Requested

Out in the vast expanse of the sea, far from the nearest shore and surrounded only by the endless churn of ocean waves, you were just one among many,, another recruit pressed into service aboard The Pequod under the infamous Captain Gasharpoon. But unlike the other sailors, there was something different about your place on that ship. For reasons you couldn’t fully grasp, and weren’t sure you wanted to, Gasharpoon kept you close. Too close.

While others were sent to the crow’s nest or deep into the belly of the ship, you were often right by his side. Sometimes it was under the guise of trivial tasks , holding a lantern, adjusting a map, fetching him a pipe he never lit. Other times, there was no excuse at all. Just a commanding order: “Stay close, just in case.” The crew noticed. They exchanged wary glances, murmurs trailing behind you like barnacles on the hull. The air was thick with unspoken questions about what, exactly, tied you to the captain.

You told yourself— swore to the others, even— that it wasn’t by choice. That somehow, Gasharpoon had pulled you into his strange orbit. And yet, you never truly resisted. Maybe you were afraid of what would happen if you did. After all, you’d seen what happened the last time someone crossed him. That memory clung to you like a salt stain. It made your blood run colder than the sea spray on your skin. Oh well.

Night blanketed the sea like it typically did; calm, black, and vast. The ship drifted smoothly through the waves, groaning softly under the weight of its own history. Gasharpoon stood at the helm, as always, one hand gripping the worn wooden wheel. His other arm, a grotesquely beautiful harpoon arm powered by pistons that hissed faintly with each movement. The gleam of its glowing gears cast strange, colorful shadows across the deck. Between that eerie light, the dock lamp, and the soft shimmer of the stars overhead, the night had a surreal kind of glow.

You stood nearby, as instructed. Like always. There was no defying him..at least not openly. And if his harpoon arm hadn’t been so temperamental, you half expected he might’ve held you there physically, just to ensure you didn’t stray. like a leash. Instead, he kept his eyes forward, jaw set, face hard.

without turning, he spoke. his voice low and rough. “Rum,” he commanded. Just that word. Yep, thats exactly whats on his mind.