i saw you breathing (tw, day 4)

The second boat is gone.

It completely sunk, gradually faded out of view as it fell deeper and deeper with the statue. The water ripples over the spot, goes still as the last of the bubbles find their way to the surface and finally pop. The air's coalesced in one spot, strange path, then the froth starts to peter out.

Lu.

Idiot.

Tick asked if he could swim.

He looks over his shoulder before he scans the water. The statue's gone back to the depths. There's a suspicious lack of Skiplaurel.

But there's the thorn in Tick's side. Dark smudge of a shadow under the stillness. The billow of his shirt. Tick leans over and pulls him up like a feral cat. It takes too much effort for someone so small, someone so very scrawny and so very sickly. Losing a hand should've cut down on some of that density. What has he been eating?

Tick ends up panting as he hauls Lu up and over the side, as he dodges a wild swing and grunts out “It’s me.”

He gets deposited. Dropped against the bench. Tick flops into the bottom of their boat. They keep rocking back and forth, nauseating motion, the air still tastes metallic.

There's blood down here. Spill-off from the dangle of Skiplaurel's arm. It's in the grooves of the dinghy, it's splattered across his face, pooling in the very bottom of the stern. And the tunic, blotched, patches of the silver threading are stained red. Crimson stars. Half a bloodmoon.

Another cannon goes off in the distance.

Tick grips the edge of the hull, shoving his head up to peek over the water.

That boom could’ve been for anyone. Realistically.

“Is she gone?”