On her first day in Winterland, Sadhbh Mizzenjack was oddly (and against all better judgement) quite relaxed.
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Many found her usual brusque attitude off-putting, sure, but there were just as many like-minded and like-attitude'd people among them all. It was all a dream anyway, right? Why not enjoy it for a bit. You've earned it, she'd think to herself.
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There were no wooden ships that sailed against water in Winterland. Everything was powered by something far beyond her comprehension. A strange magic, different even to her own. There were flying machines that levitated with blue, pulsing air. There was a giant cart that was pulled along the skies with a flock of flying deer (flying with no wings, even!).
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In the days that rushed by, she'd always take time to look down at her arm, and then her hand. It felt remarkably calm. That's a first, she thought.
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It wasn't dormant, it was just at peace. Perhaps that's why she found calm waters amongst the strange tides.
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On her third day in Winterland, Sadhbh Mizzenjack realised she was being watched.
She had felt it the entire time. The hairs on her neck would stand on end once or twice a day. She'd sit in Tarlog's Hall, downing one prime steak after another, and hear a small sound that was ever so slightly out of place. Like hearing the wrong type of creaking wood aboard a ship that you’d heard creaking for months on end.
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'You ever feel like you’re being watched?' she'd say, steak hanging from her mouth, to whomever her dining companion was across from her.
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'Always. It is a blessing to have her look upon me,' Calypso replied.
'Hey have you seen Felix around lately?' Daisy asked.
'The Gods are always watching, my friend,' Sigurd said with a warm smile.
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She ignored them, one by one, and felt her unease creep back in.
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On the fifth day in Winterland, Sadhbh Mizzenjack made chase.
The sounds of scurrying meant her observer was small. The sound of metal clanked with an old, thick sound. Was it a monster? Was it armed?
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As she darted through the Winterland forests, against shrubbery and mistletoe — she listened. Subtracting all sounds of pursuit from her senses, honing in on the danger in front of her. She may have been slowed from the blade strapped to her back, but Sadhbh had stamina. And even if her curse was quiet, it was still strong.
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'Git awh-ay!'
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The creature’s strange wail rang out in the forest. Maybe a beast? Sadhbh wondered. It sounds scared, but it could be a trap.
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The chase continued for a few more exhausting minutes, before Sadhbh heard the sounds of retreat stop.
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She readied her blade. Its sleek design and thick metal unsheathed with a clean sound of schween!
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The beast was hidden amongst a small clearing. The shine of the suns in the sky illuminating the dark cover of foliage and towering evergreens. Sadhbh listened, and heard the small covered gasps of breathing.
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​It can't be. That doesn't sound like a beast. Where have I heard this before?
Her mind jumped to the last few times she'd come into her first mate quarters aboard the Rapscallion. The heavy and stifled breathing of Maureen, who'd gotten into the leftover scraps she’d been saving.
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Sadhbh sheathed her blade and walked over to a large, nearly hollow tree trunk. With her cursed arm, she reached under it and lifted it up.
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Hidden underneath was a young boy with a large wrench sheathed on his back, who shouted something nearly unintelligible as he grabbed for it. 'Don't mess wif me! I'm a member of the Blood Angels and I'll ruff you up!'
​It didn't take long to disarm him.
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On the seventh day of Winterland, Sadhbh made Flynn Tanner her apprentice.
'I'll show you what it means to be strong,' she promised him. 'It's the true way of the pirate. We take what's ours and protect it, storm or wave, dawn til dusk.'
This seemed to capture his interest. 'If you can help me, sir, I'd appreciate it.'
(Small steps, Sadhbh reminded herself).
Flynn Tanner was alone. Since coming to Winterland he had decided he was 'too grown up for this stuff anymore' and left the town for the forests. He was living in the deep woods before the wastes by himself in an abandoned house. Apparently he had the occasional help from a wanderer named Kalin. No major troubles had come his way, but he'd often sneak into town for food — which is where he would watch Sadhbh, her impossibly large blade sheathed and bound to her back.
'You know there's a gate where we can leave anytime we want, don'cha? You can go home if you want to,' she said.
He would never give the same reply to that one. First it was that he didn't know, then it was that he didn't believe it, then it was that it was 'prolly jus' another mean trick'.
Hiding something, then?
They'd train in the barracks alone. Flynn never wanted to be seen by anyone else, and Sadhbh got the impression he was avoiding people — or someone, for a reason.
Flynn wore a red top with the words 'Merry Christmas' on them (whatever the hell that meant), and Sahbh made a custom sheath and bag for him from material she'd swiped from Lazar. He’d told her once that what was his was hers in some capacity or another, so what the hell, right?
They trained day in and day out. Discussing what it meant to be strong, man or otherwise. He often questioned just why 'Miss Mizz-and-jack' had taken him under his wing. Sadhbh would always reply; 'Because I've seen your kind before. You're like me.'
'I ain't no girl,' he'd usually say.
'You'll understand one day, 'Dainty Buckaneer.' ('I ain't dainty either!' he'd retort. 'I like girls!' would always follow, for some reason.)
Once Sadhbh stopped mid-way through their practice sets and looked down to him. Sweat fell from both of their brows as they hardened their bodies for the day they'd have to use them — the usual Winterland apocalypse or otherwise.
'It's you against the world out there, and nothing ever truly goes your way,' Sahbh said, thinking of her Captain Clements, of the first time they met. 'But there are meetings. And some of those are important. Like you and me. I saw that we both have the same grit.' She thought of the words Clements said to her, how similar they are to now.
'I got grit alright,' Flynn said, trying hard to shake his accent.
'Grits not all you need. I'm training you, so you don't have to make the same choices I made.' The flashes of memory: Clements’ hand, Clements’ ship, Clements’. Her fractured memory mending in some parts, and fading in others. 'I'm giving you a good starting point, or as good as I can.' She knew it was her mouth that spoke, but it was Clements’ words she heard.
Flynn gripped his sword hard, and turned to continue his practice sets. Determined, like her.
'I'm giving you a path to a new dawn, better than any I've ever seen.'
Both she and Clements spoke, far apart in time and place.
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On the twelfth day of Winterland, Flynn told her everything. And the duo embarked to see the Tears of the Universe, hoping to find his friend — and a new dawn.