Zess, like any well groomed rat, spent a fair bit of time in front of the mirror. This time was spent examining himself, checking the eyes for signs of warpstone poisoning, the teeth for signs of wear, any of the usual areas for any of the usual signs of scurvy. The Tarantula safeguarded against it, of course, but better to be sure. And when all that was said and done, he was sure to brush his fur. It was this last task that had been so rudely interrupted this morning, and he stared at the offender with all the ire it deserved. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t respond. Well, no use denying it anymore. He slipped from his washroom out to his quarters proper, and called for the only member of his crew he trusted with such matters. “First Mate Spindle! Your captain has need of you.” This was not to say he had no trust for the rest of his crew. They were excellent examples of piracy all, but Spindle was the only one of them who had known him before all of this, and thus, the only one who could perhaps understand his present concerns. Soon he heard the telltale sounds of soft feet approaching, and his door creaking open. “Reporting, Captain!” “None of that now,” he said, turning to face the animate plush who he’d been with through thick and thin. “It’s just us. We can just be Zess and Spindle for a moment.” They relaxed slightly at this, but still, “What is it you needed then?” “Ah yes.” He cleared his throat, “A matter of grave import.” Turning to sit at his desk, he gestured for Spindle to take the seat opposite. This task was only slightly complicated, as the chair had been fitted with handholds to make climbing into it easier for Spindle years ago. Once they were both seated, Zess resumed. “In the mirror this morn, I found something horrible.” “Your reflection.” “No. Worse. Spindle, I found…” The pause was the perfect length to draw out the tension of the moment. Zess had long since mastered the art of being dramatic, and this occasion merited it. “A gray hair.” Spindle gasped, as this was the only appropriate response. They jumped to stand in the chair. “How? When could this have happened? I should have noticed someone cursing you, what Divorced do I need to kill to reverse it this time?” Zess made a placating gesture, “Now how, none of that. No, Spindle, I’m afraid that this time? I’m just getting old.” The silence that followed was not one carefully calculated this time, but rather, the unique form of quiet that occurs when two friends are forced to grapple, for the first time in a while, with one’s mortality. “Oh.” It was Spindle to break the silence. On some level, of course, they knew that, barring outside circumstance, they could, and likely would, outlive most of their friends. This, though… “Indeed.” Zess leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “I will be frank with you. And don’t you dare make the joke, we both know Frank hasn’t been around to appreciate it for years now. I have enjoyed every moment of our time here. Piracy has managed to be everything I ever hoped it would be, and what we’ve accomplished? Incredible. But I worry, now, that we were a bit too quick to let thoughts of getting home fall to the wayside. To tell ourselves that we’d keep an ear out for any news, sail around, explore, and if anything came up we would act.” Zess looked back down, resolved. “But I’m getting older. And Spindle? I miss Emilia. I miss my sister. I even miss that bastard who was trying to kill me. So I’ve decided. We’re going to see them again before I die. It won’t be easy, because if it were, we’d have heard about it already. One of us may die in the process. But,” and he’s standing up again now, posturing absurdly for his audience of one, “that is a sacrifice I am willing to let you make.” He looked down his nose at his first mate. The nature of their face made it hard to gauge their opinion at times, and this was one of them. “Your thoughts, Spindle?”
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