Luci wouldn't be going to bed tonight. At least, not in his room. This was his first night back out on the waves, and he fully intended to make the most of it. With a lantern, a blanket, his journal, and the bottle of fortified red he bought back on land, the violet-eyed youth had set up a little camp out spot on the prow. Even more so than the sea at daylight, Luci loved the night sky over his head. Taking several large swallows of his wine, the youth would begin to draw in his personal book. The same image he'd been drawing for nearly half a decade, once or twice a week. The same image he saw in his waking dreams and his nightmares.
Another large swig of the cheap red would lift his spirits enough that he'd begin to sing as he sketched. He didn't know what the words he slurred meant, he just remembered his mother singing them to him. Something about the words being the language of the sea and storms, but to him, it just sounded like butchered Russian. "Mat'okean derzhit menya bezopasnost..." He'd mumble, his hand growing steadier on the page. The wings were always the hardest part, after the chains of course. But the eyes were what scared him. The eyes are what drew in his adoration and turned him cold. The eyes are what he loved best.
"Derzhite morskikh demonovs nashikh beregov..." Jingling at his side as he shifted his weight. The keys he'd gotten from Victor, keys to every room except the Captain's quarters and the private rooms of his crew mates, not that those even had locks to begin with. So far he didn't know what to make of them, other than the fact that, minus the captain, this was the most ragtag, inexperienced group he'd ever sailed with. They were lucky to have him along. As quartermaster, Luci knew he would be a firm hand, but fair when needed, and cruel when the situation warranted it.
Pausing a moment, he tore a page from his journal, jotting down a list of rules he would be implementing on the morrow. Rules were everything. People who broke the laws of a ship would be punished, oh yes, they would. From a young age, Luci had learned from his father that rules must be obeyed. And if they weren't, it was more than acceptable to physically remind people what might happen if those sacred rules were broken. Broken like fingers. Like ribs. Skulls. The very souls of those that disobeyed. The string of dark fantasies only grew more intense until Luci felt himself begin to stir.
That sobered him up, just enough for him to think clearly. "No, no, no. No ones done anything yet. No reason to get excited..." He'd whisper, only to himself, taking more wine into his mouth to calm his nerves. He hadn't realized that his hands had begun to shake, and that drool had begun to drip from slightly ajar lips. "You only get to do that stuff if people are Awful. So far, everyone has been Useless at worst. Helpless at best. Except the navigator. And the doctor. Most definitely the Captain. Victor is a good man. He knows much. Must pick his brain later, get every little story we can from him. Maybe he can tell me more about what it is I saw, something more than the legends and myths and horror stories the drunken wretched and dead men I've talked to could tell..."
The bottle was nearly empty, its contents sloshing loudly with every gulp. The sketch was nearly finished, and there were still plenty more hours of moon, and stars, and dark waters to enjoy...