#sevika my beloved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jusstya · 11 months

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▌𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦 ˖࣪ ♡ ˓ 005 ꜜ ❁ 𝖺𝗌 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ┆. 𝑸𝑼𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝑪𝑨𝑷𝑰𝑻𝑼𝑳𝑶 ◗ ₊˚ 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖐𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖈 ⋆ ❜

❪ ៸៸ ✬ ❫. ━━ 𝗖𝗔𝗣𝗜𝗧𝗨𝗟𝗢 𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗧𝗥𝗢・raiva desenfreada 𖠵៸៸ !⠀ִֶָ

𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀 a madeira dos degraus abaixo de seus pés; em uma ação breve, no entanto, ainda assim, isso não tornou seus passos menos audíveis para as poucas pessoas ao seu redor, tanto pela sua altura, quanto pela sua força. Isso sem falar da raiva que a mulher sentia no momento, especialmente por ter acabado de sair do escritório de Silco em silêncio, optando por se calar ao invés de soltar sua língua azeda para o seu chefe, sabendo que ele não a perdoaria duas vezes seguidas.

Ironicamente, quem havia feito merda na missão havia sido Jinx, mas era óbvio que tudo tinha que cair em cima dos ombros da lutadora, como se Sevika tivesse total controle sobre a mente completamente quebrada da adolescente de longos cabelos trançados diariamente.

Ainda que com os nervos à flor da pele, mais do que disposta a espancar a primeira pessoa que tivesse o azar de cruzar com o seu caminho naquela ocasião, a mais alta tentou controlar sua raiva desenfreada, e decidiu que iria descontar seus sentimentos na bebida pelas próximas horas, perdendo o olhar do grupo já conhecido espalhado sobre a mesa de sinuca, alguns do grupo parecendo um pouco ansiosos ao vê-la.

Sevika ignorou tudo e todos ao seu redor, se dignando apenas em se mover até o bar, sentando-se em uma das muitas cadeiras vazias ━━ graças ao Última Gota estar atualmente fechado àquela hora do dia ━━ sem qualquer delicadeza na ação, deixando transparente até mesmo em sua expressão corporal o quanto ela não estava com disposição para nenhuma gracinha naquele momento.

Sem qualquer surpresa, o barman da vez, Thieram, não fez perguntas desnecessárias como faria com outros clientes em busca de gorjetas. Apenas tremeu um pouco dos pés à cabeça ao ver o braço direito de Silco aparentar estar com o dia cheio e, se curvando por um momento, não demorou a colocar um copo na frente da mulher assustadora, já tendo conhecimento da bebida alcoólica que a mesma tinha preferência nesses dias.

No entanto, no segundo em que Thieram tirou a tampa da garrafa ainda lacrada de bourbon, o vidro foi tirado de suas mãos com uma facilidade beirando ao patético, mas não por Sevika como ele esperava que acontecesse, e sim por Ran.

Os olhos escuros do homem se cruzaram com os púrpura neon de Ran (por conta da luminosidade do local), contudo, nem mesmo sua cor fosca de marrom seria útil contra a indiferença nos olhos da mais baixa. E, com um breve aceno de queixo para o lado, Thieram nem sequer pensou duas vezes antes de simplesmente concordar baixinho com sua ordem silenciosa, se retirando no próximo segundo para fazer suas devidas coisas longe das duas mulheres perigosas.

Ran nem sequer sorriu ao observar o barman se afastar rapidamente, praticamente fugindo com o rabo entre as pernas como um covarde, apenas desviou o olhar para o balcão, colocando o líquido alcoólico no copo ainda vazio de Sevika sem pronunciar uma única palavra enquanto o fazia.

Quando o recipiente de vidro já se encontrava cheio o suficiente, a de cabelos pretos sentou-se ao lado da mais velha, com o corpo virado para a lutadora, apoiando um dos braços no balcão, com uma preguiça óbvia na simples ação.

Todavia, nem por demonstrar tal expressão corporal relaxada ela se tornava automaticamente menos intimidade. Certamente Sevika não se intimidou com isso, por mais que sentisse o olhar intenso de Ran sob seu corpo, tendo pleno conhecimento de que a mais baixa não havia a servido um copo de bourbon em busca de discutir consigo.

No entanto, o silêncio começou a incomodar Sevika, especialmente ao ver que a de cabelos escuros, mesmo se encontrando de boca fechada, ainda servia a bebida em seu recipiente, sem desviar o olhar de seu corpo. Mas quando a mais alta chegou ao quinto copo, sua voz áspera se fez presente; baixa, rouca, e deixando ainda mais transparente que ela não estava com saco para aturar dramas desnecessários:

━━ Se quer me perguntar algo, é melhor fazer de uma vez.

Surpreendente, o canto dos lábios de Ran moveu-se o suficiente para que um mínimo sorriso aparecesse.

━━ Quer jogar uma partida de cartas antes?

━━ Você sabe muito bem que eu não quero jogar porcaria nenhuma.

Um resmungo baixo e suave saiu da garganta da mais baixa ao ouvi-la, não se afetando com a grosseria gratuita da lutadora mais forte, nem sequer se ofendendo minimamente com tal tratamento.

Era como um tipo estranho de rotina para todos do grupo ━━ a maioria dos mesmos ainda se encontrava perto da mesa de sinuca no meio do bar ━━, principalmente nos dias em que Jinx ia junto de suas missões, sempre fazendo o humor antes indiferente (algumas raras vezes beirando ao relaxado quando a mulher acordava de bom humor) de Sevika se tornar azedo, amargo como limão em vista dos outros dias.

Esperando a segunda em comando beber mais alguns copos de sua bebida alcoólica favorita nesses dias, a mulher com uma franja cobrindo um dos olhos voltou a tentar tirar algo da maior:

━━ Aconteceu alguma coisa na missão? ━━ indagou de maneira suave, quase podendo chegar a indiferença se não fosse a sua curiosidade costumeira, mas também não querendo jogá-la com ansiedade na de cabelos presos.

Sevika, para a surpresa da outra mulher ainda apoiada confortavelmente sobre o balcão, resmungou audivelmente no próximo instante. Não para confirmar sua questão, tão pouco para mandá-la se calar como fazia com outros 'colegas de trabalho'; foi como se, por um único segundo, a lutadora deixasse toda a sua insatisfação do dia sair em sua voz para qualquer um ouvir. Isso foi o suficiente para a morena saber que, sim, havia acontecido algo além da discussão e a briga com Jinx.

O problema agora era descobrir o que, para que Ran soubesse como ajudar a sua superior a melhorar o humor, tendo conhecimento que em breve elas iriam até o bordel de Babette em conjunto no dia seguinte, e ter uma Sevika mal-humorada não era exatamente o seu maior desejo no momento.

Apesar disso, seu tempo pareceu chegar ao fim, assim como seu plano de relaxar a mais alta antes de qualquer outra coisa, já que, no próximo segundo, antes que a de cabelos escuros tivesse a chance de reagir, uma voz masculina fez-se presente no silêncio momentânea das duas:

━━ Pare de resmungar como uma criança rabugenta, Sevika, e fale algo com que podemos trabalhar.

Nem Ran, nem Sevika, fizeram questão de mover-se um único centímetro de seus queixos, sabendo que não havia o mínimo de necessidade de desviar o olhar para a voz, sabendo exatamente a quem a mesma pertencia sem precisar olhá-lo duas vezes.

Ainda assim, isso só serviu para reforçar o desgosto de Ran pela surpresa de ver o terceiro em comando de volta de sua missão tão cedo. E, embora seu aborrecimento não tenha aparecido em suas feições, ficou transparente em suas próximas palavras; a insatisfação em sua voz a denunciando.

━━ O que está fazendo aqui, Lock? Não tinha um carregamento para revisar?

━━ O chefe me chamou mais cedo graças ao teatrinho do demônio azul.

Uma risada abafada saiu das narinas da mulher com um braço mecânico, tal ação sendo o suficiente para chamar a atenção dos dois, estranhando tal coisa.

Ran deixou mais aparente ao levantar minimamente uma das sobrancelhas, embora graças a sua franja tampando a maioria de sua testa, isso não ficou exatamente à vista de possíveis olhos curiosos. E Lock se viu apertando as pálpebras em um ato invisível, se perguntando dentro de sua mente se isso era ruim o suficiente para ele deixá-las a sós, preferindo que Ran fosse o alvo da raiva desenfreada de Sevika.

No entanto, como sempre, a mulher com um dos membros modificados os surpreendeu quando apenas sorriu, claramente cínica sobre o que quer que estivesse em sua mente e, levando o copo de cristal até seus lábios, virou-o, tomando o resto do bourbon em um último gole, batendo o fundo do recipiente agora vazio na madeira, com força o suficiente para chamar a atenção de quem quer que estivesse prestando atenção, mas não o suficiente para quebrá-lo em centenas de pedaços.

━━ Temos um problema maior do que Jinx nesse momento.

Isso confundiu tanto Lock, quanto Ran em diversas formas diferentes, e isso ficou perceptível em suas expressões; nenhum deles esperava outro problema para solucionar nessa altura do campeonato, especialmente depois da burrada que a filha adotiva de Silco havia feito essa manhã, de novo.

Jinx já era um problema grande o suficiente para eles lidarem diariamente ━━ e de quebra ainda estar sempre presente na organização. O que poderia ser pior que uma adolescente propensa a surtos psicóticos?

━━ Que tipo de problema? ━━ Lock indagou, tentando entender com mais detalhes do que exatamente a segunda em comando estava se referindo.

O homem ainda tinha um resquício de esperança que tal empecilho fosse pequeno, o típico trabalho que em menos de três dias eles pudessem resolver, nem que fosse com o máximo de força bruta.

━━ O passarinho mentalmente instável irá perder seu posto de pior funcionário do mês por um tempo? ━━ Ran perguntou um pouco depois do homem mais alto, com um tom sarcástico o suficiente para fazer um pouco da raiva de Sevika diminuir, mas não completamente.

Deixando o copo vazio de lado, a mulher com um braço de metal virou-se de lado, ficando de frente para Ran, desviando por um segundo o olhar da mesma para olhar um Lock mais atrás da gótica de cabelos escuros com franja sob um dos olhos, notando a maneira como os dois estavam um pouco tensos, não parecendo tão confortáveis como esperado.

━━ Teoricamente falando, ela não é problema nosso. Ainda. ━━ A confusão em ambas as feições alheias aumentaram, agora ficando tão aparentes quanto a água filtrada de Piltover. ━━ Aquela mulher é um problema meu. E de Jinx.

A maneira como Sevika pronunciou o nome da adolescente de longos cabelos azuis foi dolorosa, como se falar o nome da mais nova fosse uma forma única de torturá-la, sem a necessidade de tocar em sua pele. Não precisava ser um gênio para notar o desprezo que a mulher mais alta tinha pela mais nova, nem sequer fazendo questão de esconder tal fato, nem mesmo na presença de Silco.

Apesar disso, tal desprezo só serviu para aumentar significativamente a diversão que a de cabelos mais curtos sentiu ao ouvir suas últimas palavras.

Ran fez o possível para segurar o sorriso irônico que quis escorregar por seus lábios pintados com um batom preto o melhor que pôde. Todavia, para sua cota de azar daquele dia, um resquício de diversão ainda se espalhou por seu rosto no próximo instante.

Sevika notou com facilidade a alegria no olhar da mais baixa. Se fosse qualquer outra pessoa assistindo tal ação, não veria nada de mais em sua expressão, mas a mais velha conhecia Ran a tempo suficiente para lê-la como um livro aberto. No entanto, a segunda em comando não se irritou com isso, já esperando ações parecidas vindo da mulher sádica, de qualquer forma.

━━ Você vai ter o desprazer de trabalhar com o demônio azul? ━━ Antes que pudesse controlar sua língua, a pergunta já havia saído por seus lábios, escorrendo como um verme. ━━ Boa sorte, porque você vai precisar pra caralho dessa vez.

Sevika simplesmente revirou os olhos ao ouvir, não afetada pelo humor da outra, optando por ficar em silêncio naquele momento, tentando pensar em formas de se livrar daquele trabalho o mais rápido possível.

Todavia, como já era de se esperar, Lock foi quem veio ao salvamento da lutadora com um braço de metal, cortando o assunto com pouquíssimas palavras:

━━ Deixe a pobre mulher em paz, Ran. Ela já está tendo um dia ruim o suficiente. ━━ Deu dois tapinhas leves nas costas da mais baixa, fazendo-a entender que aquela não era hora para fazer piadas (embora provavelmente ainda havia muitas outras em sua língua furada). ━━ E Sevika, vamos jogar uma partida de sinuca, e eu não vou aceitar um não como resposta. Você precisa de uma vitória mais do que aqueles idiotas.

▌𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗔𝗦 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗜𝗦 ❞

Pense numa dificuldade de mexer com os capangas do Silco, meu Odin do céu, nesse dia que escrevi o capítulo fiquei umas cinco horas sofrendo, tentando decidir personalidade e afins- não reclamando, mas já reclamando, né

Enfim! Mais uma vez sem Morgana aparecendo, porém, como sempre, nem isso torna o capítulo menos importante (o próximo é mais importante, mas isso não vem ao caso, shhhhhh

Antes que alguém diga sobre os pronomes de Ran (ela/eles) e que a personagem é não-binário eu quero deixar claro que essa é a minha maneira de escrever a personagem! Em alguns capítulos eu posso tentar abordar essas informações (até pesquisei como, porém não me ajudou muito), mas sinceramente eu sempre me perco ao tentar, e por isso achei mais fácil deixar assim. Peço desculpas caso isso deixe alguem desconfortável, mas infelizmente irá ficar assim, por conta de EU me sentir mais confortável escrevendo assim.

Ok! Deixamos isso de lado, vou me permitir cadelar a relação que criei entre a Sevika e a Ran. E antes que alguém shippe- essa fanfiction não é lugar pra isso (quem que eu tô tentando enganar? Super mexeria nessas duas, mas isso não vem ao caso agora, shhhhh)

Aqui essas duas são apenas amigas! E eu estou decidindo ainda o que fazer com os outros capangas do Silco (inclusive, se alguém souber o nome do resto, tirando o Dustin, eu tô aceitando ideias! Um sofrimento pra achar nomes bons pra eles, que meu Odin do céu-)

Enfim! Espero que tenham gostado do capítulo! Até o próximo!!

▌𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦 ⵓ

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crab-instruments · 2 years

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Lost and Found Extra 3: Sevika’s POV

Warnings: violence

a/n: Let Sevika say fuck. Also, thank you @amitafix for requesting, this was fun.

Sevika wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with how bitchy Silco was going to be today. The night before was rough and her boss was always in some kind of mood. Luckily, Jinx was old enough that Sevika didn’t have to babysit her anymore, but that didn’t stop her from being a pain in the golden armed brute’s ass.

One day, Sevika dreams of taking a nice vacation. Maybe having some goons take care of her for once. Ehh… she’d probably just gamble some more and drink her weight and then some.

Her thoughts evaporated when she walked into Silco’s office to see a mess. Jinx wasn’t in sight and everything wasn’t powder blue and bubblegum pink, so Sevika was more confused. Her eyes finally found you, small and unthreatening. Your hands had two pieces of metal in them and your eyes held dread as they locked with Sevika’s. She knew she was imposing and she loved it.

“Ah, Sevika. I would like to test something.”

Sevika looked skeptical but was pleased her boss wasn’t nagging her this early in the morning. “Sure, Silco. What is it?”

“Your arm, it has a locking mechanism on it that only a few can take apart, correct?”

“Yeah, why?”

Silco walked gestured for the two of you to come towards the desk. “Unlock Sevika’s arm.”

“What? What is going on?” Silco was crazy, that much Sevika knew when she swore her loyalty to the man years back. But this… this was borderline certifiable.

“After finding someone on my couch this morning, I’m now investigating their ability to pick any lock.”

“It’s not that impressive, it’s just simpl—”

“So if you please, Sevika, let them unlock your arm.”

Sevika looked between the two of you before realizing she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. She begrudgingly placed her arm on the table. “Okay, sure. Have the random person take my arm apart.”

When you got over your fear of being within punching distance, you deftly found the locking mechanisms and unlatched the arm. Silco didn’t let it stop there, no, had you take it completely apart and put it together again.

Sevika had to admit, you were good. You were quicker than she ever was, as if you had done it a million times. Like it was your arm.

Putting the arm back on was a bit harder than taking it off, but Sevika could only look dumbfounded. Silco just had a smirk on his face, extremely smug about his new toy.

Whatever, she thought, so long as he isn’t angry at me.

It was during this awkward moment that Jinx walked in. Silco asked her to bring anything she would consider a lock or a puzzle.

Sevika watched as you continually solved each puzzle, each more difficult than the last. She wasn’t sure how much more your heart could take, thinking you might keel over any minute.

“Now try this one! Has to be the hardest one yet. Also it’s timed.”

“Timed?!” you yelped.

“Yep! Hope you deactivate fast enough!”

The metal contraption had wild doodles on it in various colors. It ticked, hissed, and overall was intimidating. Quickly and with shaky hands, you took it a part and cut the correct wire.

Only for it to still explode into smoke and glitter.

“YOU DID IT! I’m so impressed!” Sevika didn’t move as she watched the smoke encapsulate you, unfazed by the shenanigans.

“Jinx, if they solved it, why did it explode?”

“Oh, I created it that way. Thought it would be more fun. WAIT I have another one I should—” The blue braids disappeared somewhere in the ceiling.

----

“Well, I’m convinced,” Jinx relented.

Sevika watched as you could barely keep yourself together, scared shitless. How you didn’t switch this situation to your advantage at this point, Sevika didn’t understand. Was it all an act?

“This is really just… parlor tricks, Sir. Ma’am. Miss? A-Anyone can solve these, really. Nothing special on my part.”

Sevika couldn’t believe it. Nothing about your disposition said that you held an ounce of malice. How did you survive this long in Zaun? Who the fuck were you? “And you can solve them while drunk?” She asked after a beat, recalling the story you told of how this all came to be.

“Arguably better, while drunk. I think, at least. I don’t remember. I can somehow get passed security drunk but not sober. Haven’t cracked that puzzle out yet.” You chuckled lightly before clearing your throat, Sevika almost took pity on you.

Almost.

Another silence fell between the four of you. Sevika went back into ‘bodyguard’ mode, ready to zone out until Silco needed her attention.

“As fun as this has been, um… I have to—I have to go to work soon. I don’t think my boss will allow the ‘I was discussing locking mechanisms with Silco’ excuse, especially since I’ve used simi—I MEAN. I don’t really know the protocol here, I didn’t mean to break in—do I need to pay for the lock? I don’t think I broke it but—”

“What is your job?” Silco folded his hands together as he sat at his desk. He’s not serious, is he? This weakling?

“I wa-wash dishes, so it would take me a while to pay you back. My boss treats me like an idiot and I’m indebted to him and he hates me so I don’t know if I could get an advan—”

“I don’t want your meager wages. I want you to work for me.”

“You want me… to work for you? You need a dishwasher, Sir? Mister Silco… Sir?” A collective groan filled the room. Sevika could only roll her eyes. “I don’t think my boss will give me a great recommendation for reasons already listed but I could—I’ll ask. But like I said, I’m more of an… indentured servant than an employee so I—”

“Come back here tomorrow morning. We will discuss the terms of your employment then.”

You stood up, a little too fast so you wobbled a bit, before giving an uncomfortable bow. Sevika held back a laugh, banking it for later. She kept the best straight face this side of the river. “Okay Silco. Sir. Mister Silco Sir—”

“Go.”

Sevika watched with her eyes as you struggled to leave with any dignity. Somehow, not the most embarrassing exit from this office she’s seen, but certainly a top ten.

Once the door was firmly shut, Sevika made eye contact with Silco. He merely responded by raising an eyebrow and then going back to work.

“Really? You want that mess to work for you?” She couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“Do I want someone with a rare talent on my payroll? Yes, I do. Now, I believe we have business to attend to. Jinx, it might be best—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m outta here. But first,” Jinx stood in front of Silco’s desk and gave a bow so low, her head touched the floor. She didn’t see Silco roll her eyes at her dramatics before bounding for the door.

*~*~*~*

“My boss said… no.”

Sevika almost choked, the balls you had to stand in front of the King of Zaun and tell him no. Silco had certainly killed for less, Sevika had been the one to do the killing.

Maybe she could actually have some fun today. You scared easily, so getting reactions out of you wouldn’t take much effort. If Silco didn’t have such a fascination with you—

“What do you mean?”

“Well, specifically, he laughed for three minutes, and I think said something about not believing Silco would speak to me, let alone request a pathetic worm such as myself to work for him, but I’m paraphrasing.” You fiddled with your hands and shifted your weight back and forth.

“I… appreciate your loyalty to the man, but I wasn’t asking. Sevika, if you would please bring the man to us, we can straighten this out.”

Sevika leered, finally getting the entertainment she’s been denied thus far. Wasn’t who she had in mind, but she wasn’t choosy. The second-in-command was mid stride, thinking of what she might do to the guy, when your voice stopped her in her tracks.

“WAIT.” Sevika’s eyes went wide for a millisecond before schooling her expression. “I mean, if I could—I just—sir—ma’am—hold on a—”

“Out with it.” Silco said with an annoyed tone.

“Well, you see… My boss… I work for him, and he gives me a place to sleep. I’m afraid… I’m afraid that if I were to stop working for him—”

At this point, Sevika was on standby and awaited orders. She zoned out, shifting every now and again to keep the blood flowing.

Silco’s voice brought her back online. “Sevika, remove the owner in however you see fit, put someone else in charge, find the lockpickers… closet… and bring anything you find here.” She gave a smirk before leaving.

Sevika made her way through The Lanes, knowing exactly where she was going. A while after you had left the day before, Sevika went out to find out more about you. It wasn’t hard to find where you worked, she knew most of the joints, just had to ask about the staff. Taking into account how you talked about your boss, it could only be a handful of places.

It really only took one try. The dude was a dick and Sevika was going to enjoy beating his face in.

The place was empty, the place busier during the night. She made her way to the counter where an older man with a very punchable face was counting money.

“You the boss man around here?” Sevika asked as she sat down on a stool.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” He didn’t bother to look at her. If he had, he may have known to show some respect.

“Silco is.” That got his attention.

“Whoa-ho, and what can I do for Mr. Silco himself?”

She smirked, leaning in. “You can fuck off.”

“Excuse me—”

Sevika reached across the bar, grabbing the man by the collar, and throwing him into some tables in the corner of the room.

“Oh yeah. You’re down a dishwasher. Where do they keep their stuff?”

“Fuck you.”

“That is… the wrong answer, I’m afraid.” She cracked her knuckles and got to work.

It didn’t take much for the man to stop breathing. A shame, really. Sometimes Sevika liked the fighters, draining the hope from their eyes as they thought they had a chance.

Sevika sighed and walked toward the kitchen. Two workers were cowering towards the back in an attempt to hide.

“Congrats, one of you just got promoted. Don’t care who. You’re also down a dishwasher, afraid it’s a done deal but you can certainly try negotiating with my fist. Where is their stuff?”

They looked at each other and whispered, arguing who was going to get up from their safe zone.

“Fuck me, just point to it.”

When Sevika found the closet, she shoved what little you had in a bag she found and headed back to The Last Drop.

#lost and found #lost and found extra #sevika pov #crab fics #sevika my beloved

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madschiavelique · 2 years

Text

A Drop In The Ocean - Pirate!Silco x reader

mentions of : blood, wounds (reader is a debutant surgeon), stitching skin, blood transfusion, bad hygiene, use of that eye-stab silco uses in Arcane

summary : reader is good with their hands, which is perfect as the kid of a surgeon. but one day they get attacked and are taken as the new surgeon of The Last Drop of which Silco is the Captain. and while his daughter Jinx is out of the ship, he asks for reader to come in his quarters.

some extra information on this : gender neutral-reader, Pirate!Silco, I know nothing about medicine nor surgery so this is DEFINITELY not a great representation of the actual work of a surgeon nor doctor, tried to be pirate accurate... don't know if it worked ckenxjeqddk

author's note : hi besties, hope y'all are doing great ! After writing that Machine Herald x reader thingy I wanted to try a similar format with our man Silco sooo I give u this 11,2k words long thingy :D hope you'll enjoy ! also, i think that if you just want to skip the background and just go for the more silco-stuff you can start after the end of the trigger warning ! (and sorry if you find any grammar mistakes English is not my native language so jcejxje yeah)

( @wincestisasincest here's the treat hehe)

It's been nine days since you've been on The Last Drop, and you know for sure that you'll never, ever go back to your old life. How could you go back? The time seems as far away as the end of the horizon in the open sea. Nine days that you knew no other floor than red oak, no other horizon than blue water, no other weather than the proud sun, no other smell than deplorable hygiene, no other music than the greasy voices of most of the crew, and no other meal than bacon as strong as a sole and as salty as the ocean. Nine days since the last vision you had of home was a landscape painting of the burning harbour, fire licking the water, smoke as black as the sails of the Last Drop emanating a smell of suffocation and burnt flesh flying like scarves into the grey sky. You didn't end up on that damn ship of your own free will, no. Nine days ago, you were actually sitting peacefully in the workshop, sculpting a piece of stone. Your hands had always been delicate, but not without strength, they were fussy, detail-oriented: perfect for a surgeon's kid. Your father was a renowned surgeon in the city, appreciated by his clients, generous, always ready to receive even in an emergency. A man who loved his work and who left you a little more of his knowledge every day. Although medicine was not necessarily the path you wanted to take, you saw no harm in him teaching you. It's always an asset to know how to take care of yourself and others, so how could you refuse when that same advice came from an expert?

He taught you how to make balms, showed you how to deal with wounds of various sizes and depths, taught you how to react to symptoms and how to act on them. He was dedicated, and probably imagined that you would succeed him when he retired. Only his retirement never came, because on the way to the market that morning he was sliced in half, his head falling into an apple crate as his body crumbled to the wet pavement of St. Anne Street. You didn't realize the attack until the screaming outside intensified and you soon realized that no party was supposed to be taking place: at least no party that included running and screaming like death itself was chasing you. People were knocking on the door of your house, people you knew, people your father received as clients. You quickly let them in, closing the door again as if you were stopping too many snowflakes from coming in during a snowstorm. You had guided them directly to the workshop, to get away from the street and the accessibility of the pirates to the first part of the house. You had all gathered, tightly clustered in a corner of the room like a grape. You sat beside them, there must have been only five of you in all. You were so close that you could smell the stench of dust clinging to their clothes. Especially one patient who smelled of sourleaf. You had met her once before a consultation, she had smiled at you and you remembered her teeth reddened by her constant consumption of the plant.

And in truth, you were so close that you could have heard their breath if everyone wasn't holding it in at the time. It was as if the house had cloth walls: able to hide you fairly well but not preventing the sound from concealing its presence properly. Your heart was beating so loudly in your throat and ears that the others could probably hear it, and you cursed yourself for fear that it would alert your presence. You want to silence that heart, to slow it down in its frenzy, but it seems to intensify when you can hear the door to your house being kicked in and its hinges ricocheting off the floor like coins. And the seconds seem to stretch out. You heard footsteps, crashing against the floor various pots and other trinkets decorating the house. The cutlery drawer was opened to take the silverware, empty the cupboards, you heard them making a trip to your father's cabinet to take anything that might have been useful. And just when you think the noise has died down and they're about to leave, the door to the workshop shattered and one of the people in the little group gurgles a scream that cuts off everyone here's chance to get out. A guy with a pronounced squint and a lean body entered the room. He charges towards you as you enter his field of vision, grabbing a guy by the collar who is squawking and wriggling in panic like a fish being held in his hands. "Sevika, come over here," he yells, spittle splashing like foam on the face of the poor man he's holding. "Tell me handsome, we were told below that this was the doc's house, can't you tell us wher' he is?" "I-I" his words strangled in his throat like a basket of freshly caught eel. "He's dead," interrupts the lady with the sourleaf breath, "was killed him at the market."

The words fell on your heart like an anchor in the sand, you would not have thought that to stop hearing the beating of the latter would mean that the price to pay was pain. You glance at the woman, her bottom teeth showing as thin tears roll down her cheeks, washing away the layer of smoke that had settled there. Your heart wasn't choking you anymore, it was choking itself. It's weird, isn't it? You thought that as usual he would come back from the market, that you would help him put away everything he had taken and that you would let him go back to his office. You didn't imagine, however, that the loss of his life would change yours so dramatically, in every sense of it. You had no time to mourn, not a moment's respite as the news tore a gaping hole in your chest, as a tall woman with a bluish scar and a sword replacing her arm strode toward you. "Sev, there's no more doc, he's kaput." His remark seems to make the scar of this woman gleam that you suspected therefore to be Sevika by following his nickname. "Didn't he have a wife this doc, hum?" So asks again the same guy, in the direction of the woman who had given him an answer.

"No sir, but he has a child, of age, and who sometimes took his consultations when he couldn't." Squeaks the man he was holding in his black and dirty hands. No, no, no! The poor fool was looking for words that could satisfy the pirates and allow him to get out of this affair. A particular glow ran through the woman's eyes in an instant. She approached him, coming so close to the face of the trapped man that despite the firm grip the squinting man had, he could not back down any further. "And so where is this child, hmm?" "Th-Th-That's them right there!" he said, then pointing frantically in your direction. Damn it, what the hell. Of course he was going to tell on you, it was as big as the nose in the middle of your face. It was predictable that he would report you, since the only thing he had to think about right now was saving his life, getting out of the embrace of this man whose neither eyes were looking at you. He looked like a chameleon, with off-center eyes, but you should probably give credit to the fact that chameleons must have a more developed intelligence than this individual. So the said Sevika turned to you, her eyes shining like the blade replacing her arm. You were the youngest person in the group, so it wasn't hard to figure out who this doctor's child was: all the others were easily over forty. She grabbed your shoulder with an arm so firm and strong that you could feel the seams of your clothes ripping under her grip. "I guess you're the kid, huh?"

You swallowed, nodding, trying to stop the tremors that run through your body as though the different tsunamis of your emotions were clashing fiercely to take over your thoughts. Everything was colliding like huge waves against blackened cliffs, carved at their roots by the salt and heaviness of pain. "What can you do? Amputation? Care for cuts? Determining symptoms and preventing diseases from spreading?" You nodded vigorously, all of which you were capable of of course. "What's up? Did someone cut out your tongue? Answer!" "I can do it!" You gasp, your tongue feeling like it's about to fly out of your mouth. "I can do it, madam!" "Ma'am?" She giggles, bursting into a low, charcoal laugh. "You can simply call me Sevika from now on. Kort? I'll take them, be done with it." He gave her a strange grin, as if he could only ever smile properly on one side of his mouth, revealing yellow teeth like a line of overlapping raw corn grains. When you left your workshop, you didn't have time to take anything with you other than the only thing you had in one of your pockets: a scalpel.

When your father bought a new set of surgical tools, he left you his old ones. He knew you wouldn't use them for their original purpose, since you only took part in operations infrequently. However, that didn't stop you from finding a new use for them. You were good with your hands, so you used the reminiscences of these tools as a painting knife, as a means of precision carving in stone or as a tool for carving wood. All these objects were very versatile, so you kept them handy when you were bored to find a way to pass the time other than counting seagulls from your window. There were books, and you didn't mind reading, but your father only had dictionaries on diseases or writings on body studies and anatomy in his library. So you were obviously bored quickly after you got through the chapter on leg bones with all its muscles and nerves blending into a mush of blue and red pencil strokes. You look around. Your house is trashed, upside down, as if a hurricane had passed and left bits of memories and broken glass in its wake. The screams of people with whom you shared such a thin space a few moments ago are muffled even more as you walk out the door, Sevika's hand still gripping your shoulder firmly. You had wondered if you wouldn't have been better off putting your little scalpel in your pocket under her throat, threatening to use it if she didn't let you live. But this idea quickly fell into the deep and endless pit of bad ideas that will never take place when Sevika stood in front of you.

"Listen to me, little one, from now on you are part of the crew of The Last Drop. If you try to run away, I'll make sure it" she pointed to the sword forming her left arm, "catches you. If you try anything against me or any member of the crew, you'll be thrown overboard after the Captain takes care of you. Do your job as a surgeon, and you'll have no problem, you might even get paid if you do it right. But if you take one wrong step, just one, you're dead. Got it?" How can you refuse that, when the person facing you is a pirate, has a sword to replace one of her arms, and you probably don't have the strength and no instruction in the art of combat that could get you out of this situation? Besides, where else could you have went? No more home, no more father, probably no more assets to sell that would allow you to subsist and selling your body was the last option you considered. You would have to get used to not having anything of your own. No fixed home besides the ship, no fixed situation besides being a surgeon, nothing but the unpredictable. Nothing but yourself and that scalpel, though you are now pirate property. "Got it." She licked one of her canines before spitting on the dusty floor.

" Good," she gave a nod towards the harbor, "follow me." After following Sevika through the ruins of the city where the houses had been blown up with cannons and bricks littered the ground like a new cobblestone pavement, you found yourself in front of a boat where some pirates were already staying. "What did you get us, Sev'?" one of them asked, detailing you as if you were the strangest person he had ever seen. "Our new doc." She said before urging you with her chin to get on the boat. "New doc? You must be joking. Have you seen this shrimp? They won't last long." "They may not last long, but they' ll do for now. You want your infection to get worse, do you?" The sailor grumbled in his beard, his hand instinctively going to his face covered with a sticky, oozing bandage, seeming to cover a wound turning blue and yellow. Without further ado, they rowed towards a ship in the distance, imposing and dark. The Last Drop was an inky, almost black frigate, its sides dotted with thirty cannon holes. Dark sails, slightly attacked by age, were gradually unfurled to take the sea when you put your feet on the red oak floor, varnished but lightened in places on the ground, the passage of its inhabitants having worn it out. And no sooner had your feet touched the floor of the ship than most of the eyes not busy loading the new treasures and stolen things had converged on you. You were probably quite detached from the atmosphere in the middle of all these people used to crime and looting, or were they just discovering an unknown face.

However, none of them took their eyes off you when a young girl came bombing onto the ship with a laugh that bounced off the ship's masts, her blue braids blending into the jungle of vines formed by the ropes methodically unwound and tied as the last of the pirate boats returned with boxes and sacks full of stolen goods. The vibrant, euphoric young woman made her way to the opening of what appeared to be the captain's quarters and opened the doors wide. Sevika followed her, stopping near the entrance to the quarters and observing the crew from her elevated vantage point, inviting the crew to gather around to hear what their Captain had to say. Out of those doors with glass similar to church windows, emerged a man in a long black coat, tall, very thin and angular. From where you stood, you could make out his hair combed neatly back, a sea-blue eye hidden by a frown. His cheekbones were prominent, his nose aquiline and elongated, and his lips asymmetrical and beautiful to speak. The presence the man possessed was more powerful and subduing than any being you had ever encountered in your life so far. He was a man who exuded authority, power and control, who could probably make you do anything and whose demands you could not refuse. A man whose every word you waited for like the last drops of your flask in the middle of the desert, and whose nectar of the gods you relished as if it had been offered to you by the flow of his words and lips.

But what probably struck you most about this being straight out of the mouth of Lucifer himself was his eye patch over his left eye. Not that an eye patch was anything out of the ordinary, of course, it was probably even common among pirates, but it seemed to hide an eye whose surrounding flesh was blackened, as if several layers of skin were gradually digging into the precipice of its eyelids, and that throwing yourself into it would mean a one-way trip. The crew stood still in their task, putting down the golden candlesticks they had in their hands or the oranges whose acidic and sweet juice was beading abundantly on their hands to stick their fingers between the dirt and the sweat. They all waited for the captain's words, and the words he spoke had the same effect as an ice cube on a burning body in constant need of cooling. "My friends, once again it is a raid of the height of my expectations that you bring aboard this ship, and I thank you for it. You all deserve a reward, so we set sail for Obsidian Harbor." A roar of joy rises from the throats of all the pirates who share a contentment that does not reach you. Everything you feel in the moment is mixed into a mush, some of which you can see, but you can never quite figure out what it is. You try to force yourself to forget that the life you had a few minutes ago will never come back to you again, your heart's memory had been punctured with a gun and no amount of surgery could bring that missing piece back.

Silco's visible eye scanned the crew amidst the tumult and the forest of raised fists before falling on you. Without shifting his gaze from yours, his lips moved without you being able to hear, Sevika leaning closer to him to hear what he had to say. She answered him, and Silco ended up giving a simple nod before turning to the young woman with braided hair who was also looking in your direction. Silco offered her a charming smile, before holding out an object that you couldn't see, a highly extended fist preventing you from seeing more. Within seconds, Silco returned to his quarters with the braided girl, and Sevika came down the stairs to the deck and into your direction. "Follow me," she said. She then opened a hatch leading to the first hold. She found you some loose clothing that seemed to be too big for strictly anyone and that no matter what happened you would float in it. A big belt was given to you at your waist to hold all those lengths of clothes, the top itself looked more like a dress than a simple shirt. Then she starts to tell you the rules and your activity on the ship. First of all, concerning your activities, it's simple: Sevika will make sure that the whole crew knows that you are the surgeon and even the doctor. You'll just have to stay alert at all times, because the thing about pirates is that it doesn't work in appointments like it did with your father. The members would come in as soon as the problem crossed their mind and you would take care of it in the moment.

All the necessary utensils would be given to you later, because with all the loot the ship had at its disposal, your father's belongings and his working tools would be in one of the bags. She showed you around the ship, or at least what you were allowed to access, showing you your hammock to sleep in and ending with the rules. You were not allowed to enter the apartments of the captain and his daughter without the permission of the quartermaster, the captain's daughter whose name you learned - Jinx - or the captain himself. You don't steal, you don't fight, you don't bet money when you play and everything else. One of the things she gave you was a little extra advice being, "Don't pay attention to Jinx, she's nuts, just do your job if she asks and don't say anything." You kept that in mind, only you didn't have to be too wary of her because of a particular event. You had become a surgeon on the ship, consulting the sailors when signs of unusual symptoms took place or when some returned from boarding and pillaging with cuts or more serious injuries. You recommended that they constantly eat oranges for Scurvy and drink lemon water for Dysentery as they wondered why their teeth and nails were falling out and their breath stank from miles. And although you probably didn't look like a pirate at all, nor threatening or anything that would let them shoot you, you had managed to gain their respect. It was during the first boarding they did with you on board, and you had your first real verbal exchange with Silco, the Captain of The Last Drop.

A Piltovian ship was the target in question, and after the ships finally broke up following the battle, many of the members were badly and severely injured.

_____________________________ Trigger Warning (the scene contains mentions of blood, open wounds, stitching skin, blood transfusion) for a summary of the scene – so that you’re not lost with what happened – i put a summary of it at the end of the part ------------------------------------- You found yourself in the hold, mopping your forehead under the heat and pressure, while finishing stitching up a wound you had managed to stop bleeding, the pirate having a wooden plate between his teeth to better pass the pain and prevent him from breaking his jaw. Your hands reeked of metal and rum as you concluded your work meticulously while a crowd of pirates were around you whimpering in pain, some screaming as some of their colleagues habitually repositioned their ankle or shoulder. " Move!" Sevika growled as she rushed toward you, one person in her arms. The member got up from the table you were using to deal with the limbs as soon as he saw the quartermaster coming. But what made him stand up was probably not the fact that she was screaming, but rather who she had in her arms: Jinx.

A long wound was splitting her belly and blood was flowing under the sheet that Sevika had put down to stop the bleeding. You cleared some utensils on the table, letting Sevika put the girl down while silence was around you and the crew members didn't say anything more. You blew out a big breath. "I want four people to hold her arms and legs," you said turning to the members who without further ado for the lesser reached grabbed arms and knees of the girl who was squirming. "Sevika, you'll help me press right after, but first ... " You raised your sleeves, grabbing a new bottle of rum and removing the cork with your teeth, first pouring it on your hands and then on Jinx's belly, who was wiggling and grunting insults. Thus first of all it disinfected the wound, but it allowed you to have a cleaner view on the latter, which between the mixed threads of sweat and blood formed a fog of red filth. You inhale, then blow gently before taking the sheet and starting to insert it into the open wound. Jinx began to scream as you inserted the cloth several inches under the flesh for the entire length of the opening. The members worked to hold it in place while Sevika watched you with round eyes. When you had finished inserting the fabric properly into her pulpit, you folded the rest of the garment on itself before starting to press it. Having pushed the tissue into the flesh would make it easier to stop the bleeding, which was your goal for the moment. Now you had to press until the bleeding stopped and you could sew it up.

"Sevika, please help me apply pressure," you say, and she follows your instructions on the spot, "make sure you press well, keeping your elbows straight. In a few moments, the bleeding will stop. You looked at Jinx's face, which didn't look as tortured as she did a few seconds ago, for the moment she seemed to be drifting. "Can either of you read?" you asked, raising your voice so the members could hear you. They all looked at each other confused, their eyes suddenly finding the floor very interesting. You press your tongue against your teeth, lips parted, the sound made the same as when you scratch a match. Your eyes meet a guy's. "You see that little bag over there?" you say, pointing with your chin to a box with a large leather purse on it, he nods. "Take it, there's a vial inside, bring it to me."

He followed your instructions, trotting off to find the vial, which he quickly retrieved. He came back to you.

"Now open the bottle, put some on your fingers, and let her smell it." He looked you straight in the eye as if asked the forbidden. "Is this a joke?" He stammers. "Do I look like I'm joking?" You say, constantly pressing the same pressure on Jinx's body as she seemed to slowly flutter her eyes shut. He frowned, turning to Sevika as if asking her permission. "Do what she tells you." She ordered. So he complied, soaking his fingers in the oil. A cool, fresh smell was beginning to mix with that of blood and sweat. So he put his blackened fingers in front of Jinx's nose, who immediately came back to herself almost in a startle. "We must keep her awake." You explained, your eyes plunged into those of Sevika. She watched you. You obviously felt that you surprised her. She must have thought for a while that you wouldn't last long on this ship, that you wouldn't have the guts to ensure operations like these. But no, you kept your cool, you were stable, and for that, she offered you a simple nod. It was after a few minutes that hurried footsteps were heard, and the crew in the hold became tense. Silco. He hurried to the table, standing next to Sevika and facing you. He seemed out of breath, angry but afraid. He was watching his daughter, who was breathing heavily and who had meanwhile been put another wooden plate between her teeth under your instructions.

His eye drifted inevitably on your hands pressed against her belly, going up thereafter on your reddened arms and on your face of which you made yourself violence not to let show the fear which vibrated in all your body. You had never realized until now, with your arms half-covered with this red liquid that keeps you alive, how much power this job gave you: the power of life and death, of joy and bitterness, of might and fear. You literally had a life in your hands, and what you did in the moment could inevitably cause Jinx's demise. A god among humans, you were creating a dependency of this crew on yourself that made you stronger than anywhere else at that very moment when your hands were forcing on this girl's skin. You were the real power in that moment, not Sevika, not Silco, you. Silco's eye was watching you with such insistence that it was as if the world around you no longer existed. The blue of his gaze scanned you, eyebrows furrowed, with so many conflicting and powerful emotions in it that you ended up looking away from him, down at your hands.

He seemed visibly displeased with the situation. He probably didn't appreciate his daughter being hurt and held against a table by his own crew like a madwoman or like someone who was about to be tortured. No, he probably didn't appreciate it, and he seemed as angry and upset as a bag of bees. The cloth didn't seem to soak in for a while, so you instructed Sevika: "I'm going to start removing the cloth, keep pressing." She nodded, you turned your head to Jinx. "Sorry, this is going to hurt again." But you didn't wait for any nod from her and began to painstakingly remove the cloth, slowly. The pain must have been horrible, but to do it with too much force would have probably risked to start the bleeding again, which would have thrown away all the efforts you had previously made. All along your practice, you felt Silco's eye on you like a lighthouse in the middle of the night, he was watching you to the point that it was suffocating, even though it was only an eye. The sheet was finally removed, and the bleeding had effectively stopped. You let out a huge sigh of relief, and so did some of the crew. The hardest part was over. You took the bottle of alcohol again, pouring it once more on Jinx's belly who was growling and squealing, unable to move as she wanted to with her arms and legs well guarded by the pirates.

You took your previously used needle, passing it over the flame of the candle that was near you, wiping it, then bathing it with alcohol. You put it on Jinx's belly, cleaning your hands again with the rum. Maybe Silco was wincing because you were making him lose a lot of rum in your operations, who knows, but his displeasure was not dislodged from his face. So you moved closer to Jinx's belly, looking at her. She had lost consciousness, which at the time was not as bad as before. You brought one of your hands to her wrist and another to her neck to make sure there was a pulse. And once you were sure it was present and correct, you took a deep breath, filling your lungs with all the air you could muster, and grabbed the needle to start sewing. Some people looked away, as if most of them had not just spent the previous fifteen minutes ripping their enemies apart. But if there was one eye that never left you, it was Silco's. Disgruntled was not really the expression that adorned his face from what you could see in your peripheral vision. He seemed mostly surprised, curious... Impressed.

You were like a dolphin in a shark's sea, faster, smarter, less brute and wiser; a star of the sea among the morays, a pearl among the oysters. There was something in you more precious than the treasures he possessed and coveted, something he did not possess, which made him as doubtful as it made him curious, which frightened him but in which he trusted. You finish sewing Jinx up fairly quickly, placing the needle and thread to the side. "Last step," you said, turning to the box where your kit had been stored, "she's lost a lot of blood, she needs a transfusion." You pulled out a very thin tube with two needles on each end that would allow you to give a transfusion. "Any volunteers?" Arms go up, some agreeing verbally. You soon realize that it is not out of a genuine desire to save Jinx that they are offering themselves, but so that the Captain will think of them as honorable men deserving of extra good. Their greed seems ridiculous as you watch them offer themselves, but Silco himself begins to roll up his sleeve. "That will be me." But Sevika stops him in his tracks. "No, it will be me."

And so the captain and his first mate begin to haggle, one suggesting that the captain is too important to donate blood himself, the other insisting that it is his daughter first and foremost and that he must do this for her. These negotiations were childish, and you didn't dare interrupt them during their exchange, so you sighed, took the needle in hand and found Jinx's vein. Then you roll up the sleeve of your arm of choice and find your own vein for the transfusion. You then sit down on the next bench, the Captain and Sevika still talking. You look at them, slightly exasperated, that in a situation like this they still find a way to negotiate. They are pirates, they are the ones who normally take immediate action, right? "I won't allow it," you finally hear from Silco before turning to you, "I will-" But his words melt off his tongue like butter as his eye falls on the tube already connecting your arm and Jinx's, the exchange of blood having already begun. ______________________________ end of the trigger warning --------------------------------------

He looked even more stunned than if an enemy ship had been waiting patiently for him and was willingly surrendering. "All she needs now is some rest," you confirm.

"Alright guys, let's step aside a little and let her breathe." Sevika orders concerning Jinx. You had almost swept into the back of your head the simple fact that you were surrounded and watched by so many eyes. But only one mattered, only one persisted, Silco's. Because under his eye you feel special, like a lapidary contemplating the multiple reflections of a fantasy-coloured diamond he cuts. Its girdles, its stars, its breaks, its countless facets, all shining differently. And it is as if he wanted to know all of them. What would he do with this diamond once he knew every facet? Would he sell it to a higher bidder? Would he find a diamond even more beautiful than this one? Or would he keep it preciously near him? You think about this eye of which they say so much on the seas, of which the currents brought so many stories that the sailors drank until they were always thirsty. This eye that has this glow similar to the starry sky under which you stand. You can't sleep. You've been on this boat for nine days. Your hammock, although more or less comfortable, was not able to lull you to sleep. The night had fallen, the stars dotted the blue velvet sky like rivers of white stones and pearls. The air is fresh, crisp like the first bite of a chilled apple, with hints of burnt sugar weaving through the charcoal night air, and the small candle placed in a lantern next to you serves as a lamp for your carving.

On one of the last raids, you asked for something made of wood, anything as long as it was made of wood. No one really understood why, but you were brought back a few table legs, chair legs, and even the arms of the helm. You had your scalpel in hand, scraping away at the wood you were holding. You had managed to form a thick disk that fit in your hand the size of a large pineapple slice. On it you carved a tree. It seemed like you hadn't seen a tree in forever. Your status as an unwitting pirate prevented you from landing on an island when The Last Drop approached, lest you finally decide to escape. So you allowed yourself to dream a little by sculpting one. The ocean is beautiful, powerful, graceful, but it doesn't help that after days of being on a boat with nothing but blue on top of another shade of blue could drive you crazy and make you believe that nothing in the world exists anymore. The ocean has paths that aren't land, signs that aren't written, guides that aren't human, and as much as you try to learn and understand navigation and compass use, you get lost because the ocean and the sky are two mirrors reflecting each other. The ship is quiet, it's almost as if you are standing alone on it, the small splash of water on the hull being the only sound accompanying your scalpel as it cuts slivers of wood that eventually fly away into the air like petals.

If you don't concentrate hard enough, you sometimes feel like you're seeing something other than wood in your hands, something more human, more tender and less hard, but you pull yourself together every time to keep your mind from thinking about those horrors that are part of the reasons why you can't get a full night. The silence is gone when heavy footsteps sound on the deck. You look up, Sevika has just come out of Silco's apartments. She looks at you for a moment, before saying loudly but not too strongly: "Silco wants to see you." You stop all movement, watching Sevika as if you were seeing a ghost. You are almost tempted to stick your scalpel in your finger to make sure that what is happening is really happening. You turn around to see if there was someone behind you who might have been the real person called. But there is no one else on the deck but you and Sevika. This is absurd, why would Silco want to see you? You tighten your fingers around the wooden disc until your knuckles are white, it allowed you to refocus and hold on to something real to make sure this was actually happening. "I don't have all night." she exhales. You finally get down from the crate you were sitting on, trying to rearrange your clothes as if it would change anything about the appearance of the rags you were wearing. So you walked towards Sevika, and before you could enter the apartments, she stopped you. "Knife."

Knife? Oh, right, the scalpel. She must have thought that someone as new to the ship as you were, and who was about to interact with the Captain for the second time in their life, might have been malicious and able to get to him. After all, you were a "surgeon", you knew the points that would be enough to kill a man in only twenty seconds. But you didn't understand why she was asking you to do it when she would be at her side, right? So you hand her your scalpel, and she grabs your wrist firmly. "Don't try anything weird, scallop, understand?" You look her straight in the eye, nodding simply. So she takes the scalpel, loosening her grip on your wrist until she lets go, then grabbing the wooden disc from you. "I'm going to put this in your hammock," she says, before walking down the few steps leading to the deck that separate Silco's quarters from the rest of the ship. You stand there for a moment. Silco has requested an audience. With you. Alone.

For a moment, you are terrified to enter his quarters, simply because you don't know what you are about to experience. He could hurt you, he could kill you, he could torture you the way he thought you had tortured his daughter the other day. The possibilities were endless, but fearing that the longer you made him wait the more serious the sentence would be, you entered his quarters. You swallowed, completely confused and not knowing what to expect. You had probably never seen such simple and dark luxury as the room had. You found yourself at the top of a small staircase that split in two to go along the sides of the room and reach the level where a mini living room was located. The walls were as deep blue as the abyss, the heavy velvet curtains were black, and the water-green stained glass window behind Silco gave him the appearance of a saint with its convoluted shapes although slightly hidden by the thick curtains covering a large part of the room. The ceiling was as high as the room was long, a beautiful chandelier hung proudly from it, all in silver. The air was filled with the scent of tobacco, powdered sugar and a warm raspberry smell. You might have expected his quarters to look more golden, seeing all the gold the members were bringing in, but no. It was all cool toned, and you had never been in a room that was as warm as it was cold. "Close the door, please." He says. The back of his seat faces you, giving you a slight glimpse of Silco's back and the scroll he is reading.

You comply, not questioning the orders of your Captain. Order, the word in your thoughts right now makes you feel like you've changed clothes all at once. Order can mean so many things, that something is in order, that everything is back in order. But this order is different, it controls, it does not ask, it forces. The order is a proof of obedience, and for the moment you don't intend to disobey any order from Silco. The double door closes, and you turn around, not daring to take another step. You wait for his instructions, his next order. "We're not going to discuss this far, come over here." His tone seems... light. You would have expected a bit of the same kind of discussion as when the principal of your school called you into his office for some reason you knew or had no idea about, but no. He seems most relaxed as you walk down the stairs. You almost fall off a step as he turns to look at you. The advantage of having more than two people in a room is that you can always look for someone else's gaze, as you might have done with Sevika.

But you find yourself alone at the bottom of the stairs. When you arrive at the foot of it, you realize through a slit that the curtained wall on the side hides a bed, and that it is perhaps the bed in which Silco sleeps. But this one has in its interior all kind of trinkets and multicolored drawings that make you understand quickly that it is Jinx's bed. The Captain's daughter had left the ship this very morning with a handful of the crew, borrowing one of the boats that had been located not far from The Last Drop. You had shown her how to take care of her wound so that it would not get infected, prescribing her other things to take morning, noon and night to speed up her recovery. You had managed to find some very useful medicines that had been brought back to you during the boarding, so you had given her some of them. She didn't mind. You hadn't been around Jinx much, but the whole crew feared her for her unpredictability, which everyone considered dangerous, and it was apparently a miracle that she listened to you carefully when you explained everything about her injuries. According to the rumors going around the crew, Jinx had found her sister during the first raid you had witnessed, and that the reason she had been so badly injured was the simple fact that when she found her during the battle, she had let her guard down. She would have had a long talk with Silco after that, and he would have allowed her to take one of his ships to look for her. Silco didn't mind parting with one of his ships, it all depended on which one of course, but the idea of parting with his daughter however didn't seem to fill his heart with joy. At the bottom of the stairs were two sofas and four armchairs facing each other, a black wooden coffee table placed to separate them. "Come closer." he said, indicating with a simple gesture for you to come nearer to his desk.

You hide your hands behind your back, you don't have anything blunt, but fiddling with your fingers in the moment reassures you somehow. You come to a distance of more than a meter from the desk. You don't dare to come any closer. It's ironic, Sevika could expect you to attack Silco but you couldn't get any closer than that, like asking a lamb to scratch the big bad wolf. You contemplate his vast office, under a layer of glass extends the map of Runeterra, illuminated by a lamp with a lampshade formed by an assembly of orange tinted glass, contrasting with the cold tones of the rest of the room. On the rest of the surface are spread out various objects like books or flasks whose contents you suspect to be alcoholic. Objects that were probably previously dull and ordinary are covered with vibrant pastel drawings such as the cup, his flask or his ashtray in which some ashes are falling. He has a cigar in hand, giving off a sweet smell of wood and spices. He looks at you, and there under his eye you feel like a statue facing him in a museum. His eye seems to be looking for the smallest details under the blows of mallets hitting the gravel, the smallest shape different from the rest of this art gallery, where you are the only statue in the middle of a hundred paintings. The only difference is that you are a statue full of colour, and all the other paintings are grey.

Only you don't know if he is a mere spectator or if he is your creator. "I'd like to thank you for your responsiveness the other day in saving my daughter, I'm grateful." So did he only bring you here to thank you for doing that? It's true that you could be proud, after all you had saved someone's life and not in the most convenient conditions. "I was just doing my job, Captain," which wasn't really wrong. You didn't save her because you wanted to save her, you did it because it was your job and if she died you would die too. He gave you a smirk, and you could tell he was satisfied, but you were still confused as he said nothing more, continuing his observation. Uncertain, you asked: "With all due respect Captain, why did you ask to see me?" He smiled, taking a drag on his cigar and blowing out a gray smoke. "For several reasons. The first is that I do prefer to know my crew and interest myself in its mates, whether new or old, and as you are undoubtedly the newest member, I had to talk to you. As for the other reasons... I'll see at the end of our exchange if you can access them." You found this answer to be a double-edged sword, as you found it both honourable that he was supposedly interested in his crew, but at the same time you feared that your answers would not live up to his expectations and that something bad would come of it.

For a moment you forget the eye you see and who sees you, your own curiously observing the dark, hollowed and gnawed skin that adorned his cheeks and forehead like a shadowy, acidic river flowing over his face and scarring it. But you don't watch discreetly enough, or at least too insistently, for his honey-coated lightning voice to ask you: "Do you know why pirates usually wear eye-patches?" The question felt tricky, as if it held a meaning unknown to you. "Because when they move around the ship and alternate between hold and deck, one eye is used to daylight while the other is used to darker places. Or perhaps they are simply hiding their eyes because of injuries." He slowly closes his eyelid before opening it again to show you a piercing eye, pointing with his free fingers at his cheek where the streaks of his scars ran like streams. "What do you think is under that eye patch, hmm?" The question catches you off guard. You might have thought he would simply dismiss the fact that you were watching his hidden eye since he must have received that kind of look quite often. But no, he had decided otherwise. You don't dare answer honestly, so you simply say this: "There are a lot of rumours." "What are they?" Of course, you knew about Silco before you were on his ship, the few soldiers who came to your father's office talked a lot about the "Sea Devil" and his "eye that never sleeps". So you try to gather all the stories that the crew was saying about him, mixing them with what you had heard from the rest. "They say that you went near the Willow Peninsula, where the trees are white and the fruit is golden, and that a mermaid scratched your eye when you were hungry for an apple. Later realizing that you were coveting the fruit out of hunger and not out of lust, she returned the fruit and dived into the deep waters. She came back to the surface with a pearl which she gave you to replace your eye." His eye seemed to soften as he listened to your story. "They say that a nymph put a curse on you that makes your eye blossom and that you must wear this eye patch to prevent them from spreading everywhere, that somehow it will overpour. They say that your eye is a diamond you got from the legendary treasure of Linley 'Striker' Byron, that blinds your enemies and allows you to attack them easily. They say that Callipso, one night while crying, dropped a star tear that landed in your eye."

Listing all these stories is like going back to your childhood and standing at the blackboard reciting a poem you learned by heart. Your audience seemed to enjoy it. "The stories are nice," he confirmed, "but what do you really think? The questions he asked all seemed to have a real heaviness to them, a particular weight that gave them an extra importance. "I think you are the only one that holds the truth about this," you say. You know very well that all these stories are not close to reality. "About your eye and your activities." "And, what are the stories about my activities?" He seems deeply amused by all this, but you answer his question. "They say that you possess merman scales, that you hide a shell on an island that counts your future when you put it near your ear, that you have a crystal boat that glitters so brightly that seeing it in the middle of the ocean is like seeing an extra sun on a noon sky. They say," you swallow, "that you stuff your enemies' mouths and throats with leeches. They even say..." you inhale softly "they even say that you conversed with a woman with eyes and lips as red as pomegranate seeds, that she was said to be able to learn everything about your life by kissing you, and that by kissing your lips..." your eyes inevitably slide to his, thin, blowing a light veil of smoke, "she had become paler than the moon."

And his eye bites you, every long look without a blink makes you burn with a sweet fire in your cheeks and neck.

"What do you think about these stories? Why do you think they create all these tales about me?" he asks without leaving you, taking another drag from his cigar.

You don't think his eye is all that legendary, but you sense that it sees through people, through their lives, through their lies, that it can see nightmare and dream, which makes him the most feared lord of the seas. But repeating this out loud doesn't seem like the right thing to do at the time, so you simply reply:

"I think they are just rumours to make you feared and important, people love stories, especially the ones that are about legends. Ignorance is the mother of fear, so they fear not knowing what the truth is."

You weren't wrong after all. These tales are like strawberries of lies dipped in a big bowl of sweet cream, words of sugar easy to eat, and of which you want more after each bite. Bitter drink than the truth.

"Who can rule without wealth or fear or love?

Lucky man, he had almost all of them. He undoubtedly possessed some of the greatest wealth in the world of piracy today.

Fear? Oh, fear, no sailor doesn't tremble when he hears his name spoken like a curse whose mere hearing condemns you for life.

Love? Love...

He certainly loved his daughter, but family love is a special kind of love that cannot be compared to any other love. Many things were said about Jinx, that storms are less fickle than her, seas less capricious. Silco was an ocean, and Jinx an ardent fire that might burn his ship down to ashes. But you weren't going to say that out loud, the love Silco had for his daughter was obvious.

It was a glint in his eye, a glint you had seen when you were stitching Jinx up, it never stopped when he looked at her, and nothing but fear could stop it from glowing constantly.

"Do you want to see what's under that eye patch?"

You stand still, and for some reason you don't know, you're as scared as you are curious. What if the legends are true after all? What if you find yourself cursed just by looking at that eye? What if... What if the eye was just another eye and the scars around its cheekbones never reached its lids?

You feel as if you've been walking on a cobbled floor for a while now, and that if you don't respond in the right way, the floor will collapse under you and close in without you ever being able to get out. And you feel that now the chances of you being wrong are ten times greater.

" Can I?" you say softly, your voice skimming over the murmur as if he were about to whisper a secret to you.

"I wouldn't have offered it to you if you didn't have the right." He confirms.

Your skin tingles as a fluttery feeling invades your belly. You don't even dare say anything more, lest speaking too loudly would burst a dream bubble, so you simply nod.

"Come closer," he says, taking one last drag of smoke to crush the tip of his cigar in the ashtray.

So you step closer to the desk, and you're scared. What if he asks you to come closer and stick a knife in your stomach? Maybe he felt humiliated after telling you all the stories you'd heard?

"Go round the desk," he points with a weary finger, "you're the one who's going to take it off of me."

You stop, your body tenses, a shiver runs through it like cool water. You must have misheard him, right?

"That I take off your eye patch? Me?"

"Is there anyone else in this room I'm talking to?" he says, turning his seat to make you face the side of the desk.

You feel your hands getting sweaty, you wipe them on your thighs. No amount of surgery or stitches seems to equal having to remove that innocent piece of cloth.

You move closer until your knees are almost touching.

You look at the eye patch, and Silco looks at you as if the same statue in that museum he was walking through had come to life.

Shyly, you bring both hands up to his face, and are almost surprised to feel that his skin is as warm as any other human's when your palms brush against his cheeks.

You let your fingers slide slowly along the leather strips that loop back. Silco's eye patch is not held in place by a knot that you can simply pull on to undo, but has a belt-like mechanism.

The seconds seem to stretch out, and he doesn't stop looking at you for a moment. You pull the tab slightly, dislodging the little metal arm that pierces it before finally letting the eye patch loosen on its own.

An eye as black as a storm, covered with a red flame, reveals itself to you. His gaze, it stings like heaven and caresses like hell. You feel like snow catching fire as your two gazes look at each other. No, they don't look at each other.

Looking is not seeing, and Silco isn't looking at you, he's seeing you. And for a moment, it's only that look that occupies your whole world. His eye is like the crater of a volcano, humming with warmth and heat and death and mystery and so much more that you feel like you're plunging into the depths of a petroleum lake about to burst into flames.

"Do you want to know the real story?"

Your thumb slowly and calmly traces the shape of the eye patch loop you hold in your hands, nodding before leaning back slightly against his desk, listening to him.

"Years ago, before I owned The Last Drop, it was in the hands of my friend Vander. We were... very close, and one day when we were about to storm Piltover and make a major coup for the piracy world," he'd looked away from the map on his desk, his eye like the head of his cigar, dark with its burning orange ring, "he betrayed me, and left me with this as a souvenir." he counted as he brought his fingers up to his cracked and blackened skin. "No matter how many stories we tell about monsters, the greatest ones will always be humans."

Both his eyes seemed full of unspoken words, as if he wondered if he had said too much or not enough.

Bitter drink than the truth.

Then his gaze returned to yours, and he asked you:

"Now that you've seen it, and you know its story, what do you think?"

It is true that you had just witnessed the true story of the Eye of Silco, the Devil of the Seas, the Eye that Never Sleeps. You didn't really expect anything spectacular, or terrifying. You thought it was beautiful, this eye, it looked like a sun in a night sky.

You basked in it like a fire in a dark place, you warmed your soul and found comfort in it in a way.

Then you tenderly replied, cracking a tiny smile:

"Legends don't compare to it, I prefer it, it has a real story."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, looking for any sign of lies in your eyes, but he found none, and let his lips split his face in a soft smile.

The truth is, you thought Silco was complete now. You could see him truly, fully, without any filters or props that might have prevented you from seeing him in his entirety.

You could have stood there for a moment without saying anything, just gazing at each other and talking to each other with your eyes and listening with your hearts.

You were thinking about the reasons you could access after your exchange, because you deeply doubted that he had invited you simply to make small talk.

"Why do I have the right to know all this?

The request was sincere, and Silco saw no ill intent in answering you, opening a drawer in his desk.

"I'm on medication, this eye from hell is hurting me so I have to ease the pain it's causing me." He pulls out a cylinder shaped object that you might have mistaken for a candlestick. "Usually Jinx is in charge of administering it, but since she's not here right now, I thought it would be good with your status as a surgeon to have you do it."

He handed you the object, you placed the eye patch on the desk before taking the utensil in hand as if it were made of porcelain. You examined it, the needle centred inside the tool sending a shiver down your spine.

"The rounded end goes over the eye, then you just press here. You just have to aim at the centre of the pupil. He indicates to you as you place the object correctly in your hands. "My body will cringe after you press it, so don't worry, that means it worked," he confirms.

You're not too keen on the idea of sticking a needle in his eye. You swallow as Silco sinks further into his seat. You can't really back out of this one.

Yet it scares you more than any other operation. In fact, what scares you in the moment is the fact that you have to do this to him.

That you had to do this to someone else would have been unpleasant, but you wouldn't have been so scared.

Silco has his head back, looking at his ceiling. You come even closer than when you took off his eye patch. He has one hand on his chest, the other moving away from his face to rest on his leg.

You move forward, checking to make sure you're aiming for the pupil and not slipping. To make sure you don't move, you grip the back of the chair, near Silco's head. You steady your hand, tighten your grip, and aim for the centre.

You are so close that your breaths land on each other's faces, your knees are between his, and you take a breath and block it.

And you press it.

A sound of metal quickly digging into fragile flesh echoes through the silence of the room.

Immediately Silco lets out a strangled sound in his throat as his head tilts rapidly forward. He twists and his hands immediately grab your forearms, squeezing them tightly.

You wrinkle your nose and clench your teeth slightly, Silco's grip is firm and he doesn't intend to let go for the moment.

His head tumbles against his hands, and his forehead wrecks against your forearms. He breathes heavily, his back rising and falling, his lungs swelling like sails bulging in the wind.

His breathing is heavy, and seems desperate, as if he's suffocated so far and has risen from a deep surface from which you' re not supposed to return.

Weak. That's what Silco looks like at the moment.

A weakness that he is ashamed of, that he hides under this eye patch, that he turns into a terror for the world and that he doesn't let anyone see except his daughter.

No one but his daughter? Not any more. He let you see his weakness.

He trusted you, enough to ask you to come and see him when you'd only met him twice before, enough to tell you what really happened instead of telling you stories like everyone else had. But had he been honest till the end? Or had he also set a trap for you by telling you another, more plausible scenario that would satisfy you?

You put these questions aside, you'll think about them later, this is not the right time. You don't want to see him in that state, hunched under you while you hold in your hand the object of his torment and pain.

You hesitate for a moment, then, with your free hand, you move your fingers to the top of his head and brush his hair.

He freezes, and for a moment you wonder if you might have made a mistake with this gesture, but you continue, waiting for him to tell you if he's bothered.

But nothing comes, he says nothing. You let your index finger and thumb mingle with the dark, greying strands of his hair, brushing your fingernails against his skull at times, letting your fingers tenderly caress his head.

His breathing steadies, and you feel a huge difference between the tense feeling he had before and the total release that runs through his body now. His hands have loosened their tight embrace on your arms, and his head is even more pressed against your palms.

Secretly, you know that this simple gesture makes him feel better.

It's only a few moments later that he breaks away from your hands to look at you, gently dropping the grip he has on your forearms, letting his hands slide down to your wrists, brushing your fingers before leaving his hand resting next to yours.

They don't touch, yet they're so close, so close that all you would have to do is lift your index finger slightly to touch them. He brings his other hand to his chest, still looking at the hand that is so close to yours.

"It's a pity that no balm or elixir can really heal," he says, his gaze was even softer than his voice. It reached out to the softest parts of you like a caress, like the wind in the trees, tickling those wonderful branches that bear the apple of your heart.

And his eyes, oh, his eyes - they are uniquely soft.

You might have expected the mismatched black of Silco's eyes to invariably put people to torture, and that he would play it virtuoso. But at the moment, it was nothing to be nervous about.

You can feel the warmth of his fingers next to yours, feel your hair stand up because his hand is so close to yours. You think it's selfish, but you want to close the gap between your fingers, to bring your index to his skin until they touch...

There's a knock at the door, and you gasp, turning towards it. Within seconds, you step aside, placing the tool carefully on the desk. Your heart sinks into your throat, and you feel your cheeks heat up violently.

"A crow."

You recognise Sevika's voice, and somehow it soothes you that it's her and not someone else.

You feel as if you have come close to the forbidden, and perhaps you have.

But the forbidden is too tempting.

"It's getting late, you should go to sleep." Silco says softly before moving closer to his desk with his chair, running a hand through his hair to comb it back properly.

You nodded, walking round the desk to take one of the stairs which you quickly climbed. As you reached the doors, he called you. You turned around and he looked you straight in the eye.

"Thank you," he said, a thin smile spreading across his face.

You nodded.

"Good night," you said before opening the doors.

The fresh air outside bites into your peonieshaded cheeks, your face all poppy. Outside, Sevika is waiting, a small roll of paper in her hand. You smiled at her, feeling very light, as if your heart had wings and was about to fly away like a sparrow freed from a cage.

You wished her good night, and then headed for the hold to your hammock. In it lay your wooden disc and your scalpel as Sevika had told you. You took the two objects in your hand and pulled yourself up inside.

In the half-light, you drew the relief of the branches you had pruned, ending up placing the disc against your heart, your scalpel now stored in a long pouch that you had hung on your belt.

Your eyes stared at the parallel lines of the planks before you fell asleep, and you remembered the last thing you'd thought of before sinking into the world of dreams: You didn't care what strawberries of lies he told you, you'd dip them in the cream without hesitation if he asked, and you wouldn't blink for a moment.

__________________________

Trigger part summary content :

Reader is in the hold taking care of the wounded members of the crew. Sevika comes in with jinx who's badly wounded on her stomach. Reader proceeds to press clothes on the cut to stop the bleeding. Silco comes, he's furious but mostly scared for his daughter. After the bleeding stops, reader cleans jinx's wound and stitch it, and then proceeds to giver her their blood.

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