Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends

Grey eyes shot open, instantly aware of their surroundings. A well-muscled body followed, getting to its feet in one smooth motion, limbs immediately tensed for a fight. But he was alone in the room. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head, though, that didn’t allow him to relax; on automatism, he checked the windows and doors, but found all of them locked. A quick glance out of the window revealed that no one was waiting outside, either. All was calm and peaceful. Frowning, Hydra stepped away from the window, sliding the curtain back into place, and focused on the tingle of unease. Finally, he realised it wasn’t his own, and understood.

Hydra had been slumbering in the back of Ridley’s mind when sharp terror had shot through the man, instantly triggering Hydra’s presence, who had shot to the forefront and taken control of Ridley’s body as he always did when Ridley felt threatened or when there was blood to be shed. Awake, Hydra now recognised the terror had been because of a nightmare, which Ridley suffered frequently; he was also aware Ridley had far from calmed down, though the man was obviously awake and aware. His lingering fear took on a panicked note as he strained to regain control of his body. Hydra didn’t let him. The threat might be gone, but Ridley couldn’t be trusted so long as he wasn’t calm and collected. That aside, it had been far too long since Hydra had last been allowed out, and he ached for free movement of his own.

So he ignored Ridley increasingly urgent protests and left the house, taking to the streets. Morning was well on its way to afternoon, which didn’t surprise Hydra that much; Ridley slept fitfully on the best of days and grasped onto sleep when it took hold of him. No one spared him any particular attention as he moved through the crowd, though Hydra checked all of them, however briefly, for potential threats. Seere was rife with criminals and other violent types in a way that made Hydra’s blood sing. He longed to crack his knuckles against someone’s jaw or take a knife to someone’s skin, but as soon as the feeling struck, a strong sense of disapproval and unrest washed over him. Ridley. Ridley always disapproved of Hydra’s more violent nature and the pleasure he took from bloodshed, which Hydra continually failed to understand. If they could, why wouldn’t they?

But Ridley’s panic unsettled him, so he sent what he hoped was a reassuring feeling, even if it was tinged with annoyance. He understood Ridley considered Seere the last place he could make a life for himself, and he didn’t want to take that away from him. Not without undue provocation, at least. So he kept his fists and his weapons to himself as he wound a way through the people to the harbour. There were plenty of ships docked here, but most sailors would be busy loading or unloading cargo to pay attention to him, which should please Ridley, at least. Hydra walked slowly, observing every movement of the people around him, until his gaze fell on a solitary ship, where a woman was leaning on the railing. Hydra halted, intrigued. He knew women were considered bad luck and therefore weren’t usually allowed on ships, but this one looked comfortable where she was, as if the ship was home.

Hydra moved closer with purpose, watching the woman all the while, until he was within earshot. She was pretty, if you liked that sort of thing, but all he saw were the vulnerable spots she had left open, as if she wasn’t docked in one of the most dangerous towns in the country. He thought, idly, how easy it would be to overpower her, break her skin with knuckle or knife. Even if she were armed and resisted, it wouldn’t matter; he had fought men twice her size and won. But they were well within view of the docks, and wouldn’t go unnoticed if he did try something. Annoyed, Hydra clacked his tongue and trailed his fingers along the bow of the ship. He slowly climbed he plank, though he paused just before actually stepping onto the ship and sought the woman’s gaze. “This yours?” he said instead, voice steady and only just loud enough to carry over to her. He tapped his knuckles on the railing, just once.