When I asked my sister to give me a prompt that I could do while stranded here without my Wacom, she said to do a portrait of “Cap’s pouty friend”… elsewhere on Tumblr, wartimebucky has been posting some NEC-inspired flash art, and so this happened ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Well… First there was nothing, then there was everything… Then the good lord saw fit to bring me into the world to kick the asses of those who need it most. So get ready ‘cause this day or the next, it’s coming.
“There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.” ― Victor Hugo
He is four year old when his father warns him about Her.
He remembers it clearly; how tiny it felt between the solid arms of this very tall man. Recalls perfectly his perfume amidst the saltiness of the waves underneath them; spices and leather and the lavender bath soap they shared.
The loneliness of the moon, a starless night, is still clearly engraved in his memory. (Back then, he did not know this moment to be farewell.)
“Look son,” his father’s words in his childish ears, “how tender the Sea is tonight. And yet, She could crash us both in the blink of an eye.”
A feeling of incomprehension then, for the child he was could not understand how something of such beauty could be so treacherous.
“Do not, Killian,” a breath, his father’s long curls brushing his wee cheeks, “ever turn your back on the Sea,” a pause, innocence grasping a glimpse of understanding, “She will immediately reclaim what is Hers.”
He learns later that the Sea carries farewell. The Sea carries his father away, and when he drags himself on deck the very same night, small fingers white and trembling and where is papa Liam, he figures out the Sea never gives you back what She has taken.
“Let me look, Liam! I might see papa on a boat!” And to look until one’s eyes are tickling, burning, to look and not to blink for he would have missed papa, obviously, to look in between ruthless tears.
For the mind might not accept sorrow but the body kneels.
The Sea may be cruel and untamable, but She saves him for salvation.
She is a peaceful distraction among hell, fresh pearls against his sunburnt face, a relief as his wee hands shake from exhaustion. She is the knowing smile he and Liam exchange over work.
She becomes his best friend, his first love.
His brother’s grave, may you hold him gently in his eternal sleep, the witness of his fate.
She witnesses Milah’s death and his screams in the night. She catches his tears and reverently accepts his love in Her arms.
She is the hardest thing to give up when he falls for Emma. She is a sacrifice he however makes willingly, leaves behind Her fresh arms for vanilla and cinnamon.
Later, She reclaims what has always been Hers to begin with; later, when happiness echoes in his laughter, and there is a blonde lass running down the Jolly Roger, She takes back his life.