![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Blather and Ben Watches the Sun Rise
Title: Sunrise
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,110
Pairing: Pre-Ben/Shanks
The Wyvern cut through the waves with only a slight spray to hint at her passsing. It was late, the time of night when even the stars seem dim, but before the first hint of dawn has shown its rosy hue over the horizon. The time when the ocean is even darker than the sky, a blackness unbroken by any hint of light. At this hour, most people are asleep. Even the watchman takes catnaps unless there's a hint of trouble in the air. On the Wyvern, nearly everyone was asleep. Even the young lad who'd begged to join up at the last port, who'd been given the deep night watch to see if he really did want the pirate life, was snoozing in the cramped confines of the crow's nest.
Only Ben was awake, his cigarette smoldering red-orange, the only light on the ship. He leaned heavily on his elbows, resting on the rail of the bow. In the faint murky twilight provided by his cigarette, he watched the smoke trail upwards, swirling idle patterns in it with a single long finger. The old wives' saying went, if he remembered correctly, something like so: The hour before dawn, darkest of day or night, is not a time for men. It is a time of madness, the time when demons come to steal away any souls desperate enough to be wandering and awake.
He snorted lightly. All his life, at least as long as he could remember, he'd been awake in the dead of night. Insomnia or simply an unusual internal rhythm. His parents had worried, had taken him to see several doctors, but it hadn't affected his health. He was never too sleepy to study or play or simply be alert during the daylight hours. He just didn't need that much sleep. When he was a child, he'd played elaborate games, making shadow armies on his bedroom wall with the single shuttered night light. Later he'd read, and studied, and read some more. Even now, he'd read more often than not. This hour was one of the few chances for calm and peace to be had among a ship full of pirates. And always, always, he'd stay awake long enough to watch the sun rise, to see the dawning of the new day, before slipping back into his most restful sleep before he had to wake up again. It was a ritual he'd rarely missed, always awake, even if he didn't have access to the sky. Life on the Wyvern hadn't changed this, and he got to enjoy his solitude on a nearly daily basis.
With a wry smile, he dropped the remains of the cigarette overboard, following the descent of the dying ember star. It seemed that sentinels everywhere fell asleep in this hour. Only a few times had anyone been awake to join him in watching the sun, and they had been silent, sleepy, not willing or able to interrupt his calm. He raised his gaze back to the horizon, watching for the telltale pink to spread across the heavens and blot out the faint twinkling stars. Not yet, but soon.
Sometimes, rarely it was true, but still, he wished there was someone he could share this time with. Maybe not everyday, but at least once in a while. He shook his head roughly, annoyed with the melancholy turn of his thoughts. Perhaps this was what the saying meant. It was too easy to fall into introspection in the quiet, too easy to let inner demons, inner fears surface and subdue the mind before the light could come. He didn't fall prey to his emotions often, but it was easy right now. He tried to resist. The Wyvern was a good ship, and he was happy enough with his crew mates. Fat, jolly, deadly Lucky Roo who could out-eat anyone and kill with a smile; Pontoo, with his love of rum and his tales of the Red Line; Tobert, who knew far too many dirty sea chanties and loved to sing at the top of his lungs; Rickart, quiet and dark, but with a wicked tongue and a mastery of the skillet. And all the other pirates, men who wouldn't hesitate to kill, but also men of honor even if they were technically criminals.
And most of all, there was Shanks. The captain drank, fought, teased, charmed, stole, did everything with an aura of humor and charisma. Shanks above all set the tone of the ship. And because he was full of cheer, so was the ship. Because he refused to steal from anyone except other pirates and the marines, the men weren't hated by the people of West Blue. Because he had courage and bravado, they were respected by the other pirates. Because he was cheeky and insolent, the marines hunted them, but didn't view them worse than normal scum. And because he was all these things, Ben had followed him across the entirety of the West Blue, giving up the staid, and admittedly tedious, pattern of his life.
And because he also had fiery hair and the warmest, deepest hazel eyes, Ben didn't read as much at this hour. Instead he looked out into the darkness and saw Shanks. Saw the wiry form and heard the laughter. Could feel heated, drunken breath in his hair. And it aggravated him, just like Shanks. The man compelled him and irritated him, lowering his barriers, even when he wasn't around. He wanted......he wasn't sure, but it had everything to do with that feeling of loneliness that struck sometimes in the dead of night.
A sigh trickled from his lungs into the gradually graying air. Of everyone on the ship, he was the loner, even though he hadn't been the newest crew member in over a year. He'd always been a loner, he liked his solitude. But these men, that man, had grown on him in ways he'd never expected, and his hour of peace was slowly becoming his least restful time. The place where the ocean met the sky was finally visible, a hint of pink bleeding slowly from the east. With an effort, he pushed his musings into the back corner of his mind and settled in to watch the sun. As the first hint of red crested the horizon, he heard the near-silent footfalls of well-worn sandals slapping on the deck. A hand settled gently on his shoulder, as a sleepy voice whispered, "'ere y'are." A soft exhalation of breath and his companion added, voice hushed now with awe, "'s beautiful." He nodded, a slow smile crossing his face, as the sun rose into the sky.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,110
Pairing: Pre-Ben/Shanks
The Wyvern cut through the waves with only a slight spray to hint at her passsing. It was late, the time of night when even the stars seem dim, but before the first hint of dawn has shown its rosy hue over the horizon. The time when the ocean is even darker than the sky, a blackness unbroken by any hint of light. At this hour, most people are asleep. Even the watchman takes catnaps unless there's a hint of trouble in the air. On the Wyvern, nearly everyone was asleep. Even the young lad who'd begged to join up at the last port, who'd been given the deep night watch to see if he really did want the pirate life, was snoozing in the cramped confines of the crow's nest.
Only Ben was awake, his cigarette smoldering red-orange, the only light on the ship. He leaned heavily on his elbows, resting on the rail of the bow. In the faint murky twilight provided by his cigarette, he watched the smoke trail upwards, swirling idle patterns in it with a single long finger. The old wives' saying went, if he remembered correctly, something like so: The hour before dawn, darkest of day or night, is not a time for men. It is a time of madness, the time when demons come to steal away any souls desperate enough to be wandering and awake.
He snorted lightly. All his life, at least as long as he could remember, he'd been awake in the dead of night. Insomnia or simply an unusual internal rhythm. His parents had worried, had taken him to see several doctors, but it hadn't affected his health. He was never too sleepy to study or play or simply be alert during the daylight hours. He just didn't need that much sleep. When he was a child, he'd played elaborate games, making shadow armies on his bedroom wall with the single shuttered night light. Later he'd read, and studied, and read some more. Even now, he'd read more often than not. This hour was one of the few chances for calm and peace to be had among a ship full of pirates. And always, always, he'd stay awake long enough to watch the sun rise, to see the dawning of the new day, before slipping back into his most restful sleep before he had to wake up again. It was a ritual he'd rarely missed, always awake, even if he didn't have access to the sky. Life on the Wyvern hadn't changed this, and he got to enjoy his solitude on a nearly daily basis.
With a wry smile, he dropped the remains of the cigarette overboard, following the descent of the dying ember star. It seemed that sentinels everywhere fell asleep in this hour. Only a few times had anyone been awake to join him in watching the sun, and they had been silent, sleepy, not willing or able to interrupt his calm. He raised his gaze back to the horizon, watching for the telltale pink to spread across the heavens and blot out the faint twinkling stars. Not yet, but soon.
Sometimes, rarely it was true, but still, he wished there was someone he could share this time with. Maybe not everyday, but at least once in a while. He shook his head roughly, annoyed with the melancholy turn of his thoughts. Perhaps this was what the saying meant. It was too easy to fall into introspection in the quiet, too easy to let inner demons, inner fears surface and subdue the mind before the light could come. He didn't fall prey to his emotions often, but it was easy right now. He tried to resist. The Wyvern was a good ship, and he was happy enough with his crew mates. Fat, jolly, deadly Lucky Roo who could out-eat anyone and kill with a smile; Pontoo, with his love of rum and his tales of the Red Line; Tobert, who knew far too many dirty sea chanties and loved to sing at the top of his lungs; Rickart, quiet and dark, but with a wicked tongue and a mastery of the skillet. And all the other pirates, men who wouldn't hesitate to kill, but also men of honor even if they were technically criminals.
And most of all, there was Shanks. The captain drank, fought, teased, charmed, stole, did everything with an aura of humor and charisma. Shanks above all set the tone of the ship. And because he was full of cheer, so was the ship. Because he refused to steal from anyone except other pirates and the marines, the men weren't hated by the people of West Blue. Because he had courage and bravado, they were respected by the other pirates. Because he was cheeky and insolent, the marines hunted them, but didn't view them worse than normal scum. And because he was all these things, Ben had followed him across the entirety of the West Blue, giving up the staid, and admittedly tedious, pattern of his life.
And because he also had fiery hair and the warmest, deepest hazel eyes, Ben didn't read as much at this hour. Instead he looked out into the darkness and saw Shanks. Saw the wiry form and heard the laughter. Could feel heated, drunken breath in his hair. And it aggravated him, just like Shanks. The man compelled him and irritated him, lowering his barriers, even when he wasn't around. He wanted......he wasn't sure, but it had everything to do with that feeling of loneliness that struck sometimes in the dead of night.
A sigh trickled from his lungs into the gradually graying air. Of everyone on the ship, he was the loner, even though he hadn't been the newest crew member in over a year. He'd always been a loner, he liked his solitude. But these men, that man, had grown on him in ways he'd never expected, and his hour of peace was slowly becoming his least restful time. The place where the ocean met the sky was finally visible, a hint of pink bleeding slowly from the east. With an effort, he pushed his musings into the back corner of his mind and settled in to watch the sun. As the first hint of red crested the horizon, he heard the near-silent footfalls of well-worn sandals slapping on the deck. A hand settled gently on his shoulder, as a sleepy voice whispered, "'ere y'are." A soft exhalation of breath and his companion added, voice hushed now with awe, "'s beautiful." He nodded, a slow smile crossing his face, as the sun rose into the sky.