Chapter 22: Sleeping Candles Burning
Obeying the call of his defective heart, he let Amanda roll onto his bed and sat down next to her in order to let her grab him by his hair and kiss him. She looked so completely relaxed that his heartbeat settled down as well. They laid down next to each other, just breathing.
"It was good," Bastian agreed. "The best."
"Mmh." Her hands traveled across his chest, searching for irregularities on his skin. And there were plenty. Few pirates had been spared from scars and the parts of him that were unscathed, had tattoos or birthmarks. His skin was a chart.
And Amanda the eager explorer, like a Mrs. Columbus in search of new lands.
His head was getting soft from all that lovemaking. He shook himself internally, deciding that he was not about to get insane enough to become a lousy poet.
"Where did you get this scar?" she asked, toying with the jagged edge of an old knife slash that the former Bastian Black had been especially proud of.
"Got stabbed," Bastian said. "The other party had different ideas about fair fights. I brought nothing but my fists. He brought a stiletto knife."
"Wow," Amanda muttered. "Pirates really don't like to play fair."
"And we shouldn't, either," Bastian said thoughtfully. "We have established ourselves as a crew of insane female cannibals captained by an undead, heartless man. We should capitalize on that. Build a consistent reputation, yet shroud said reputation in mystery."
"I like it when you talk about business plans butt naked," Amanda said, her devilish qualities slowly returning with a smirk. "I agree with you. We can pull off a few more tricks and then let the rumors do their own. If we have to fight, we can fight, recruit some ladies with sword-fighting skills, but for the most part, they will see our flag and that will be enough."
Bastian let out a small, approving noise. He had never doubted Amanda's competence outside her strange relationship with the other first mate. She was clever, knowledgeable enough about life on the high seas that she could supplement what he already had stacked inside his own brain.
She fondled him for a few more moments, counting his scars, and then the cruel morning pushed its rays through the curtains.
"Guess we are really not sleeping," Amanda said.
Bastian chuckled. "Be a good wife and let me squeeze in just a few hours, won't you, Amanda Black? I need my brain to get back to a reasonably normal state. I get so sleepy after lovemaking like that."
She kissed him on the cheek and left him there.
The dreams Bastian had were far from the pleasant, semi-erotic ones he had expected. One was about a real memory of him and his brother fishing. It had actually been one of those very few events where they had been doing something completely wholesome together with no antisocial behavior involved. They were sitting on the riverbank near their childhood home, but in this dream, they were already young men, still retaining the relationship they had once possessed.
"I think you are about to catch something big very soon," Roy said, with an encouraging tone that he usually had reserved for the moments when Seb's blade had been deep in some teacher's car tire.
"It's going to be a woman," Seb-Bastian said. He was wearing his pirate clothes. He could not explain what he meant by his words, not even while still dreaming.
He pulled up what he originally thought would be a nice, big fish, but it was his mother's face. He screamed.
Bastian Black jolted awake, with his lips repeating words that he did not consciously let out of himself.
"It was my fault, it was my fault, I did that to her. It was all my fault."
Then he shook his head, grabbed a quill and began to journal his emotions away so that he would never feel them again. A famous ruler had recommended such a course of action for all mornings, and so had the philosophers of old. It didn't hurt to try it.
It is not my fault that my illness exhausted our mother, for I did not choose to be sickly. Neither did I choose a violent man as my father, and therefore Roy should have known better after growing up to be a man.
However, it still pains me to think about the brother I lost. I do not believe for a second that Roy is an entirely bad person. There was light in him once, and he cherished me like brothers are supposed to. What hurts me is the thought that he will never look at me with pride in his eyes again, having chosen to be a complete bastard whenever it counts the most.
It is still not within my control. The best I can do is to end it all by becoming more powerful than him and beating him.
Bastian thought about the despair once more and then crumpled up the paper, tossing it into a bowl and putting the candle close enough that the flame ate his words quickly. He had slept with candles burning - dangerous, of course, but nowhere near as dangerous as simply existing in this world as an ambitious underdog.
Revenge, what a great excuse to be reckless.
He climbed up and put on his ruined, bloody clothes, even though he felt like he would seem less ridiculous while naked. The shirt even showed his left nipple, for the sake of all known gods. However, if it would help him seduce a crewmate, it was well worth the loss of fashionability.
Tilda came to greet him as he stepped into the area where the smokers had decided to linger during their breaks. Saying not a single word, she prepared a small corn cob pipe for him, stuffing it with the best tobacco they had.
Tilda had a peculiar haircut for a woman in a world like this, but it suited her, didn't make her any less beautiful.
"Heard you got married, Cap'n," she said as she helped him light up his pipe. "Congrats."
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone