Ascension of Blood

CHAPTER FIVE westwich

CHAPTER FIVE

Westwich

It was almost like looking death in the face.

The storm was a thick blanket in the sky and those dark clouds were deep in crimson with winds that raged, and a dark smoke like mist that blanketed the horizon. The winds were already harsh, whipping Mijora's braids around her as she stared, with a deep sinking feeling in her gut, into the dark dead before her. There was already a fine drizzle in the air, though the rain hadn't quiet started to burn it was irritating her skin.

Realistically she new that to be safe from the Annihilation she needed shelter. Ideally one rooted deep to the ground, not casually aloft atop the waves in the middle of the dammed ocean. No amount of her Offering could save her from the incoming red storm, or the deep dark waves below.

Around her the deck of the ship was in complete chaos. Passengers were pushing and shoving each other to get to hatch that lead to the sleeping quarters, which was just a big room filled with beds and bunks and benches— nothing particularly special that would save them from the vicious winds, or smoke. The sailors and workers were shouting to be heard over the chaos, waving their arms and hands about with hand signals and silent orders as they rushed to make sure that everything was secure to the ship and tied down. The big white sails were pulled up, and another, different set, came down that were thicker and heavier going by the quick glance she got.

But also, her head — the sudden panic of over a hundred heartbeats made her head feel like a squeezed lemon. Clutching the handle to her satchel tightly with both hands, she staggered with the moving crowds to get to the only shelter the ship provided.

"Oh mother help me!" she whimpered, holding her head. She couldn't even hear the crowd around her from the pounding of her own skull

The waters grew choppy under the ship, and Nona Deep rocked suddenly. With nothing to hold onto Mijora hit the deck face first. There was a wet crack as her nose smashed into the wood, but before she could register what had happened the ship hit another wave throwing Mijora backwards. Through the haze of her vision she could see the door of the hatch slam shut, leaving her and a few other passengers to the mercy of the storm.

She threw herself up, clutching her satchel tightly as she flung herself at the hatch, slamming her fists upon the wood. "Open the hatch!" she cried. "Hurry, please!"

"No way!" cried a male voice beyond "I'm not dying to save you!"

Mijora screamed again, slapping her hands against the wood as if it would do any good. "Please!" she begged, but this time there was only silence and the storm.

To call it a storm though was almost derogative. This wasn't a storm, this was the Annihilation itself.

A cough racked her lungs as it drew nearer, and the rain had increased from a simple drizzle to a heavy rain in seconds. Her exposed skin burned, shocking her mind into an acute focus.

Think, she chastised at herself over the erratic thumping, For the love of Poppydeath, think!

With shaking hands she tore at her dirty dress. It resisted at first but as soon as it was damp with the rain, it ripped easily and she quickly wrapped the fabric around her face in a makeshift mask.

The smoke was slowly curling round the ship now; poisonous and deadly, one good lungful could be enough to end her if she wasnt careful.

Another wave rocked the ship threatening to toss her about like a rag doll, and Mijora didn't fancy her chances in the waters. With the assistance of her broken nose, she used her offering to pull the blood from her body, letting the blood stretch and curl into the shape she always required. The sudden pull of blood after already having lost some made her light headed, especially as the orchestra of heartbeats already flooded her head, and it was only for the fact she was already on the floor that she didn't fall over.