The ship’s sail was the color of ivy. The ropes twisted up the mast and snapped in the wind as though they shared the hunger of the snapping dragon. The pale wood planks groaned with the shifting waves that clapped against the sides of the ship. People moved on the ship with the certainty that they were as much a part of it as the wood and sail. Their hands commanded the wind and defied the rage of the water.
The ship bore the scars of its journeys. Bite marks marred its surface from its encounters with angry rocks. The ragged edges of the sail told of the abuse it suffered beneath the clawed hands of the wind. Stains colored the deck in an array of fading bruises. Even the ropes showed the marks of the blood they had drawn during the war with the sea.
The crew was as marked as their vessel…
Captain Ghesh stood at the wheel and looked out across the savage landscape of ocean. His young face was marked with the lines of his near constant scowl and the sun had unevenly baked him, leaving lines of darker tan on one side of his face. There were no visible marks on his body, but it was clear that the water had long ago fully claimed him.
His faded blue eyes were as troubled as the ocean. There was a storm coming that was not driven by the hand of nature. Running his fingers through the unevenly cut short spikes of drab olive hair, he sighed. This cued the skeletal woman standing next to him and she looked down at him with her hard, violet eyes. Putting her hand on his shoulder and digging her clawed fingers into his skin, she offered him the only comfort she could: that of being at his side.
“Lilli, the wind tastes sour,” Ghesh whispered.
She nodded, there was nothing to say.
*perhaps the beginning of something here, but I don’t have the focus right now to write anything more. Not to mention that I have to go write another section onto The It.