(Alright, here it is. The unedited, unfinished mer!Stiles fic. Warnings include: assholes, angst, violence, people being specist, and references to canon deaths.)
Their journey begins with the usual amount of pomp and ceremony expected for a trade ship.
It’s the Triskelion’s forty second voyage from the colder, northern channels of Bæyan to the warm waters of Coca-Machu, and the crew means to make it a good one. Nothing too dangerous—they’re going to actually try trading this time—and everything will go smoothly. Even the weather has been fair to them since they left Port Duke with the morning tide. Many of the crew had waved goodbye to the few friends they’d made over the years, and perhaps a few enemies too. Others were more than glad to leave the port as quickly as they did.
“Are you still moping?”