Chapter Text
Even as Pyke’s life became more strange, there were always spots of “normalcy.”
It had started out as a half-joking suggestion. Pyke had really been quite getting into cooking for the ship—it gave him something to do between List killings. He also had to admit that having actual food made him feel better. But cooking needed ingredients, and between bounties and swiping gold from dead assholes, their krakens could only go so far. And thus Moody, ever one to cut the knot, suggested they fish when Pyke complained about market prices offhandedly.
Now he and Moody were down in one of the rowing boats. Fishing.
It was... definitely a change of pace from what he was used to. He was holding this frankly futuristic fishing rod in his hands, now watching the waters. Moody had his own, having pulled both from the Midnight’s storage area. “Mortal technology advances too fast for my liking,” he’d said, “but I do appreciate the evolution of the fishing pole!” Pyke had worked out how it operated quick enough, at least. He’d never been one for slower fishing, but they were only going to take what they needed. With a kraken thrown to the waters first, of course.
Pyke would’ve been content to fish in silence. His captain, however? “—and where I come from? You’d need something called a ‘permit!’ To take from nature’s bounty? The bounties I provided? Ridiculous.”
Pyke rolled his eyes. “I get it, I guess. Would prefer people not to steal more than they’ll ever eat.”
“They do that anyway, sometimes. But the retribution is usually swift. What I mean is you’d need a permit just to do this in some places!” Moody threw out his hand. “What are we going to do, fish up a thousand in an hour?”
“ You could.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m going to. As you said, I’m not going to have extras rotting away in cold storage.”
Good. He was glad he didn’t have to readjust Moody’s attitude on that. Frankly, there wasn’t much that he did need to knock Moody upside the head about. Other than what technology he’d cope with. Pyke could and did puzzle his way around an oven. Moody just... didn’t. Strange man. “Guess you shouldn’t need one for a small scale like this.”
“Right? Assuming you’re playing by the rules like we are.”
He nodded, and the two of them lapsed into silence. It was only broken by Pyke’s bobber going down. A way-too-easy reel later, he had a small snapjaw on the line. “—not even fit for a side dish,” he muttered. He could see Moody watching him out of the corner of his eye as he unhooked the poor bastard, tossing it back. “... what?”
“Well.” Moody seemed to be figuring out how to word himself. “I’m wondering if I should even ask, considering I’m fishing right alongside you.”
Pyke re-baited his hook, expertly flicking the rod so it sailed way out. Maybe farther from the boat would get him some better catches. “Don’t beat around the bush. Ask.”
“Alright, alright.” Moody rested his elbow on his leg, and his head on his hand. “Merely wondering what your feelings are about hooking the fish you used to work alongside, in a way.”
“Everyone’s gotta eat,” he replied. “They eat each other plenty. Wouldn’t hook a fish I have a personal association with, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Of course, I figured that much. Also figured your ‘taking from the sea’ stance was more nuanced than people just taking things at all.”
“... used to be a time when it wasn’t.”
Moody solemnly nodded. “I don’t hold you accountable for anything you did under the Drowned Ones, darling.”
Darling. That word stuck in his mind like a barnacle that wouldn’t let go. It mixed with the knowledge of all the blood on his hands, how he couldn’t be assured how many of them were actual justified killings. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into was the prevailing thought. “I know you don’t.”
“I really don’t, Pyke...”
“I know. I believe you. But the fact of the matter is I did. Plenty of people out there who didn’t deserve it are dead because of me. And here you are just sweeping it all under the rug like it didn’t happen.”
Silence. There was only a mild breeze, leading to the ocean being remarkably calm. He kept his eyes trained on the end of his pole, barely looking past it to his line. He didn’t need someone to hide everything he’d done. There was no doing that. He’d killed people. He still liked killing people—people who had it coming, granted, but still. Pyke couldn’t have Moody glossing over it.
When Moody spoke again, his voice was soft. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to just throw it all off the deck, as it were. What I mean to say is you weren’t in control of yourself so I don’t consider those murders as malicious. They still happened, as you said. But you weren’t in full control of yourself. And I know there’s no fixing it now. Please forgive me.”
Pyke wasn’t a man to linger on the past long. He’d given the occasional thought as to what he was like when he was alive, or if he’d actually gotten to everyone on the Terror. If “the Terror” was even the name of the ship, frankly. But he didn’t see how sitting there and thinking about all of it would solve anything. So, it helped for Moody to clarify that. He sighed through his nose, relaxing a little. “Fine. Like I said, I don’t need you to absolve me. I need someone who will move forward.”
“Of course. Back where I’m from, humans have a saying—‘hindsight is 20/20.’ We are cursed with perfect clarity of our past actions...” The way Moody trailed off, it made Pyke look over. There was a haunted expression on Moody’s face. “And there is no fixing some mistakes. So we move ever onwards into the future.”
He appreciated that more. Pyke nodded, focusing again on his bobber. “That, I can get behind.” There was a more peaceful quiet for a few moments, during which something finally occurred to Pyke. “... the hell’s ‘20/20’ mean?”
“Ah...” Yeah, Moody didn’t sound like he knew either. “I think it’s something to do with eyesight and wearing glasses?”
“Where’s the 20 parts come in?”
“Honestly, I’ve no clue. Maybe I can ask the next time—”
The both of them were cut off by Pyke’s floater being yanked into the water—and then his line flying off his pole. He locked the reel and the pole bent nearly in half, threatening to leap out of his hands. Standing up, he tried to pull it, but it was clear whatever he’d hooked was less of a fishing job and more of a harpooner’s job.
Moody dove for the tacklebox between them. “Hold on, I’ll cut the line!”
Not even enough time for that. There was a sudden yank, and the fishing rod jumped into the waters, scraping Pyke’s hands on the way out. Both of them sat in stunned silence for a second before Pyke got his blade out. “I’m at least gonna try to retrieve that.”
He got a “be careful!” shouted at his back as he dove beneath the waters. Pyke sped up enough to see the end of the pole—a little more swimming and he grabbed the end of it as it sped down into the abyss. He yanked his bandanna down and clutched his blade beneath his teeth as he pulled himself down the pole, expecting to have to cut the line and maybe even yell at whoever he’d hooked. Getting his blade out of his mouth, it was only then he saw where the rest of the line led as it went slack.
The inky blue depths were pierced by four, brilliantly cyan eyes staring back at him. Familiar details became clear as he got closer; a strong jaw and sharp teeth. A long, scarred body twisting out of sight. Furred fins swaying in the current. Gleaming sacs of sapphilite glowing just beyond her fangs. Nensi. But the undead jaull-fish was looking worse than when he’d last remembered seeing her—there were deep wounds along her sides and her scales were dull. The pole forgotten, Pyke kicked closer to her. “I can’t imagine you’re here to take me back.”
The deep rumbling of Nensi’s response vibrated the waters and her fins. She was in pain, that much he could tell. “They cut you loose, too?” She replied in affirmative. “Figures. Glad you made it, at least. Sorry for not looking for you.”
The resulting lance of magic streaked by Pyke’s head and he supposed he warranted the anger. “I get it, I get it. Let me make it up to you. I have someone who can keep you steady.”
Pyke closed his eyes, focusing on the ear cuff. Now that he had Moody’s blessing, he could feel this link that it established. He reached out to his captain, letting him know where he was and that he needed some help. When he opened his eyes, he could tell that Moody was approaching, like an oncoming wave. His human form swam to meet them, but there was a deep humming in the depths below. “This is a jaull-fish, isn’t it? Poor thing looks like it’s been through hell.”
Nensi gave an irritated gurgling. “Don’t talk down to her, she hates that. This is Nensi. She’s the jaull-fish that killed me.”
“Oh. Oh! I’m surprised she’s still alive.”
“That’s the thing. She ain’t. She’s like me—which means she’s running out of time like I was.”
Thankfully, Moody grasped the situation after that. He came forward, but Nensi shied away. “I know, you just met me and I’m a little much to handle. But if you’re going to live, you need to trust me.”
Nensi was a fighter, Pyke knew that much. Even so, she took a moment to look towards Pyke, silently asking if that trust was warranted. When Pyke nodded, Nensi swam closer to Moody. “Good. Now...”
There was a glow from the deeps, and Moody’s human form melted into the waters. Tentacles rose up and Pyke could taste Moody’s magic on the back of his tongue. Pyke half expected him to pull her down, but instead streams of arcane energy flowed through, pouring into Nensi’s wounds and closing them. She twisted to look as it happened, and words echoed in both their minds. Nensi. Child of the waves, wielder of sapphilite. The Ripper’s Lament. As I heal your wounds, I bind you unto myself, to swim in my waters and float as part of my pod. You will take of me, I will take of you, and you will be free to swim in the life that comes after your death. Do you accept this pact?
Her answer was a shuddering roar, the life breathed back into her. Moody’s amusement filled Pyke’s mind. Then be bound unto Me, and escape death’s black maw.
There was a flash of light blue brilliance, and when it cleared, the tentacles were gone. Nensi was looking far better, now just her usual scars littering her body and her eyes as clear as the day Pyke had been killed by her. The one addition was a stud shaped like an octopus pierced through her lower jaw, the same material as Pyke’s ear cuff. She twitched her jaw, feeling it, and Moody’s human body rose from the depths. “There we are. I’m happy to facilitate a permanent reunion!”
Pyke stared at Nensi, then at Moody, trying to figure out how to phrase his question. “Why was that so quick for her?” Close enough.
“Well, fish are easier for me to deal with! Honestly, humans are such magically convoluted hassles.” When Pyke glared at him, Moody laughed. “I mostly jest! Mostly. But I am being genuine when I say my magic works far better on those who live in the water.”
Nensi swam up to them, and Pyke took the chance to stroke the crest on her head. “... as long as she’s alive, I guess. ‘Alive.’ Got a lot to catch up on with you, killer. And I bet you haven’t had a good cleaning in ages.”
She made her chagrin with that last part clear as she practically headbutted him, giving a low roll of irritation. The sight made Moody laugh. “Ok, let’s retrieve that fishing pole and then get ourselves acquainted, yes?”
It was a while later when Pyke finally settled down for the evening.
They’d retrieved the fishing pole, and Moody took the time to respool the line while Pyke took up his occasional duty as cleaner fish again for Nensi. While unsticking bits of line and wood from her fur, he got the rough gist of what happened to her—after he went rogue and Moody apparently tore the Drowned Ones a new one, Nensi had been released from their “service” and was left to slowly rot away. While she didn’t know how she’d managed to float on, Pyke could guess the saphilite in her jaws had something to do with it. Probably good that they found her when they did, however.
After that was rounding up the fish they’d need for supper, Moody forming a section of the Midnight for Nensi to swim into to rest, and cooking. Then, Pyke found himself in the living room, sharpening his knife. He’d sworn one day he’d have to replace the bone blade, but it never seemed to get whittled down too much. Eh. He wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
He didn’t look up when he heard footsteps on the boards—he knew who it was by now. He carefully worked the curved edges of his blade. “Mmh.”
“Even in your downtime, you work.” Moody’s steps rounded the couch and he sat down next to Pyke carefully. “But I suppose it’s the best time to keep your blade sharp.”
“My skills got dull. Don’t need my blade to be the same.” Pyke held it up to the light. The Midnight had changed the tentacle lights for more realistic ones, and he appreciated the white light. “—you work on the List in your downtime.”
“I don’t spend all my time in my office just writing for the List.” He crossed one leg over the other. “I enjoy a bit of poetry! I’d like to think of myself as a linguist. Oh, mystery novels, too. I’ve picked up a few in Runeterra and culturally it’s uniquely different to Horizon.”
“Sounds like you keep busy.”
“I try to keep entertained. What about you? The cooking for the day stops eventually and soon your knife will be as sharp as it’s going to get.”
“Ship maintenance.” The Midnight was a magical ship but he’d noticed some of the ropes on the rigging fraying and replaced them. That made him check the sails, eventually gravitating to making sure the cannons were actually good to fire... he suspected all this would upkeep itself, but she was probably giving him a way to actually distract himself.
“No—I mean, that’s good, but...” Moody gently sighed. “What I’m saying is have you considered a hobby that makes something a little more permanent? Something you can look at after and know that you made it. The cooking was a good start, but do you think there’s anything else you’d go into?”
Making something a little more permanent, huh. Pyke looked at his knife, starting to look past it. Something about holding a knife in his hands and carving... it was pulling at something deep in his mind. Something old. But when he tried to grasp it, it slipped out of his hands like water. Still, he was able to construct something from the reflection. “... hmph. Maybe I can try woodcarving. Easy enough to work with. If that satisfies you.”
Moody gently chuckled, the warm sound of his voice filling the room. “It’s your satisfaction I’m concerned about, sailor. But that sounds lovely!” When Pyke nodded and didn’t say anything else, he eased his hand on Pyke’s arm. It always got Pyke how warm the living were, now. Moody’s heat especially seemed... encompassing. “... I really do mean it when I say it’s not just for my satisfaction. Or my satisfaction at all, really. I want you to be happy. If you really don’t mean to take up a hobby, then don’t do so on my account.”
Pyke shook his head. “No. Not like it’d kill me to pick it up.” The more he thought about it, the more he was ok with at least trying it. He wasn’t the type of person to sit still and do nothing unless it was specific circumstances. So something to busy his hands with when everything else failed was fine with him. Still, it got to him how much seemed to care about this. About him. Even up to taking in Nensi without question because he asked. His curiosity got the best of him and he only gave a second’s thought to how he’d talk about it. “You sure enjoy meddling with me.” Hm. Well, hopefully that would serve his purposes.
Another laugh from Moody. “Sorry if it seems that way! Like I said, Pyke. I want you to be happy. Beyond anything else, even including my interest in you. Romantic interest, anyhow.”
Right. Moody had calmed the flirting since Pyke had gotten more settled in, but it was always there. Truth be told... the more time Pyke spent on the ship, the more he could see himself settling down with Moody. He was a man of his convictions, despite his carefree appearance. Anyone who helped him with the List was a friend of his, and... well. Maybe Pyke could appreciate some heft on someone who’d earned it. Only took Moody lifting him a few times to make that stick.
But again, the hesitations came back to him. Even if Moody had apologized and they’d moved on, Pyke was still left to think about the blood on his hands. How he’d been controlled for so long. How easy would it be for that to happen again? If he believed Moody on what happened to the Drowned Ones—and he was inclined to, now that Nensi was here—he was capable of killing something close to gods. With a blessing, yes, but still. If he were to accept Moody as a lover and then be controlled by someone else...
He could kill Moody. He didn’t want that heartbreak.
He grunted, letting his knife dissolve into mist. Pyke was about done sharpening it anyway. “Appreciate it, at least. You’re going to have to forgive me if I’m not used to it.”
“The fact that you aren’t is a crime I’m looking to remedy.” Moody stood up, but not before patting Pyke’s arm affectionately. “But the night grows late and I’ll grant you your solitude. Need to work on the List, anyhow. Just remember my bed’s always open if you want it.”
With that, Moody walked off. Pyke was left alone with the creaking of the ship and the remnants of his own thoughts. He hated mulling over things for long, but... it was just the truth of the matter. Maybe it was selfish, but if Moody survived he wouldn’t want to put him through that either. Probably wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.
Pyke stood up, letting his thoughts go out like the tide. He was a killer. The Bloodharbor Ripper—and someone called “the Ripper” didn’t exactly get a happy ending.