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Queen could never remember caring much about gods.
Inspecting the little memory they had left of themself before the curse, she was never able to parse out an urge to pray or a devotion stronger than they had to their music. They couldn’t remember stepping into a church, or reading scriptures, or holding religious ceremonies. All knowledge they had of the Goddesses came from Gillion, and his constant prattling about his “Moon Mommy”.
Queen was mildly interested in religion, nevertheless, and would ask Gillion questions when she worked up the courage to. The way he lit up, like the Goddesses were what gave his soul purpose, was incredible to see. His eyes shone full of this blissful light that carried through his explanations of symbolism and history, calling him to something far more important than himself. The feelings that he described accompanying prayer were not unlike the feelings Queen had while composing what little they had left of their music. The dedication Gillion made apparent was what really sold it to them, feeling like prayer was impossible to forget. It was so ingrained into a persons core that it left no room for error, no room to be forgotten. It simply was. A way to live, and a way to carry yourself. A way to process your thoughts and feelings before something that loved you unconditionally.
The day Queen began writing was nothing special. She had this little notebook that they had bought impulsively in zero, a pretty, small thing, bound with leather and something soft at the edge of the pages. She had hoped that keeping physical track of memories would help them stick easier. The book housed little more than that for a while, a few hopes and dreams mixed in with mundane things they didn’t want to forget. It was only after a particularly gratifying day on the ship that Queen began to write prayers.
At first, the journal housed simple things. Her desires, the things they were grateful for. It was only passionate descriptions of sunsets and the few notes they had managed to string together that day. Queen was always careful to begin with the proper greeting for a god, and sign off with their thanks and the name they still had. It was never about blame, or about questioning why a god could allow such a curse to befall them. Honestly, it never crossed their mind to beg for answers. They liked to go through the writing too, each prayer serving as a journal entry of sorts to mark their time aboard the ship. Every night, before they went to bed, they would write just a couple pages about their day. By the time they were able to notice a common thread in what they wrote about, written prayer had become the ingrained habit that Queen had always wanted.
Most of the entries were about Gryffon. Gryffon’s thoughts, Gryffon’s actions. Observations on how he had been helpful that day and gratefulness for how he had taught her to become a pirate or just spent time with her. They never had to realize that they spent more time with Gryffon than with anyone else on the ship, whether that just be from coincidentally aligned schedules or an unconsciously planned companionship. It just sort of occurred, this easy rhythm that the two of them fell into giving both of their lives a little more depth. As Queen wrote one night, they decided it was something about how Gryffon held himself around the crew, as if he could break them at any moment but positively refused to. As if his utmost loyalty was to his crew and not himself.
But no, that wasn’t right. Queen scratched that line out of her journal, thinking harder about why Gryffon made her heart catch just by being close. They considered the fact that maybe it was the way he spoke, with a kind of care and patience that seemed to come naturally. He’d never responded negatively to Queen’s lack of an ending, or completely absent backstory. He’d never pushed her to do something impossible, but was always able to find ways to teach Queen how to function within a pirate crew. Or maybe it was their shared affinity for pretty things, like the stars or the waves. The minuscule pinpricks of starlight that caught on each crest overnight seemed to be one of Gryffon’s favorite things, with the way he would press his gaze to them like they were worth more than the diamonds they resembled. Maybe it had something to do with him being possibly the last person on this earth to truly value their music, humming their notes and their phrases to himself when he thought nobody could hear. Maybe it was his eye, shadowed by a melancholy that never seemed to fade mixed with a constant undercurrent of seeming lost. Maybe it was his ambition, his devotion. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
Queen hurried to write everything down, pushing her hand faster across the page. They needed desperately to get this all down, to tear the deep-rooted feeling out of their chest and lay it bare before a god who would never tell them what it all meant. Nothing was wrong, but nothing was quite right either. They scribbled out a music staff, placing a couple notes in between their admittedly frantic writing of what they hoped might culminate to express why she felt like this. The curse hadn’t taken away their ability to feel, right? They had never had this much trouble with feelings before. No, no, it had just taken their best way to describe themself. They couldn’t vocalize reason to their feeling without music, and they couldn’t make music anymore. For the first time ever, they wanted to scream and beg for whichever God was listening to make her well again, if for only a moment, so that she could find a way to explain herself. They took a fast breath, blowing a shaky exhale across the inky page. Deep down, what they were really terrified of was forgetting this feeling, and then never ever being able to find it again without this paper trail that God was denying them. Why would God deny them this?
Queen threw down her notebook, staring out the window towards the darkening sky. The blooming stars were their sign that is was nearly time for them to go join Gryffon during the second watch. It had become routine for them to do so only a little while ago, but they knew that Gryffon would find them with the tears that were already starting to well in their eyes eventually, and there was no point in fighting the inevitable. At least he cared. Maybe that was why Queen felt so much towards him. So they took a calming breath, pushed all thoughts of curses and emotions and explanations from their mind, and began to walk out towards the upper deck, being careful to make barely any sound in the process.
˚₊‧꒰ა ♬ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
The night sky was breathtaking, as usual. Queen watched it with reverence, keeping her shallow breaths quiet against the uncharacteristically faint waves. The ship rocked the pair gently, giving the overwhelming sense of peace that came with these late nights. Queen pressed their back into the worn wooden planks, grounding themself in the moment they had before their questions inevitably pushed their way to the surface of their mind. For a while, the only sound above deck was the two of their hearts, beating slow and quiet. Queen almost didn’t want to break it.
“Gryffon? Do you ever… Feel like you don’t understand yourself, la?” She whispered finally, less to Gryffon and more to the massive dark sky above them. Their lip began to tremble again, their tired mind unable to keep up with their constantly fluctuating emotions.
“Hm? Whaddya mean?” Gryffon muttered, keeping his gaze on the stars.
Queen’s heart gave an involuntary squeeze at the sound of his voice. “I don’t know, la… Like, you know you want a thing, but you don’t know why?”
“Yeah. Happens all the time. It’s usually based in evolution or trauma or something.”
Queen nearly started bawling at Gryffon’s easy answer to her question. Why did he get to have everything figured out? Why did he get to remember who he was and what he wanted? Why didn’t she? A tear fell down their cheek, slowly and barely noticeable. She was so used to it now, the blinding optimism and aching despair two sides of the only coin they were ever able to flip.
Gryffon noticed though. He always seemed to.
He brought a finger to the side of her face, catching the tear before it fell to the floor. Then, he just left his hand there. Bent at the elbow, pressed against Queen’s face. Everything was dark. His fur was warm. Everything was cold. Queen hadn’t noticed the cold before.
“You don’t have to figure it out. You don’t have to know about the past. I don’t know about my future. I’d be… Wrong… If I let you think that there was something wrong with not knowing.” Gryffon stumbled over the last sentence, unsure of how to express himself correctly. He had a habit of pausing, thinking through his vocabulary in the middle of a sentence before choosing his words. It was a habit Queen had noted in that soft leather journal at least a month ago. “Everyone keeps trying to tell you that it’s only about who you are now. It’s okay if you think that’s bullshit. I would too.”
Queen waited for his words to hit them, to really sink in and make her feel better. To change anything about how she felt or how she thought. But they didn’t. Instead, she turned towards Gryffon and pressed their chest against him, their hand gently winding around his forearm as if they could express everything, fix everything, without having to say anything.
And for a while, Gryffon didn’t. Queen let the sound of her shallow breathing fill her ears, holding tightly to whatever they felt in this moment, however unidentifiable. All they knew was that they wanted to be with Gryffon, wanted to be close to him, wanted to feel his soft fur against her skin until they were ready to understand.
When they spoke again, her eyes were shut tight and their voice was unsteady, threatening to break from the half-whisper they stayed in. “I don’t… La, know what I think. I think… That I’m tired. It's exhausting to not understand myself, la.”
“That’s fine.” Gryffon said, no longer looking at the stars. Not that Queen noticed. “We can work with that.”
Queen pressed closer to Gryffon, letting out a near silent sob at how gentle he sounded, and at the sudden realization that this was all for them. “I… La la, I’m sorry… About this. You probably wanted, l-la, a normal crew member.”
“I knew what we were getting into when Gillion brought you on board. Being weird and a little bit haunted is part of being a Riptide pirate. We’re all working on it.”
Queen knew all the notions that went unsaid. You’re safe here. This is okay. We chose this. We can do this.
“I think this is a lot better than being alone in Allport, la.” They whispered back, a soft smile slowly painting their tear streaked features. It seemed that the despair was lifting, allowing them to breathe easier.
For a while, they stayed like that, Queen curled against Gryffon with her eyes shut tight and Gryffon just watching. Guarding, almost. Only when the tension had fully melted from Queen’s features did he dare speak up again, careful and soft. “What was wrong?”
Queen’s cheeks turned deep pink, realizing exactly what had been wrong now that it was right in front of them. They took a second before answering, choosing their words carefully to avoid giving the whole truth. “Nothing, really. I was writing, la, and couldn’t figure out what to say. Or what I really wanted to say, l-la.”
Gryffon hummed his response, deciding not to press further. When Queen opened her eyes, she saw the moon through her blurred vision, and decided to thank Lunadeyis for gifting her this life, even if she hadn’t quite known what to do with it. They thanked Lunadeyis for the ship too, for the opportunity to give support to people they loved and be supported in their journey back to themself. For people who wanted to support them at all. For Gryffon, most especially. For Gryffon, who saw Queen’s deep, watercolor amethyst eyes gazing towards the moon. For Gryffon, who looked up at the moon, and then back at Queen inquisitively. For Gryffon, who looked genuinely surprised when Queen told him they were grateful for him. For Gryffon, who pulled her closer when she took his hand. For Gryffon.
And maybe for Jay too, who chose that exact moment to walk up the stairs and onto the main deck. She was yawning, her movements slow where sleep still clung to her form, but nothing could have stopped the smirk that lit up her face at the sight of Queen and Gryffon looking so familiar. “Aww, what are you two doing out here?”
“Not a fucking word. Respectfully, captain.” Gryffon muttered, as Queen’s face grew even hotter. Their ears pressed to the back of their head, an instinctual response to being snuck up on, and Jay laughed sleepily.
“Whatever. I’m not gonna yell at you guys. I am gonna tell you to get some sleep, though. It’s late.” Jay said, gazing out at the moonlit sea. Gryffon nodded, taking one last breath of the cool air before shoving himself to his knees and then extending a hand out to Queen. They took it, still blushing like a madman, and started walking back to the quarters in silence. Just as Gryffon’s hand touched the doorhandle, the light hit Queen’s frame, and cast streaks of silver like rivers through their hair and eyes. Gryffon just stopped. Queen looked up at him, confusion and surprise mixing with the tired daze that hazed their mind. Gryffon looked, really truly looked at her for a second, before shaking his head, a small smile on his face. He opened the door, and let Queen close it behind them.
˚₊‧꒰ა ♬ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
“𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑳𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒚𝒊𝒔. 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑮𝒓𝒚𝒇𝒇𝒐𝒏’𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆. 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒎. 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒓𝒚𝒇𝒇𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆. 𝑰’𝒎 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑺𝒐 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉. 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒖𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝑭𝒊𝒔𝒉 (𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝑰 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕? 𝑰𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕? 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒔𝒉.), 𝑨𝒎𝒆𝒏.”