Yifan’s chest burned with the water that filled his lungs.

His entire body ached with the pressure from the water above him as he continued to sink, arms and legs clawing for leverage he couldn’t find. He could hardly see anything except the murky salt water that pressed in on every side, the throbbing pain in the back of his head only further blurring his limited vision. Water invaded every airway, choking him as he thrashed. No sight, no breath, no hearing apart from the pounding of his heart, the tone hollow beneath the waves.

He had always thought his death would be caused by drowning. But this was far more painful than he could have ever imagined it to be.

His fighting waned as he was pulled further down, the cold water making his movements sluggish, and in a final moment of panic, he screamed. But the sound reached no one, the last of his air escaping in a screen of bubbles that rose to the surface, leaving him behind.

Yifan floated, suspended in the water as the last of his efforts gave out, slowing. He knew he should fight, should try to survive, but everything hurt, and he could feel his mind slipping into unconsciousness with the pain. But not before he caught movement in the water just ahead.

Soft, smudged features on a pale form. A blurred hand reaching for him, slow and timid through the water between them.

The hand didn’t reach him before everything went dark.

~

Yixing was used to his crew’s way of coping with boredom. Namely, the pranks they pulled.

The Lan Hua was only so large, and men could only occupy themselves so long before the teasing began. He would have put a stop to it years ago if he didn’t find humor in them, as well, especially when the pranks were well planned. Besides, it would be useless to punish them for something so little, when there were much more heinous crimes they could be committing. While he was a stern captain, he was also willing to let his crew relax when time allowed it, and if that meant having a ship full of pranks, so be it. He could look past it.

Admittedly, he had fallen for his fair share of tricks. Like the time Sehun had used a pair of his long johns to patch the rip in the sails. Or the time Han replaced all of the rum in his chambers with salt water (he had been unable to drink rum for weeks after that stunt, traumatized as he was). But he gave back as much as he took, adamant he would not be a captain his men feared, but respected. Even if they enjoyed a good joke, they would follow him anywhere, and that was enough to let him find amusement in their tricks.

Out of all of his crew, Chanyeol was the most notorious for his pranks. He had done nearly every trick he could think of, to anyone unfortunate enough to be within reach, and he never ran out of ideas. At times like these, where the waters around them were calm and there were no obstacles to overcome between ports, it was almost a given that Chanyeol would try to fool someone.

So when Chanyeol came barreling into his cabin with some ridiculous story, Yixing had been ready to declare it as nothing more than a game.

The captain had been speaking with Zitao about the most recent inventory they had conducted on the ship, the quartermaster rattling off the numbers tiredly and making small suggestions to what would need to be purchased at the next port. Yixing, though he tried to pay attention, was having trouble focusing on anything other than the way Zitao’s fingers tapped along the edge of his desk, long and slender; the sudden appearance of the lanky boatswain bursting through his door, out of breath and with wide eyes, was enough to snap him back to alertness.

“Cap’n,” Chanyeol barked, giving Zitao a quick nod of apology for interrupting before turning his gaze towards Yixing once more. “Cap’n, you are needed on the deck. Now.”

“What for?” Yixing question, sitting up a bit in his chair at the urgency of the request. They were in the middle of the Eastern Ocean, surrounded by miles and miles of water on either side. What could they possibly run into out here? The frantic nature of Chanyeol’s words had him fearing the worst, namely another ship or conflict amid the crew, perhaps even devastating injuries. But all concern fled him at Chanyeol’s next words.

“There is a man in the water.”

He shared an amused look with Zitao, who rolled his eyes as he shuffled his notes, before clearing his throat with a chuckle, relief filling his chest. “While I appreciate your need for distraction, Chanyeol, now is not the time for pranks. Perhaps Jongin would be a better target today?”

“But Cap’n, there is a man. Honest!” the boatswain protested, his face taking on that childish pout he was prone to make when his plans went awry. If he were anything, Chanyeol was persistent. “Han spotted him just off the starboard side!”

“Let me guess,” Zitao spoke up lightly, gaining the taller man’s attention as he put his glasses into his shirt’s pocket. “The kraken is in the water with him to keep him afloat?” He snorted, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. “The captain already said he wasn’t falling for your tricks. Give it up.”

“Damn it, it’s not a trick,” Chanyeol argued, his frustration mounting with every word. “I swear on my mother’s grave, he is there.” That earned a loud scoff from Yixing.

“Your mother lives in Cashire. We visited her the last time we were there, Yeol. You are lying.”

“Cap’n, please.”

“What will it take to get you out of my cabin?” Yixing grumbled, growing tired of Chanyeol’s insistence.

“I just need you to go to the deck,” Chanyeol said, exasperated. Yixing looked over towards Zitao once more, who gave a half-hearted shrug. Musing his hair with his fingers - he needed to get it cut; perhaps he could get one of his crew to trim it for him after dinner - he sighed.

“Alright, alright,” the captain grumbled with a sigh, stretching as he stood. “I’m about tired of staring at numbers, anyways.” He threw Zitao a raised eyebrow. “Shall we go check out this mythical man?”

“After you, Captain,” Zitao responded with a grin of his own, and the two of them started off behind Chanyeol on his ascent to the deck.

He couldn’t see anything over Chanyeol’s shoulder as they climbed the wooden stairs that led up to the deck, but the minute they reached the open air, he could see there was commotion on the starboard side. A good number of his crew were pressed against the railing, top halves of their bodies leaning out over the waves, and Yixing faltered in his steps.

“Oi!” he called out, waiting until he had gained their attention. “What are y’all looking at?”

“There’s a man, Captain!” the closest one, Han, shouted. He jerked back to look at Yixing, and the parrot, Xingfu, that cared less for Zitao’s numbers than Yixing did and stayed on the deck for the majority of the day, squawked her protests at the movements, jostled as she was from being perched on the man’s shoulder.  “A man in the water!”

Five large strides and Yixing was right alongside his men, railing cutting into his stomach as he leaned over the side of the ship, peering out towards the ocean.

At first, he couldn’t see anything, save the whitecaps of waves and the wake their own ship created, horizon stretched underneath the pale blue sky. But then, just in the distance, he could see him. Or, what he assumed was a person. From here, it was more or less a white dot bobbing in the water. Wordlessly, he held out his hand, and Lu Han placed the small telescope in his palm. He extended it, focused it on the direction of the object, and gasped lightly when it came into view.

It was indeed a man, laid on his stomach across what looked like some sort of cargo, clothes and hair soaked to the bone and sticking to his form. He couldn’t tell from here whether or not the man was actually alive, but Yixing wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least check.

The man was still a good ways in front of the ship. Plenty of time.

“See? I told you, Cap’n,” Chanyeol muttered, not without a hint of smugness.

Ignoring his boatswain, Yixing pushed off the side and made his way to the wheel that Sehun was currently manning, taking his shift at keeping them on course. He shooed the man away with a wave of his hand, taking ahold of the handles and turning it slightly off to the side. If his calculations were correct, it would put them directly beside the man.

“Jongin, grab the harness. We’re going to fish him out.”

“Aye, Cap’n!” Jongin called, scrambling to the equipment.

“Han, keep me aligned, if you will,” Yixing said to the other man. “It wouldn’t do to run the man over while trying to conduct a rescue.”

“Your path is clear, sir,” Han called back, still leaning dangerously over the railing, toes barely on the deck. Xingfu took that as her cue, taking flight to find a safer place to perch during all of the activity.

Yixing kept his hands on the wheel, holding their ship straight as they got closer and closer to the man in the water. Sehun helped Jongin into the harness quickly, the younger of the two handing off the end of the tether line, which they looped through the railing for safety measures moments earlier, to Chanyeol, who merely grimaced. He always hated this part. Said it was hell for his hands, but hauling people and objects back up into the boat was typically given to the stronger crewmen, and Chanyeol fit that bill. And he wouldn’t be alone, Sehun grabbing a length of the line as well, prepared to help with the extra weight.

When they were within a few yards of the man, Han gave the signal, a loud, shrill whistle cutting through the air. Jongin took three bounding steps and leapt over the edge gracefully, diving head first into the water below as Sehun and Chanyeol braced themselves for the tug. The rope pulled taut with the strain, but held, and Zitao reported from the side as Yixing steered.

He could hear Jongin hit the water, and he counted under his breath. One. Two. Three. Four.

“He’s surfaced!” Zitao called from the railing, and Yixing smiled.

“Let me know when he grabs him,” he ordered, and Zitao threw up a hand in acknowledgement, eyes on the waves.

Chanyeol groaned as he dug his heels into the planks of the deck, the muscles in his arms rippling from the force of holding Jongin’s weight. Sehun didn’t seem to be faring any better, but the two men held the line without complaint, faces set in determination.

“He’s got him, Captain,” Zitao declared just as Chanyeol and Sehun stumbled forward, finding their leverage once again after giving up a few steps in the wrong direction.

“ing right, he has ‘im,” Chanyeol growled, wrapping the rope tighter around his arm. “And he’s a heavy one.”

“Ready to pull?” Lu Han questioned, and Yixing could see the boatswain roll his eyes even at the distance.

“Do we have a choice?” he shot back, before settling his weight backwards. He tossed a look over his shoulder at Sehun, making sure the boy could hear him. “On three. One, two, heave!”

Both men let out a series of grunts - and in Chanyeol’s case, all of the vulgar words he could possibly think of - as they tugged, drawing the rope further into the ship. Han and Zitao moved on either side of the railing, ready to grab onto the two men attached to the other side of the rope as soon as they were in reach. Like a well-oiled machine, Yixing watched his crew work, dragging their friend and the stranger floating in the water up and onto the ship.

Han got a hold of Jongin first, grabbing a handful of the man’s shirt and yanking him over the railing. Zitao stepped in to grab the other man underneath the arms, pulling him out of Jongin’s hold once they were safely across the rail. Jongin grunted at the loss of weight, rope sagging as Chanyeol and Sehun collapsed on the deck.

Jongin’s chest heaved as he settled on his back, shaking the wet hair out of his eyes and letting his head fall back against the deck below him with a clunk. He untied the harness from his middle, rubbing at the skin that had undoubtedly been scrapped with the tension it had held, and groaned miserably.

“Next time,” he rasped, “I say the poor bastard drowns. That was rough.”

Han chuckled lightly, patting the soaked man on the shoulder. “You did good though, kid.”

Jongin waved him off, content to lay on the deck and breathe deeply.

“There was something he was floating on,” Jongin grunted after a second thought, glancing back at Sehun and Chanyeol, who had dragged themselves to their feet and were putting away the harness and ropes they had used to drag the men back aboard. “Wood was intact. Could be worth something if we can get a hold of it.”

At the mention of something potentially valuable within their reach, Sehun sprang to the other side of the deck, grabbing the hook they used to fish items out of the sea. Yixing watched as the youngest member of his crew leaned across the side, the hook - really, it was just a large pole with a crudely curved bit of steel on the end, but it did the job - stretched down to the water. He'd have to hit it just right to manage pulling it out, but he was the best they had at the job.

Yixing allowed the man to work with the box, while he tied the wheel off to keep them straight and joined Zitao by the newcomer’s side. Han, whose job description as a carpenter held quite a bit of medical responsibilities as well, was already hovering over him, checking vitals. The poor man was badly sunburned, completely soaked, and Yixing would bet he hadn't eaten in at least a day’s time. His breathing seemed to be pretty stable, however, if Han’s unhurried motions were any indication, so that was a good sign that the man would at least live.

“Anything hurt?” Yixing questioned, and Han shrugged.

“His skin is miserably burned, but I'm not sure of any other injuries. I won’t know until I examine him fully.”

“I wonder how he ended up in the ocean,” Yixing said, mostly to himself, but Zitao answered all the same.

“We can ask him when he is coherent,” the man insisted, watching Han work. “I’m sure it’ll be one hell of a story.”

Han gave a soft hum, pulling back and looking up at the captain as if he wished to speak, and Yixing nodded at him. “Yes?”

“There are no papers on this man,” Han muttered with a frown, and Zitao shot Yixing a warning look. The captain knew what his quartermaster was thinking without it even being voiced. It wasn't always unusual for people to travel without papers or identification on the sea. It was a hassle, for one, and sometimes it was just better if no one were aware of who you were. And Yixing would be a liar if he said he hadn’t conveniently forgotten his papers when heading into less friendly ports, just to be safe.

But it was rare to be alone in the water without papers, without a ing ship. Being cast out in the waves by yourself was typically one of three reasons: You either fell off your boat, or were shipwrecked, or you were abandoned by your own.

Yixing didn't see any wreckage, besides the box the man was floating on. While Yixing was not one to throw back rescued men for a mere lack of identification, it was never a safe bet to take a stranger aboard when the result could end in mutiny. Zitao was already highly aware of the risk, as his entire crew probably was, and the quartermaster was obviously dead set against it. His eyes screamed his sentiment with a single look.

We don't need to get involved.

And he was right. They shouldn't get involved. Not when they didn't know who this man was. It was all very strange, enough to make Yixing pause and wonder just what - who - they were dealing with.

But then again, Yixing had always been a bleeding heart. If this man needed help, he would give it.

“Take him below deck,” he ordered gently, ignoring the sputtering of Zitao by his side as Han gave a swift nod. “Let's see if he can tell us who he is when he wakes.”

“Captain,” Zitao whispered, but Yixing waved him off, sending the man a small smile.

“I know what I'm doing.”

Zitao stared for a moment, before relenting, straightening the fabric of his shirt with a bit of a huff.

“I hope you do,” he said simply, before helping hoist the mystery man up off the deck and moving towards the stairs leading down.

“Cap’n?” Chanyeol called once the three had disappeared from sight, and Yixing looked up at the boatswain. He stood by the box, Sehun looking on with unveiled curiosity, and Yixing stepped closer.

It was a standard crate, writing faded to the point of illegibility on the side from saltwater and sun, and Yixing nodded when Chanyeol offered him the crowbar to pop the lid free of the nails that held it in place. It took a few tries, but the wood eventually gave, and the three peered inside.

“Papers,” Sehun grumbled, clearly disappointed, but Yixing ignored him, plucking one of the rolled pieces of parchment from the box. A quick glance at the words written across the miraculously dry surface was nothing too telling. A shipping invoice, signed by one Kim Heechul. He didn't know the name, and with it was the name of a ship, one Yixing had never heard of either, Ayaya.

“We can ask our passenger what he knows of this,” Yixing mused, before replacing the paper and nodding towards Chanyeol. “Take it below, as well.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Chanyeol responded, before he and Sehun lifted the box and moved it below. Yixing watched on with a sigh, before turning his gaze to the water. It wasn’t often newcomers came aboard the ship, and they would not dock again for quite a while. When they did, the man would be given the choice to leave, of course, but he wondered what the man would hold for the Lan Hua, what he could offer to their crew skill wise, if he proved to be a decent man and wished to stay.

He also wondered if Zitao’s worries would prove to be right, and if he would regret being so trusting of strange men floating in the water.

~

The first coherent thought Yifan had as he resurfaced from his unconsciousness was that there had been someone in the water.

The figure had been blurred, fragmented by water and light, but it had been there. He was sure of it, as sure as he was of his name. And he was pretty certain the figure had reached towards him, hands outstretched.

But then, slowly, more thoughts began to filter in, sensations accompanying them. Like the sharp ache at the base of his skull, or the feeling of cotton underneath his hands. He wasn’t in the water, at least not anymore, and as awareness came back, the image faded even more. It lingered in the very edge of his mind, and as a heaviness settled over his head, the idea of a figure in the water became much more surreal, a dream.

All thoughts of the figure vanished completely when Yifan tried to move, only to hiss through his teeth at the tightness of his skin, and the throb in his head.

“Easy,” a soft voice called, and Yifan flinched at the proximity, eyes cracking open to survey his surroundings as he pulled his body the furthest away from the sound as possible, pain be damned. He found himself sitting up in bed, back pressed against a wall as he looked around the small room.

The voice belonged to a man with delicate features, who looked on with hands raised in a passive gesture. A wooden bowl with some type of paste lay in his lap, mixing spoon still in the substance. While he didn't seem too hostile, his unfamiliarity was enough to have Yifan on edge.

The other man hardly seemed bothered, on the other hand.

“Hey now, there's no need for that,” the man said gently, raising an eyebrow. “You may want to lay still, yeah? You’ll only agitate your wounds.”

Yifan his lips, cracked and tasting of salt, as he weighed his options. His body hurt, and even that small movement left him shaking, trembling with fatigue and pain. He bit back a groan as he forced himself to stay still, though he remained upright, eyes never leaving the man in front of him.

It took him a moment to realize he had been stripped of his shirt, and pants for that matter, clad in some thin cotton ones instead. He instinctively covered his chest, trying to hide himself a bit more, and the man rolled his eyes but said nothing about his modesty, going about his mixing.

“Where am I?” Yifan croaked after a moment, heart beating against his ribs at the situation he found himself in.

“Territory wise?” the other questioned, before setting the bowl down at Yifan’s side and dipping his hands in the substance it held. It looked to be some sort of cream, from what Yifan could tell, and he squirmed with how close it was to him now. “Somewhere near the Cerulean Gulf by now, I suspect.”

“Cerulean?” Yifan asked, jolting again and immediately regretting it, because ow. The man hummed his confirmation before reaching forward.

When Yifan pulled away again, yelping at the sting in his skin, the man paused. He raised his hand, showing Yifan the cream that stuck to his fingers.

“For your burns,” the man said simply in explanation, and when he reached forward again, slower this time, Yifan forced himself to remain still.

When the cream touched his skin, he groaned once more, this time out of relief. The cream was chilling against his skin, a bit of a numbing tingle to the substance as it coated his sunburn, and the man applying it smiled in encouragement. Yifan found he couldn't look at him for long.

“I’m Lu Han, by the way,” the man introduced, going about rubbing the substance into his skin and acting like he didn’t see the blush in Yifan’s cheeks. “The medic of this vessel.”

“I don’t understand,” Yifan started again after regaining his bearings a bit, ignoring the introduction. “I wasn’t in the Cerulean Gulf. I was…”

He paused, mind fuzzy when he tried to look back. That was strange. Where had he been? He knew it wasn’t the Cerulean Gulf, but had he been near? Or was it somewhere further away?

Han looked on for a moment before humming. “I had feared that bump on your head would affect your memory. Let me grab the captain. He’ll be able to help sort this out.”

Yifan went to protest, but the man was gone, sliding out of the room without a moment’s delay, leaving Yifan alone. He sighed, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling above him.

The Cerulean Gulf. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know where he was supposed to be, but it wasn’t here. Nor was it with a random ship and crew he didn’t know, though it seemed that was what fate had dealt him. Wracking his brain gave him nothing but a headache, and he forced himself to shove the attempts away, clear his mind when the panic began to creep in.

It was scary, that he didn’t know what he was supposed to be missing at the moment. The sheets felt tighter around him than they had moments before.

A knock at the door brought his attention back to the present, and he watched as a lean man walked in, closely followed by Han. The newcomer, the captain he assumed, gave Yifan a nod, curt, but not necessarily unfriendly, and Yifan returned it.

“Han tells me you don’t know how you got here,” the man said, his voice softer than Yifan would have expected, based on looks alone, and Yifan nodded again.

Han moved to take his place by Yifan’s bed, continuing his work with the salve. As he focused his attention on Yifan’s shoulders, he spoke, voice easygoing even if Yifan were rigid with tension. “He knows he’s not supposed to be near the Cerulean Gulf, but that’s about all I got so far.”

It was quiet, for a while, Han going about his work and the captain watching from nearby. There wasn’t anything physically telling about him, his build more slim than Yifan’s stretched frame, that slimness only further emphasized by the way his shirt tapered at the waist, billowing material tucked into his trousers and held in place with a brightly colored sash. But there was a sense of strength in the way he held himself, head tilted to the side as he watched his man move about Yifan. It left no doubt in his mind that the man was stronger than he looked, that he could command if he wished and his crew would do as they were bade.

The sword at his side only enforced that sense of power, and Yifan couldn't stop his staring.

“Done, Captain,” Han said once he had finished coating Yifan’s skin with the salve, wiping his hands on a towel by the bed. He stood, looking back towards the other man, waiting, obvious seeing what his captain wanted him to do now.

The captain nodded towards the other, and Han left without a word, taking the dismissal without complaint. When Yifan and the captain were left alone, the man turned his eyes back to Yifan, who tried not to squirm under his gaze.

“My name is Zhang Yixing,” he started, voice quiet, but confident. “My men found you floating in the middle of the Eastern Ocean, on top of a box.”

Yifan balked at him, surprise taking over his timidness. “Floating?”

“Yes,” Yixing confirmed. “Miraculously, you were not hurt much, besides your sunburn and that wound on your head that Han stitched up. Not much of a chance for you remembering how you got that, is there?”

“No,” Yifan said, reaching back to feel the thick stitches that were indeed there. They stung a bit as he touched them, and he winced, pulling his hand back into his lap. “No, I don’t remember.”

“The box held some shipping invoices for a ship called Ayaya,” Yixing continued, not showing any signs of surprise at that, nor seeming deterred. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

Yifan’s heart dropped, and he shook his head again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

Yixing nodded, crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh. He looked lost in thought for a moment, before speaking once more. “We found you with no papers. Do you at least remember your name?”

“Wu Yifan, from Amethyst City on the Western Coast,” he said automatically, information rattled off easily. He did remember that, thankfully.

“What do you do, Wu Yifan, from Amethyst City on the Western Coast?” Yixing asked, repeating each word quietly.

“I’m a navigator,” Yifan said again in that quick, sure habit way, brow pinched in thought at how readily that had come to the forefront of his mind. Yes, that sounded right.

“Were you working aboard a vessel?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What’s the last thing you are sure of?” Yixing asked.

“I remember -” Yifan had to cut himself off. A figure in the water would not be an appropriate answer, nor would it help his case when he had proven to be out of sorts. For all he knew, he had hallucinated the whole thing. “I remember being in Amethyst Port. But after that, nothing.”

“That is at least three months away from here,” Yixing pointed out, and Yifan sighed in frustration.

“I know, but that’s all I have.”

Yixing made a curious sound, before nodding.

“Well,” he started, leaning back against the wall with a relaxed shrug, “it seems you will be with us for at least a few weeks. My ship doesn’t dock again for that long, and by then you can decide if you wish to stay. Truth be told, I could use a navigator, but I’m not really in the position to offer up jobs, in my business.”

Yifan paused, tilting his head just a bit. Something stirred in his gut, something heavy and full of apprehension, before he cleared his throat. “May I ask what ship I am on?”

Yixing blinked, as if surprised at Yifan’s question, before straightening to his full height. “Forgive me, where are my manners?”

He gave a flourish of his hand, gesturing to the ship as he tipped forward in a small bow. “Welcome aboard the Lan Hua.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of that name,” Yifan said softly, which, to be fair, could be in part from the amnesia. But Yixing snorted at the words, and something told Yifan perhaps that was not the case here.

“Not many people have,” Yixing admitted, and his smile managed to look sharp along the edges, a bit more fierce that it had been moments before. A bit more dangerous, Yifan thought.

Yixing gave a short nod instead of elaborating, content to leave the conversation at that. But when he turned to leave, Yifan stopped him, calling out again.

“May I ask why that is?” he questioned, unsure of what he was asking, but asking all the same. “A new ship perhaps?”

Yixing paused at the door, mulling over the question before seeming to come to a decision. He threw another wide grin at the man sitting on the cot as he huffed out a laugh, giving another lazy shrug as he met Yifan’s eyes.

“It wouldn’t do for a pirate ship to be giving out its name so freely.”

He was gone the next moment, missing the way his words left Yifan paler than before.

Meg’s Notes: Well this was a ing long time coming. When did our schedules get so hectic? But yay! First chapter is up!! We are very excited for this story, and what it to come in later chapters (*smirks*) with all of the characters we have planned to use, but a fun start! This first chapter took us entirely too long, with all of our side projects, but I think it is a nice one to pull you lovely readers in. Oops? I hope you all enjoyed it, and will continue to do so as this story progresses to something more than a part of the list-o-fics me and Nat have waiting to write. Thanks for reading! <33

Nat’s Notes: ~5.000 words for the first chapter! Now, we usually start out with… if not short, then at least not long chapters (Meg’s comment: See last chapters of Thorn and Feather, for reference), but then the plot runs away with us and we give you ~10.000 words for one chapter. So. Good start, I should say, though future chapters’ length may vary greatly. As Meg mentioned, this has been a damn long time coming, which , but now the first chapter is here, so thank you for your patience! Hopefully, the next chapter won’t take another half year, but, uh. Hectic schedules and all. Better arm yourselves with patience <3

Hope you enjoyed the very beginning of this plot-packed journey! We have looots of… fun stuff planned for the future. Nine chapters, is the plan! Thanks for reading, and see you for the next chapter! <3  (And isn’t the poster just pretty? <33)

Lovely readers, we will see you for Chapter 2!