It wasn't as big of deal as he thought it would be, and that was something he was grateful for. Raina was right, as soon as he reverted back to his normal human form he felt his bones weaken, and the hunger and dehydration kicked in, but he powered through enough to pull himself onto the docks until several passerby's noticed him and came to his aid.
His crew was thankful that he was alive, but that didn't stop them from giving him shit about going out on his own and destroying the ship in the process.
"How did you possibly accomplish that?" they asked.
"There was a storm. I lost course and crashed into some jagged rock," was the lie he heard himself often tell.
Meeting someone like Raina was a story for the ages, and one he would have absolutely loved to tell in the past. However, he felt like he shouldn't say anything, so he lied and kept that little event to himself.
The following night, after a day of rest, food, and water, he was at the local tavern with the rest of his crew. Stale smoke and the smell of alcohol twisted around the establishment, blanketing the small room of patrons whose laughter and
clinks and
clanks of their mugs overpowered the bard on stage desperately trying to entertain.
"What's wrong, Silas?" a voice cut through the man's thoughts. It was a fellow sailor, brows furrowed and lips in a small frown as he studied the survivor's blank stare. "You don't seem like yourself."
Silas gave him a slight shrug before sipping his ale carefully. "Just thankful to be alive," he said softly, barely audible through the roars of the crowd.
"Silas! Play us one!" another called out, much to the bard's distaste. "Sing us one of your songs!"
Oh fuck. Why now?Silas loved to sing, and he would be lying if he said he didn't love the spotlight, but his mind was on other things.. on someone in particular. But as the moments passed, his comrades' requests became more of a demand, and their cheers only guided him to the stage.
Fuck it.He didn't know what to play, so he just started strumming the guitar that was offered to him, and he
sang a song unusual for the bar scene, in which the words were seemingly appearing out of thin air. It wasn't an uplifting tune to rally the masses, a comedic hymn to encourage their laughter, but instead an almost melancholy melody that demanded their attention.
And for the moment, that's what they gave him. The crowd silenced for the first time that night and listened.