| Through bushes and through briars |
[16 Jul 2009|11:19pm] |
Who: Cath and Mae
Where: Their room
When: Very late evening
Rating: NSFW (are these two ever when they're alone?)
Cath shut the door behind him heavily, locking it but not setting up their jury rigged bar. There was no point. He really didn't care if the bastard got him anymore. None of it seemed to matter all the much. Not the notes, not the bloody ship, not getting out of the mess. None of it.
It'd been well over a day and no sign of Mae. Or Alexander. But his thoughts weren't with Leto or her family, as selfish as it was. He was thinking about Mae. He couldn't help it. Mae was his life. Especially now, she was all he had.
And now she was gone. God bloody damn it. He shrugged out of his jacket, then started stripping off weapons. He'd turned off his walkie-talkie, he didn't want to deal with other people's problems right now. He was finally taking the moments he needed.
Grabbing the half drunk bottle of whiskey he'd brought in with him, he downed a good swallow. This wasn't enough to get him drunk, but he needed his wits a bit for what he had planned. Or at least, a steady hand. This was one mission he had no intention of cocking up.
Turning towards the mirror where he'd found the note scrawled this morning, he saw a different one tonight. What the bloody hell?
It was on bright yellow construction paper with red hearts decorating it and golden glitter chaotically slapped on. It indicated that Cathair was supposed to turn to a particular walkie talkie channel - one that was very unused at the moment - and listen.
And it was signed Queen Mab.
Cath's blood ran cold for a minute. This fucking ship was torturing him now or he'd gone utterly mad. Taking another long drink, he stared at the note for a long while, disbelieving. He hated this ship. Another long pull of whiskey, just staring at it. It was Mae's handwriting and it was the sort of childish note she would leave him. She was still very much a little girl, his Mae.
Finally, he reached over to where his walkie-talkie was and turned it on, switching to the channel the note instructed. He didn't expect anything, really. No one who'd ever disappeared on this hellish bloody cruise had ever come back.
But maybe he hadn't completely run out of hope.
|
|