“Hold it steady!”
Esau moved like a blur, fastening and unfastening hooks, straps, and ropes around the ship’s davit. He was literally using bursts of fire to propel his steps and movements, and Kane, standing by the crank over to the side, could feel the heat radiating through the air.
It didn’t help that it was somehow much hotter out right now than it had been two hours prior — despite the fact that the sun was now hiding itself behind the clouds akin to how it had hidden most of yesterday. Sweat dripped down Kane’s forehead and slicked the new shirt Lucian had given him to wear — a simple white cotton tunic that was surprisingly clean and astonishingly comfy. Kane was yet to ask the others how they seemed to have more than one set of modern clothing down here.
His stomach churned at the prospect of the task now before him and Esau. Esau had made it clear that while he hadn’t quite done this before, it would still be completely safe, his voice and body language suffused with that strange certainty he seemed to possess for no good reason at all. In truth, Kane had a feeling that Esau had just been waiting for someone naive enough to come along and join him.
Esau occasionally hesitated as he undid the ropes and straps, but he ultimately seemed to have a solid intuition for it. A couple of minutes later, he’d seemingly finished whatever he was trying to do. He turned to Kane, eyes alight — both metaphorically and literally, dark brown irises transformed to a brighter shade of red-amber — and he pointed a finger Kane’s way. “All yours, man! Get cranking!”
Kane, who had been totally lost in thought, staring out at the sea with the mild anxiety roiling about in his gut, snapped back to life. At this point, the sweat that slicked his hand had caused it to stick to the crank’s handle; but without much ado, he began to ratchet it clockwise. Despite the mechanism being rusty as all hell, the davit — a clunky contraption Esau had yet to explain to Kane — slowly lifted the small boat Esau had prepared higher into the air.
Esau walked up and firmly placed both hands on the boat’s hull, shoving it forwards so that it dangled high over the Sea itself rather than the deck, and he gestured to Kane once again. Kane began to crank counter-clockwise now, and the boat began to descend along the ship’s hull, finally touching down in the bloodwater below after a few moments.
Kane placed his hands on his hips and leaned over the ship’s railing, peering down at the rowboat, the hooks on either end keeping it from floating away or getting chopped to bits by the waves, which were calmer than usual but by no means welcoming.
Esau was already milling about, a small wooden chest with a rope handle in one hand and a shoddily-made fishing rod constructed from a snapped oar and some rigging twine in the other. He marched up beside Kane wearing a mischievous grin. “Get in, loser. We’re going fishing.”
With that, he hopped onto the railing, spun around, saluted Kane the best he could with the items in his hands, and fell backwards towards the Sea.
Kane gripped onto the railing, knuckles turning white as he leaned forwards and watched Esau plummet. With his velocity, he looked just about ready to reduce the poor little boat to splinters.
At the very last second, twin scarlet flames shot out from below Esau’s feet — which Kane hadn’t even realized were bare — and the man righted himself in the air. He used the fire to slow his descent, twirling as he did so, landing gracefully in the boat and placing his items down with a calmness that should not have been present in a man who had nearly reached terminal velocity mere seconds prior.
He looked up at Kane and shot him two thumbs up, and Kane frowned, exasperated. “How do you expect me to get down there?” he called.
Esau blinked twice, bamboozled. Clearly, he hadn’t considered the fact that Kane didn’t also have fucking fire powers. “Shimmy down the line?”
“No.” Kane was quickly getting used to shooting down stupid ideas, or at least anything he didn’t feel safe partaking in (which was most things around here).
Esau knuckled his chin for a bit in thought before nodding tersely. Without warning, he leapt up and propelled himself back up to the ship’s deck, landing gracefully behind Kane.
He pointed outwards as he began to walk nowhere in particular. “Wait, can you look back down and remind me what I left in the boat again? I think I forgot something.”
Kane rolled his eyes, turning back around and leaning over the railing. He’d never met a man with a memory as bad as Esau’s. “Looks like you left a… a bait box and a fishing—”
He was cut off as Esau shoved him over the railing from behind.
The world turned into blurry streaks of red, black, and gray as he tumbled through the air, wind whipping his face. He couldn’t hear himself shouting over the sound of his own fucking heartbeat in his ears.
A whoosh sounded in the air somewhere above him, and a firm pair of hands latched onto him. Kane suddenly felt very hot, and the world slowed, Esau slowly lowering them both towards the boat — Kane cradled in a rather humiliating wedding carry — before Esau decided it wasn’t really worth it and dropped him the last couple of feet.
Esau landed gently once again, keeping himself steady as the boat swayed side to side from their impact. “You’re really fun to mess with, you know that?”
“I’m mere seconds away from drowning myself right fucking here.” Kane slowly sat upright. “I’ll fucking do it.”
Esau clapped him on the back, the impact nearly sending the man out of the boat entirely and fulfilling his wish. “That’s the spirit!”
—
Kane thought really hard about fishing. Simply the very act of it. He tried to tease out such memories by thinking of his father, because that’s what boys did, right? — Go fishing with their fathers? But, no dice; he couldn’t remember having ever handled a fishing rod in his life.
Fortunately, he did have memories of having swum before, be it in the understaffed outdoor pool he’d hit up with his friends during summers as a kid, or the lakes in NY he’d hit up with classmates and acquaintances during freshman year of college.
Deep in his memories, some part of him realized that that had been the only good year of college, and by a large margin. Not that he had remembered what gone down to warrant such a conclusion, but he wasn’t focused on finding out just yet.
Despite his decent swimming abilities, Kane knew that if he fell into the water, it was essentially game over. He had no idea what lurked beneath the depths, and while Esau and Lucian had told him that the Sea itself was rather sparsely populated in general, they’d also unintentionally made it clear — through their omission of helpful details — that whatever lay below was no batch of ordinary fish. Not to mention that if a kraken had popped up the day before, what stopped one from showing up right now?
Luckily, Esau and Kane didn’t venture away from the ship. The rowboat remained hooked to that davit contraption above them with lines of thick rope that granted Kane at least a modicum. So for the most part, they were right up snug beside the Marauder-Truant-Tawsupp, as safe and sound as they’d ever be.
Esau turned away from Kane and flipped open the small box he’d brought. “Not sure if you want to see this, bud.” As if saying that wouldn’t make Kane even more curious.
“What do you mean?” Bait was nothing; Kane had never been afraid of worms or insects or— OH GOD.
Rather than regular bait like bugs or even food scraps, Esau’s chest was chock-full of severed human fingers. It was an abhorrent sight, and Kane leaned over to the edge of the boat, just about ready to rid himself of today’s breakfast.
“I just found these on board one day,” Esau said with a shrug as he pressed a severed thumb onto the sinker’s hook.
Kane pressed a fist to his mouth, not daring to look back. “Is that right?”
“No, I just lied to you. Just now. Lied straight to your face.” He spun in his seat to face Kane, grinning wide and leaning in. “Look closely. These are all Saul’s fingers.”
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That information did not make it any better: in fact, it only made Kane’s stomach feel worse. “I need you to keep talking. Try to make some semblance of sense, I beg you.” The stench of rotting flesh was now the newest scent Limbo had introduced to him, and he doubted it was a typically fan-favorite; but Esau didn’t look fazed in the least.
“You know how Saul jumped into the kraken’s mouth yesterday and was like ‘Ey, no biggie’? It’s pretty clear that the guy has a screw… some screws… many, screws loose. Either way, I think he either has a reduced sensitivity to pain, or he’s into it — and between you and me, it’s probably the latter.
“And the one thing he hates about being stuck on this ship with us is that he has no one to practice fighting, truly fighting, with, given his swords are sharp as all hell and would cleave us like hot butter.”
Esau rolled his shoulders as he slid yet another digit onto the hook. “So what does a bored, violent, misanthropic masochist who really just wants to cut something — anything — to pieces, do when allied with a crewmate who can heal most injuries with fire magic for a very small cost?”
Esau upturned his palms, as if urging Kane to respond to the inane sentence. Kane replied with a blank stare.
“It’s a simple deal,” Esau went on without missing a beat. “I always heal him for free, no matter what happens to him, and in exchange, he self-mutilates anytime I really need him too.”
“When the fuck would you ever ‘need’ him to self-mutilate?!” Kane exclaimed, losing patience. The longer this farce went on, the more anxious he grew about climbing into the boat with this lunatic.
Esau primed the hook, rolling his eyes. He held it up, dangling it in front of Kane’s face so he could see it clearly.“Haven’t you been paying attention?” he said with mock exasperation before winding back and then swinging the line forwards, the sinker landing several feet ahead of them.
Kane shook his head, resting his elbows on his knees and cradling his fingers as he considered his situation with a thousand yard stare. I’m really stuck here with lunatics. Like real, honest-to-God lunatics.
“And now…” Esau kicked his feet up onto the edge of the boat, “we wait.”
“For the torrafins to bite?” Kane asked. Esau nodded in response. “And then what? You said they’re as big as sharks.”
“Bigger.”
Kane shot him a glare. “Not helping your case. This frickin’ supershark bites down on Saul’s thumb, and then what? It drags us into the ocean?”
“You underestimate how strong I am.” Esau rotated a wrist nonchalantly, the bones within making cracking sounds.
Sure, Esau was clearly stronger than most humans even without taking his power into consideration. Clearly, the guy hit the gym — evidenced by the built torso concealed under his black tank top, and the boulder-like arms that flanked it— and he could probably kill a man with relative ease. But when taking his powers into account, he could use his combustion-bullshit power to propel his punches and kicks, multiplying their force.
Either way, Esau would do well for himself in most fights, causing Kane to feel a stab of jealousy in his gut. However, with the way Esau had described this creature, Kane still had his doubts about the man’s self-professed ability to hold his own against it. Not to mention, Kane was still powerless as ever, and if creature found them, it would likely be able to smell his weakness and forget about Esau entirely just to make quick work of him.
He grabbed his knees and leaned his head down, the anxiety in his gut implacable. Isabella would say I’m catastrophizing…
Kane sat ramrod straight. Did I just think about Isabella? Unconsciously? He scratched his head, as if doing so would get the damn thing to work and open the floodgates, allowing him to remember the mystery woman.
But no luck. All he could tell was that Isabella was indeed someone who cared about him in some shape or form. And judging from the Polaroid of them locking lips, it was likely one very specific, very intimate form.
“Hey, Esau?”
Esau had pulled a blunt out of nowhere and lit it with the tip of his finger. He silently raised an eyebrow Kane’s way.
“Can you tell me what you remember about your life before you died? If you, indeed, died?”
Kane hated how earnest his tone had come out, the tinge of sadness to it and all, but he couldn’t really help it. He knew in his heart that this Isabella girl meant a lot to him, and it hurt that he couldn’t even remember her properly.
Esau took a deep inhale, twin cones of smoke escaping through his nostrils. “What a big question that is.”
Kane shrugged in response, and as if taking pity on him, Esau offered him the blunt. Kane silently accepted it, taking a deep drag of his own, and the two of them stared out at the ocean together.
Esau cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together, his entire vibe becoming much more raconteur-esque, like an older brother preparing to tell the horror stories of his old high school to a naive group of middle-schoolers. “Well, I’ll give you the skeleton, if you’d like.
“On August 18th, 1978, a beautiful, dashing, handsome, intelligent, charming, rugged baby boy was born in Atlanta, Georgia. The only problem with all this was that this boy was all those minus the intelligent part.
“His childhood wasn’t the greatest, but not for want of effort on his part. You see, he had this strange talent — the ability to always find a way to get whatever he needed to numb himself. By 13, he was smoking weed on the daily. By 16, he’d lost count of how many times he’d blacked out drinking. By the time he was 20, he genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he was sober. It didn’t really help that no one really gave a shit enough to help him through it, but that doesn’t absolve him of his own conscious… well, mostly-conscious, decisions.
“He only really had one thing going for him: this guy could cook like nothing else. He’d learned from the Greatest Of All Time — his grandma, of course — starting before he had even learned how to read, and during those sparse periods where he wasn’t high off his ass, he’d make a nice meal — to keep him grounded, you know? He would have loved to share these meals with his family, but at some point early on, there wasn’t really anyone left to share with.
“So eventually, he tried to make some friends to fill in that gap, to feel a bit less lonely. He started hanging out with the wrong people. People he’d cook for — both metaphorically and literally — because good things are meant to be shared. But these folks never returned the favor.
“Now, during all this, he’d been raking in bands from his brand new chef gig, where he was moving up the ranks at light speed. He’d treated himself well with his paychecks — new car, fresh digs, the works. Added a couple new rings to his collection. Yes, he was an ostentatious asshole, but at the end of the day, he was still the same kid who wanted nothing more to share a good meal with friends. But the new people in his life… well, they weren’t having it.”
Esau’s eyes seemed to glaze over at this last part, gaze focused on the horizon. “All it took was one break-in gone wrong. I don’t think they meant to kill me.” He took a deep inhale of his blunt, the end burning red, then exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “But I’ll never know for sure.”
Kane sat still for a minute. It was a lot to take in.
He was surprised that Esau had told him all this at all. Kane had expected a blurb, a synopsis, not a semi-cautionary tale. But he’d gotten it, and he certainly wasn’t angry about it.
Part of Kane immediately caught that Esau had seemingly just wanted someone to listen. He daren’t say that to the man, of course. It was all the same to Kane, who realized that even if he did suddenly remember every detail of his own life, he wouldn’t be in such a hurry to share with the others.
And then there was Esau’s life itself. Of course, anyone could lie, and perhaps Esau was secretly a superb liar, but for the most part, everything the man had said had been tinged by a mix of genuineness, sadness, and even nostalgia. The part about being a chef held water. The rings, too, which looked just as pricey as they did tacky.
And the speed at which Esau had flipped from misanthropic cynicism to intense friendliness within a few hours of them meeting indicated that perhaps, Esau wasn’t the best with people. On some level, Kane could relate.
If it was all a ploy for pity and fake trust, Kane was none the wiser. This new information wouldn’t make Kane treat Esau any differently regardless; he was a straight shooter like that.
The one part of all this that truly caught Kane’s attention was the fact that Esau remembered all this. This gave credence to the idea that memories would come back over time; at the moment, all Kane could say that he was a college student with argumentative parents and a beautiful girlfriend. No memory of career prospects or passions or the like.
Esau watched Kane process this all, blunt in hand, an uncharacteristically calm expression on his face, as if he wanted to analyze Kane’s reaction.
So of course, the first thing Kane said was “How do you remember it all?”
Esau’s eye twitched, muscles tensing, both irises flashing an orange that screamed DANGER, and for the shortest of moments, an incredibly scary expression slid over his face, like he was about to forego burning Kane to crisp and would get straight to dismembering him. Kane flinched back, unsure of how he’d offended the man.
But the moment passed just as fast. Esau took on a resigned expression, and mumbled, “67… 68 days. That’s how long I’ve been here, that’s what I told you yesterday, no? It’s sorta like a puzzle where you’ve never seen the full picture, and you get a piece a day and have to make heads or tails of it.” He didn’t meet Kane’s eyes, contenting himself with looking out at the ocean and the fishing line.
Fuck! Kane’s subpar emotional intelligence couldn’t cost him his closest ally so soon. “I see what I did there. I didn’t mean to brush off everything you—”
“You’re good, Kane. Seriously.” Although everything about his tone and posture indicated otherwise.
“Esau—”
The fishing line went taut.
It was a subtle motion — some light bending of the rod accompanied by a near-inaudible thwanging sound, but it caused both men to freeze immediately.
They didn’t have time to react. The creature leapt out of the water, jaws wide-open, flying in their direction.