which didn’t represent justice, but rather trade and commerce. The music goddess Canto’s signature lute intersected with the scholar god Vidya’s quill, the latter of whom Poppy had paused to jokingly ask if Morgan had been blessed by when she was born.

At least, Morgan assumed it was a joke, at first, but she began to have second thoughts the more Poppy expounded about the tapestry of stars overhead and the stories they told.

These are beginning to sound less and less like myths of the past and more like facts and figures she believes actually exist and hold power over their given domains…

Morgan began to feel conflicted as she listened, still gazing at the stars but looking past them as thought. She hadn’t been raised in a particularly religious household, and had spent the entirety of her relatively short life putting exactly zero thought into whether there existed any form of higher power or afterlife, designating those as questions she could ponder “later,” like after she graduated college, or figured out what career path she wanted to pursue.

She supposed the joke was on her now, having died and wound up here, wherever here was. A fantastical world, with elves and fish people and pirates who swore oaths with magic, and which for all she knew might actually have an entire pantheon of verifiably extant gods that could inflict real, tangible change upon that very world.

Heck, if they are real, maybe I could ask one of them if they know how I got here…

“Miss Morgan?”

The voice, Poppy’s voice, caused her to jerk back in surprise and realize she’d been staring at the same star for almost a minute while spacing out. She lowered the telescope and rubbed at her eyes before turning to face Poppy.

“My apologies.” Poppy spoke before Morgan could explain herself. “I was rambling, I’m sure know all of this already from your High Academy, I will stop—”

“No!” Morgan exclaimed, startling the frown right off of Poppy’s face before it could even finish forming. Lowering her voice, but not her intensity, Morgan shook her head emphatically. “I’m sorry, I’m the one who wasn’t listening! I just got distracted by… something else, but that’s not important! S-sure, I’ve heard some of these already, but I’ve never heard them expounded upon so well before! I was really enjoying your lesson, so, uh, please continue!”

“O-oh,” Poppy said, visibly taken aback by Morgan’s eagerness. So much so that, before Morgan’s very eyes, her cheeks began to change color, turning from an oily black to a rosy pink that matched her irises.

“W-w-well, I would be h-happy to continue it, if you would like,” Poppy stammered while dropping her gaze to the floor, her tone wobbling almost as much as the corners of her mouth, which constantly threatened to curl up into a smile while she struggled to keep them straight.

“Y-yeah…” Morgan managed to choke out her response, averting her own eyes and looking up and away, so as not to wind up staring at Poppy again. “Yeah, I would like that a lot. If you don’t mind.”

“Certainly,” Poppy said, lifting her head again and inhaling deeply through her nose. “Now, where was I?”

“Uh, Canto and Vidya?” Morgan offered. That was the last thing she remembered Poppy talking about, at least.

“Right, right, so, Viyda preferred to stay in his tower all day, doing his ‘research,’ although what he was researching is a matter of opinion, some stories say he wasn’t recording facts but actually creating them, setting to paper the natural laws of the world, which is why there persist so many myths about his enchanted quill, are you familiar with those?”

“Uhm, only a few?” Morgan said, shrugging.

“Of course, of course, well, the most popular ones are that it can rewrite the laws of our world, which is why some have started to consider him a god of magic as well, but I don’t think it’s as simple as that… Oh, what was saying? Ah, right, Canto! So, Canto used to climb the trees that grew next to Vidya’s tower and play music on her lute, though of course there’s dispute over whether her magical instrument was a lute, or a lyre, or a flute, or if it wasn’t an instrument at all and instead she only sang, but regardless…”

Morgan reclined into the stairs again and smiled, watching as Poppy gestured excitedly and recounted the tale of a goddess of music charming a god of knowledge out of his secluded tower. She did her best to focus only on the story, but couldn’t help getting drawn in by just how… cute Poppy got when she was explaining something. Both her movements and expressions became more lively, and she spoke freely without sounding like she was forcing everything through a filter to sound as formal and polite as possible. Morgan still had no clue why she did that, and she knew better than to pry, but already she knew she much preferred this side of Poppy.

“...and that’s why most mages are expected to learn to play an instrument, because of the… ah, Morgan?”

Morgan blinked. Oh, had she missed a question? No, she realized, she’d been staring and shamelessly too. It must have looked like she’d gotten distracted again!

“Sorry!” Morgan hastily blurted, turning away and casting her eyes back upon the night sky, the thing she was supposed to be staring at. She tried to form some kind of apology, to explain what she’d been doing, when her eyes caught on a feature of the sky neither of them had noticed until now.

Two spots of colored light, red and purple, one slightly ahead of the other, were slowly inching their way across the sky near the eastern horizon.

“Woah!” Morgan gasped, sitting forward in her seat and raising the telescope to get a better look. “Comets! Two of them, and they’re so bright, oh, you’ve got to see this!”

Poppy, predictably, also sat up straighter, her story and Morgan’s distraction forgotten in the face of such an astronomical spectacle, eyes searching the sky in the direction Morgan was looking.

“Show me!” Poppy asked, but before Morgan could lower the telescope to hand it off, Poppy instead scooted across the last few inches that separated her and Morgan, pressing herself against Morgan’s side and leaning in to peer through the eyepiece. One of her hands came up to the far end, ever so slightly adjusting the angle, and Morgan could feel Poppy’s cool fingertips brushing against her own.

Now, Morgan was the one who found her cheeks heating up, thankful that Poppy was too absorbed with taking in the sight of the twin comets to notice.

“Incredible,” Poppy said, her tone soft, almost reverent. “I’ve heard tales of comets like these but never thought to see one myself.”

“What kinds of tales?” Morgan prompted, having seen by now how eager Poppy got when she had facts to share and an audience to listen. A bit like herself, Morgan mused.

“Well, there are those that say they are omens, signals from the gods or other powers of some impending future event that will bring about great change. It has been noted that a few major historical events were said to have been preceded by the appearance of one or more of those oddly colored comets a number of years before. Some dispute whether or not that is true, claiming instead that the comets were always added later to increase the appeal of the tales.”

Poppy leaned back from the telescope as she began another casual lecture, and if she noticed the redness in Morgan’s cheeks, she did not comment on it.

“There are some that believe they hold no special significance, that they are simply a rare magical phenomenon caused by the buildup of certain types of mana in the upper atmosphere, or that they are evidence of some interaction occurring between the gods themselves in the plane above this one; opinions differ on whether it is a game or a more serious conflict. Others have posited that the comets themselves are powerful spirits, or messengers from the gods, descending to our world on an important mission from their divine masters.”

“Wow,” Morgan said, her head spinning at the many and varied possibilities. She thought about offering her own “opinion,” that comets were just big balls of ice, dust, and rocks that formed a visible atmosphere when buffeted by solar radiation and winds, but for all she knew, that wasn't true at all.

“What do you think they are?” Morgan asked instead, partly to get ahead of Poppy asking her the very same question, and partly because she was genuinely curious.

“Me?” Poppy paused for a moment, touching a finger to her chin. She didn’t look like she was struggling to come up with an answer, but more like she was hesitant to give one, her eyes suddenly scrutinizing Morgan more closely.

Morgan, for her part, tried to look as unassuming and unflustered as possible, leaning casually on one elbow and even smiling.

Poppy, coming to a decision in her head, shrugged her shoulders and let out a short laugh. “I’m not actually sure what I believe, I’m afraid. I do believe the part about them preceding significant events to be true, there are enough corroborating historical records across different cultures to confirm at least a few of those cases true, but as for what they are, well…”

Before Poppy could finish putting her thoughts into words, her eyes flicked towards the distant horizon again, and her brow furrowed.

“What?” Morgan asked, raising the telescope and quickly finding the two distant points of light. The purple one, the one that had been trailing behind, was now ahead of the red comet, which itself had lost much of its intensity, the glow surrounding its center flickering like a candle in the wind.

Then, it winked out, and disappeared.

“...huh?”

That was… odd. Comets, as Morgan understood them, weren’t supposed to just disappear like that. Depending on location, speed, and a lot of complex geometry that Morgan was too stunned to think about, they could remain visible from a planet’s surface for anywhere from a couple of weeks to several months. Yet, no matter how hard she looked, only the purple comet remained.

“Is that… supposed to happen?” Morgan asked, glancing quickly at Poppy. She didn’t want to take her eyes off the remaining comet in case it also did something odd, like suddenly turning around and flying backwards, or doing loop-de-loops in the night’s sky. Poppy looked just as confused as Morgan felt, and vaguely concerned as well.

With her attention now firmly on the purple comet, Morgan saw the moment it came to a sudden and unmistakable stop before starting to flicker as well. A few seconds later, and it was gone as well.

Well, they definitely weren’t just big balls of ice then.

For several moments, Morgan and Poppy sat in silence and stared at the spot where the pair of comets used to be.

“Well, I guess whatever they are, they got to where they were going,” Morgan said, chuckling.

“Indeed,” Poppy said, her tone serious again. She had a hand on her chin and appeared to be deep in thought suddenly, mumbling to herself, “In the east… two of them even… will have to know…”

Morgan let her go on uninterrupted for a few moments before gently clearing her throat and asking, “Is something wrong?”

Her voice seemed to snap Poppy back to the present, and she sat up straight, turning to face Morgan again.

“It is nothing,” Poppy said, shaking her head. “Nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow, at least. My apologies, I hope I did not distress you.”

“Oh, okay,” Morgan said, shrugging and giving Poppy a small smile. “I was just worried about you, you seemed upset. You said you were ‘out of sorts’ earlier so I wanted to make sure it hadn’t gotten worse because of those comets or something.”

“Ah… I did say that,” Poppy said, like she’d forgotten whatever had had her feeling uncomfortable earlier until Morgan reminded her. She was worried that it would cause her poor mood to return, but Poppy dispelled those worries with a small, bashful smile. “I am feeling much better now, actually, but thank you for your concern.”

“T-that’s good!” Morgan said, immediately wanting to slap herself for being too enthusiastic. Reeling herself in, she played her exclamation off with a laugh and motioned up at the sky. “Well thank you for the astronomy lesson, I really learned a lot. We should… do this again sometime!”

Ah, geez… could you sound any more desperate?

“Of course!” Poppy replied in an instant with enthusiasm to mirror Morgan’s own, her eyes so wide and bright Morgan thought she could see herself in them. “If you’re willing, I could teach you every star in the sky!”

“G-great!” Morgan said, suddenly grinning. She wanted to say more, to say she’d love that, or to say something clever like “It’s a date!” Or, if she was being really bold, “Okay, but I’ll have a hard time keeping my eyes on the stars.”

Instead, she looked down at the telescope she still held in her hands, collapsing it and holding it out to Poppy and hurriedly mumbling, “Uh, here, I better give this back.”

“Oh, right, thank you, I will have to return this,” Poppy said, her own smile receding a little as she accepted the brass cylinder, holding it in her lap. It might have just been Morgan’s imagination, but she almost got the impression that Poppy herself also had more she wanted to say, or perhaps she had been waiting for Morgan to say something else and she’d just disappointed her.

Yeesh…

Wincing at her own ineptitude, Morgan actually started to wish she had had something more to drink, something stronger, then maybe she’d be able to say some of those lines she thought up in her head. Then again, if she’d known ahead of time that this situation would be the end result of following Poppy up onto the deck, would she have even come in the first place? She wanted to say yes, but the logical part of her brain told her that was a lie.

And therein lay the problem, Morgan mused. Earlier, she could have assumed Poppy’s feelings towards her fell somewhere in the range of “indifferent” to “outright dislike,” based just on the few interactions they’d had, especially that moment after Morgan had finished dressing. But then, she’d gotten to see more of the leech girl behind the mask of formal professionalism she put on, and learned that she, in fact, had no problems at all interacting with Morgan. On the contrary, she seemed almost delighted at times to have Morgan to talk to, someone who shared her passion for knowledge and observing and dissecting and absorbing the world around her, so much so that it would be easy for Morgan to give into wishful thinking and just assume the girl was… “interested” in her. Horrifyingly, Morgan realized that even if that weren’t true and she was misreading Poppy’s reactions, she knew that Poppy herself was also too smart, too observant, not to notice Morgan’s reactions in turn.

So where did that leave the two of them? Two clever girls, each one smart enough to notice the ways the other blushed at something they’d said or did, but both too shy, timid, unable, or unwilling to say anything about it, to make the first move? If nothing changed, they would both be left doomed to flail around awkwardly in each others’ general direction, both fully cognizant of the situation but helpless to change it. While Morgan would be happy just to have the other girl as a friend in this strange, unfamiliar world, she knew a part of her would always want to know if things could go even further.

As if summoned by her conflicted thoughts, Morgan reflected on the oaths she had sworn just an hour or so ago. They had burned themselves into her, such that she was able to recall them word for word with perfect clarity. Magic, she figured, and something to ask about later. She had promised to live to the “absolute maximum,” and Morgan realized that if she didn’t want her new life in this world to turn out just like her old one, she had better start fulfilling that promise!

Okay… here goes nothing!

With her heart pounding in her ears, Morgan cleared her throat and focused her wandering gaze back on Poppy.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t stay and just look at the stars a little longer though, right?”

Poppy looked up from her lap where she’d been fidgeting with the collapsed telescope and blinked at Morgan as though she hadn’t heard her. She must have though, because she answered within the next heartbeat.

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Poppy’s smile had broken through again, and she leaned back on the stairs, her gaze pointed at the tapestry of stars above them. Morgan did the same, propping herself on her elbows and tilting her head, staring up into the night’s sky and taking a moment to just breathe.

Then, with slow but deliberate movements so as not to spook her, Morgan shifted in her seat, sliding across the wooden slats of the stairs until her hips and shoulders game into contact with Poppy’s own. The other girl flinched slightly, despite watching Morgan the whole time, a bewildered expression on her face. For a moment, her body remained stiff, and Morgan was about to retreat to her end of the stairs, when she felt Poppy finally relax and lean back into the contact.

Morgan wasn’t about to try anything too daring, like reaching for one of Poppy’s hands, or putting an arm around her, but this seemed like… a good place to start. The way Poppy eventually came to rest her head slightly against Morgan’s shoulder told her she agreed as well.

“Is this okay?” Morgan asked anyway, just to be sure.

Poppy met her eyes. The difference in height between them meant that Morgan’s shoulder was at perfect head height for her to rest her cool cheek against. Conflict was written on her face, but the fact that it was visible at all was better than the impassive stare.

“I would ask you the same thing,” Poppy said, her red eyes staring into Morgan appraisingly. “You… do not mind the contact?”

“Huh? No, not at all,” Morgan said, chuckling weakly. “I just wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable.”

“Mmmh…” Poppy finally broke her intense eye contact and looked up at the star-filled sky, the real reason they were supposedly still up on the deck, breathing in the chill night air.

“Then, yes,” Poppy stated plainly, and Morgan could see the stars reflected in the shiny black of her eyes. In her lap, her hands fidgeted with the telescope. Her cheeks, to Morgan’s delight, once again flushed pink. “This is… good. I am… quite comfortable… T-thank you.”

“Good.” Morgan realized how hard she'd been staring at Poppy and returned her gaze skyward as well, repeating the word, softer and quieter. “Good…”

Sighing, Morgan relaxed back into the stairs, taking in deep breaths of cool air through her nose. Contrary to what she might have believed, her transformation into a shark-human hybrid didn’t seem to have rendered her cold-blooded, as she only felt the chill from the air as a distant thing. She wasn’t even shivering. Did that mean she was actually still mostly mammal? She certainly still had plenty of mammalian traits. Something to think about later, she figured, shrugging the shoulder Poppy wasn’t leaning on and letting her eyes wander.

It wasn’t until her eyes fell upon the three tall rock formations looming out of the water to the right of the ship that she started to feel like there was something off about their surroundings. She remembered those rocks; she’d hidden behind one after catching up with the ship, and watched while they rowed out to the nearby island, to buy or barter for the vegetables they’d eaten that night. She turned her head, peering over the left side of the ship. Only the open ocean greeted her. The island was nowhere to be seen. The ship had remained anchored the entire time, Morgan was certain of it, and the rock formations were still exactly where they had been before, but the island was missing.

“Is something the matter?” Poppy asked after a moment, likely cluing into Morgan’s confusion from the way she’d been looking back and forth from the three pillars to the empty space where the island was supposed to be.

“The island is gone,” Morgan said.

“Ah, yes,” Poppy said, not even lifting her head to see for herself. “They left just after the crew finished their business. These waters aren’t safe enough for a small island like that to stay in the same place for too long.”

Morgan felt her jaw drop and her mind reel. What did that mean? What did that mean?! Did islands in this world just move around as they saw fit? How? Why? How could anyone manage to find a specific island if they were capable of moving? With all these questions and more buzzing inside her head like a swarm of angry bees, Morgan opened her mouth.

“Oh… right…” she said, casually, or what she hoped sounded casual. It took almost physical effort to restrain her ravenous curiosity and not ask any of her questions, but she did so. To hear Poppy say it, it sounded like the missing island wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and certainly not anything to risk ruining the moment over.

Above all, she really didn’t want this moment between her and Poppy to end, and a deluge of questions would lead to exactly that.

But, eventually, the moment had to end. Poppy lifted her head from Morgan’s shoulder and sat forward in her seat, stretching her arms out in front of her and groaning softly.

“It’s getting late,” Poppy remarked. “There will be much to do tomorrow, and it wouldn’t do for you to sleep in on your first day.”

“Heh, right,” Morgan chuckled, following Poppy’s lead and slowly climbing to her feet, stretching out the stiffness that had settled into her limbs. As cozy as it had seemed at the time, stairs did not make the best spot to recline.

“So, to the crew quarters then? You’ll have to show me the way,” Morgan said as she stepped down onto the deck.

“Oh,” Poppy said, quickly joining her on the deck and looking up at her. “Yes, there are spare hammocks set up there, but, ah… well, you said you were raised among humans, correct?”

“That’s right,” Morgan said, tilting her head slightly at Poppy’s sudden interest. “Why?”

“Well, I have been told by many new crew members, er, land dwelling crew members that is, that sleeping in the hammocks takes some getting used to, especially if you are more used to sleeping on a bed, as I assume you are.” Poppy couldn’t seem to directly meet Morgan’s gaze as she explained, looking instead at a point several inches to the right of her head as they descended the stairs to the lower decks. “If you would like, you may use one of the bunks in… in m-my room, for the time being. It’s important for you to be well rested for tomorrow, right?”

Well, that was true, but something told Morgan that that was not the sole reason for Poppy making the suggestion. She may have tried her best to couch the offer in terms of practicality, but she hadn’t done a very good job concealing her true intentions. Morgan got the feeling that Poppy wasn’t all that used to having true intentions that she felt the need to conceal, and that fact alone made it kind of adorable to see her try.

Either way, the decision was an easy one.

“Sure,” Morgan said, smiling and letting Poppy take the lead.

Poppy led her back down into the middle deck, retracing the path she’d taken to show her to her room after her meeting with Red Molly. She paused to point out the path that led to the crew quarters; a narrow set of stairs that led even deeper into the ship, from which a soft chorus of snores could be heard drifting.

Upon arriving in Poppy’s room, the other girl motioned towards the four recessed alcoves, each one equipped with simple yet comfortable looking bedding.

“You may take any one you’d like,” Poppy said as she passed, motioning with a hand. “They’re built deep enough into the wall that you shouldn’t fall out, unless a storm finds the ship anchored here, in which case we’ll have much bigger things to worry about. Not to worry though, those on the night watch would warn us before anything like that happens.”

“Got it, thanks,” Morgan said, picking one of the bunks at random and taking a seat on the edge of the mattress, such as it was. She’d seen a video once that explained the reason hammocks were used on ships, aside from the lack of space for too many permanent bunks; it was because they moved with the motion of the ship as it sailed, making it harder for the person sleeping on them to fall out onto the deck and injure themselves. But with the ship anchored and the waters as calm as they were, she didn’t think she’d have any trouble tonight.

“I guess it’ll be fine if I sleep in my clothes,” Morgan said, mostly to herself. She only owned the one pair and, whether it was in Poppy’s room or the crew quarters, she didn’t think she’d be sleeping in the nude any time soon. She’d had enough being naked in front of strangers to last her for a while.

Looking up from her contemplations, she found Poppy standing in the opposite corner of the room, her cloak hung on a rack beside her and the bandages she wore as clothes folded in neat piles on the table in front of her.

Morgan choked out a surprised apology and averted her eyes quickly, only to hear Poppy let out a high, sharp giggle.

“You really do act a lot like a human,” Poppy said, but Morgan only grunted in reply.

It was kind of amazing, Morgan thought, that Poppy could be flustered to the point of speechlessness by simply sitting shoulder to shoulder with her, yet she didn’t think twice about appearing naked in front of her.

Wait, where is she going to sleep?

There were four bunks in the room, but it didn’t seem like Poppy used those for sleeping in. All Morgan had seen in that corner of the room was a large wooden barrel, but…

Morgan heard the sound of wood creaking and a faint popping, as if a seal had been broken, and her curiosity won out. She looked back towards Poppy and found her climbing into the barrel, which Morgan could now hear sloshing slightly, clearly full of some kind of liquid. Poppy looked up from lowering herself in, the lid of the barrel clutched in her hands by a pair of wooden handles built into it.

“Ah,” Poppy said, giving Morgan another one of her rare smiles and looking down into the barrel bashfully. “Like some of our kind, I find it difficult to sleep well unless I’m submerged,” she explained, easing herself further in, until only her head and shoulders remained above the rim of the barrel. “Water that emulates my home environment would be best, but many people find the smell of the southern swamps off-putting, so I make do.”

Indeed, Morgan could now make out the faintest hint of a rich, earthy, living smell coming from the unsealed barrel. It didn’t smell that bad to her; in fact it reminded her of when she was little, and would sneak off to the creek to try and catch frogs with her best friend.

God, I hope he’s doing alright without me.

Morgan didn’t want to dwell on that though at all, so she smiled back at Poppy, nodding her head.

“Oh, I see, that’s pretty neat actually,” she said, and she meant it. She hadn’t even considered the idea of sleeping underwater, but she was definitely curious about it now. “I’d like to try that sometime, maybe I’ll end up getting a barrel for myself.”

For some reason, her words caused Poppy to study her for a few seconds, the blush from earlier returning to her cheeks.

“I-indeed?” Poppy asked, lowering herself slightly deeper into the barrel so that the bottom half of her face was hidden, holding the lid over her head like a wide brimmed hat. “W-well, you’d have to speak to Carpenter Karnak about that, he’s… well, the carpenter aboard this ship. I imagine he’d relish the challenge, to construct a barrel large enough to comfortably fit you.”

Morgan chuckled, scooting herself further into the alcove, easing herself down onto her—

Morgan winced and hissed as her fin was momentarily crushed between her and the bed.

“Oh, right…” she mumbled to herself as she readjusted her position to lay on her side instead. She looked up to find Poppy, still poking her head out of the barrel, watching her closely.

Eager to move on from that embarrassing mishap, Morgan cleared her throat and chuckled, starting to speak without really knowing what would come out.

“So, uh… thank you again, for teaching me about the stars,” Morgan said, smiling back at Poppy.

“You’re welcome,” Poppy said, and then, after a moment, moved the wooden lid from where she’d been holding it, above her head, to place it on the edge of the table beside her. She leaned forward, letting her chin rest atop the rim of the barrel, smiling back at Morgan. “I’m actually quite glad to have someone else among the crew who is…”

Poppy seemed to be struggling to find the right words to express what she meant, but Morgan suspected she knew what Poppy was trying to say, and grinned as she offered, “Another nerd?”

“Nerd?” Poppy’s brows furrowed at that, and she shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I do not know this term, what is a ‘nerd?’”

Morgan couldn’t hold back a snort at the clinical way Poppy pronounced the unfamiliar word, which only earned her further scrutiny, which in turn made Morgan snicker harder.

“Sorry,” Morgan said, getting ahold of herself and propping herself up on one elbow. “It’s, well, it was an insult back home, originally, but over time it’s lost some of its edge as the people it applied to realized it wasn’t something to be ashamed of. A nerd is just someone who’s smart, who likes studying, maybe they really like studying one thing in particular even if it’s not that popular or interesting to anyone but them.”

“Oh, I see,” Poppy said, tilting her head to the side as she appeared to absorb the explanation, her eyes on the ceiling as she considered. She smiled, and nodded, meeting Morgan's gaze and proudly declaring, “Then, in that case, yes, I suppose I am a nerd.”

Morgan had to grab the pillow from under her side and jam her face into it to stop herself from bursting out laughing and possibly waking up the ship. When she pulled her face from the slightly musty smelling fabric, Poppy’s eyes were narrowed, and her lips were pursed slightly.

“S-sorry, it's just… the way you said it, so serious, it…” Morgan coughed and chuckled into her pillow a little more before shaking her head. “Anyway, as a fellow nerd, I know how it feels not to have someone to share your passions with, someone who actually understands them too, so I’m happy to provide.”

Poppy seemed relieved, perhaps suspecting at first that Morgan hadn’t been telling the truth about “nerd” no longer being an insult, and let out a small laugh of her own that became a yawn. Morgan couldn’t help but stare as Poppy’s mouth opened so wide she thought she might have dislocated her jaw, and she was able to see all her teeth.

“My… apologies,” Poppy said, bringing a hand up to her mouth to stifle the remainder of the yawn, sliding back into the center of her barrel. “I am enjoying our conversation, but it is late.”

“Oh, no, of course,” Morgan said, waving her hand. “We should sleep, sorry for keeping you up.”

“Think nothing of it,” Poppy replied sleepily, her voice echoing slightly as she slid down deeper into the barrel, the lid clutched in her hands again. “Goodnight, Miss Morgan. May Sera watch over you in your dreams.”

“U-uh, you too,” Morgan said back automatically, waving as Poppy’s head disappeared. She had no idea who Sera was, the name hadn’t come up during the astronomy lesson, but it seemed like the right thing to do, to return the sentiment. There was a series of creaks as the lid was tugged firmly into place to seal Poppy inside the barrel, and suddenly Morgan was “alone” in the room.

Sighing, and yawning, Morgan flopped over onto her side, letting her head finally come to rest on the pillow. She thought she might still sit awake for hours, too excited about tomorrow, and her first day as a pirate, but as the ship ever so slightly bobbed with the motion of the waves, Morgan found herself rocked to sleep before she knew it.

■ ■

Across the ocean, leagues and miles from where Morgan slept, the red star also slumbered, secure in her berth. Despite arriving third, she would awaken last, her deep, dream-filled sleep remaining uninterrupted until the morning.

Up the coast, the purple star rounded another corner, spitting and cursing and throwing glances—and fireballs—over his shoulders as he ran for his life through the streets of the capital city.