Okeanos | Chapter V
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Okeanos Part V
Jacob
Eyes like stars.
The first conscious breath burned and sent Jacob coughing, turning onto his side and covering his mouth.
He'd tried to gasp upon waking, which had sent spit down the wrong tube and now here he was, trying not to choke on his own stupidity.
"Mm." Cracking an eye open was a mistake, stars of thousands of colors danced in his vision even as the light burned.
Scrunching his eyes shut, Jacob took a slow breath and tried to take stock of himself and remember what happened. They'd been attacked by Jason. They'd been fighting. Mordred had attacked with he- his Noble Phantasm. Heracles. Right, fucking Heracles. Which is why they'd pulled out all the stops…
He was on the floor? His head hurt, like he'd hit it with a cymbal from the inside and his head had been the thing to keep ringing. The taste of vanilla and papercuts, ash and rubbing alcohol all clung to the inside of his mouth and throat, and he ached down to his bones. The cloth on his hands-...
Cloth? Hands?
Rubbing his fingers together, Jacob was able to figure that his hands were wrapped in rough cloth? And sore. More so than even his head. And he could still hear the waves and the creaking of the ship, still smell the ocean, so definitely still the ship but…
Opening his eyes carefully, he determined that his hands had been bandaged, especially given the blots of reddish brown at the tips.
The world wasn't quite stabbing icepicks into Jacob's head via his retinas anymore, so he took the opportunity to confirm that, yes, he was in the hold. The others were around him, laid out with their heads on some of the spoils from Magellan, seemingly intact but… unconscious…?
The others had seen it too–
–eyes like stars and the writhing endless plane that was where Abby had stood but was standing on the deck–
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jacob focused on his own breathing, and the thudding of his heartbeat in his ears, each beat suddenly loud and painful.
Pressing roughly at his own temples, Jacob groaned quietly, laying down as he tried to get the throbbing under control, focusing on the pain it caused in his hands and his own breathing and heartbeat rather than the… mess of a memory-
-on the endless white deck astride a ship that was the earth and the cosmos the picture of a picture of a picture that was still more vivid than technicolor-
Right. Breathing. The rocking of the ship. Soothing rocking. Like grandma's chair. Back and forth, creak and groan.
Time passed as he counted each breath, finding the rhythm between them and the ship as he waited for the pain to ease.
Next steps? Find out what was going on. Who was conscious? Who was moving the ship? Jason? All the situation notes.
Despite the pain, Jacob forced himself to sit up, cracking open one eye, then the other, squinting even against the dim lights of the hold. Checking visually, he was able to confirm that at least everyone was breathing. All the physical ones at least. Indy, Ko, Ritz, Mash… no Spence or Toby though…? Right, Spence hadn't seen it and Toby… maybe he'd been immune…? Or dead.
Cold clutched at his chest.
Not now. Find out, deal with it if that's the case.
Struggling to his feet, he had to prop himself up against the wall for a bit, balance entirely shot.
"'If it t'k m' sea legs 'm gonna be pissed." Jacob croaked while forcing himself towards the stairs.
No chains or anything, despite the paranoia in his head. The mild rocking of the boat alone was enough to unbalance him, so Jacob kept a hand on the rail of the stairs the entire way up, clutching to it like a lifeline. How could he stand straight on this unreal floor when she could stand across the world-
Stopping briefly at the door, Jacob just leaned against it, trying to force down the thoughts and… compartmentalize. Parse. Bite size it.
She'd said those words that slipped so easily from his head, and he let them drift away. Light had shone from her, as… gates had opened up? No, more like… the fabric had been pushed down for water to pool-? No but it was closer than gates-
The thought hurt some, but regardless, there'd been an attack of something from outside of normal spacetime in a way that should've been an optical illusion but wasn't.
… he was pretty sure there'd been tentacles?
Abby… had done something where she'd opened up a doorway, but the door itself was everything he knew and when it'd lifted, it'd left all of them staring through it to whatever it was on the other side… but she'd… pushed Heracles through to that aetherial sea–?
Veering away from the thought process with a shake of his head, Jacob tried not to think on it too hard, because even that much had brought the ringing back into his bones.
Focus. Forward.
With some effort, he found the handle to the door and stepped out onto the deck, eyes cracking open briefly and able to confirm through the searing light that yes, it was Ching Shih's ship still, and they weren't on the Argo or whatever.
That confirmation out of the way, he closed his eyes again and shut the door behind him.
"Hey you, you're finally awake."
Jacob blinked against the brilliant sunlight even as he brought up a middle finger in the general direction of Spence's voice. "Fus Roh Dah."
Spencer flashed him a grit-toothed grin. "You have not killed nearly enough dragons to shout at me, yet."
"I'll get there, Stormcloak." Coughing and then swallowing around the dry throat, Jacob rubbed his forehead, eyes still shut tight, "Right… what… what's our status?"
"Better, now that someone else is awake." The voice crackled over the com on his wrist.
"Mm." Jacob really wanted caffeine right now. "Descriptive."
Da Vinci's tone didn't seem offended. "We have two functional masters and three functional servants, with only one of them actually being a pair. Jason is nowhere to be seen but Heracles is confirmed defeated. We're off the track of Drake. You were unconscious for two days. Lucky you!"
Okay, actually descriptive. "Thanks…" Jacob murmured, trying to process all of that and what it meant.
"How are you feeling?"
"Bad. Need some water. And food, even if my stomach doesn't agree." His tone was clipped and rough, working through the deep grinding in his bones and searing pain of the light, "But doesn't feel like anything permanent on my end at least. Nightmares probably, though. Toby?"
"Bennett…" Roman's voice came over the comms, hanging for a moment before admitting, "Is in Chaldea."
"... in a good way, or a bad way?" Jacob asked carefully, a cold pit in his stomach, "I wouldn't be happy if he's dead but I'd rather know it now than worrying you're hiding it for later."
"Alive. But he's not in the best condition. He's been showing signs of waking up soon."
Relief, and some of the tension that was even letting Jacob stand eased out. Not taking any chances with it, he leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the deck. "Thanks. I 'ppreciate it."
A brief moment of emptiness before he called out with his thoughts. <Mordred?>
Silence was his response.
His heart rate spiked, his prince–
The director of Chaldea's voice was calm and clearly an attempt at being soothing. "What do you remember?"
Spaces within space but also above and below and outside–
Jacob applied pressure to his forehead, forcing down the intense headache as well as the panic in the back of his mind not getting the boisterous, energetic response he'd gotten accustomed to occasionally intruding on his thoughts. "Not much useful stuff. Brain's still trying to catch up and process things."
"The memetic hazard." It was Da Vinci that spoke over the commlink this time.
"Yeah." He realized belatedly that they'd explained the concept to them not too long ago, "I… we probably want to get baseline data about our heads… headspace? Whatever ones we reasonably can. That way we can compare in case this happens again."
"I'll schedule it for after everyone returns."
"I…" The bearded man trailed off, thought being washed away in the tides of ache in his head and lost into those endless spaces. It felt like he needed to get it out of his head but he already had and… it was lost again. He wanted caffeine and food and a hug"Sorry… I've got a throbbing headache. Is there anything we need to be doing?"
"No," was the thankfully succinct and calm response from the director, "At this stage, we're waiting for enough people to wake up for us to consider going after Drake again. Take the time to rest."
"Then's time for food. And water. Both'd be nice."
Spencer nodded. "I'll take you to 'Caster of Kirkcaldy,'" he said, putting air quotes around the title, "see if he knows anything for a hangover, because I certainly don't."
Bennett
He was in an endless expanse of nothingness. Grey-white covered the sky as far as he could see, a plainness and uniformity that far surpassed the May Gray and June Gloom of his West Coast childhood. Bennett turned, looking for some sign of where he stood, anything. It was only on his third step that he noticed the sound of splashing accompanying his footsteps. He looked down—
Vertigo threatened to take him, and he fell to hands and knees as he stared down into the watery surface beneath him. In that mirror sheen, he saw no reflection. Instead, he beheld the cosmos themselves; the Milky Way splashed across the 'reflected' sky, stars and galaxies and nebulae shimmering in a vast, unknowable distance. And at the center of it all, a great blue star, its shine so great as to eclipse all those around it. He leaned in closer to the water's surface; if only he could get a closer look, a clearer glimpse of—
"Don't do that."
The sudden voice shocked him out of his thoughts and sent him flat on his ass as he tried to stand and face them, much to Bennett's shame. His eyes fell upon the only person that could possibly have been speaking to him in this place, one that he finally recognized with the context.
His Servant—no, wait. This wasn't his Abby. This was the true Abigail Williams, one of the two Silver Keys wandering the cosmos together. The keyhole upon her forehead, clearly empty and yet leading to nowhere in particular, was clue enough as to her nature.
"Don't do what?" Bennett asked, confused.
"It's dangerous to look down." Abigail gestured to the vast, unspeakable cosmos swirling in the water beneath her before taking a step forward, her footsteps sending ripples through the image and dissipating it entirely. "There."
A part of him desperately wanted the water to settle, to stare long into the vastness of space. A more rational part of his mind smacked the traitorous part and shoved it into a box, burying it in the back of his mind. He knew better than to stare long into the abyss.
"I know," Abigail said suddenly, shocking him.
"Did I—"
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head, "but. You dream the sleep of roses."
His mind filled in the rest. 'Move beyond the sleep of roses, and arrive at the final gate'. Her Noble Phantasm. He hadn't just gotten a tiny glimpse of the damn thing. He may have been half-blind at the time and barely able to perceive the world around him, but he still knew what he'd seen.
He still remembered the heat of that great star, screaming with a million unheard voices into the uncaring cosmos.
But if this was a dream…?
"Did it hurt?" Abigail asked suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. Bennett found himself shaking his head mechanically, realizing as he did that he was telling a lie. From the way the girl's dead expression shifted into a smile that failed to reach her eyes, he knew she could tell. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that."
"What happened, happened," Bennett said, trying to keep any heat out of his voice. "It was Abby who did it, not you."
And now the smile was real, Abigail's eyes seeming to glimmer. Or perhaps they actually were glimmering. He wasn't sure he was sane enough to know the difference anymore.
"You can tell!" Her voice seemed to have real excitement in it. But an instant later, the light faded from her eyes, and her expression dimmed into a frown. "You're going to wake up soon. Um… will I see you again?"
"This is part of the Dream Cycle, isn't it?" Bennett found himself asking, to which Abigail gave a very hesitant nod. He offered the girl a small smile in response. "Then you will. I promise."
In the blink of an eye Abigail stood in front of him, one pinky extended from her hand.
"Pinky swear!"
Bennett couldn't help but smile as he offered his hand back, and the two clasped pinkies in a show of their promise.
"There. You promised." Abigail waved her hand, and light shone to the side of the two of them. Bennett turned to see brilliant, ephemeral stairs shimmer into existence, leading up to a great, wrought-iron gate. "I'll see you soon."
Bennett nodded. "It's a promise," he said, turning back to Abigail with a smile, only to blink. She was already gone.
Only the stairs remained.
He turned towards the shimmering stairway. Well. There was only one thing left to do then, wasn't there?
Droning beeps filled Bennett's ears as he blinked awake, feeling roughly like he'd been crushed by a steamroller, or something else vaguely for just how shit he felt. He couldn't see anything on his right, and what little he could on his left was a vague white blur. When he went to reach up to his face to try and see if his glasses were still there or not, he felt the press of an IV in the back of his right hand. He reached up with his left instead, and met resistance there too. It wasn't an IV this time, though. It was warm, and fluffy.
And it was suddenly shifting and whimpering as a hot, wet tongue attacked his face.
"Ja—" Bennett broke into a fit of coughs, his throat choosing right that instant to protest. He heard something shift to his side, and a moment later a cup of water showed up under him. Slow sips had his throat feeling more like its usual self instead of rough-grit sandpaper, and he turned and squinted his one uncovered eye to try and see who had given him the water.
"Goodman?" Abby asked, answering the question of 'who'.
"H-how long was I out?" he asked, tilting his mouth up from the dog that was still furiously licking at his face and chin. "Easy girl, easy…!"
He handed the water cup back to Abby, trading it for his glasses, and went about petting the dog, who had finally chosen to stop licking and had now laid her head on his chest.
"I…" Abby blushed, her focus directed rather pointedly at the dog beside Bennett instead of on him. "Did not pay attention, but…"
Now that Bennett could somewhat see properly, he took a closer look at the girl. For all that her Servant status would keep her in peak shape, she still seemed worn down. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and now that Bennett listened for it, he caught the occasional sniffle. Abby's hair looked tangled and in need of a brush, and she had her teddy bear in a death grip.
If he was being completely frank, the poor kid looked like she'd been put through the wringer.
Bennett wanted to say something to comfort her when the door opened, and Dr. Roman bustled in. His hair was a disheveled, greasy mess, visibly a few shades darker and duller than usual. Dark circles under his eyes belied his fatigue just as much as the coffee mug in his hand, which contrasted sharply with the clearly fresh scrubs he was wearing. He set his mug on the small table beside Bennett's hospital bed and clicked the button on his tablet.
"You're awake, good," Roman said. Even his voice seemed weary, and this all but confirmed Bennett's suspicions as to why the man's scrubs were fresh. "You've been out for two days. How are you feeling?"
How was he feeling?
"Ow."
Dr. Roman didn't give any particular reaction, instead just offering him a look. "I'm not a miracle worker, Mr. Bennett. I need specifics."
Specifics. Okay. Right. How did he feel, specifically?
Like shit. Like utter shit. Like somebody had chewed him up, spat him out, and then promptly stomped all over what was left of him, just to grind the point home. He didn't want to try and focus inward, to try and pinpoint what the issues were, because that was just going to make it feel worse. It wasn't bad enough that his mouth could make a passable replacement for sandpaper, or that all of the lights were simultaneously too bright and too dark - everything fuzzy, out of focus, and yet still too crisp and sharp.
It didn't hurt to breathe, but it still wasn't pleasant. Even beyond the discomfort of the IV in his right hand, he still felt like he didn't want to lift his arm. He didn't want to move. Just to test, he tried to see and—
He paused. He couldn't feel his leg. Bennett pulled himself upright, relief flooding his veins when he could see his leg under the thin hospital blanket, even though he couldn't feel it.
"Doc," he started, hesitant. "Why can't I feel my leg?"
Roman didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled up a stool and sat down, stretching out the motion as long as possible. Having spent more than his fair share of time in doctors' offices (though thankfully not as the patient), Bennett had a sinking feeling of what was coming.
"Before I get to that, your dog," Dr. Roman gestured to Jamaica, who stood protectively between Bennett and Dr. Roman, "was put on your bed on a hunch. After the anesthesia wore off, you began convulsing again. On Abigail's suggestion, we got your dog; the convulsions stopped the moment she was next to you."
Which made some sense, given that the spawn of Yog-Sothoth was absolutely terrified of dogs, and Abigail's power came from Yog. It was a smart response to a conceptual assault.
Though that did leave the question of who'd taken the time to read The Dunwich Horror... no, stop that, Bennett told himself. He was distracting himself from something important, something that was making the anxiety build in him. The avoidance was obvious, but this wasn't something he could just ignore. He wanted to know. He needed to know what had happened to him.
"Dr. Roman. Please," he said, putting his hand on his dog to try and calm himself. "Just tell me."
"If you're sure." Dr. Roman tapped at his tablet, then turned it to show Bennett. "You were in bad shape after the Rayshift. There was some fault on our part: we had massively underestimated just how much mana Abigail would require to use her Noble Phantasm, largely because of the disparity from her resting state's cost versus that of Jacob's Saber. It took a Command Spell to fuel their Noble Phantasm, and it still hurt him. You bore the brunt of Abigail's Phantasm raw."
Dr. Roman tapped the tablet again.
"The damage was centered on the path of least resistance, any part of you that was already hurt or weakened in some way. Your right eye was already worse than your left. We managed to save your eye, but there may be lasting effects on your vision. As for your leg…" Dr. Roman sighed. "The scar tissue on your leg has, for lack of a better word, rotted. It's gone through significant necrosis due to od depletion and has actively repelled attempts to heal the physical damage with magecraft. I excised the damaged tissue to stop the spread as best I could, but the damage managed to grow some before I could. You still have your leg, but…" Dr. Roman sighed. "I'm sorry, but given the damage, you will never regain full strength or range of motion."
He didn't have a response. Some idle part of his mind was surprised by this, by the complete lack of any reply he had for Doctor Roman. By the way he couldn't find anything to say, or even if he did have something to say, by the lack of any way to actually say it. He felt… oddly numb. Disconnected.
Oh. This was what shock was like, wasn't it?
"I… I wish I could stay, but I need to get back to the control center, and…" The doctor shrugged helplessly, sighing. "I know this isn't easy for you to hear, but I don't doubt the strength of your spirit. If you need anything, Jeanne d'Arc has been camping outside your door, and I had to stop her from coming in out of concern for your privacy. I think she'd be happy to help with anything you need."
Dr. Roman picked up his coffee mug and tablet to make his way out of the infirmary, but stopped at the door for a moment. "Abby, could you do an old grown-up a favor and push the red button if you get worried?"
"Y-yes!" Abby nodded fervently, but when the infirmary door slid shut behind Dr. Roman, the mask broke. Her face fell, eyes shining with held tears as she buried her face into his shoulder and his dog's fur, whispering incomprehensible apologies through her tears. But he did nothing in response.
Bennett could only stare at the wall. He didn't know what to do.
He didn't know what he could do, anymore.
Ko
"Time enough at last," she said, and by the time her eyes were open, she could no longer remember why.
"Not a phrase I know," a familiar voice responded, "but definitely more coherent than you have been."
"What the fuck?" she asked, her voice crackling with dehydration as she pulled the blanket over her eyes with a groan and scrunched them back shut. It was just typical of this entire damned idealistic crusade that after eight hours of restless sleep during the night, she'd not only end up slipping into an involuntary afternoon nap, but that said nap wouldn't even have the decency to finally kill her fucking headache. "How long was I out?"
"Three days," Dory's voice continued, moving about around her. "Give or take."
She froze. "Jesus H. Christ." Visions of Matou Kariya the living dead man danced in her head as she wriggled her fingers and toes to convince herself she could still feel them. The resulting pinpricks weren't fun, but they beat the hell out of nothing. "Sorry. Can I at least assume by the fact that we're alive that you didn't run into any more Servants?"
"None yet, thankfully. How are you feeling?" A hand touched her wrist before a cup was passed into her grip. Reluctantly, she let the blanket fall with a frown and a squint, and scootched awkwardly to propping herself up in the hammock as best she could. She chugged the warm water and felt her mouth and throat relax in relief immediately, followed by something unclenching in her back. When she finally wiped her mouth, half of the moisture that came away on her hand was drool.
"About as bad as before," she said, handing the cup back and clearing her throat. "Maybe a little better, actually. How'd you guys stabilize me?"
"You weren't hurt in the fight…" He sounded uneasy, all of a sudden. "What do you remember?"
Her eyes widened before she could stop them, and not even a moment later they were squinting in pain. "Wait, there was a fight?"
"... oh… yeah, that explains some of the confusion. Jason jumped us."
"There was a fight with Herakles?! And we lived?" Not even the coughing fit that followed could stop her from grinning like a loon. "Dude," she choked, grabbing Dory's shoulder, trying and failing to look at him properly, "we f- we rule. Or I guess you do, since I passed out."
"While this is certainly true," he said with exaggerated pomposity before returning to a more comfortable baseline, putting a hand over hers, "Abby's the one that actually pulled it off. I was just as out of it as you. Technically we didn't pass out, but… Lovecraftian bullshit. Remembering less is probably better."
Ko frowned out of sheer contrarian stubbornness, and cast her mind back, trying to recall literally anything. "... did we sight land, or was that a hallucination?" she asked.
"No, we did." Dory nodded. "Then we were fighting, Herc got onto the deck, and then things were rough, and Saber did h… their thing, didn't finish Herc off, and then Abby did hers." There was a sharp twitch to his hand, and she finally noticed the thin bandages still wrapped around each of his fingers. "It wasn't fun."
"I'll bet." Land, there was land, c'mon brain… music, shouting, a shadow, fear, lightning, a face that wasn't a face, silver and red, folding back-
"Oh." Ko blinked, and rubbed her eyes. "I, uh… think I know who Saber is. Does anyone else remember that, or do you want me to keep it on the DL for now?"
He cringed even as he nodded. "As quiet as feasible, yeah."
"Roger roger." She stretched. "So… what's on tap for today? Did El Draque decide to play ball?"
His left eye twitched. "We haven't gotten to her yet. Fionn was… less than comfortable with using his phantasm while you were out of it."
- "Mac an Luin!"
a rush, a roar, the sails of the other ship rising over her pulsing head in a spray of salt and - no, hang on, he probably means Fintan Finnegas. Think better, brain.
"Wait, why would he…? You just said we sighted land, right before-" She stopped, and scowled, closing her eyes. "Aw, fu- Lovecraft. We've been drifting for days, haven't we."
"Eeeeeyup."
She covered her face. "Marvelous. Please tell me I'm not the last one to wake up."
"No, Indy's still out. Ritsuka and Mash have been up and about since yesterday, though - and Spence dodged all of it, lucky fuck."
She wished she'd had the spare energy to dramatically sit bolt upright at the mention of her fiancé, but her head and her back were both pretty insistent that she could be just as worried lying down. "Is he all right?" she demanded. "Aside from being passed out?"
"He did better out of this than either of us, honestly." Jacob waggled his bandaged fingers at her before gesturing at the subject of the conversation, not far away, his snoring barely audible over the waves on the hull. "Out like a light. Shifts occasionally in his sleep, but not much. No babbling, night terrors, or even twitching while I've been in here."
Ignoring a shriek of protest that shot down her neck, shoulder and elbow, Ko rolled awkwardly over to have a look at Adam (she and Toby were probably the only two people in the party who thought of him by his legal name at all, she realized belatedly).
As she stared at the fluffy black hair she loved so well, falling in disarray on the pillow, she wondered, not for the first time since they'd arrived, if they had even a snowball's chance of getting some kind of message back to their families. Indy's parents had always been kind to her; she didn't like the thought of what his disappearance would do to them, any more than she liked the thought of her own mum and dad spending the rest of their lives trying to figure out what had happened to her.
She could accept not being able to go back herself - hell, between the suicidal ideation and her general impulsivity, she was surprised she'd lived to see thirty in the first place. Everyone else, though...
The closest feeling she could compare it to, when she bothered to dwell on it, were the times before yet another move, when she'd had to purge all her belongings down to what would fit in two suitcases. And even that feeling was a shadow of this one. Back then, she'd always been able to make a list of the books and comics and games and movies she'd owned, and live in hope of the day she'd track down copies of them again.
She laughed weakly, and rolled back over to face Dory, her hand still half-covering her eyes. "... y'know, when I said I wanted all of us to take a vacation together sometime, I meant like, Comic Con, or something."
Dory's eyes narrowed melodramatically as he turned back from whatever he'd been working on to point at her, his pirate hat slightly askew on his forehead. "Yooouuuuu… this is youuurrrr fault."
It might actually have been funny, if he didn't look like a corpse.
"Hardy fuckin' har," she drawled. "Toby tanked the eldritch mojo 'cause of the Master-Servant bond, I'm assuming?"
"Best guess, yeah." He said, back to his normal tone, having turned back to the table and… washing bandages?
"We're gettin' that kid a Switch when we get back," Ko decided. "And a pony, and a kitten… I'm not kidding," she added as he started to laugh and nod. "The psychological stress may make it a bitch and a half to spam her, but she saved our sorry asses."
"Basically agreed," was his warm response.
"Poor little gaffer," she said fretfully, remembering the girl rocking back and forth on her heels beside Toby to make her skirt swish, every now and then petting the pearls and embroidery on the v-neck collar. She'd been so excited-but-trying-not-to-be about her new dress, so obviously determined to be very grown up. Ko doubted the pretty white kaftan had survived the battle intact.
… it would've at least been something, she thought with a little frown, to remember even that much. She'd rather remember whatever fucked up shit she'd seen now than have it rush back to her at the worst possible time. We can't afford a setback like that.
"Still," she said aloud, "I guess it's nice to know we have her in our back pocket if we run into anything unexpected."
Dory bobbed his head a little uncertainly, "Well… normally? Yes. Right now? Not so much. Toby was in bad shape after she went ham on Herc. They recalled them both to Chaldea."
Ko winced, but found she was too tired to feel bad about feeling relieved. A life-threatening emergency requiring teamwork was just about the worst place for Toby under the best conditions, let alone one he'd had a hand in putting them in; 'the mana reactors'll probably handle the power-requirements for us like they do for Ritsuka' - in a pig's ass, they would. At least with one of the party back in Chaldea they knew one of them had better than 50-50 odds of surviving this ordeal, and if it was the one who actually knew a damn thing about this setting? So much the better.
... okay, slow your roll, there, kid, she scolded herself. Dreaming about being Fionn does not make you Fionn. You're an off again on again internet writer and office drone with no leadership experience talking out of her ass about obvious shit, and don't you forget it.
She'd been caught off guard, the first night; most Fate properties had framed the dream cycle as a dramatic convenience, holding off on actually depicting its contents until after the readers or viewers were already invested in the characters. In retrospect, it should have been obvious that in practice it would start right away - Grail Wars were pretty short, and Heaven's Feel was a process by and for magi, people less personable than Toby almost to a man. Why persuade a cautious Servant to tell you their true name like an adult when you can just brainjack them in your sleep? Why ask for their assessment of their Noble Phantasm when you can watch it take out half an army in a single blow with your own eyes?
Feel it with your own hands, sometimes.
Slipping her legs over the side of the hammock and sitting up, she grunted at the sudden lightheadedness that made the throbbing in her forehead somehow worse and better at the same time, and tried not to envy her spirited-away friend for being injured enough to be worth saving.
"Where's Fionn?" she asked, yawning. "We gotta see a pirate about a grail."
As if on cue, the door of the room was kicked open, and Dory cackled as the blond busybody strode in with a bowl of stew in one hand and a pair of delicate-looking, red-tinted spectacles in the other.
"Master!" he declared. "I come bearing sunglasses and sustenance!"
"Fionn-san!" came Mash's scandalized voice from the hallway, quieter and yet also much higher-pitched.
"Be at ease, little darling," he called as Furiko took the shades and slipped them on, "I've tended many an aching head in my time! You can rest assured, my Master is in the best hands she could be."
"I'll cosign that," Ko groaned as her eyes adjusted to their new, mercifully darkened view of the world. She reached for the stew and took it in both hands, blowing on it. "Servant of the year, every year. Professor Smith gets an honorable mention."
"Have to agree to disagree with you on that one, there, Ko," Dory said with a soft chuckle, having moved from the table over towards Indy.
Ko gestured at him with her spoon. "Hey, M- Saber will be in Fionn's league when sh- he brings you a transfusion kit and a pint of plasma unprompted. Seriously, you're from Florida, you shouldn't be looking paler than me in this weather, that's just disconcerting."
He grinned, and gave a mock bow. "It comes naturally."
"And the bleeding eyes along with it, no doubt," Fionn remarked, "if the tales Spencer has told of Florida are to be believed."
"No no, see, that is because of all the drugs." He pointed at the Servant with a little grin before turning back to Indy, gently turning the man on his side and shifting the bedding materials around.
"Yes," Ko nodded, lowering the bowl of stew from her lips and clearing her throat. "You live on the edge, clearly. You straddle the line between man and beast."
The only response she got was a raspberry being blown her way.
"...So. What kind of shape am I in?" she asked Fionn, sipping her stew. "How soon can we invoke Fintan Finnegas and be back on track?"
The Lancer's smile dimmed a tad. "I'd feel we were on safer ground if you'd take a little more water first, Master. It's a miracle any of you are in any state to hold a proper conversation so soon - I shudder to think what longterm effects exposure to the outer dark may've had on your mind."
<<How do you think I feel?>> she grumbled. <<I still haven't eliminated the possibility that the outer dark is how we came to your world in the first place.>>
<<Well, it wouldn't be the first time an enemy sent a woman to tempt me,>> Fionn quipped. <<Though what quarrel the elder things have with me, I couldn't say. Perhaps I've reached heights of heroism previously unknown, even to me!>>
<<Dork.>>
"Hey, do what you have to do to hold me together," she said aloud, shaking her head. "But I'll remind you that the longterm effects of not getting to a damn grail include us dying very slowly, and painfully, and probably a little disgustingly toward the end. All the nursemaiding in the world isn't going to keep me alive and sane if I don't get some circuits soon."
"Believe you me, Master," Fionn said grimly, pulling out his waterskin and pouring a mouthful of the contents into his left palm, "I am the very last person on this ship who needs reminding of that."
He nodded at the bowl in her hands, and she passed it to Dory with a mumbled 'sorry'. Then she turned back, and, cupping Fionn's hand in both of hers, she drank.
As she felt the water pass her lips, she was struck with the amusing thought that at this point, thanks to the dream cycle, she actually had more memories of administering the Uisce Beatha than of receiving it.
And just like that, the fog started to thin. She still had a headache, of course, but it no longer took up half of her focus just by its very presence. Her muscles had gone from seemingly braiding themselves into one enormous knot spanning her entire body to merely snarling at her every time she moved.
Her Servant smiled at her, and she tried to smile back.
Just like that.
… that conversation could wait. They still had a world to save.
If they could manage to save themselves first.
Jacob
"Yay land."
Jacob pushed the tricorner further onto his head in defiance of the sea winds that washed over the deck as the ship approached the shore, likely to beach itself since Ching Shih could just dismiss and resummon it afterwards.
<I thought you liked the ocean.> Mordred's voice came over their link.
<Correct!> He grinned briefly but at the ocean before wincing just a bit, <But it'd be nice to let you manifest without 'existence becoming pain'.>
<That sounds nice, yeah.>
The approaching sand was almost brilliantly yellow - not at all like most of the beaches back home. Not only because the sand was far finer, but the bits of greek architecture rubble scattered about. That and the incongruous kinds of trees and foliage - four different kinds of palms, several different kinds of ferns, and according to what little he remembered of his mother's landscaping company, they'd all come from different parts of the country, or even the world.
… what in the world were they doing? They were just being led around by the nose by Fionn's magic, and they could be heading into a trap so he could escape. Or it could be a trap laid by Jason or such getting around them. And all of this banked on them being able to get the Grail from the local living Drake… assuming this was all real in the first place of course. The persistent thought always nibbling at the edges of his thoughts in the quiet moments–
<Master. You're still being weird.> Mordred's thoughts intruded on his own.
<Pardon my paranoia. I'll try to keep it manageable.>
Most of the group was up on deck by now. Toby had apparently woken up in Chaldea, though he was still bedridden, last they were aware. Tell had spotted land, and Fionn had confirmed that Francis Drake was on it.
Spence was lying curled up against a crate, whinging piteously. "Hey, Indy? If you wanna just Magellan me, I'd consider it a personal favor."
Without even looking, the other man, feet dangling through the rails and off the side of the ship, flipped him off. Adam had been downing water pretty much continuously since waking up; he looked like he was nearly finished with his latest purchased waterskin.
Glancing over at the last one to wake, Jacob couldn't help but be concerned. The other man had said he'd been doing better, and the man himself had muttered something about "Rust Bus estimation" and "BLP bullshittery" when asked why he consistently was doing so much better than the rest of them… but that didn't necessarily mean either of them believed that, or that Jacob wasn't worried. It'd been a while since he'd seen him in person prior to this Chaldea bullshit, but…
Moving across the deck as the wood and ropes creaked and groaned, Jacob stopped beside Indy and gently bumped shoulders, "Hey, how you holdin' up?"
"Like a four drink hangover," his friend grumbled before taking a large gulp of water. His tone softened considerably as he wiped his lips with a lacy, somewhat stained handkerchief that his Servant had obviously given him. "Which, you know, small favors."
"Better than a six drink hangover." Jacob nodded sagely. "Probably want to brace though, she's not taking up the sails and we'll–"
That was right about the time they hit a sandbar.
Ching Shih's ship jerked forward, and Jacob stumbled from the motion, "... probably be beaching ourselves. Right."
Indy's comment, whatever it was, devolved into sputtering as the remainder of his water flew into the other man's face.
"We're beaching," the ship's captain said belatedly, her voice carrying easily over the deck.
"Little more warning would've been better!" Jacob called back even as the ship pushed closer to the actual beach.
Cu was the first down, easily clearing the distance to the shore and skipping the water entirely as Mash stayed with the loose group of Masters and Tell watched from the lookout.
It took a little longer for the ship to settle and the rope to be thrown over the side. Experience had taught Jacob that the Chaldean uniforms dried out blessedly quick; and the nagging pins and needles, the burning numbness that threatened to eat away at his fingertips and edges of his face… that was a great motivator to get off the boat and get this fucking over with. He was the first of the masters down the simple rope ladder, boots splashing loudly in the shallow seawater as he dropped the last few feet.
Normally, he had great sea-legs, but as soothing as the gentle rocking and creaking of the ship could be, it did little for his headache and the bone deep ache in his knees. The tropical water seeping through his pants didn't particularly help either.
"Fuck," he heard Adam grunt after the following splash, and Jacob suppressed a smile. "Cold cold cold cold cold-"
"Fionn, you don't have t-!"
One flying leap and a briefly-dopplered shriek later, Ko's Lancer was setting her on her feet on the shore, and waving, not a little smugly, at the rest of them.
<Gotta up your game, master.> The grin in the prince's tone brought a smile to Jacob's face even if he couldn't see it. Said grin was exacerbated when Ching Shih mimicked the Lancer's actions, carrying Spencer like a sack of potatoes. Tell and Mash followed soon after, though the Shielder had an arm wrapped around Ritsuka's waist, for a business-class form of ServantAir.
<Sadly, being human has its unfortunate limitations.> Mordred was a homunculus, an artificial human. Not something Jacob had expected, but it made sense given Nasuverse shenanigans. The unpleasant surprise had been how angrily his prince reacted upon being called female, as well as their age. Or relative lack thereof. <We'll work on that later.>
Mordred was ten years old. Or, to quote, 'almost eleven.' Seriously, that was… concerning.
It was while everyone else was walking up to the beach itself that the pirates came out of the underbrush, their pistols held out and several with cultasses drawn. "Woo-hoo! Women! Prey! And a ship to boot! Looks like fun!"
Mash made a face. "Master. Please let me handle this."
The fight, if you could call it that, lasted less than a minute while most of the group finished getting to the beach. Though Cu did have to intercept a stray musket ball with his staff.
With a thud, Mash's shield slammed into the sand. "Next, please."
'Goddamn.' Jacob could only blink while wringing out the hems of his pants, 'It's gonna take some time to get used to seeing a Servant fight.'
The last of the conscious pirates had his hands up in supplication. "Hey, gimme a break, I didn't mean any harm… it was my instinct as a pirate…"
Groveling. Not entirely surprised, but still.
"Yeah?" Ko growled from behind her new shades, bracing herself against Indy, shoulder to shoulder. "Well my instinct as a woman with a headache is to tell my overprotective redneck lunatic Servant to put you out of my misery, so let's set the evolutionary psychology aside for the moment, shall we?"
"Do we have to?" Spencer asked.
"Probably a good plan," Jacob muttered, glancing at the other pirates around them, some having made literal divots in the sand like falling comets after the demiservant had finished with them. "Murdering their crew is probably not the best way to get into a Captain's good graces."
"What a poor excuse for a pirate–!" Dr. Roman attempted to get in his own quip over the comms. But Mash apparently wasn't in the mood.
Standing over the groveling pirate and with a hand on her hip, the Shielder stared imperiously down on the eyepatched man. "We are here to speak with Captain Francis Drake."
"Oh…" the man blinked, and a change came over his smile, "Ohhh-! You want to talk to the Boss!" Pushing himself up and keeping an eye on the massive shield, the man grinned, "Heh heh heh."
In the corner of his eye, Jacob could see Adam facepalm.
"Why the swagger all of the sudden?" Roman muttered.
"Hrm... perhaps it's a desperate attempt to seem more 'pirate-like'?" da Vinci suggested.
"Right," Jacob tried to keep on track, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking at the man with the eyepatch, "Who are you?"
"Bombe Merriweather!" He puffed out his chest, reminding him only so much of a rooster or dog whose name had been called, "Loyal crewman to the Captain that struck down the Spanish Armada!"
"I seem to recall the storm did most of the work," Ko muttered under her breath, and Indy nudged her in the ribs.
"Yer damn right I did!" Bombe responded.
Jacob couldn't help but snort. Okay, that was good. "There's other work though," he nodded at the mass of unconscious or otherwise incapacitated men on the beach, "We can't just leave them on the beach."
"Do we have rope?" Indy asked.
"I'll take care of it," Ching Shih said.
Indy's eyes darted around the beach. "But–"
"Hey," Spencer said, "she said she'd take care of it, so don't worry about it."
"Please remember that we'd rather not kill them," Jacob chided gently.
"Dory, I distinctly remember telling you not to worry about it. We're not going to kill them. We need them," Spencer said with far more cheer than he'd had since they'd got here. "Part of the ship, part of the crew."
Bombe had a confused look on his face even as Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Any concerns the man with the red bandana might have brought up disappeared in a little surprised yelp when the flagship of the Red Flag Fleet, as well as the fallen pirates, dissolved into a mass of golden particles and faded into the wind, like motes of dust leaving a sunbeam.
Spencer shuddered, his frame relaxing as he released the tension in his shoulders. With a sigh, he managed to mumble, "Existence is no longer pain."
Even with the… concerning aspects of 'absorbing' people like that aside… ... that's still weird. I was on that thing like a minute ago.
Pushing aside potential concerns and nagging worries in the back of his mind about Ching Shi, or the souls of those they were interacting with, he looked back to the red bandana'd man. "Regardless… Bombe, you're going to lead us to Drake and make an introduction. We find ourselves in need of your captain's… assistance."
The trees of the forest were surprisingly straight given the rocky and uneven terrain. They reminded Jacob of areas in the mountains in Pennsylvania, moss and lichens covering rocks, sparse grasses along the ground… trees were wrong, and it felt weird to have this sort of environment when he could still smell the salt in the air.
"...How are we even in a temperate forest," Indy was muttering to himself, seemingly determined to step on every stray stone and stumble over each protruding route on their path. "We were in the Caribbean-Mediterranean sea with… palm trees and… ruined columns…."
"Singularities are strange," Ritsuka offered, helping him over a moderately difficult boulder. "Not only time, but space itself is warped - I once walked from Rome to London in under a week."
"... uh…" Jacob raised a hand.
"Please, no further questions," the youngest of them said tiredly. "I really prefer to think about Septem as little as possible."
"It wasn't that bad, Sempai," Mash consoled. "Perhaps her singing was not the best, but Nero-san cared deeply for her people. Plus, her sense of interior design was quite fetching. Umu!"
Spencer perked up at the last syllable. "Uwu?"
"No, there was an 'm' sound in the middle of it…"
Spencer smiled serenely and nodded. "That's what I said. Uwu."
"No," Mash furrowed her brow. "It was 'Umu'!"
"Uwu!"
"U-"
"-Mashu," Ritsuka cut in, his frustration accenting how he said the girl's name. "Do you know anything about this 'Francis Drake?'"
"... Francis Drake," Mash began with a serious nod, clearly happy to teach her senpai. "One of the great heroes that pioneered this world. As we are in the midst of the Age of Exploration, it is likely that Bennett-san is correct and it is the real Drake, and a living being. The first voyager in history to sail around the globe and live to tell the tale."
Jacob thought back to the fuzzy memories he had about Fate's version of Francis Drake. He was pretty sure he'd seen something for the character before. They were definitely canonical. And, given Nasuverse, probably a chick, but what was their 'Thing' again? He'd glazed over a lot of Mash's explanation while wracking his brain.
"...the "Hero who brought down the sun." She finished, casually hopping up several feet to bypass a particularly large rock, "The prosperity of the British Empire wouldn't be possible without Captain Drake."
Bombe preened at the flattery Mash was heaping on his leader. Jacob ducked under a hanging branch, one hand on his incredibly extra tricorn to make sure it didn't get knocked off.
"Though Drake was officially sanctioned by the state as a privateer, a pirate is still a pirate. Judging from the behavior of pirates we've met so far, odds are high that he's a good-for-nothing thug."
And just like that, Bombe's face fell right back down.
"Well damn, Mash," Ko said, amused, "tell us how you really feel."
Mash, the poor sheltered soul, took her at her word. "Then he is most likely a gluttonous giant, a nefarious character able to grab a barrel in one hand and chug its entire contents!"
Mash Kyrielight: accidentally savage as fuck.
"It is quite disturbing," she concluded, "but there is no doubt he is a key person in this era; we must somehow get the help of Francis Drake."
"Um," Jacob scratched his beard, able to keep his smile subdued with a bit of effort as he tried to temper her expectations. "Mash? Don't really count on the genders of historical figures. You've met Nero. And from what I know, it happens more often than not."
As if to bolster his claims, the radiant blue-white floof emerged from underneath Ritsuka's shirt, his fluffy ears standing straight up. "Fou!"
Bombe grinned at the little, fluffy squirrel-sized creature, an almost lustful expression stretched across his face. "Oh my, what is this adorable little creature? It looks delicious."
"Eat him and I'll beat you till you cry." Ritsuka's tone was quiet and filled with promise.
"Clear as day, boss!" Bombe chirruped.
Ching Shih snorted. "Too much bootlicking," she muttered, eyeing their guide up and down like a cut of meat. "This man has no spirit to him."
"...He probably isn't a man, technically speaking," Mash admitted, seeming happy to have a topic change from the genders of historical figures. "If this is similar to the situation in Septem, then he is probably closer to a construct than an actual person, especially if his actual self was not here in proper human history, or if he is a fill-in from the 'unlimited pirates'. Otherwise, Rider-san couldn't have, ano… assimilated them?"
"Hey! Who are you calling a construct?"
"Shut up construct, or it's a whipping," Spence's own personal pirate captain ordered.
"Aye, aye, captain!"
Construct or not, Bombe's fearful reaction was entirely understandable. Ching Shih's ability was existentially… concerning.
"Sempai," Mash urged, suddenly, picking up her pace. "We need to press onward. We..." she trailed off for a moment, obviously communicating with her Master telepathically. "... we should reduce the chances of monsters intercepting us in transit."
Mash was a terrible liar - that hadn't been what she had been about to say. Nonetheless, she had a point.
The forest grew louder as they continued onwards in silence.
About twenty minutes later, they finally made it.
The encampment was pretty basic, little more than a clearing with a really basic fence of stakes and a number of tents set up in a rough shape in the outlined clearing. Against the ocean they could see a single galleon, its sails put up and likely anchored.
As Chaldea's forces approached, Bombe called, "Boss, boss! We've got enem–" he hesitated a moment as the group collectively shot him a glare. "Er, guests, I mean! They said they want to speak with you, boss!"
"The hell?" The sound of the woman's harsh voice came over the soft din of the encampment. Even as some pirates started to gather at the edges, carrying pistols, cutlasses, and similar, the din of the group meant that the next words were lost to Jacob before she called out, "Guests? Are they pirates?"
"Um," Bombe glanced at the group, "I don't think so! Most of 'em at least. They're classier than us, and a bit more violent!"
"... a bit?" Jacob and Mash both asked softly under their breaths, with vastly different tones.
"The hell is that?" Once more the woman's voice called out, over the now quieted noises of the camp. "What are they then? Government? Army? More pirates?"
"Uh…" Bombe glanced over us again, "I don't think they're any of those!"
"We're time tourists," Ko said, waggling her eyebrows. "Ain'tcha ever read Borgel?"
"Guys," Spencer's voice lowered conspiratorially. "You all have literally signed on as crew of a pirate ship under a pirate captain - you are absolutely pirates. Not me, though," he added. "Cargo can't commit piracy."
There was something in the same rough voice that Jacob couldn't hear properly before she called out, "Fine, bring 'em in!"
The small cluster of pirates that had gathered with the rifles and pistols glanced among themselves before stepping aside, allowing Chaldea's group to head into the roughly encircled set up of tents and tables. They were led by Bombe past the slowly gathering pirates. Many of them were stereotypical in some way or other, such as eyepatches or peg legs or hook hands…
Walking forward with a cluster of the pirates behind her, others still working on things or eating, was the (wo)man of the hour, without question.
Vibrant and full-bodied pink hair that reached to the small of her back, a brilliant red coat trimmed with gold that failed to button up entirely, full lips, a sharp scar cutting across her face, and a flagon in hand. Her vest accentuated the trim stomach, and the stark wood of several musket butts hung against the surprisingly stark white of her breeches.
"Well now, you certainly brought me some strange ones, Bombe."
This ignored the fact that her coat failed to button up for two very… distracting reasons. But while she was at least half a head shorter than most of the Masters of Chaldea, she towered over them all by dint of sheer swagger and presence.
"...they've got their good points," Bombe said with a bit of eagerness as the red-bandana'd pirate approached his captain, leaving the group a slight distance behind. "Not only did they save our lives, but they're excited to meet their idol captain."
That was a very… generous way to characterize Mash's little monologue.
He heard a very quiet tsk exit Ko's mouth, but whatever she muttered afterward was drowned out by the bombshell explorer's next words.
"Idol?" Drake snorted, disbelief clear on her face, "I'm their idol? Really?"
"Yeah!" He nodded his head vigorously, "They've been sayin' how great you are, how Drake can blast the Spanish Armada in an instant! That Drake's a giant over 3 meters tall who downs rum by the barrel! They're really excited."
"Whaaat?" Francis Drake nearly dropped her flagon. "What's up with that? I haven't committed such sins yet!"
A little grin started to appear on Jacob's face as he repeated quietly, "Yet?"
It was particularly funny coming from the smaller woman, who somehow managed to still have an astonishingly curvy figure, the vest accentuating the flare of her hips, and the lack of undershirt meaning her significant cleavage was emphasized as well by the outfit. None of her body language was what you might expect of a woman with that figure or face surrounded by pirates. She was the center of attention, this was the natural state of the world; she knew it, and was entirely at ease with it.
At this, the only Fate virgin in the group could no longer contain himself. "How?" Indy spluttered loudly, waving his hands in a way obviously meant to indicate he was talking about Drake without actually pointing directly at her cleavage. "What, but… how? How though?"
Poor guy. Things had apparently gotten to the point where his stutter had resurfaced. Jacob was happy he hadn't mentioned Mordred's name; that was gonna be a conversation and a half.
Mash, it seemed, was in agreement with Indy. "... uh, senpai," she murmured, eyes wide, cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment. "I'm so stunned I can't speak."
"But-I-Drake-wa-"
Indy's fiancée wrapped an arm around his shoulder, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like, "Waifu simulator, dear."
"Who knew she was a woman!" Ritsuka was shockingly able to keep his exclamation somewhat quiet.
"I did warn you," Jacob muttered, trying to get the smile off of his face as Drake stepped forward, one hand resting casually over the butt of her pistol, the other holding a mug of something almost certainly alcoholic.
"Stand aside, Bombe. I'll do the talking. So-" She froze mid sentence, brilliant blue eyes locking onto Jacob and narrowing. "... why do you have my hat?"
"Ahhh… yes." Stalling briefly as his brain caught up with the intense look from an intense woman, Jacob nodded. "Well, we killed the guy that had it before." He took it off of his head and twirled it between his hands as he approached, holding out the elaborate tricorner to the pirate captain with a small smile, a half step away. "I apologize, we didn't realize it was yours."
Drake studied the Chaldean master for a moment before draining her mug in two quick, massive gulps, her head tilted back and her eyes closed. A few errant trickles of slightly foamy liquid trailed down her chin before she swiped her sleeve across her mouth to leave it clean, and left Jacob very aware that the pink to her lips was not lipstick. Casually tossing her mug aside, she then took her hand from the butt of her pistol and snatched the hat from Jacob's grip.
"Saved me the trouble of tracking him down to steal it back." She pointed at his chest with the hat before her eyes swept the group. "Now who are you?"
Their Shielder stepped forward and gave a little bow, "You must be Francis Drake. My name is Mash Kyrielight. We're part of the Chaldea Security Organization."
"Chaldea?" A confused and disbelieving look crossed the pirate captain's face, "What do the 'stargazers' want with us? Are they here to sell us new maps of constellations?"
<... ah, so that's what Chaldea means. Kickass, both to learn and her for knowing it.>
<You didn't know that, Master?> Mordred's voice came through their connection.
<No I did not. A linguist I am not.>
It was, oddly enough, Smith who stepped forward next - from the look of faint concentration on Adam's face, the Caster was being used as a relay.
"Good day to you, Captain," he began. "We were hoping in fact hoping to request your assistance on a matter of some urgency-"
"Spare me the bullshit, jocky, it's just a pain in the ass." Drake gave a slight twitch in the Servant's direction, and the man almost immediately flinched back. Adam winced at that particular show of weakness. "What does Chaldea want with me?"
Mordred manifested in a flash of gold, stepping forward even as her-no, his master cringed. "The world's gone screwy," the prince of Camelot stated, green eyes raking across Drake and her assembled followers. "We're here to fix it. Your Grail can make that happen."
"Oh yeah, 'screwy'?"
The fully armored Saber snorted, gesturing out at the ocean with a gauntlet. "What else do you want to call everything being pirates and islands without any towns to raid?"
"Ah, that shit, yeah," Drake half sighed. "Can't really ignore the ocean, after all. You're right. It's been pretty strange."
Mash brightened, "Yes, we can explain why-"
Drake continued as if she hadn't stopped, voice rising as she spoke, "-but when I say 'strange', I don't mean it as a bad thing. There's no other world that's as fun as this one!" Turning to her crew she held up her mug and called out, " Isn't that right, you scumbags?!"
A cheer came up from the assembled pirates, guns and sabers raised, "Aye!" "You're the best boss!" "Yes!" "Hear hear to never-ending rum!"
Cu Chulainn snorted. "She makes a compelling case, if you're a moron," he muttered idly to Ritsuka.
"I've never even had any rum," Ritsuka mused. "It can't be that good, can it?"
There was a hungry smile on her face as the captain turned back to Chaldea's forces, "You're telling us to give up something that's ours." She put the hat Jacob had given her - her hat - atop her head, and straightened it with a flourish. "And Bombe was saying you weren't pirates. I'd tell you to come and take it, if you're man enough--"
"We can go that route, if you insist." Jacob pressed a hand hard against his chest in preparation as he growled. "Saber."
With metallic clanking, Saber's helmet fell away, revealing a bloodthirsty grin. In the same motion, their weapon slammed into the ground, bursts of red lightning erupting up around the Servant. The sharp, stabbing ache in Jacob's chest was anticipated, and he gritted his teeth to stifle his physical reaction, hoping the matching grin on his own face would mask the gouging agony.
At Mordred's side, Cu's staff blazed with fire, while Tell and Mash readied their own weapons. Fionn didn't move from his post just behind Ko, but she was humming a cheerful tune that somehow sounded ominous even before Jacob recognized it from the hospital scene in Kill Bill.
Francis Drake's only response was to chuckle, as her entire gang's hands began to reach for their sheathed armaments. "Oh, I'm more than game for that."
Despite the pain, despite the fear, despite gritting his teeth together hard enough that his jaw creaked, he was still kind of excited. The back of his hand felt like it sizzled as the Command Seals reacted to his intent, ready to top off Mordred even as he prepared to bolt out of the instant-death-radius of a Servant fight.
"Come now," Smith broke into the conversation with a vigorous wave of his walking stick, and the bloody storm dancing around Saber faded slightly as the Caster continued, "Let us reason together. Is there not any way we can settle this without needless bloodshed? We are all civilized men- er, people, that is- here."
"Yeah?" The pirate captain snorted, even as she lowered the twin pistols Jacob hadn't even noticed she'd drawn. "And what would you suggest, Reverend?"
<Oh come on!> Mordred's voice rang out in Jacob's head.
<Mordred, hun, it sounds fun> The sharp relief couldn't fully ease the tension in his jaw, but Drake's willingness to entertain alternatives meant his heart didn't feel like going to batter its way through his sternum, <But it could literally kill me.>
The Saber was quiet for another whole beat, <... yeah yeah, spoilsport.>
<Not saying it doesn't sound fun…> Jacob admitted, unable to resist another glance over of the diminutive captain.
"Ah, well, a contest of- um, a vigorous debate regarding- no…." Smith appeared very keenly aware that every eye was now fixed on him. "What about-"
"Mahjong," Ching Shih said, having manifested once more, a rictus smile on her face.
"I don't know Mahjong," Spencer interjected, "but I could explain how to play Pai Gow in about… five minutes, tops."
"Beer pong," Indy broke in. "H-how about beer pong?"
The pirates glanced amongst themselves briefly before Bombe was the one to bite the metaphorical bullet and ask, "... beer pong?"
"W-W-We need 18 mugs and a-a, uh, musket ball-"
"Better idea." Drake interrupted, foot stomping down on a mug and crushing it, a grin like a vicious dragon finding an unclaimed hoard on her face. "Simpler too. Drinking contest."
"...Unsubscribe," Spence muttered.
Jacob
Eyes like stars.
The first conscious breath burned and sent Jacob coughing, turning onto his side and covering his mouth.
He'd tried to gasp upon waking, which had sent spit down the wrong tube and now here he was, trying not to choke on his own stupidity.
"Mm." Cracking an eye open was a mistake, stars of thousands of colors danced in his vision even as the light burned.
Scrunching his eyes shut, Jacob took a slow breath and tried to take stock of himself and remember what happened. They'd been attacked by Jason. They'd been fighting. Mordred had attacked with he- his Noble Phantasm. Heracles. Right, fucking Heracles. Which is why they'd pulled out all the stops…
He was on the floor? His head hurt, like he'd hit it with a cymbal from the inside and his head had been the thing to keep ringing. The taste of vanilla and papercuts, ash and rubbing alcohol all clung to the inside of his mouth and throat, and he ached down to his bones. The cloth on his hands-...
Cloth? Hands?
Rubbing his fingers together, Jacob was able to figure that his hands were wrapped in rough cloth? And sore. More so than even his head. And he could still hear the waves and the creaking of the ship, still smell the ocean, so definitely still the ship but…
Opening his eyes carefully, he determined that his hands had been bandaged, especially given the blots of reddish brown at the tips.
The world wasn't quite stabbing icepicks into Jacob's head via his retinas anymore, so he took the opportunity to confirm that, yes, he was in the hold. The others were around him, laid out with their heads on some of the spoils from Magellan, seemingly intact but… unconscious…?
The others had seen it too–
–eyes like stars and the writhing endless plane that was where Abby had stood but was standing on the deck–
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jacob focused on his own breathing, and the thudding of his heartbeat in his ears, each beat suddenly loud and painful.
Pressing roughly at his own temples, Jacob groaned quietly, laying down as he tried to get the throbbing under control, focusing on the pain it caused in his hands and his own breathing and heartbeat rather than the… mess of a memory-
-on the endless white deck astride a ship that was the earth and the cosmos the picture of a picture of a picture that was still more vivid than technicolor-
Right. Breathing. The rocking of the ship. Soothing rocking. Like grandma's chair. Back and forth, creak and groan.
Time passed as he counted each breath, finding the rhythm between them and the ship as he waited for the pain to ease.
Next steps? Find out what was going on. Who was conscious? Who was moving the ship? Jason? All the situation notes.
Despite the pain, Jacob forced himself to sit up, cracking open one eye, then the other, squinting even against the dim lights of the hold. Checking visually, he was able to confirm that at least everyone was breathing. All the physical ones at least. Indy, Ko, Ritz, Mash… no Spence or Toby though…? Right, Spence hadn't seen it and Toby… maybe he'd been immune…? Or dead.
Cold clutched at his chest.
Not now. Find out, deal with it if that's the case.
Struggling to his feet, he had to prop himself up against the wall for a bit, balance entirely shot.
"'If it t'k m' sea legs 'm gonna be pissed." Jacob croaked while forcing himself towards the stairs.
No chains or anything, despite the paranoia in his head. The mild rocking of the boat alone was enough to unbalance him, so Jacob kept a hand on the rail of the stairs the entire way up, clutching to it like a lifeline. How could he stand straight on this unreal floor when she could stand across the world-
Stopping briefly at the door, Jacob just leaned against it, trying to force down the thoughts and… compartmentalize. Parse. Bite size it.
She'd said those words that slipped so easily from his head, and he let them drift away. Light had shone from her, as… gates had opened up? No, more like… the fabric had been pushed down for water to pool-? No but it was closer than gates-
The thought hurt some, but regardless, there'd been an attack of something from outside of normal spacetime in a way that should've been an optical illusion but wasn't.
… he was pretty sure there'd been tentacles?
Abby… had done something where she'd opened up a doorway, but the door itself was everything he knew and when it'd lifted, it'd left all of them staring through it to whatever it was on the other side… but she'd… pushed Heracles through to that aetherial sea–?
Veering away from the thought process with a shake of his head, Jacob tried not to think on it too hard, because even that much had brought the ringing back into his bones.
Focus. Forward.
With some effort, he found the handle to the door and stepped out onto the deck, eyes cracking open briefly and able to confirm through the searing light that yes, it was Ching Shih's ship still, and they weren't on the Argo or whatever.
That confirmation out of the way, he closed his eyes again and shut the door behind him.
"Hey you, you're finally awake."
Jacob blinked against the brilliant sunlight even as he brought up a middle finger in the general direction of Spence's voice. "Fus Roh Dah."
Spencer flashed him a grit-toothed grin. "You have not killed nearly enough dragons to shout at me, yet."
"I'll get there, Stormcloak." Coughing and then swallowing around the dry throat, Jacob rubbed his forehead, eyes still shut tight, "Right… what… what's our status?"
"Better, now that someone else is awake." The voice crackled over the com on his wrist.
"Mm." Jacob really wanted caffeine right now. "Descriptive."
Da Vinci's tone didn't seem offended. "We have two functional masters and three functional servants, with only one of them actually being a pair. Jason is nowhere to be seen but Heracles is confirmed defeated. We're off the track of Drake. You were unconscious for two days. Lucky you!"
Okay, actually descriptive. "Thanks…" Jacob murmured, trying to process all of that and what it meant.
"How are you feeling?"
"Bad. Need some water. And food, even if my stomach doesn't agree." His tone was clipped and rough, working through the deep grinding in his bones and searing pain of the light, "But doesn't feel like anything permanent on my end at least. Nightmares probably, though. Toby?"
"Bennett…" Roman's voice came over the comms, hanging for a moment before admitting, "Is in Chaldea."
"... in a good way, or a bad way?" Jacob asked carefully, a cold pit in his stomach, "I wouldn't be happy if he's dead but I'd rather know it now than worrying you're hiding it for later."
"Alive. But he's not in the best condition. He's been showing signs of waking up soon."
Relief, and some of the tension that was even letting Jacob stand eased out. Not taking any chances with it, he leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the deck. "Thanks. I 'ppreciate it."
A brief moment of emptiness before he called out with his thoughts. <Mordred?>
Silence was his response.
His heart rate spiked, his prince–
The director of Chaldea's voice was calm and clearly an attempt at being soothing. "What do you remember?"
Spaces within space but also above and below and outside–
Jacob applied pressure to his forehead, forcing down the intense headache as well as the panic in the back of his mind not getting the boisterous, energetic response he'd gotten accustomed to occasionally intruding on his thoughts. "Not much useful stuff. Brain's still trying to catch up and process things."
"The memetic hazard." It was Da Vinci that spoke over the commlink this time.
"Yeah." He realized belatedly that they'd explained the concept to them not too long ago, "I… we probably want to get baseline data about our heads… headspace? Whatever ones we reasonably can. That way we can compare in case this happens again."
"I'll schedule it for after everyone returns."
"I…" The bearded man trailed off, thought being washed away in the tides of ache in his head and lost into those endless spaces. It felt like he needed to get it out of his head but he already had and… it was lost again. He wanted caffeine and food and a hug"Sorry… I've got a throbbing headache. Is there anything we need to be doing?"
"No," was the thankfully succinct and calm response from the director, "At this stage, we're waiting for enough people to wake up for us to consider going after Drake again. Take the time to rest."
"Then's time for food. And water. Both'd be nice."
Spencer nodded. "I'll take you to 'Caster of Kirkcaldy,'" he said, putting air quotes around the title, "see if he knows anything for a hangover, because I certainly don't."
Bennett
He was in an endless expanse of nothingness. Grey-white covered the sky as far as he could see, a plainness and uniformity that far surpassed the May Gray and June Gloom of his West Coast childhood. Bennett turned, looking for some sign of where he stood, anything. It was only on his third step that he noticed the sound of splashing accompanying his footsteps. He looked down—
Vertigo threatened to take him, and he fell to hands and knees as he stared down into the watery surface beneath him. In that mirror sheen, he saw no reflection. Instead, he beheld the cosmos themselves; the Milky Way splashed across the 'reflected' sky, stars and galaxies and nebulae shimmering in a vast, unknowable distance. And at the center of it all, a great blue star, its shine so great as to eclipse all those around it. He leaned in closer to the water's surface; if only he could get a closer look, a clearer glimpse of—
"Don't do that."
The sudden voice shocked him out of his thoughts and sent him flat on his ass as he tried to stand and face them, much to Bennett's shame. His eyes fell upon the only person that could possibly have been speaking to him in this place, one that he finally recognized with the context.
His Servant—no, wait. This wasn't his Abby. This was the true Abigail Williams, one of the two Silver Keys wandering the cosmos together. The keyhole upon her forehead, clearly empty and yet leading to nowhere in particular, was clue enough as to her nature.
"Don't do what?" Bennett asked, confused.
"It's dangerous to look down." Abigail gestured to the vast, unspeakable cosmos swirling in the water beneath her before taking a step forward, her footsteps sending ripples through the image and dissipating it entirely. "There."
A part of him desperately wanted the water to settle, to stare long into the vastness of space. A more rational part of his mind smacked the traitorous part and shoved it into a box, burying it in the back of his mind. He knew better than to stare long into the abyss.
"I know," Abigail said suddenly, shocking him.
"Did I—"
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head, "but. You dream the sleep of roses."
His mind filled in the rest. 'Move beyond the sleep of roses, and arrive at the final gate'. Her Noble Phantasm. He hadn't just gotten a tiny glimpse of the damn thing. He may have been half-blind at the time and barely able to perceive the world around him, but he still knew what he'd seen.
He still remembered the heat of that great star, screaming with a million unheard voices into the uncaring cosmos.
But if this was a dream…?
"Did it hurt?" Abigail asked suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. Bennett found himself shaking his head mechanically, realizing as he did that he was telling a lie. From the way the girl's dead expression shifted into a smile that failed to reach her eyes, he knew she could tell. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that."
"What happened, happened," Bennett said, trying to keep any heat out of his voice. "It was Abby who did it, not you."
And now the smile was real, Abigail's eyes seeming to glimmer. Or perhaps they actually were glimmering. He wasn't sure he was sane enough to know the difference anymore.
"You can tell!" Her voice seemed to have real excitement in it. But an instant later, the light faded from her eyes, and her expression dimmed into a frown. "You're going to wake up soon. Um… will I see you again?"
"This is part of the Dream Cycle, isn't it?" Bennett found himself asking, to which Abigail gave a very hesitant nod. He offered the girl a small smile in response. "Then you will. I promise."
In the blink of an eye Abigail stood in front of him, one pinky extended from her hand.
"Pinky swear!"
Bennett couldn't help but smile as he offered his hand back, and the two clasped pinkies in a show of their promise.
"There. You promised." Abigail waved her hand, and light shone to the side of the two of them. Bennett turned to see brilliant, ephemeral stairs shimmer into existence, leading up to a great, wrought-iron gate. "I'll see you soon."
Bennett nodded. "It's a promise," he said, turning back to Abigail with a smile, only to blink. She was already gone.
Only the stairs remained.
He turned towards the shimmering stairway. Well. There was only one thing left to do then, wasn't there?
Droning beeps filled Bennett's ears as he blinked awake, feeling roughly like he'd been crushed by a steamroller, or something else vaguely for just how shit he felt. He couldn't see anything on his right, and what little he could on his left was a vague white blur. When he went to reach up to his face to try and see if his glasses were still there or not, he felt the press of an IV in the back of his right hand. He reached up with his left instead, and met resistance there too. It wasn't an IV this time, though. It was warm, and fluffy.
And it was suddenly shifting and whimpering as a hot, wet tongue attacked his face.
"Ja—" Bennett broke into a fit of coughs, his throat choosing right that instant to protest. He heard something shift to his side, and a moment later a cup of water showed up under him. Slow sips had his throat feeling more like its usual self instead of rough-grit sandpaper, and he turned and squinted his one uncovered eye to try and see who had given him the water.
"Goodman?" Abby asked, answering the question of 'who'.
"H-how long was I out?" he asked, tilting his mouth up from the dog that was still furiously licking at his face and chin. "Easy girl, easy…!"
He handed the water cup back to Abby, trading it for his glasses, and went about petting the dog, who had finally chosen to stop licking and had now laid her head on his chest.
"I…" Abby blushed, her focus directed rather pointedly at the dog beside Bennett instead of on him. "Did not pay attention, but…"
Now that Bennett could somewhat see properly, he took a closer look at the girl. For all that her Servant status would keep her in peak shape, she still seemed worn down. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and now that Bennett listened for it, he caught the occasional sniffle. Abby's hair looked tangled and in need of a brush, and she had her teddy bear in a death grip.
If he was being completely frank, the poor kid looked like she'd been put through the wringer.
Bennett wanted to say something to comfort her when the door opened, and Dr. Roman bustled in. His hair was a disheveled, greasy mess, visibly a few shades darker and duller than usual. Dark circles under his eyes belied his fatigue just as much as the coffee mug in his hand, which contrasted sharply with the clearly fresh scrubs he was wearing. He set his mug on the small table beside Bennett's hospital bed and clicked the button on his tablet.
"You're awake, good," Roman said. Even his voice seemed weary, and this all but confirmed Bennett's suspicions as to why the man's scrubs were fresh. "You've been out for two days. How are you feeling?"
How was he feeling?
"Ow."
Dr. Roman didn't give any particular reaction, instead just offering him a look. "I'm not a miracle worker, Mr. Bennett. I need specifics."
Specifics. Okay. Right. How did he feel, specifically?
Like shit. Like utter shit. Like somebody had chewed him up, spat him out, and then promptly stomped all over what was left of him, just to grind the point home. He didn't want to try and focus inward, to try and pinpoint what the issues were, because that was just going to make it feel worse. It wasn't bad enough that his mouth could make a passable replacement for sandpaper, or that all of the lights were simultaneously too bright and too dark - everything fuzzy, out of focus, and yet still too crisp and sharp.
It didn't hurt to breathe, but it still wasn't pleasant. Even beyond the discomfort of the IV in his right hand, he still felt like he didn't want to lift his arm. He didn't want to move. Just to test, he tried to see and—
He paused. He couldn't feel his leg. Bennett pulled himself upright, relief flooding his veins when he could see his leg under the thin hospital blanket, even though he couldn't feel it.
"Doc," he started, hesitant. "Why can't I feel my leg?"
Roman didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled up a stool and sat down, stretching out the motion as long as possible. Having spent more than his fair share of time in doctors' offices (though thankfully not as the patient), Bennett had a sinking feeling of what was coming.
"Before I get to that, your dog," Dr. Roman gestured to Jamaica, who stood protectively between Bennett and Dr. Roman, "was put on your bed on a hunch. After the anesthesia wore off, you began convulsing again. On Abigail's suggestion, we got your dog; the convulsions stopped the moment she was next to you."
Which made some sense, given that the spawn of Yog-Sothoth was absolutely terrified of dogs, and Abigail's power came from Yog. It was a smart response to a conceptual assault.
Though that did leave the question of who'd taken the time to read The Dunwich Horror... no, stop that, Bennett told himself. He was distracting himself from something important, something that was making the anxiety build in him. The avoidance was obvious, but this wasn't something he could just ignore. He wanted to know. He needed to know what had happened to him.
"Dr. Roman. Please," he said, putting his hand on his dog to try and calm himself. "Just tell me."
"If you're sure." Dr. Roman tapped at his tablet, then turned it to show Bennett. "You were in bad shape after the Rayshift. There was some fault on our part: we had massively underestimated just how much mana Abigail would require to use her Noble Phantasm, largely because of the disparity from her resting state's cost versus that of Jacob's Saber. It took a Command Spell to fuel their Noble Phantasm, and it still hurt him. You bore the brunt of Abigail's Phantasm raw."
Dr. Roman tapped the tablet again.
"The damage was centered on the path of least resistance, any part of you that was already hurt or weakened in some way. Your right eye was already worse than your left. We managed to save your eye, but there may be lasting effects on your vision. As for your leg…" Dr. Roman sighed. "The scar tissue on your leg has, for lack of a better word, rotted. It's gone through significant necrosis due to od depletion and has actively repelled attempts to heal the physical damage with magecraft. I excised the damaged tissue to stop the spread as best I could, but the damage managed to grow some before I could. You still have your leg, but…" Dr. Roman sighed. "I'm sorry, but given the damage, you will never regain full strength or range of motion."
He didn't have a response. Some idle part of his mind was surprised by this, by the complete lack of any reply he had for Doctor Roman. By the way he couldn't find anything to say, or even if he did have something to say, by the lack of any way to actually say it. He felt… oddly numb. Disconnected.
Oh. This was what shock was like, wasn't it?
"I… I wish I could stay, but I need to get back to the control center, and…" The doctor shrugged helplessly, sighing. "I know this isn't easy for you to hear, but I don't doubt the strength of your spirit. If you need anything, Jeanne d'Arc has been camping outside your door, and I had to stop her from coming in out of concern for your privacy. I think she'd be happy to help with anything you need."
Dr. Roman picked up his coffee mug and tablet to make his way out of the infirmary, but stopped at the door for a moment. "Abby, could you do an old grown-up a favor and push the red button if you get worried?"
"Y-yes!" Abby nodded fervently, but when the infirmary door slid shut behind Dr. Roman, the mask broke. Her face fell, eyes shining with held tears as she buried her face into his shoulder and his dog's fur, whispering incomprehensible apologies through her tears. But he did nothing in response.
Bennett could only stare at the wall. He didn't know what to do.
He didn't know what he could do, anymore.
Ko
"Time enough at last," she said, and by the time her eyes were open, she could no longer remember why.
"Not a phrase I know," a familiar voice responded, "but definitely more coherent than you have been."
"What the fuck?" she asked, her voice crackling with dehydration as she pulled the blanket over her eyes with a groan and scrunched them back shut. It was just typical of this entire damned idealistic crusade that after eight hours of restless sleep during the night, she'd not only end up slipping into an involuntary afternoon nap, but that said nap wouldn't even have the decency to finally kill her fucking headache. "How long was I out?"
"Three days," Dory's voice continued, moving about around her. "Give or take."
She froze. "Jesus H. Christ." Visions of Matou Kariya the living dead man danced in her head as she wriggled her fingers and toes to convince herself she could still feel them. The resulting pinpricks weren't fun, but they beat the hell out of nothing. "Sorry. Can I at least assume by the fact that we're alive that you didn't run into any more Servants?"
"None yet, thankfully. How are you feeling?" A hand touched her wrist before a cup was passed into her grip. Reluctantly, she let the blanket fall with a frown and a squint, and scootched awkwardly to propping herself up in the hammock as best she could. She chugged the warm water and felt her mouth and throat relax in relief immediately, followed by something unclenching in her back. When she finally wiped her mouth, half of the moisture that came away on her hand was drool.
"About as bad as before," she said, handing the cup back and clearing her throat. "Maybe a little better, actually. How'd you guys stabilize me?"
"You weren't hurt in the fight…" He sounded uneasy, all of a sudden. "What do you remember?"
Her eyes widened before she could stop them, and not even a moment later they were squinting in pain. "Wait, there was a fight?"
"... oh… yeah, that explains some of the confusion. Jason jumped us."
"There was a fight with Herakles?! And we lived?" Not even the coughing fit that followed could stop her from grinning like a loon. "Dude," she choked, grabbing Dory's shoulder, trying and failing to look at him properly, "we f- we rule. Or I guess you do, since I passed out."
"While this is certainly true," he said with exaggerated pomposity before returning to a more comfortable baseline, putting a hand over hers, "Abby's the one that actually pulled it off. I was just as out of it as you. Technically we didn't pass out, but… Lovecraftian bullshit. Remembering less is probably better."
Ko frowned out of sheer contrarian stubbornness, and cast her mind back, trying to recall literally anything. "... did we sight land, or was that a hallucination?" she asked.
"No, we did." Dory nodded. "Then we were fighting, Herc got onto the deck, and then things were rough, and Saber did h… their thing, didn't finish Herc off, and then Abby did hers." There was a sharp twitch to his hand, and she finally noticed the thin bandages still wrapped around each of his fingers. "It wasn't fun."
"I'll bet." Land, there was land, c'mon brain… music, shouting, a shadow, fear, lightning, a face that wasn't a face, silver and red, folding back-
"Oh." Ko blinked, and rubbed her eyes. "I, uh… think I know who Saber is. Does anyone else remember that, or do you want me to keep it on the DL for now?"
He cringed even as he nodded. "As quiet as feasible, yeah."
"Roger roger." She stretched. "So… what's on tap for today? Did El Draque decide to play ball?"
His left eye twitched. "We haven't gotten to her yet. Fionn was… less than comfortable with using his phantasm while you were out of it."
- "Mac an Luin!"
a rush, a roar, the sails of the other ship rising over her pulsing head in a spray of salt and - no, hang on, he probably means Fintan Finnegas. Think better, brain.
"Wait, why would he…? You just said we sighted land, right before-" She stopped, and scowled, closing her eyes. "Aw, fu- Lovecraft. We've been drifting for days, haven't we."
"Eeeeeyup."
She covered her face. "Marvelous. Please tell me I'm not the last one to wake up."
"No, Indy's still out. Ritsuka and Mash have been up and about since yesterday, though - and Spence dodged all of it, lucky fuck."
She wished she'd had the spare energy to dramatically sit bolt upright at the mention of her fiancé, but her head and her back were both pretty insistent that she could be just as worried lying down. "Is he all right?" she demanded. "Aside from being passed out?"
"He did better out of this than either of us, honestly." Jacob waggled his bandaged fingers at her before gesturing at the subject of the conversation, not far away, his snoring barely audible over the waves on the hull. "Out like a light. Shifts occasionally in his sleep, but not much. No babbling, night terrors, or even twitching while I've been in here."
Ignoring a shriek of protest that shot down her neck, shoulder and elbow, Ko rolled awkwardly over to have a look at Adam (she and Toby were probably the only two people in the party who thought of him by his legal name at all, she realized belatedly).
As she stared at the fluffy black hair she loved so well, falling in disarray on the pillow, she wondered, not for the first time since they'd arrived, if they had even a snowball's chance of getting some kind of message back to their families. Indy's parents had always been kind to her; she didn't like the thought of what his disappearance would do to them, any more than she liked the thought of her own mum and dad spending the rest of their lives trying to figure out what had happened to her.
She could accept not being able to go back herself - hell, between the suicidal ideation and her general impulsivity, she was surprised she'd lived to see thirty in the first place. Everyone else, though...
The closest feeling she could compare it to, when she bothered to dwell on it, were the times before yet another move, when she'd had to purge all her belongings down to what would fit in two suitcases. And even that feeling was a shadow of this one. Back then, she'd always been able to make a list of the books and comics and games and movies she'd owned, and live in hope of the day she'd track down copies of them again.
She laughed weakly, and rolled back over to face Dory, her hand still half-covering her eyes. "... y'know, when I said I wanted all of us to take a vacation together sometime, I meant like, Comic Con, or something."
Dory's eyes narrowed melodramatically as he turned back from whatever he'd been working on to point at her, his pirate hat slightly askew on his forehead. "Yooouuuuu… this is youuurrrr fault."
It might actually have been funny, if he didn't look like a corpse.
"Hardy fuckin' har," she drawled. "Toby tanked the eldritch mojo 'cause of the Master-Servant bond, I'm assuming?"
"Best guess, yeah." He said, back to his normal tone, having turned back to the table and… washing bandages?
"We're gettin' that kid a Switch when we get back," Ko decided. "And a pony, and a kitten… I'm not kidding," she added as he started to laugh and nod. "The psychological stress may make it a bitch and a half to spam her, but she saved our sorry asses."
"Basically agreed," was his warm response.
"Poor little gaffer," she said fretfully, remembering the girl rocking back and forth on her heels beside Toby to make her skirt swish, every now and then petting the pearls and embroidery on the v-neck collar. She'd been so excited-but-trying-not-to-be about her new dress, so obviously determined to be very grown up. Ko doubted the pretty white kaftan had survived the battle intact.
… it would've at least been something, she thought with a little frown, to remember even that much. She'd rather remember whatever fucked up shit she'd seen now than have it rush back to her at the worst possible time. We can't afford a setback like that.
"Still," she said aloud, "I guess it's nice to know we have her in our back pocket if we run into anything unexpected."
Dory bobbed his head a little uncertainly, "Well… normally? Yes. Right now? Not so much. Toby was in bad shape after she went ham on Herc. They recalled them both to Chaldea."
Ko winced, but found she was too tired to feel bad about feeling relieved. A life-threatening emergency requiring teamwork was just about the worst place for Toby under the best conditions, let alone one he'd had a hand in putting them in; 'the mana reactors'll probably handle the power-requirements for us like they do for Ritsuka' - in a pig's ass, they would. At least with one of the party back in Chaldea they knew one of them had better than 50-50 odds of surviving this ordeal, and if it was the one who actually knew a damn thing about this setting? So much the better.
... okay, slow your roll, there, kid, she scolded herself. Dreaming about being Fionn does not make you Fionn. You're an off again on again internet writer and office drone with no leadership experience talking out of her ass about obvious shit, and don't you forget it.
She'd been caught off guard, the first night; most Fate properties had framed the dream cycle as a dramatic convenience, holding off on actually depicting its contents until after the readers or viewers were already invested in the characters. In retrospect, it should have been obvious that in practice it would start right away - Grail Wars were pretty short, and Heaven's Feel was a process by and for magi, people less personable than Toby almost to a man. Why persuade a cautious Servant to tell you their true name like an adult when you can just brainjack them in your sleep? Why ask for their assessment of their Noble Phantasm when you can watch it take out half an army in a single blow with your own eyes?
Feel it with your own hands, sometimes.
Slipping her legs over the side of the hammock and sitting up, she grunted at the sudden lightheadedness that made the throbbing in her forehead somehow worse and better at the same time, and tried not to envy her spirited-away friend for being injured enough to be worth saving.
"Where's Fionn?" she asked, yawning. "We gotta see a pirate about a grail."
As if on cue, the door of the room was kicked open, and Dory cackled as the blond busybody strode in with a bowl of stew in one hand and a pair of delicate-looking, red-tinted spectacles in the other.
"Master!" he declared. "I come bearing sunglasses and sustenance!"
"Fionn-san!" came Mash's scandalized voice from the hallway, quieter and yet also much higher-pitched.
"Be at ease, little darling," he called as Furiko took the shades and slipped them on, "I've tended many an aching head in my time! You can rest assured, my Master is in the best hands she could be."
"I'll cosign that," Ko groaned as her eyes adjusted to their new, mercifully darkened view of the world. She reached for the stew and took it in both hands, blowing on it. "Servant of the year, every year. Professor Smith gets an honorable mention."
"Have to agree to disagree with you on that one, there, Ko," Dory said with a soft chuckle, having moved from the table over towards Indy.
Ko gestured at him with her spoon. "Hey, M- Saber will be in Fionn's league when sh- he brings you a transfusion kit and a pint of plasma unprompted. Seriously, you're from Florida, you shouldn't be looking paler than me in this weather, that's just disconcerting."
He grinned, and gave a mock bow. "It comes naturally."
"And the bleeding eyes along with it, no doubt," Fionn remarked, "if the tales Spencer has told of Florida are to be believed."
"No no, see, that is because of all the drugs." He pointed at the Servant with a little grin before turning back to Indy, gently turning the man on his side and shifting the bedding materials around.
"Yes," Ko nodded, lowering the bowl of stew from her lips and clearing her throat. "You live on the edge, clearly. You straddle the line between man and beast."
The only response she got was a raspberry being blown her way.
"...So. What kind of shape am I in?" she asked Fionn, sipping her stew. "How soon can we invoke Fintan Finnegas and be back on track?"
The Lancer's smile dimmed a tad. "I'd feel we were on safer ground if you'd take a little more water first, Master. It's a miracle any of you are in any state to hold a proper conversation so soon - I shudder to think what longterm effects exposure to the outer dark may've had on your mind."
<<How do you think I feel?>> she grumbled. <<I still haven't eliminated the possibility that the outer dark is how we came to your world in the first place.>>
<<Well, it wouldn't be the first time an enemy sent a woman to tempt me,>> Fionn quipped. <<Though what quarrel the elder things have with me, I couldn't say. Perhaps I've reached heights of heroism previously unknown, even to me!>>
<<Dork.>>
"Hey, do what you have to do to hold me together," she said aloud, shaking her head. "But I'll remind you that the longterm effects of not getting to a damn grail include us dying very slowly, and painfully, and probably a little disgustingly toward the end. All the nursemaiding in the world isn't going to keep me alive and sane if I don't get some circuits soon."
"Believe you me, Master," Fionn said grimly, pulling out his waterskin and pouring a mouthful of the contents into his left palm, "I am the very last person on this ship who needs reminding of that."
He nodded at the bowl in her hands, and she passed it to Dory with a mumbled 'sorry'. Then she turned back, and, cupping Fionn's hand in both of hers, she drank.
As she felt the water pass her lips, she was struck with the amusing thought that at this point, thanks to the dream cycle, she actually had more memories of administering the Uisce Beatha than of receiving it.
And just like that, the fog started to thin. She still had a headache, of course, but it no longer took up half of her focus just by its very presence. Her muscles had gone from seemingly braiding themselves into one enormous knot spanning her entire body to merely snarling at her every time she moved.
Her Servant smiled at her, and she tried to smile back.
Just like that.
… that conversation could wait. They still had a world to save.
If they could manage to save themselves first.
Jacob
"Yay land."
Jacob pushed the tricorner further onto his head in defiance of the sea winds that washed over the deck as the ship approached the shore, likely to beach itself since Ching Shih could just dismiss and resummon it afterwards.
<I thought you liked the ocean.> Mordred's voice came over their link.
<Correct!> He grinned briefly but at the ocean before wincing just a bit, <But it'd be nice to let you manifest without 'existence becoming pain'.>
<That sounds nice, yeah.>
The approaching sand was almost brilliantly yellow - not at all like most of the beaches back home. Not only because the sand was far finer, but the bits of greek architecture rubble scattered about. That and the incongruous kinds of trees and foliage - four different kinds of palms, several different kinds of ferns, and according to what little he remembered of his mother's landscaping company, they'd all come from different parts of the country, or even the world.
… what in the world were they doing? They were just being led around by the nose by Fionn's magic, and they could be heading into a trap so he could escape. Or it could be a trap laid by Jason or such getting around them. And all of this banked on them being able to get the Grail from the local living Drake… assuming this was all real in the first place of course. The persistent thought always nibbling at the edges of his thoughts in the quiet moments–
<Master. You're still being weird.> Mordred's thoughts intruded on his own.
<Pardon my paranoia. I'll try to keep it manageable.>
Most of the group was up on deck by now. Toby had apparently woken up in Chaldea, though he was still bedridden, last they were aware. Tell had spotted land, and Fionn had confirmed that Francis Drake was on it.
Spence was lying curled up against a crate, whinging piteously. "Hey, Indy? If you wanna just Magellan me, I'd consider it a personal favor."
Without even looking, the other man, feet dangling through the rails and off the side of the ship, flipped him off. Adam had been downing water pretty much continuously since waking up; he looked like he was nearly finished with his latest purchased waterskin.
Glancing over at the last one to wake, Jacob couldn't help but be concerned. The other man had said he'd been doing better, and the man himself had muttered something about "Rust Bus estimation" and "BLP bullshittery" when asked why he consistently was doing so much better than the rest of them… but that didn't necessarily mean either of them believed that, or that Jacob wasn't worried. It'd been a while since he'd seen him in person prior to this Chaldea bullshit, but…
Moving across the deck as the wood and ropes creaked and groaned, Jacob stopped beside Indy and gently bumped shoulders, "Hey, how you holdin' up?"
"Like a four drink hangover," his friend grumbled before taking a large gulp of water. His tone softened considerably as he wiped his lips with a lacy, somewhat stained handkerchief that his Servant had obviously given him. "Which, you know, small favors."
"Better than a six drink hangover." Jacob nodded sagely. "Probably want to brace though, she's not taking up the sails and we'll–"
That was right about the time they hit a sandbar.
Ching Shih's ship jerked forward, and Jacob stumbled from the motion, "... probably be beaching ourselves. Right."
Indy's comment, whatever it was, devolved into sputtering as the remainder of his water flew into the other man's face.
"We're beaching," the ship's captain said belatedly, her voice carrying easily over the deck.
"Little more warning would've been better!" Jacob called back even as the ship pushed closer to the actual beach.
Cu was the first down, easily clearing the distance to the shore and skipping the water entirely as Mash stayed with the loose group of Masters and Tell watched from the lookout.
It took a little longer for the ship to settle and the rope to be thrown over the side. Experience had taught Jacob that the Chaldean uniforms dried out blessedly quick; and the nagging pins and needles, the burning numbness that threatened to eat away at his fingertips and edges of his face… that was a great motivator to get off the boat and get this fucking over with. He was the first of the masters down the simple rope ladder, boots splashing loudly in the shallow seawater as he dropped the last few feet.
Normally, he had great sea-legs, but as soothing as the gentle rocking and creaking of the ship could be, it did little for his headache and the bone deep ache in his knees. The tropical water seeping through his pants didn't particularly help either.
"Fuck," he heard Adam grunt after the following splash, and Jacob suppressed a smile. "Cold cold cold cold cold-"
"Fionn, you don't have t-!"
One flying leap and a briefly-dopplered shriek later, Ko's Lancer was setting her on her feet on the shore, and waving, not a little smugly, at the rest of them.
<Gotta up your game, master.> The grin in the prince's tone brought a smile to Jacob's face even if he couldn't see it. Said grin was exacerbated when Ching Shih mimicked the Lancer's actions, carrying Spencer like a sack of potatoes. Tell and Mash followed soon after, though the Shielder had an arm wrapped around Ritsuka's waist, for a business-class form of ServantAir.
<Sadly, being human has its unfortunate limitations.> Mordred was a homunculus, an artificial human. Not something Jacob had expected, but it made sense given Nasuverse shenanigans. The unpleasant surprise had been how angrily his prince reacted upon being called female, as well as their age. Or relative lack thereof. <We'll work on that later.>
Mordred was ten years old. Or, to quote, 'almost eleven.' Seriously, that was… concerning.
It was while everyone else was walking up to the beach itself that the pirates came out of the underbrush, their pistols held out and several with cultasses drawn. "Woo-hoo! Women! Prey! And a ship to boot! Looks like fun!"
Mash made a face. "Master. Please let me handle this."
The fight, if you could call it that, lasted less than a minute while most of the group finished getting to the beach. Though Cu did have to intercept a stray musket ball with his staff.
With a thud, Mash's shield slammed into the sand. "Next, please."
'Goddamn.' Jacob could only blink while wringing out the hems of his pants, 'It's gonna take some time to get used to seeing a Servant fight.'
The last of the conscious pirates had his hands up in supplication. "Hey, gimme a break, I didn't mean any harm… it was my instinct as a pirate…"
Groveling. Not entirely surprised, but still.
"Yeah?" Ko growled from behind her new shades, bracing herself against Indy, shoulder to shoulder. "Well my instinct as a woman with a headache is to tell my overprotective redneck lunatic Servant to put you out of my misery, so let's set the evolutionary psychology aside for the moment, shall we?"
"Do we have to?" Spencer asked.
"Probably a good plan," Jacob muttered, glancing at the other pirates around them, some having made literal divots in the sand like falling comets after the demiservant had finished with them. "Murdering their crew is probably not the best way to get into a Captain's good graces."
"What a poor excuse for a pirate–!" Dr. Roman attempted to get in his own quip over the comms. But Mash apparently wasn't in the mood.
Standing over the groveling pirate and with a hand on her hip, the Shielder stared imperiously down on the eyepatched man. "We are here to speak with Captain Francis Drake."
"Oh…" the man blinked, and a change came over his smile, "Ohhh-! You want to talk to the Boss!" Pushing himself up and keeping an eye on the massive shield, the man grinned, "Heh heh heh."
In the corner of his eye, Jacob could see Adam facepalm.
"Why the swagger all of the sudden?" Roman muttered.
"Hrm... perhaps it's a desperate attempt to seem more 'pirate-like'?" da Vinci suggested.
"Right," Jacob tried to keep on track, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking at the man with the eyepatch, "Who are you?"
"Bombe Merriweather!" He puffed out his chest, reminding him only so much of a rooster or dog whose name had been called, "Loyal crewman to the Captain that struck down the Spanish Armada!"
"I seem to recall the storm did most of the work," Ko muttered under her breath, and Indy nudged her in the ribs.
"Yer damn right I did!" Bombe responded.
Jacob couldn't help but snort. Okay, that was good. "There's other work though," he nodded at the mass of unconscious or otherwise incapacitated men on the beach, "We can't just leave them on the beach."
"Do we have rope?" Indy asked.
"I'll take care of it," Ching Shih said.
Indy's eyes darted around the beach. "But–"
"Hey," Spencer said, "she said she'd take care of it, so don't worry about it."
"Please remember that we'd rather not kill them," Jacob chided gently.
"Dory, I distinctly remember telling you not to worry about it. We're not going to kill them. We need them," Spencer said with far more cheer than he'd had since they'd got here. "Part of the ship, part of the crew."
Bombe had a confused look on his face even as Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Any concerns the man with the red bandana might have brought up disappeared in a little surprised yelp when the flagship of the Red Flag Fleet, as well as the fallen pirates, dissolved into a mass of golden particles and faded into the wind, like motes of dust leaving a sunbeam.
Spencer shuddered, his frame relaxing as he released the tension in his shoulders. With a sigh, he managed to mumble, "Existence is no longer pain."
Even with the… concerning aspects of 'absorbing' people like that aside… ... that's still weird. I was on that thing like a minute ago.
Pushing aside potential concerns and nagging worries in the back of his mind about Ching Shi, or the souls of those they were interacting with, he looked back to the red bandana'd man. "Regardless… Bombe, you're going to lead us to Drake and make an introduction. We find ourselves in need of your captain's… assistance."
The trees of the forest were surprisingly straight given the rocky and uneven terrain. They reminded Jacob of areas in the mountains in Pennsylvania, moss and lichens covering rocks, sparse grasses along the ground… trees were wrong, and it felt weird to have this sort of environment when he could still smell the salt in the air.
"...How are we even in a temperate forest," Indy was muttering to himself, seemingly determined to step on every stray stone and stumble over each protruding route on their path. "We were in the Caribbean-Mediterranean sea with… palm trees and… ruined columns…."
"Singularities are strange," Ritsuka offered, helping him over a moderately difficult boulder. "Not only time, but space itself is warped - I once walked from Rome to London in under a week."
"... uh…" Jacob raised a hand.
"Please, no further questions," the youngest of them said tiredly. "I really prefer to think about Septem as little as possible."
"It wasn't that bad, Sempai," Mash consoled. "Perhaps her singing was not the best, but Nero-san cared deeply for her people. Plus, her sense of interior design was quite fetching. Umu!"
Spencer perked up at the last syllable. "Uwu?"
"No, there was an 'm' sound in the middle of it…"
Spencer smiled serenely and nodded. "That's what I said. Uwu."
"No," Mash furrowed her brow. "It was 'Umu'!"
"Uwu!"
"U-"
"-Mashu," Ritsuka cut in, his frustration accenting how he said the girl's name. "Do you know anything about this 'Francis Drake?'"
"... Francis Drake," Mash began with a serious nod, clearly happy to teach her senpai. "One of the great heroes that pioneered this world. As we are in the midst of the Age of Exploration, it is likely that Bennett-san is correct and it is the real Drake, and a living being. The first voyager in history to sail around the globe and live to tell the tale."
Jacob thought back to the fuzzy memories he had about Fate's version of Francis Drake. He was pretty sure he'd seen something for the character before. They were definitely canonical. And, given Nasuverse, probably a chick, but what was their 'Thing' again? He'd glazed over a lot of Mash's explanation while wracking his brain.
"...the "Hero who brought down the sun." She finished, casually hopping up several feet to bypass a particularly large rock, "The prosperity of the British Empire wouldn't be possible without Captain Drake."
Bombe preened at the flattery Mash was heaping on his leader. Jacob ducked under a hanging branch, one hand on his incredibly extra tricorn to make sure it didn't get knocked off.
"Though Drake was officially sanctioned by the state as a privateer, a pirate is still a pirate. Judging from the behavior of pirates we've met so far, odds are high that he's a good-for-nothing thug."
And just like that, Bombe's face fell right back down.
"Well damn, Mash," Ko said, amused, "tell us how you really feel."
Mash, the poor sheltered soul, took her at her word. "Then he is most likely a gluttonous giant, a nefarious character able to grab a barrel in one hand and chug its entire contents!"
Mash Kyrielight: accidentally savage as fuck.
"It is quite disturbing," she concluded, "but there is no doubt he is a key person in this era; we must somehow get the help of Francis Drake."
"Um," Jacob scratched his beard, able to keep his smile subdued with a bit of effort as he tried to temper her expectations. "Mash? Don't really count on the genders of historical figures. You've met Nero. And from what I know, it happens more often than not."
As if to bolster his claims, the radiant blue-white floof emerged from underneath Ritsuka's shirt, his fluffy ears standing straight up. "Fou!"
Bombe grinned at the little, fluffy squirrel-sized creature, an almost lustful expression stretched across his face. "Oh my, what is this adorable little creature? It looks delicious."
"Eat him and I'll beat you till you cry." Ritsuka's tone was quiet and filled with promise.
"Clear as day, boss!" Bombe chirruped.
Ching Shih snorted. "Too much bootlicking," she muttered, eyeing their guide up and down like a cut of meat. "This man has no spirit to him."
"...He probably isn't a man, technically speaking," Mash admitted, seeming happy to have a topic change from the genders of historical figures. "If this is similar to the situation in Septem, then he is probably closer to a construct than an actual person, especially if his actual self was not here in proper human history, or if he is a fill-in from the 'unlimited pirates'. Otherwise, Rider-san couldn't have, ano… assimilated them?"
"Hey! Who are you calling a construct?"
"Shut up construct, or it's a whipping," Spence's own personal pirate captain ordered.
"Aye, aye, captain!"
Construct or not, Bombe's fearful reaction was entirely understandable. Ching Shih's ability was existentially… concerning.
"Sempai," Mash urged, suddenly, picking up her pace. "We need to press onward. We..." she trailed off for a moment, obviously communicating with her Master telepathically. "... we should reduce the chances of monsters intercepting us in transit."
Mash was a terrible liar - that hadn't been what she had been about to say. Nonetheless, she had a point.
The forest grew louder as they continued onwards in silence.
About twenty minutes later, they finally made it.
The encampment was pretty basic, little more than a clearing with a really basic fence of stakes and a number of tents set up in a rough shape in the outlined clearing. Against the ocean they could see a single galleon, its sails put up and likely anchored.
As Chaldea's forces approached, Bombe called, "Boss, boss! We've got enem–" he hesitated a moment as the group collectively shot him a glare. "Er, guests, I mean! They said they want to speak with you, boss!"
"The hell?" The sound of the woman's harsh voice came over the soft din of the encampment. Even as some pirates started to gather at the edges, carrying pistols, cutlasses, and similar, the din of the group meant that the next words were lost to Jacob before she called out, "Guests? Are they pirates?"
"Um," Bombe glanced at the group, "I don't think so! Most of 'em at least. They're classier than us, and a bit more violent!"
"... a bit?" Jacob and Mash both asked softly under their breaths, with vastly different tones.
"The hell is that?" Once more the woman's voice called out, over the now quieted noises of the camp. "What are they then? Government? Army? More pirates?"
"Uh…" Bombe glanced over us again, "I don't think they're any of those!"
"We're time tourists," Ko said, waggling her eyebrows. "Ain'tcha ever read Borgel?"
"Guys," Spencer's voice lowered conspiratorially. "You all have literally signed on as crew of a pirate ship under a pirate captain - you are absolutely pirates. Not me, though," he added. "Cargo can't commit piracy."
There was something in the same rough voice that Jacob couldn't hear properly before she called out, "Fine, bring 'em in!"
The small cluster of pirates that had gathered with the rifles and pistols glanced among themselves before stepping aside, allowing Chaldea's group to head into the roughly encircled set up of tents and tables. They were led by Bombe past the slowly gathering pirates. Many of them were stereotypical in some way or other, such as eyepatches or peg legs or hook hands…
Walking forward with a cluster of the pirates behind her, others still working on things or eating, was the (wo)man of the hour, without question.
Vibrant and full-bodied pink hair that reached to the small of her back, a brilliant red coat trimmed with gold that failed to button up entirely, full lips, a sharp scar cutting across her face, and a flagon in hand. Her vest accentuated the trim stomach, and the stark wood of several musket butts hung against the surprisingly stark white of her breeches.
"Well now, you certainly brought me some strange ones, Bombe."
This ignored the fact that her coat failed to button up for two very… distracting reasons. But while she was at least half a head shorter than most of the Masters of Chaldea, she towered over them all by dint of sheer swagger and presence.
"...they've got their good points," Bombe said with a bit of eagerness as the red-bandana'd pirate approached his captain, leaving the group a slight distance behind. "Not only did they save our lives, but they're excited to meet their idol captain."
That was a very… generous way to characterize Mash's little monologue.
He heard a very quiet tsk exit Ko's mouth, but whatever she muttered afterward was drowned out by the bombshell explorer's next words.
"Idol?" Drake snorted, disbelief clear on her face, "I'm their idol? Really?"
"Yeah!" He nodded his head vigorously, "They've been sayin' how great you are, how Drake can blast the Spanish Armada in an instant! That Drake's a giant over 3 meters tall who downs rum by the barrel! They're really excited."
"Whaaat?" Francis Drake nearly dropped her flagon. "What's up with that? I haven't committed such sins yet!"
A little grin started to appear on Jacob's face as he repeated quietly, "Yet?"
It was particularly funny coming from the smaller woman, who somehow managed to still have an astonishingly curvy figure, the vest accentuating the flare of her hips, and the lack of undershirt meaning her significant cleavage was emphasized as well by the outfit. None of her body language was what you might expect of a woman with that figure or face surrounded by pirates. She was the center of attention, this was the natural state of the world; she knew it, and was entirely at ease with it.
At this, the only Fate virgin in the group could no longer contain himself. "How?" Indy spluttered loudly, waving his hands in a way obviously meant to indicate he was talking about Drake without actually pointing directly at her cleavage. "What, but… how? How though?"
Poor guy. Things had apparently gotten to the point where his stutter had resurfaced. Jacob was happy he hadn't mentioned Mordred's name; that was gonna be a conversation and a half.
Mash, it seemed, was in agreement with Indy. "... uh, senpai," she murmured, eyes wide, cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment. "I'm so stunned I can't speak."
"But-I-Drake-wa-"
Indy's fiancée wrapped an arm around his shoulder, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like, "Waifu simulator, dear."
"Who knew she was a woman!" Ritsuka was shockingly able to keep his exclamation somewhat quiet.
"I did warn you," Jacob muttered, trying to get the smile off of his face as Drake stepped forward, one hand resting casually over the butt of her pistol, the other holding a mug of something almost certainly alcoholic.
"Stand aside, Bombe. I'll do the talking. So-" She froze mid sentence, brilliant blue eyes locking onto Jacob and narrowing. "... why do you have my hat?"
"Ahhh… yes." Stalling briefly as his brain caught up with the intense look from an intense woman, Jacob nodded. "Well, we killed the guy that had it before." He took it off of his head and twirled it between his hands as he approached, holding out the elaborate tricorner to the pirate captain with a small smile, a half step away. "I apologize, we didn't realize it was yours."
Drake studied the Chaldean master for a moment before draining her mug in two quick, massive gulps, her head tilted back and her eyes closed. A few errant trickles of slightly foamy liquid trailed down her chin before she swiped her sleeve across her mouth to leave it clean, and left Jacob very aware that the pink to her lips was not lipstick. Casually tossing her mug aside, she then took her hand from the butt of her pistol and snatched the hat from Jacob's grip.
"Saved me the trouble of tracking him down to steal it back." She pointed at his chest with the hat before her eyes swept the group. "Now who are you?"
Their Shielder stepped forward and gave a little bow, "You must be Francis Drake. My name is Mash Kyrielight. We're part of the Chaldea Security Organization."
"Chaldea?" A confused and disbelieving look crossed the pirate captain's face, "What do the 'stargazers' want with us? Are they here to sell us new maps of constellations?"
<... ah, so that's what Chaldea means. Kickass, both to learn and her for knowing it.>
<You didn't know that, Master?> Mordred's voice came through their connection.
<No I did not. A linguist I am not.>
It was, oddly enough, Smith who stepped forward next - from the look of faint concentration on Adam's face, the Caster was being used as a relay.
"Good day to you, Captain," he began. "We were hoping in fact hoping to request your assistance on a matter of some urgency-"
"Spare me the bullshit, jocky, it's just a pain in the ass." Drake gave a slight twitch in the Servant's direction, and the man almost immediately flinched back. Adam winced at that particular show of weakness. "What does Chaldea want with me?"
Mordred manifested in a flash of gold, stepping forward even as her-no, his master cringed. "The world's gone screwy," the prince of Camelot stated, green eyes raking across Drake and her assembled followers. "We're here to fix it. Your Grail can make that happen."
"Oh yeah, 'screwy'?"
The fully armored Saber snorted, gesturing out at the ocean with a gauntlet. "What else do you want to call everything being pirates and islands without any towns to raid?"
"Ah, that shit, yeah," Drake half sighed. "Can't really ignore the ocean, after all. You're right. It's been pretty strange."
Mash brightened, "Yes, we can explain why-"
Drake continued as if she hadn't stopped, voice rising as she spoke, "-but when I say 'strange', I don't mean it as a bad thing. There's no other world that's as fun as this one!" Turning to her crew she held up her mug and called out, " Isn't that right, you scumbags?!"
A cheer came up from the assembled pirates, guns and sabers raised, "Aye!" "You're the best boss!" "Yes!" "Hear hear to never-ending rum!"
Cu Chulainn snorted. "She makes a compelling case, if you're a moron," he muttered idly to Ritsuka.
"I've never even had any rum," Ritsuka mused. "It can't be that good, can it?"
There was a hungry smile on her face as the captain turned back to Chaldea's forces, "You're telling us to give up something that's ours." She put the hat Jacob had given her - her hat - atop her head, and straightened it with a flourish. "And Bombe was saying you weren't pirates. I'd tell you to come and take it, if you're man enough--"
"We can go that route, if you insist." Jacob pressed a hand hard against his chest in preparation as he growled. "Saber."
With metallic clanking, Saber's helmet fell away, revealing a bloodthirsty grin. In the same motion, their weapon slammed into the ground, bursts of red lightning erupting up around the Servant. The sharp, stabbing ache in Jacob's chest was anticipated, and he gritted his teeth to stifle his physical reaction, hoping the matching grin on his own face would mask the gouging agony.
At Mordred's side, Cu's staff blazed with fire, while Tell and Mash readied their own weapons. Fionn didn't move from his post just behind Ko, but she was humming a cheerful tune that somehow sounded ominous even before Jacob recognized it from the hospital scene in Kill Bill.
Francis Drake's only response was to chuckle, as her entire gang's hands began to reach for their sheathed armaments. "Oh, I'm more than game for that."
Despite the pain, despite the fear, despite gritting his teeth together hard enough that his jaw creaked, he was still kind of excited. The back of his hand felt like it sizzled as the Command Seals reacted to his intent, ready to top off Mordred even as he prepared to bolt out of the instant-death-radius of a Servant fight.
"Come now," Smith broke into the conversation with a vigorous wave of his walking stick, and the bloody storm dancing around Saber faded slightly as the Caster continued, "Let us reason together. Is there not any way we can settle this without needless bloodshed? We are all civilized men- er, people, that is- here."
"Yeah?" The pirate captain snorted, even as she lowered the twin pistols Jacob hadn't even noticed she'd drawn. "And what would you suggest, Reverend?"
<Oh come on!> Mordred's voice rang out in Jacob's head.
<Mordred, hun, it sounds fun> The sharp relief couldn't fully ease the tension in his jaw, but Drake's willingness to entertain alternatives meant his heart didn't feel like going to batter its way through his sternum, <But it could literally kill me.>
The Saber was quiet for another whole beat, <... yeah yeah, spoilsport.>
<Not saying it doesn't sound fun…> Jacob admitted, unable to resist another glance over of the diminutive captain.
"Ah, well, a contest of- um, a vigorous debate regarding- no…." Smith appeared very keenly aware that every eye was now fixed on him. "What about-"
"Mahjong," Ching Shih said, having manifested once more, a rictus smile on her face.
"I don't know Mahjong," Spencer interjected, "but I could explain how to play Pai Gow in about… five minutes, tops."
"Beer pong," Indy broke in. "H-how about beer pong?"
The pirates glanced amongst themselves briefly before Bombe was the one to bite the metaphorical bullet and ask, "... beer pong?"
"W-W-We need 18 mugs and a-a, uh, musket ball-"
"Better idea." Drake interrupted, foot stomping down on a mug and crushing it, a grin like a vicious dragon finding an unclaimed hoard on her face. "Simpler too. Drinking contest."
"...Unsubscribe," Spence muttered.
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