Tides and Snakes

Chapter 1: Travelling singers and men's anger

Arabella had never been fond of the sea. It's harshness and tempestuous nature had often caused a sense of uncanny dread to settle in the pit of her stomach. And the fact that she was part of a sea- travelling band known as the East's Covey, made it ten times worse as at least 75% of her time, was spent on sea.

She had two problems: the sea and her voice. She was supposed to have been practicing her singing for the past 15 minutes or so but instead, she'd been hovering around the deck of her godfather's ship, listening to his booming voice shout and complain from the captain's quarters. She could only speculate about what had made him so angry, though it was quite difficult to think of an exact reason as dear old Nikolai Drusage was always angry, violent and even cruel at times. Especially to her.

It wasn't easy being the goddaughter of a money obsessed Captain, especially not when his crew were all just as bad. They didn't even consider his cruelty and his underlying superiority. They saw him as a means to an end, and in a way Arabella was guilty of it herself. He kept her alive. He kept her fed and kept her breathing. Even if his reasons were for his own selfish needs, he was a saviour to her.

Even if he despised her and used her, he kept her alive. That was what mattered. His love was non-existent and to Arabella, she didn't need it. Love made her weak. Weakness could be exploited, and she didn't need that.

Her gloved fingers brushed up against the oak door as she pressed her ear up against it, biting her lip so nervously that she pierced the skin, causing little droplets of scarlet blood to form. The metallic taste cursed her tongue but she ignored it as her godfather's voice only got louder.

"what do you mean we'll be in the east blue today?! You promised me we'd at least have one more day for my acts to get it together! How am I meant to make money if half of my singers and acts can't even make a dime on one syllable?!"

"Well I-"

"Don't well me! I have it in my right mind to shoot you right now you goddamn idiot!"

Drusage's voice seemed to get louder and louder and Arabella could only imagine what he looked like: bulging eyes, red faced with veins popping out in his neck and forehead. If he continued like this, she was sure he'd burst a blood vessel.

Arabella's thoughts were pulled away from her as she heard the slamming of a door and the poor, young cartographer running out with his tail between his legs. And with that, her godfather appeared, his collar upturned and his face scowling. She moved quickly, scrambling to stand up straight and fixing her rainbow skirt and embroidered corset nervously. Her hands trembled.

"Serpent."
He spat, glaring down at her like she was insignificant to him. She probably was in his eyes.
"When we get to the east blue, you're up first."

He grabbed her chin, her brown eyes meeting his cold blue ones. Arabella's bit down her lip, blood pooling into the cracks.
"You better give a good show. Or I'll leave you there, all alone."

He pushed her face away, shoving past her to the top of the ship. She stumbled, looking down at her boots as she let out of the breath she'd been. The words stung, hanging heavy in the air. She had to give a good performance or she'd be left for dead. And she quickly realised that she valued her life, more than anything else.

And no one wanted to be left for dead in the east blue. The sea may have been bad, but the streets were worse.

Way worse.