The Captain's Log: Oneshot: Soevna 27 Day 48, 19th hour

Author's note: This piece is set directly after a oneshot roleplay on the Paperdemon Discord server called 'Pirates!'. It was the first piece to debut Eltanin as a character and introduced major side characters like Morwenna and the cabin boy, now a member of his crew named Brennan Shappell. This piece is vague about the existence of the other characters who participated in the roleplay, but does bridge the gap between Morwenna knocking Eltanin out and him escaping back to the Redoubtable. The context of the cuckoo knife will be expanded in a yet unfinished piece about Eltanin and Morwenna's first date in naval school.

"Captain's log, Soevna 27 Day 48, 19th hour. Our vessel was boarded by sky pirates 90 miles out of port, but we managed to escape after disabling their engines. I also happened to incapacitate their captain, but lack the proper facilities to detain him for long. Three passengers sustained minor injuries, but decided by majority vote that the voyage should continue as planned..."

 

"...Damnit, 'Wenna. Did you really have to hit so hard?"

 

Ugh, he was coming to. Morwenna had hoped she'd have a little more time to contact a navy patrol, but at least she'd had the foresight to restrain him beforehand.

 

She put her quill back in its inkwell, scraped back her chair, and crossed the cabin to where Eltanin was stirring from his involuntary nap. A soft grunt as he tested his wrists, then his wings, and found both out of commission. 

 

"You're under arrest, El. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a navy court martial."

 

"Nice to see you too, Miss Bligh."

 

It'd been five years since she'd last seen him outside of a wanted poster, but Eltanin still looked like the proud navy cadet she'd graduated with way back when. A little rougher around the edges, sure, and his horns had grown out a little more, but he still carried himself with that air of confident dignity, even with a quarter mile of rope binding him to the chair. His coat was still one size too large for him.

 

"Been a while since you've invited me into your quarters. You still sleep with your stuffed animals, or...?" 

 

Morwenna hadn't actually considered the implications of that. Her thought process had gone 'what's the closest locked door I can find?' and stopped at 'the captain's cabin'. She whirled around with a flourish of her coat, hoping he hadn't caught the flush of colour in her cheeks.

 

"Just Gertie these days."

 

"The pink elephant? Yeah, I always thought she was the most huggable of the lot."

 

Morwenna could feel his eyes on her, and knowing him, he was definitely smiling, too. She didn't trust herself to turn around. One look into those brown eyes and it'd all be over.

 

"Look, it's a glorified ferry, there weren't any other lockable rooms I could use."

 

"The liquor hold."

 

"Like I'd let you drink us dry. You seem awfully calm about this."

 

"No offence, 'Wenna, but as far as threats to my life go, this doesn't even scrape the top ten. On a related note, never get blackout drunk at the south pole."

 

"So it's true. You really are a full-blown pirate."

 

He huffed in that same theatrical, fake-mad way that he used to. "According to Article 14 Subsection 3 of the Avangard Code of Law, a pirate must steal, under threat or execution of violence, unstamped goods with a minimum worth of 1 thousand guilders. I don't do any of those things. I'm a tax evader."

 

"Doubt the court martial will see it that way."

 

"On that we can agree. Which is why I'm sorry to have to do this."

 

She heard the familiar flutter of wings long before she felt the prick of his knife at her throat.

 

"Always check the boots, 'Wenna. Every outlaw's got at least one blade in there. It's honestly a cliche at this point."

 

"You bastard. Next time, I'll, I'll--"

 

"Next time? I've only been here 5 minutes and already you're making plans. People are going to talk."

 

She could try screaming for help. There had to be someone topside, right? The Eltanin she once knew would never hurt her. But she didn't know who he was or what he'd done over the past five years.

 

"I'm sorry for this. Really, I am. But we both know what the Navy does to pirates."

 

He was steering her towards the window with alarming strength. His clothes were so ill-fitting that it caught her off-guard, which she realized in hindsight was probably intentional. Oh gods, was he really going to...?

 

"Captain!" hollered a voice outside the door.

 

Eltanin froze, and Morwenna took the chance to grab his wrist. The knife slipped out of his hand, but he threw open the window and leapt out before it could even clatter to the floor. The screaming wind whipped her hair up into her eyes before her flailing fingers found the handle and pulled– pulled!– it shut again.

 

A polite knock at the door, and she just about sprinted across the room to yank it open. There stood the chief steward, holding a tray of silverware aloft in his hands.

 

"Your supper's ready, ma'am. Will you be dining with the passengers, or-- blimey, you alright, there?"

 

She must've looked absolutely feral with her auburn hair all over her face and her pupils dilated like a cat's. Her breathing was still quick and shallow as she brushed down her coat and straightened up to her full six-and-a-half foot height.

 

"In my cabin tonight, Gottsir. Please and thank you."

 

In a stellar display of professionalism, he took the hint, nodding and stepping into the cabin to set up her table.

 

"At once, captain. And the, ah..."

 

"I'll take care of it."

 

Morwenna crouched down to gather up the sliced chunks of rope around her chair. She couldn't even begin to visualize how he'd managed to retrieve his knife while bound hand and foot, or how he'd cut through all that in the span of two minutes. Had to have skills like those to survive the poles, she supposed.

 

Speaking of his knife…

 

It was still there, lying beside the window where he’d dropped it. She dumped the rope on an empty section of the floor and crossed over to pick it up.

 

It was a simple folding knife, with a clip point blade and lacquered wood handle. A cloud cuckoo had been carved on one side, likely professionally engraved.

 

“Oh, El…”