TW: gore, death of civillians, ptsd, severe ooc, depression, nightmare, implied self-harm and suicidal tendency. any mod reading this is free to tell me to take this down if its too graphic for this site
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“GRAH-” Edward screams and jolts awake from a nightmare. It’s that same damn dream again, of that day just one week ago when he ordered his men to massacre that entire town, all because he was a coward. There was no screaming, no wailing, the only sounds he heard was the roaring of cannonfire and the collapsing of houses and homes.
“…” Edward lies down again in silence, trying to fall asleep in the makeshift bed of his makeshift hut, it’s a lot less cozier than his old bed at Silverhold, that’s for sure.
“…I’m not going back, not after… that.” Edward mumbles to himself as he closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep. Darkness takes him, only for that dreadful nightmare to pay him a visit once again.
After the order was carried out, Edward and his men docked their ships and walked into what was once a small yet lively town, having been instructed by the higher ups to… see everything through. The sight of what he saw that day is something he will never forget.
Corpses. Some were charred, blasted apart by cannonballs, their burnt innards and limbs splattered against the ground and walls. Some were crushed beneath rubbles, hugging each others in their final moments as their limbs bent and their bones broken. Parents and children, brothers and sisters, lovers, friends, neighbors, … How many hopes? How many dreams? How many lives did he snuffled out that day with a single bark of order?
This isn’t new to him, no. 7 years of serving. 2 years as a Captain. Edward has stopped counting the amount of blood that taints his hands. Most of them were of criminals and pirates, yes, but… not all of them. Not these people. Not so, so many others he has slain.
He remembers still the face of his men, some were veterans like him, yes… but there were new recruits as well. The horror and disgust on their faces forever etched in his memory. He’s not sure if it was because of the corpses, or were those gazes of contempt for him?
He hopes it’s the later.
“…hah.” Edward opens his eyes once more, staring at the celling, his body soaked in cold sweat. It’s uncomfortable. He hasn’t bathed in a week, he didn’t even to bring a change of clothes.
“…haha. It’s a good thing that’s no one here, it would have been so embrassed if-”
Who is he kidding.
That night when he left Silverhold, he never intended to make it out, sailing away from a Grand Navy base armed to the teeth with cannons and mortars in a beat-up sailboat, running away from the fucking Grand Navy. Yet he did. He kept sailing, waiting for the cannonballs that never came. He kept sailing, until he reached… this place. Elm Island, a small remote island located north of the Bronze Sea, if his memory serves him right.
It has been pretty uneventful since, he built himself a hut, a bed, made himself a rod to fish and eat, harvest mushrooms and plants here and there, living through the days.
Living… through the days.
“…” Edward sits up as he glances at the old, rusty scimitar that lies beside him… before standing up and grabs the fishing rod as he walks out. The sun hasn’t even went up yet, the air is cold. Edward looks at the snuffled campfire near his house, made to cook the fishes he’s caught and scare off wild animals. He continues walking. The air is cold.
The deserter continues walking, going past the stalls he’s made to dry the fishes he’s caught, there are enough to keep him going for maybe another week or so. Edward continues walking, the rod loosely gripped in his hand.
Edward sits on the familiar rock on top of a small cliff looking to the sea, and cast his bait. After a few moment, it bobs.
He does nothing, watching as the fish swims away, causing the water that was reflecting his face to ripple and distort.
A few hours passed, the rod hasn’t been lifted a single time, the bait now an empty hook attached to a flimsy string. Edward has not moved either, having stared at the sea the entire time, looking at the face of a captain, a deserter,… a murderer.
He hasn’t gotten the time, or the desire for that matter, to maintain proper hygiene since arriving here, letting stubbles grow on his face, feeling the sweat-soaked clothes stick to his skin, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes due to sleepless nights, haunted by his past, by them.
He continues to stare at the ocean until the sun rises.
crack
Edward hears the sound of a branch loudly snapping. Wild animals? Possibly, but they should learnt to avoid him by now. A traveler, then? Yet he can’t see why anyone would visit such a small, remote and insignificant island like Elm. A Grand Navy marine, perhaps? Took them long enough, but no, unless that’s a fresh recruit, no marine is going to make such a basic mistake like that.
“…a traveler, huh.” Edward mumbles to himself as he turns around and look. Yep, that’s a traveler.
“Welcome to Elm Island, traveler. What bring you here?” Edward says with a smiles as he recomposes himself and turns around.
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theres some stuffs i wanted to addd but too lazy and sleepy too. any cristism and suggestonns iwleocmed
aslelepy rime
