perhapstomorrow | The bell has been raised from its watery grave...

Midnight's actually surprised at the question, pausing to stare up at Grey with wide eyes. Then he cracks a smile and answers, "I would've thought you didn't want to spend more money on me and just go fuck on the beach? But sure, renting a room sounds... nice."

There's a distinctly filthy note to Midnight's voice on that 'nice', accompanied with a deliberate bite to his lower lip as he grins up at Grey.

Grey rolls his eyes at Midnight when he points out the possibility of fucking on the beach. He's still thinking Grey would act like some dickweed of a pirate and while he doesn't fault Midnight for that, it's mildly disturbing.

He reaches over to drag his fingers through the mage's wet hair, tucking a few locks behind his ear before he turns to look away, down along the street.

"I guess I deserved that," he says and then nudges his head toward the inn that's alight with laughter and glowing lanterns. Just along the street. "Come on."

That touch to his hair is so... foreign to Midnight, especially from a pirate, and one who's been on and off snarling at him, that he's left standing there with a lost look on his face. He recovers quickly, though, and shrugs it off, deliberately letting out a bright little laugh as he saunters towards the inn, ignoring the patrons hanging around outside.

"Better ask if they have any rooms," he comments, peering in through the open door and then wrinkling his nose at how crowded the ground floor is. "I'll wait here."

He doesn't like crowds or being in the middle of them.

Grey glances at him with a curious look. It seems like Midnight would be at his best in the middle of a rowdy group of people, enjoying all of their admiration. But the mage seems to surprise him once again.

He nods, reaching over to briefly lay his hand on Midnight's neck, brushing his fingers across the man's nape. Then he's gone, making way for himself through the crowd to get to the bar where he can ask the bar keep if there's any available rooms.

Midnight's left standing there with a hand pressed to the back of his neck, cheeks feeling a bit warm after that lingering touch, staring after Grey's broad back. It's probably because he's so distracted that he doesn't notice a group of men brought to a stop a short distance away from him, one of them muttering to the others as he points at the mage.

He does notice when the spell settles on him, though, chilling him to the bone as his entire body locks up, unable to even breathe to scream. He almost stumbles, but the mage hunter is at his side almost immediately, slipping an arm around his waist and crooning into his ear, "What do we have here?"

Another pirate slips up behind him, blocking him from view of the inn patrons as a collar is placed around his throat, the feeling familiar and horrible and he's screaming internally, eyes darting between the pirates' faces as they force him to walk with them.

Grey spends some time at the bar, refusing the bar keeps offers for company, and for rum, and for food. He just wants a room, damnit. By the time he has managed to book the room and is on his way back out, he doesn't see Midnight anywhere. For a moment he thinks the mage blew him off and is now laughing at his expense somewhere where cat-like mages spend their free time.

He still walks out to look for the man, in case he just wandered off somewhere and it's there where he notices a group of rough looking pirates dragging along a figure that might just be his cat-like mage.

A hot flash of anger fills his stomach and it's just two seconds away that he doesn't charge the group right then and there. But gladly he has time to count the arms that could be waving swords and then he's on the move, running first, then hiding in the shadows of buildings as he follows the men towards the harbor, waiting for an opportunity to take them out one by one.

Unfortunately the night is clear, so there's no room for maneuvering like that. He'll have to wait and see, even if it makes him anxious to do that...

As the group keeps walking towards the docks, a man comes running to them from that direction, a mixture of panic and fury on his face. "The ships- they're gone!"

There's a flurry of aggravated voices demanding to know what happened, where's the cargo, where's the captain, and then the newcomer focuses in on Midnight, eyes narrowing as he hisses, "I heard tell the guards got lured off... by a pretty little man with dark skin and curling black hair, a lot like this one..."

Midnight's eyes widen with further panic and he starts shaking his head but then the mage hunter tightens his control again, making the mage fall limp against him. "Even if it wasn't you, I'll wager you know who it was," he mutters. "Not a lot with your looks in these parts. We'll get the truth outta you."

They continue to the docks, hoisting Midnight up over one of the men's shoulders so they can move faster. Once they reach the water, a couple of the men break off, slinking around until they find a fishing boat that's just big enough to fit them all in. Soon enough they're boarding, the mage hunter holding a vial of something by Midnight's face, forcing him to inhale the vapours that make him slump over unconscious. No sense having to struggle with the new slave as well as manning the unfamiliar vessel.

Grey doesn't wait around when they get to the shore. He follows their trail just long enough that he can figure out what they're about to do and then he breaks away to their own ship. He has a rushed conversation with Aidan, shaking him out of his dreams of a quiet night with stew and bread and one curly haired half-mer. They don't have a lot of time and finally Grey curses when the fishing boat parts from the shore, he leaves the other two with just a few words of instructions before he dives into the ocean from the deck of their ship and swims until he can catch up with the boat.

He does this quietly, making sure he takes advantage of all his skills that he's acquired growing up with two seals. When the boat gets some wind into its sails, he finally pulls himself up from the water and sneaks into the boat, hiding under a tarp at the back.

He tries to glance out every now and then to make sure he knows where they're going but it seems an impossible task. The pirates keep walking in on him. There's too many of them. There's too much wind and the water sloshing against the bottom of the ship for him to hear them talking with each other, even if he strains his hearing as much as possible.

It takes most of the night and some of the morning for them to finally set shore somewhere. Grey stays in the boat until he's sure that the last of them have walked off the beach they landed on. Then he slips out of the boat and sneaks up on the man that was left on the shore to guard the boat. He slits the man's throat without mercy and continues on his way, following the footsteps on the sand.

Seems like they've landed on an island that is completely uninhabited, at least from the outward looks of it. When he glances out to the sea, he doesn't see a familiar landmass anywhere. How the hell is Aidan going to find them? Grey has no idea. Maybe they can use the boat to leave...

The slavers have set up a small campsite in the jungle, a couple of them breaking off to go find freshwater and maybe to see if there's some game to hunt. Two stand guard, taking slow, repeated circles around the campsite, hands on their swords, though they're not as alert as they should be, given they're tired and not expecting anyone to have followed them out here. The remaining four get prepared to examine and interrogate their new slave.

Midnight has had his hands and feet bound, propped up against a tree before being woken. His shirt was stripped off, his slightly scarred back examined, in case there's a brand somewhere on him.

The mage hunter looks him over, gripping his head and turning it this way and that as though examining a horse before purchasing it. "Spirit mage, aye? Don't see too many of you around..."

The spell keeping him immobile is loosened a bit and the hunter straightens away from him with an amused snort. "He's harmless. His breed are rare birds, aye, but otherwise powerless. Never seen one yet to get their magic under control enough to be useful. Fetch a good price with collectors, though."

Midnight hunches in on himself as best he can, making himself look as small as possible with his knees drawn up to his chest as he ducks his head. "Please, I- I have a master, he'll be looking for me-"

One of the slavers scoffs and grabs him by the hair, yanking his head up and making the mage wince, tears springing to his eyes from the stinging pain. "Codswallop. You don't have a collar or brand anywhere on you. Reckon you're a runaway. Probably responsible for our ship and merchandise going missing, aye?"

"No, I didn't- That wasn't-" Midnight begins, stammering and trying not to strain against the grip in his hair, but then he's struck across the face. One of the crew protests the rough treatment though.

"Oi! Don't damage the merch, we don't have enough stock to wreck the one good find we got!"

The mage hunter laughs at that and agrees, "He's right. Spirit mages are pretty to look at but like I said, useless otherwise. Probably why he didn't get whipped as much by whoever caught him the first time. Fuck him if you want, just don't break any skin or bones."

There's fury brewing under Grey's skin as he circles the campsite a few times, watching as a few of the pirates leave, making note of how they're looking, what they're carrying. He hides easily in the undergrowth, there's so much of it, trees and bushes as far as the eye can see.

He takes his time, plans, calculates, and then he acts. First one guard is snuffed out with a clean cut across his throat. He doesn't have time to shout, or even drop down, Grey collects him and buries him under the foliage. Then the second guard, same thing happens, not any time wasted or effort spared in the process.

The ones that are out looking for game and water are going to be out for a while. Grey sneaks closer to the camp site. He sees them inspecting Midnight and for a moment he thinks he's going to charge the assholes when they strike the mage across his pretty face. He thinks he's going to lose control but the moment passes and he makes himself calm down, put away his anger and his rage. Those won't help him right now.

There's only three of them in the camp, but they are quite sturdy fellows. He would rather not go against them just by himself, but he doesn't see much of a choice here. The one prodding Midnight is a hunter, he knows magic and Grey realizes easily that he'll have to take that one out immediately. There's no room around it.

He waits, listening, watching the three as they move around their camp. If they'll start to get their clothes off so they can fuck Midnight, that's going to be his chance...

"Is it safe to take the collar off, then?" one of the pirates questions, clearly interested as he approaches the mage with a leer on his face.

The mage hunter shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "All mages are dangerous if you don't collar them. You really wanna risk taking it off just because you want him completely naked?"

The one that had hit Midnight points out, "You can keep that spell up. The one that gets them helpless right before we shackle them..."

This argument continues for some time until finally the mage hunter agrees to not 'partake' so he can keep the spell going, and he unlocks Midnight's collar and the rest of his bindings. The mage slumps down, almost completely limp and squeezes his eyes shut and listening to the rustle of clothing and the clunk of belts dropping to the ground.

There's just that tiny little gap in the spellwork. A slippery little loophole that Midnight vaguely remembers from years ago, and it's so damn hard to grip it, but when a rough hand tears his trousers off, blind panic grips him and his magic tears through that hole, making the mage hunter jerk upright with wide eyes.

The mage lets out a sharp little yelp as his wrist is grabbed and his free hand shoves at the chest of the pirate grabbing him, dark eyes turning white. It's a gruesome facet to spirit magic, one that he's been warned against and recoiled from his entire life, but apparently his survival instincts don't care, and it forcibly tears the attacking man's soul from his body. The pirate crumples to the ground shortly after, blank eyes staring at nothing, simply... breathing.

"What the fuck..." One of the men nudges the fallen one with a foot, receiving no response. He then turns on Midnight, grabbing the mage by his throat. "What did you do-!?"

The white eyes turn on him and Midnight shoves at his chest, expelling his soul as well and leaving his body an empty vessel to join his companion on the ground. Before the mage can do the same to the remaining men, though, the mage hunter is surging to his feet and clamping the collar around his throat again, shouting at the others, "Get the shackles back on him!"

There's his opening. Grey doesn't wait to see what happens next, he's on the move the moment the first man crumbles to the ground. It's due mostly to the panic that Midnight causes that he manages to sneak up on the hunter, his hand fast and efficient as it slits the man's throat open, spraying the rest of them and Midnight in blood.

"What fuck--" One of the pirates manages to croak out before he has a knife stuck through his throat. "Fucking asshole!" The last one is still on his feet and manages to clock Grey right to the side of his face. The captain is a good head taller than the man, though, and he merely sways a little from the strike and then turns to look at the man with his lips drawn back over his lips in a silent snarl. It's anger that makes him reach for the man's head, half naked as he is, there's no way the man can get his hands on a weapon but he does hit Grey well and good in the stomach before his neck cracks in a sickening sound of breaking bone and flesh.

"Are alright?" Grey asks Midnight, reaching to the mage with a gentle hand to brush his bloodied fingers across his cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take this long."

The blood is still wet on his face when Grey's done, and Midnight's starting shaking without realising it. His eyes had returned to their usual brown on having the collar fastened around his neck, but they're dazed and distant, staring down at the two men he'd more or less killed.

Then that warm hand is brushing across his face and he snaps out of it, flinching at first and then staring up at Grey with wide, lost eyes. Then he's blinking rapidly, breathing growing hitched as tears well up and he grabs Grey's shirt, dragging himself close to the pirate and burying his face against the bigger man's front. He doesn't start sobbing or wailing, but his grip is hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he grips at Grey's clothes, his breathing is thin and fast, eyes screwed shut as he tries to stop himself from breaking down altogether.

Something aches inside Grey's chest when he sees those eyes well up with tears. He's already reaching out to Midnight when he bumps in against his chest. Grey's arms go around him, his hand big and wide as it covers most of Midnight's head as he presses the mage against himself, his other hand splayed wide and reaching at the small of Midnight's back.

He says nothing, but holds the trembling mage against himself tightly, his nose buried in bloody and damp hair.

These pirates, if they weren't dead already, Grey would murder them a thousand times to get even, to pay back this broken look on the face of the mage he knows, a man who is full of light and sun and laughter.

It takes a long time for the mage to loosen his hold on Grey but he doesn't move away from the pirate. The now familiar scent of the man and the solid warmth of his arms around Midnight are intensely comforting and he couldn't imagine leaving them, now. He can't even bring himself to lift his head, to look around at the corpses they're surrounded by, even the thought of it making bile rise in his throat.

"The key," he whispers against Grey's chest. "Can you- the collar, it's..."

The vile thing is heavy and oppressive and as much as the ringing silence in his ears is peaceful compared to the enraged screaming of the spirits he'll undoubtedly hear on it's removal, the way it's cut off his magic makes him feel as if he's missing a limb, and the weight of it just keeps reminding him of a past he'd tried so hard to leave behind him.

The key hangs on the belt of the dead hunter at their feet. Grey pokes the man with his foot and makes him flop onto his back. Then he bends down to grab the key.

"Yeah, of course," he says quietly as he slots the key into the collar, clumsily unlocking it and removing it from the mage's neck. He tosses it into the jungle, as far away from them as possible.

Then he pulls back just enough to see Midnight's face. He cups the mage's face within his hands and looks down at him. He looks like a man whose been tossed around and tortured. Grey pulls up the hem of his own shirt and uses the soft end of it to wipe Midnight's face, the blood splatter and dirt that has stuck to his cheek.

"Can you walk?" he asks quietly, his voice a low rumble that rises from his chest. "I can carry you."

The collar goes, as does the silence. The spirits voices rush in, swamping Midnight's senses for a moment and threatening to leave him a screaming mess, but then there's a gentle hand at his face, Grey's rumbling voice somehow cutting through the cacaphony and silencing them.

Midnight stares up at him with confusion, the soft care he's being handled with so foreign in that moment when he's freshly reminded of how cruel people can be, that the kindness is overwhelming. The tears finally pour over, gleaming tracks running down his cheeks as he keeps staring up at the pirate's now blurred face.

"I..." he begins, but his throat seizes up and he chokes on a quiet sob. He looks away, then, trying to gather himself, but instead ends up staring at the two men he's turned to soulless dolls, and the choking sensation intensifies.

"I... did this..." he whispers, the quiet confession filled with fearful self-loathing. Then he has to roughly turn away, bracing a hand against the tree he'd been propped against, violently retching up the little contents left in his stomach since the day before.

It's pathetic and exhausting. The spirits take advantage of his weakness, the recently departed shrieking as they converge around him, a distant storm rumbling and adding to their strength, invisible hands tearing at him, demanding he save them, that he pay for what was done.

The mage ends up curling into a ball on the ground, shaking and crying like a child as he clutches his head. He slips into his native tongue and wails for them to leave him alone, to forgive him, all incantations and meditative control lost in that moment.

Grey looks into the mage's wide eyes as he cleans his face and somewhere inside him a new kind of understanding is born. Before he thought mages went mad because of magic, because they couldn't handle the pressure that the forces of nature and spirit world put on them. But it seems he's been off with his interpretation. There's obviously something to be said about the way people treat them. He doesn't forgive the crazy that ruined their lives all those years ago but he also becomes just a little more aware that not every mage is the same.

Midnight's horror to what he's done to these men, the same men that were about to violate him just a moment ago supports that line of thinking. Grey watches him with furrowed brows as he empties his stomach to the ground and then he steps forward, crouching down beside the mage and picks him up into his arms. He doesn't ask again, just hauls Midnight up and starts walking, away from the camp, away from the murders.

"You need to ground yourself," he says to the mage as he walks. "You need to do that before you lose control of yourself." His words might be harsh, but his tone of voice isn't. It's calm and gentle, quiet and meant only to Midnight. "Tether yourself to me. Do it now."

A light rain starts to fall when they walk, Grey picks up the pace. If they can manage to make it to the fishing boat before any storms, they might make it to the sea and from there...

A lightning lights up the sky suddenly and he curses under his breath. Maybe they still have time to get out of the island. He looks down at Midnight and realises that the mage is not going to be able to handle any storms right now.

The island could burst into flames and Midnight wouldn't notice it, right now. He's deaf to Grey's words, now, the vengeful spirits only drawing strength from the storm as they claw at the mage's mind, screaming and demanding justice. He himself isn't screaming, any more, but he keeps whimpering and pleading for them to just... go away.

His hands cling tight to Grey's shirtfront, knuckles going white from his grip, his shoulders hunched as he curls up tight against the pirate. Lightning strikes closer, the thunder rumbling loud and clear. The mage jerks hard at the sound and wind abruptly picks up around them, making Grey's clothes whip against his body, in reaction to his magic trying to control the elements, to latch onto anything to defend himself.

Grey changes direction at the second lighting strike, veering deeper into the jungle. He'll have to find some kind of shelter. The storm that brews on top of them is obviously one of those tropical ones that come without a warning and tear up everything in their way.

The sudden wind comes so abruptly that even Grey realises that it's not natural, though, and he breathes slow and hard as he pauses under a palm tree, closing his eyes for a moment as he wills himself to find peace, find that quiet inside him that has supported him throughout these years, stubborn and solid.

Then he looks down at the mage, gently shaking him. "Midnight," he says, leans in to say it beside the mage's ear when it doesn't seem he hears it the first time. "Midnight." He can't have the mage lose control of himself right now. They're on small island, still with some hostile pirates thrown around the jungle and a storm is brewing over them. Those fuckers sometimes swallow islands of this size. They need to find shelter and fast. Grey can't have the mage losing it right now.

"Do you hear me?"

While he doesn't react at the first call of his name, Midnight does twitch his head up at the second call, dark eyes turned white again as they stare up at Grey's face. The wind plucks at their hair and clothes, the tree Grey's leaned against swaying above them dangerously.

Some part of Midnight recognises that calm in Grey, though, and latches onto it. For a moment, it's like that first time in the ship when Midnight had given Grey a brief glimpse into what it was like, feeling and hearing the pressure of the oncoming storm and the agitated spirits attacking him for it. The enraged spirits are relentless. Perhaps it's because they're freshly killed, or because the storm is giving them more power, but they're intent on making their voices heard.

Grey's brows furrow at the sight of Midnight's white eyes. It's chilling to witness this, not just from far away but this close up... His jaw tightens as he leans in to press his brows against the mage's, inviting him to lean in as well.

The hollering of the spirits is... awful. There's no way to describe it. No way to justify it to his own brain. Grey isn't someone who has any experience with the world beyond the living. He's fully and simply a human being, nothing extraordinary about him. Except perhaps the way he can stand in the middle of that wailing and screeching and crying and not crumble under it.

It gets to it, it's certain, fraying him at the edges, but there's still more solid presence to him than one could expect, steady and peaceful. His eyes close for a moment, squeezed shut against the cacophony but after a moment he opens them again, looking into Midnight's eyes quietly.

Then he leans in to kiss the mage, simply and sweetly.

It's not an immediate cure, and the mage doesn't even seem to realise he's being kissed, at first. But then he shifts with a little sigh, his magic dying down to instead pour into Grey, wrapping around him intimately tight. The spirits are still there. They're still screaming, still clawing at him, but... they feel muted. As if through his magic surging into Grey, Midnight's absorbing some of the pirate's solid quiet, just a bit, as a barrier between himself and them.

Grey tucks the mage's head under his chin as he stands there, back against the palm tree and listens to the screaming. Eventually it'll have to stop. Eventually. He hopes it will at least. Because this is a lot...

Midnight's magic roots in him and Grey feels it, he can sense it growing roots inside him, and it's terrifying and sickening and he has to swallow several times to hold himself steady under the pressure. Had someone suggested that he would be allowing a mage to tether onto him a few months ago, he would have told them to fuck off. But here he is, suggesting it, willingly giving himself over to be the wage holding down Midnight when he spirals out of control.

And he... likes it. The idea of it. He likes it. He likes how it feels, the strange new thread that is growing inside him, strengthening by the minute.

Grey pushes himself on the move. He doesn't have time to think about it right now. They need to find shelter, a storm is coming.

The tether isn't fully formed, but clearly wanting to, settling heavy in the pirate and practically holding him in its grasp, like a cat delicately flexing its claws with fierce tender care around a new toy. So close to piercing the thin membrane, but not quite doing so.

As the spirits seem to draw back a bit, Midnight sighs more audibly, white eyes closing as he nuzzles in under Grey's jaw, the trembling finally easing a bit. The wind stills around them a bit, too, allowing the storm to do its thing unaided. The mage himself isn't fully settled, but... he's getting there. Just drawing on Grey's strength and quiet, his magic wanting so desperately to just bridge that last little gap but barely held back as Midnight curls up tight in the pirate's arms like a kitten.

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