Ocean Eyes, Storm Cloud Minds

Chapter Four

It was almost shameful how long it took Lancelot to understand Dandé’s explanation on how to tie knots with stupid and shitty names. What the hell was the point in knowing the names of a bowline or a figure-eight or a reef or a stopper or whatever the f**k. He sighed a little, frustrated. The names weren’t the problem, the knots were. How was he supposed to remember how to do complex things if they had complex names, too? Lancelot was handed some stray ropes. Their knots had gotten too tight and he was tasked with redoing them in case an emergency required the crates to be untied and transported, either off of the ship or to an upper/lower deck.

One hand ran through his unkempt hair and Lancelot pushed it out of his face, grumbling slightly.

“Rolling hitch,” Dandé called over to Lancelot, working on tying his own. Lancelot glanced to him, admiring the male a little. He had messy hair tied out of his face with an orange bandana, dirtied and bleached by the sun so that it was more pastel with brown splotches than it was orange. Lancelot made a note that, if he got through this, he would purchase him a new one. Dandé /was/ the only person helping him, after all. It was only fair that Lancelot got to thank him.

His tongue stuck out slightly on the left corner of his mouth when he focused, his lips pursed around it and eyebrows knitted to show his focus as he looped the ropes together. Lancelot reminded himself of what he was supposed to be doing and turned his attention back to the ropes in his hands.

Which one was it again? Rolling… what? A soft sigh escaped him. He didn’t need to remember the name. He glanced to what Dandé was doing and began replicating it as best as he could. It was sloppy, so he untied and redid it thrice. Dandé approached, peered over his shoulder, and tightened it up a little. Flashing a small smile to Lancelot, he was about to comment on his work and how well done the knot was before someone else scolded them for their ‘laziness’.

Sighing again, Lancelot stood. He had no chance of getting a break today. Dandé made some comment back to the man that evoked a laugh, but Lancelot wasn’t paying any attention. What was the point in this? Everyone else seemed so close and he was so different. His clothes, clean; his mannerisms, stiff and polite; everything about him was wrong for this environment.

When the conversation was over, Lancelot stood and tugged Dandé’s sleeve. The man was slightly shorter than him, which felt unnatural. He was rounder and more muscular, though he also had a fair amount of fat on him. Lancelot, tall and lanky with a skinny frame, felt like he didn’t belong here. He’d not survive a minute in any form of combat at this rate. When the male finally turned, Lancelot spoke up.

“I must know more than to tie knots. I only want to survive, Dandé.” His voice was a hushed plea, his eyes showing desperation and vulnerability that was idiotic to display so soon. Correction: It was idiotic to display vulnerability at all. “Show me how to do what I need to do to stay alive,” he added quietly, glancing down. With his gaze downcast, he could avoid eye contact. That way, he’d not know how he was being judged or what the response was.

Surprisingly, though, he soon had one hand in his hair, ruffling it as some friendly affection. He looked up, blue eyes wide with surprise. Dandé smiled as warmly as though he were a friend. He seemed naturally appealing, which was odd on a ship. Was he genuinely kind? Or was this some sick ploy? Lancelot, despite his racing thoughts, smiled in return and mumbled a soft thanks. The shorter male pulled his hand back, starting upstairs. Assuming he should follow, Lancelot hung around his heels. Life would be easier with a good friend like Dandé around.

There were others to supervise the room, and so Lancelot didn’t feel too anxious about leaving the room. Checking behind him to make sure the brunet was still following him, Dandé removed a chain from around his neck. On the end was a dirty silver key that was clean at the ends, where Dandé’s usually greasy hands would hold it and manoeuvre it to unlock whichever door it led to and where it worked with the locking mechanism.

Dandé stopped suddenly and Lancelot only barely managed to avoid walking into him, embarrassed despite how he had avoided the humiliation of it. His eyes flickered to the sign above the door.

Armoury…? He’d not heard of that word before and he didn’t want to ask what it meant. He’d likely find out in a second regardless, so checking was irrelevant. Another strand of hair fell into his face and he pushed it away. He was due a haircut. He’d been meaning to get one while he was at home but his schedule had been so strict that he’d not gotten the chance.

Dandé heard the lock click and pushed the door open with his arm, holding it in place for Lancelot to join him. The male hesitantly stepped inside. There were weapons all across the walls and stolen goods littered around.

“Una armería,” he murmured to himself. /That/ was what armoury meant. Dandé turned to him, gesturing to the room around the two of them. “The armoury is where we keep all of our swords stocked when we aren’t practicing or involved in fights. The only keys for it are given to Elric and I, but only because he has too many trust issues to leave it unlocked.” He let out a breath. “I’m often tasked with cleaning the swords. There are usually more important things to do than to keep them rust-free and hygienic, so everyone focuses on makeshift repairs while we find somewhere to dock. Ivy and I clean.”

Lancelot just nodded, admiring the weaponry. There were guns littered around, accompanied with swords and racks of marlin spikes to replace any that were broken. It was decorated heavily, chests filled with gold and jewels and riches beyond his imagination. If only he had that kind of money. He’d not have to work and he could have gotten himself a ship so long ago. Then he’d not be where he was now. What an amusing concept- he doubted he’d return to sea after this ordeal.

He soon realised that Dandé was talking and decided to listen, sitting down on a crate by the door as he watched him. Admittedly, he wasn’t focusing on his words too easily, but the chattiness was a good way to distract himself from any thoughts that could cross his mind. He’d really rather not deal with any of his own selfish emotions. Not for a long time, anyway. Not until he was somewhere safe enough for him to be emotional without judgement.

How pathetic was that? Refusing to think for himself solely due to the potential consequences emotion could bring.

The pirate (Lancelot was aware that he was soon to be a part of the crew, but that didn’t stop him from subconsciously alienating himself from the others aboard) began talking him through the safety procedures of cleaning the knives with the rags and how to do it properly to reduce the chances of injury. Nodding mindlessly along, Lancelot allowed Dandé to talk for as long as possible. All of the swords were cleaned so he wouldn’t need this knowledge now, and he could always just ask for a reminder if he were tasked to help Dandé with the cleaning.

Dandé was casually confident. Something about him was so comforting, and it was good that Lancelot had someone aboard the ship that he could put his faith in to keep him safe. He felt relaxed around him, not needing to be as tense as he was with those elsewhere aboard the ship. Lancelot only listened for the part on how to wield the sword while cleaning it, and he only paid attention because Dandé claimed to have cleaned up after too many people. Lancelot didn’t want to be inconvenient like that.

An interruption stopped them. The conversation was brought quickly to a close when someone knocked on the door, and Dandé was the one who opened it. Leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to block it off, Dandé looked at whoever had just entered. A short person with scruffy, dirty-blond hair pushed past him to drop a broken spike down on a pile of them. Poor haircuts just seemed to be a popular choice aboard the ship, Lancelot thought to himself, and a smile played along his lips. Watching the boy passed, Lancelot realised how short he truly was.

He seemed no older than fifteen, though that had to be untrue. Someone that young couldn’t be here, could they? Much less as someone other than a cabin boy. His clothes weren’t excessively scruffy, which gave Lancelot reason to believe that he wasn’t as poorly ranked as a cabin boy.

Oddly, the male reminded him of his younger brother, Luis, who was only around two years behind but had a much better job than Lance. Ah, the family bias. It was his /favourite part/ of his father being his boss. He found himself smiling as he thought of it. He’d never expected to be smiling when he thought of his younger brother getting the higher pay for less hours, sleeping in and missing hours and not even needing to apologise.

It was something he envied, but he wasn’t one to complain. He somewhat wished he had. Getting home, that’d what he’d do- complain about every issue he’d ever had with those he was related to.

His thoughts disturbed by a gentle nudge to his shoulder, Lance’s widened eyes snapped onto Dandé, who was smiling gently at him until Lancelot apologised. It was an impulse thing. He was too used to being scolded for his wandering mind and consistent daydreaming, so being nudged as he was lost in thought wasn’t unfamiliar and it was now simply instinctive to be sorry for not paying attention. Dandé, despite seeming confused by the apology, realised that it would be best to move on.

Lancelot gnawed on his lip a little. He was sticking out badly now. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the docks where he worked, where he never stuck out unless he collapsed or began showing symptoms of a deathly illness. He never thought he’d see the day that he missed those working days, yet all it took was half a day away from it all. Odd.