𝒜 𝒫𝒾𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒'𝓈 𝒰𝓃𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔

Realm of Discord — Outside Time

The divine plane stretched endlessly in shades of violet and obsidian, constellations drifting like scattered embers across a sky that had no true beginning or end. At the center of that vast expanse, suspended above a sea of nothing, Eris stood in stillness, her form outlined by a faint, shifting glow. Below her, the fabric of reality parted just enough to reveal the mortal world—a ship cutting cleanly through restless waters, its dark sails catching the last breath of wind beneath a fading sky. Her expression remained neutral as she watched him, golden eyes steady, unreadable, as though observing something that had already disappointed her once before.

“Ten days,” she murmured softly, her voice carrying through the void like silk drawn over glass. “A simple wager, a predictable outcome… and yet.” Her gaze lingered on Sinbad as he moved along the deck below, careless as ever, speaking with his crew as though the weight of a prince’s life did not rest squarely on his shoulders. Eris exhaled faintly through her nose, rolling her eyes with quiet disdain. “You chose responsibility,” she continued, almost to herself, the words edged with mild irritation rather than anger. “How terribly inconvenient.”

The faint echo of footsteps broke the stillness behind her, soft against the starless expanse, though she did not turn immediately. Instead, her attention remained fixed on the ship below, her tone shifting into something more thoughtful as she spoke again. “Still… one moment does not make a pattern,” she said, her lips curving just slightly as if the thought amused her. “People are so easily swayed when the stakes feel immediate. Remove the pressure, change the conditions…” Her head tilted ever so slightly, interest sharpening in her gaze. “And they so often return to what they are.”

Only then did she turn.

Her eyes fell upon you, lingering with quiet recognition, as though you had always been exactly where she expected you to be.

“Convenient,” she mused, stepping closer without sound, the space between you bending effortlessly to her will. “You always did have a way of appearing when I find myself in need of something… specific.” Her gaze softened—not with kindness, but with intrigue—as she studied you, as one might examine a piece already chosen for the board. “You remember the last time, don’t you?” she asked lightly. “The storm that should have taken you. The thread I chose not to cut.”

A pause.

Her smile returned, slow and deliberate.

“I spared you,” she said simply. “Which makes what you owe me rather… unavoidable.”

The vision of the ship below shifted, drawing closer, the sound of waves beginning to bleed faintly into the divine silence. Sinbad’s figure came into sharper focus—relaxed, unguarded, utterly unaware. Eris’s attention flicked between him and you, something calculating settling beneath her expression.

“He thinks he’s changed,” she continued, almost idly. “A single noble decision, and suddenly the world expects him to be something more than what he’s always been.” Her voice dipped, quieter now, more deliberate. “But I don’t believe in miracles. I believe in patterns.”

She stepped past you, one hand lifting as the illusion of the ship expanded, the deck forming beneath your feet in fragments of light and shadow. “So let’s test it properly,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, amusement threading through her tone. “Not with monsters or storms… those are far too easy to resist.” Her gaze sharpened slightly. “No. This time, we make it personal.”

The air shifted, the scent of salt pressing faintly into the air as the boundary between realms thinned.

“You’ll go to him,” she said. “Not as a threat, not as a warning… but as something far more dangerous.” A faint pause followed, her smile deepening just enough to reveal the intent beneath it. “A choice.”

Her voice softened, almost coaxing.

“You’ll earn his trust. His interest. His affection, if you can manage it.” The word lingered, deliberate. “And when he begins to rely on you…” Her eyes gleamed faintly. “You’ll remind him exactly how easy it would be to walk away.”

A quiet breath passed between the spaces of her words.

“His crew,” she continued. “His ship. His promise.” Each one fell with measured precision. “All of it… measured beside you.”

Her gaze held yours, steady, unyielding.

“And we’ll see which he chooses this time.”

The world began to fracture.

Light bent.

Sound surged.

And as the sea rushed up to claim you, Eris’s voice followed—soft, satisfied.

“Don’t disappoint me.”

---

Day 3 at Sea — Late Afternoon, The Chimera

The wind had been steady that day, carrying the Chimera forward in long, confident strides across open water, the sails snapping cleanly overhead as the ship cut through the swell. The crew moved in practiced rhythm, voices rising and falling between bursts of laughter and shouted orders, the kind of controlled chaos that defined life at sea. It hadn’t taken long for the newest addition to settle into that rhythm—quick hands, sharper instincts, and just enough restraint to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

Sinbad had noticed.

He always did.

“Not bad,” he muttered under his breath, leaning against the railing as his gaze followed you from a distance, sharp eyes tracking movement with quiet interest. There had been no grand introduction, no long explanation—just a port, a brief exchange, and a decision made on instinct. He’d seen enough in that moment to take the risk. Useful hands were hard to come by, and something about you had suggested you’d last longer than most.

“Careful, captain,” one of the crew called out with a grin, tossing a coil of rope over his shoulder. “You keep picking people up like that, we’re gonna run outta deck space.”

Sinbad smirked faintly, not bothering to look away from where you stood. “Relax,” he replied easily. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” the man shot back. “That what you said about the last one?”

A ripple of laughter moved across the deck.

Sinbad’s grin sharpened just slightly. “And look how that turned out,” he said, pushing off the railing with casual confidence. “Still here, aren’t we?”

The conversation drifted, swallowed by the movement of the ship and the endless pull of the sea, but his attention didn’t leave you for long. There was something there—something he couldn’t quite place yet, and that alone was enough to keep him watching.

Curiosity had always been a dangerous thing.

---

The light had begun to fade by the time he found you alone.

The sky stretched wide overhead, painted in soft gold and deepening blue, the horizon blurring where sea met sky in an endless line. The ship rolled gently, the sound of water lapping against the hull steady, almost hypnotic.

Sinbad approached without much ceremony, boots quiet against the wood as he came to stand a few steps away, his gaze flicking briefly out toward the open water before settling back on you.

He leaned his forearms against the railing beside you, posture relaxed, as though this were nothing more than passing conversation.

“Not everyone takes to the sea this quickly,” he said after a moment, voice easy, edged with that familiar hint of amusement. His eyes narrowed just slightly, studying, measuring without making it obvious. “Either you’ve done this before…”

A faint pause.

“…or you’re better at hiding it than most.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, just enough to suggest a smile that hadn’t fully decided to form.

“So,” he added, glancing back out at the horizon before looking at you again, casual but attentive, “how’re you holding up so far?”

The question lingered between you, carried on the wind, simple on the surface—

but not entirely without weight.