It wasn’t until Yale got changed and comfortable that the gravity of the situation really sunk in. Thinking back, things kind of emotionlessly took its course- they washed up, got found, were offered a place to stay. On the surface, all of this seemed fine, sure, but once he and Carver sat back- Yale on the edge with his feet on the ground, and Carver flopped against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, did they think further into it.
They hadn’t even noticed any feelings were locked away until things were calmer and quieter.
All of Yale’s previous questions pulled to the front of his mind, and from them stemmed numerous others. The things Vald had said still rung, allowing him to pick apart every word. And despite the fact that Carver wasn’t really much of a thinker, at least nothing like Yale, he was doing the same.
They’d sat alone in their provided room long enough for Venat to dip beneath the horizon, the glow of her orange light just barely tinting the very edge of the ocean. While Yale’s gaze had been on the window, for the majority of that time, he hadn’t had his attention on the outside. It was only when Venat let a ray reach through, waving in his eyes as a nice wake up call before she, herself, went to bed.
He withdrew, blinking to ease the dryness as well as the sudden spots left over by the unexpected light. His motions stirred Carver, causing the now clean man to shift some and watch him as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands.
“You okay?” He asked, only thinking after about the fact that his first try with that phrasing had warranted a little bit of hostility from Yale.
This time, however, he wasn’t given a similar reaction. Yale’s hands dropped to his lap as he cleared his throat. “...Not sure,” he admitted. His head tilted back. “What about you?”
Carver pushed up on his elbows, looking down himself, then toward Yale. “Not sure,” he answered just the same. With the joint assumption that that meant ‘no’, Carver slid to sit upright. His legs crossed and he leaned with his elbows on his knees to look at Yale. “What’s on your mind?”
Yale’s first instinct was to tell him that was a stupid question, but he didn’t. It was a well intentioned one, even if he could probably guess what was going through his head. Or… Maybe that was giving Carver too much credit.
“Well, everyone we know is dead and it’s finally just sinking in that everything I owned is lost and we are now deserted on an island where we’re probably going to die.”
“Nah, you thought about that earlier,” Carver spoke as if that was a comfort as he waved a hand. “Is it really so bad? Did you have stuff to go back to?”
Yale’s eyes narrowed at him. “...Thanks for that reminder.”
With a bright smile, Carver said “no problem” before continuing on. “I didn’t have anything to go back to. And I know most of the crew didn’t either. Most of them wanted to die at sea anyway, either that or in a cozy set up after they stole half the world’s money away to pay for it.” A hand raised, his fingers flicking out in a circular motion. “Looks like we got it for free.”
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“I don’t really count ‘impending doom’ as cozy.”
“Doom is always on it’s way, Yale.” He reminded. “What’s so bad about a new start?”
“The fact that it wasn’t our choice at all.”
The corners of Carver’s mouth pulled down in an exaggerated frown while he tilted his head. He gave a small nod in agreement. “So then why don’t we try ‘n get outta here?”
“Beeecause our ship was kind of blown to bits?”
“Thennnnnn why don’t we make the best of it?”
A heavy, exaggerated sigh left Yale at what was clearly a fruitless endeavor. Well. Mostly fruitless. He figured it probably was pessimistic of him to just lay down and die when faced with a difficult situation.
A golden brow arched as Yale turned to fully look at Carver. Locking eyes with him put another bright smile on Carver’s face, an attractive one. Dimples pressed in his cheeks, reddened and freckled by the day to day presence Venat’s harsh light. Half-paying attention, Yale asked with skepticism laced in his tone “how do we even make the best of being doomed?”
“Well that is somethin’ we gotta find out by doing,” both hands raised, index fingers pointing out at Yale. “And didn’t you save something from the wreckage anyway? What was that book you had?”
Though he’d been absent as he watched Carver, his attention was quick to pull away with the mention of the still soggy leather bound journal he’d dragged to shore with him. He’d set it aside on the nightstand when he had gone to change, but he hadn’t really thought about it afterward. It wasn’t that it was unimportant, more so the fact that the book was practically an extension of himself. “Right,” he muttered. “...I’m pretty glad I did save that.”
“What is it? Diary or something?”
“No.” Yale grabbed it off the table, and opened the cover with caution as to not tear any of the pages. While some of the ink had bled in places, the pages water-worn, it was still mostly intact aside from some sticking that he probably needed to deal with lest those pages be permanently damaged. He’d have to remember to lay it flat and let them fan out, but for the moment, he set it out on his knee, open toward Carver.
As the man leaned to read what he was being shown, Yale clarified what the contents were: “It’s a… survival guide, of sorts, I guess?”
“...And this is important to you?”
“I wrote it myself,” he defended. “Everything in it is things I’ve experienced while with the Silverclaws.”
A small, impressed hum escaped the other as he took the moment to skim a page. “That’s actually pretty interesting.”
With a bland tone, Yale replied “thanks” as he pulled the book back. Had it not been wet, he would have snapped it shut, but instead, he turned to set it on the nightstand with the pages open so they’d have their chance to dry. He knew that Carver had meant no harm- that the insult in his words was likely far too subtle for him to get, but with such a vulnerability in him, he was less inclined to tolerate the implication of his surprise.
Carver fell back on the bed, arms bent to act as pillows beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling. “So’s that mean you’re gonna add some stuff to it from here too?”
Yale glanced back. It was a good question. Was it wrong? To continue writing what had been made solely as something like an account of the Silverclaws’ exploits? Was it fair to keep going now that the Silverclaws were no longer a thing?
Almost like he’d been saying these thoughts aloud, Carver spoke up again. “Y’know, we are still part of them. This is just another stop in the journey, isn’t it?”
Hard to think of it like that when everyone he’d considered family was dead…