The year of our lord 1710 - the phantom of a pirate, Captain Kimhan has only one goal in his life; to get back what's his and impose revenge on those who took it from him...
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
The year of our lord 2023 - Porchay Kittisawat is waiting. He h...
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— Come closer, come and see
Come closer, come to me
Ruby Red yours can be
If you find it at the sea —
Kim watched as the boy's eyes got brighter, somehow excited as if he wasn't afraid of him anymore. Not afraid at all. It was almost as if he was jolly to see Kim. Jolly boy with jolly eyes. He reminded Kim of himself. Before. During the times when there was no phantom of a pirate. No pirate of the seas. Just Kim. A young boy with dreams.
Kim pushed himself up from the boy, looking at him with suspicious eyes. "What kind of bloody nonsense are you spitting here, matey? Who are you?"
The boy stood up, too. The sand fell off his clothes in one swift motion just like Kim and his crew fell off his ship just moments ago.
His ship.
His crew.
Kim looked around again. The ocean looked calm. Too calm. No ship around. No mist, halting their way out of the Bay of Sorrows. No Bay of Sorrows in sight.
"I'm Porchay Kittisawat," the boy started speaking.
Kim snapped his head back to the boy, his eyes darker than the pits of hell as his jaw twitched, and he bent down to his boots. There it was, a small dagger with a golden handle and the finest metal he once stole from the king of France—Louis XIV. Fun guy that was albeit a little bit naive. Kim clicked his tongue with the dagger firmly in his hand he looked up at the boy again.
The boy's eyes were wide and glistening with a strange mix of excitement and fear. Kim didn't want to play stupid games with stupid boys who foolishly weren't afraid of what they definitely should have been. "This little boy should tell me now where are the whereabouts of my ship and my crew or this little boy will be fed to the fish? What does the little boy prefer, hmm?"
"What year is it?" the boy suddenly asked.
Kim cocked his head, "are you bloody deaf? I'm asking the questions here!"
"What year is it?" The boy repeated as if Kim wasn't even asking him shit with the sharp dagger in his hand.
"Check the calendar, matey!"
"What year is it?" there it came again; the same stupid question.
"1710!" Kim groaned, squeezing the handle of the dagger even tighter.
"2023," the boy nonchalantly replied. His voice, calm and gentle, like ocean waves after a successful pirate raid.
Kim started to laugh. His shoulders and chest, going up and down in a rapid rhythm and his lips curved up into what the boy in front of him thought was a captivating smile.
