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The night was calm. Streets empty, seas relatively calm, lights out and stores closed.
Normally, this type of silence was comforting. There was always a certain level of safety in the darkness for the pirate, something soothing about knowing how to stay quiet and out of sight, something serene about how seamlessly he could meld with the shadows with less than a sound.
Chip wasn’t so sure he likes the quiet at the moment.
He walked through the streets of Allport, head down and arms crossed over his chest, only sounds being the click of his boots and his rapid heartbeat. The night was cold, nipping at his exposed skin, but he couldn’t care less right now. His mind was worried about things other than frostbite.
Why the fuck had he thought it was a good idea to confront that bastard? Alone, no less?
Gillion had told him earlier, half seriously, to go ‘do what he did best.’ And Chip, being the dumbass he was, decided to go do exactly that. He went to annoy, to trick, to persuade, to do anything to piss off the guy that had nearly gotten Earl killed.
And that guy just so happened to be someone Chip never wanted to see again. Or, someone he wanted to see again, but under different circumstances. Or maybe Chip just wanted to think about him but never wanted to see him again?
Chips rubbed at his face. Gods, he was a mess.
Any complex feelings aside, Price has been and always will be a prick. He was dangerous, and he was clever. Even if Chip had hindered him with his trick, (yes, he was still preening over the success of his plan, and? It was fucking cool. ) he knew it wouldn’t last forever. Ruben had changed in the few years they’ve been apart, but not enough to the point of unpredictability. He was just as determined and sly as ever.
Honestly, Chip shouldn’t feel nervous about the eventual confrontation between his crew and Price’s gang. He shouldn’t feel bad about hurting the bastard that ultimately hurt him more than helped.
Chip ran a hand across his stomach. He really shouldn’t.
But he did. He really did.
He knew when he set that fire that he’d be leaving the life he knew for good, burning any chance at redemption along with the old base. He knew the moment he’d thought of the plan to steal a simple boat and get the fuck out of the gang he was never going to be forgiven. He knew he’d never be able to mend anything. He knew, okay?
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t look back on it, though. Doesn’t mean his mind would stop reminiscing. Wanting something back.
He’d pressed with Amber to make sure the enchantment wouldn’t kill Price or be permanent. He couldn’t deny how fast his heart still beat when that prick got close or when he’d flash Chip a genuine smirk. Fuck, he’d even dressed like this in efforts to impress the dickhead he used to call boss.
He’s not a shipwrecked, orphaned boy anymore. But he’s not a lovestruck idiot in the heart of a gang, either.
He’s just Chip, a self-proclaimed bastard who wants to protect his fami- his crew. And godsdamnit, he was a mess .
Chip huffed, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. He tried to focus on the muffled sounds of the waves or the way his feet dragged against the gravel pathways, but gave up when it was clear it wasn’t working. He just hoped he’d get back to the ship soon enough.
He’d never given himself time to think about it, really. He knew what he’d had to do, so he’d done it and gotten the fuck out of there, never looking back. He didn’t want to look back; reminiscing led to regret, regret led to loneliness, and loneliness led to desperation. Chip wouldn't give Price the satisfaction of seeing him crawl back, weathered and soaked like the day they’d met.
Chip would admit, he’d gotten lucky that he’d ended up on Allport’s docks after the Midnight Rose sank. The orphanage there was more than happy to take a stranded and starving boy in, and while it wasn’t the nicest you could get, it was still home for a time. Granted, they’d kicked him out the day he’d turned sixteen, but they did that to all the kids. It wasn’t personal.
Besides, he wasn’t really on his own for a while. It helped that he’d made a friend in the orphanage, a friend that just so happened to already be an ambitious leader of a guild that tended to take thieves like himself in.
Fast forward less than two days later and Chip was securely in the middle of their base, being given the run-down of how this guild worked and catching up with a friend that was kicked out of the orphanage a year prior.
Chip will say: Ruben was, and is still, charming. There was a spark of determination in his eyes that Chip had noticed in the orphanage, and it had only grown brighter over the year. While fresh scars dotted his hands and face, he’d still had that childish recklessness that had gotten him in so much trouble at the orphanage.
Over the next two years or so, the guild grew bigger and bigger, becoming more well-known throughout the streets of Allport, Ruben never once being questioned as the leader or looked down on even when over half the recruits had years on him.
And Chip, being the blind dumbass he was, caught himself falling for the guy.
Still, one of the biggest shocks in Chip’s life to date was still finding out that his feelings were reciprocated. They’d never made it official- Chip wasn’t exactly a fan of becoming a target or potential leverage under any circumstances- but neither cared much for labels either. It was enough for just them to know.
Even Chip had to admit, he had been… happy, then. He’d started to feel like he’d found another home, somewhere he could be vulnerable and protected, somewhere he could push his skills to the limit while still having a safety net to fall back on.
Chip shook his head violently, physically trying to dislodge the memories stuck to the front of his mind. It was the past. Sure, it had been rose-tinted and exciting in the moment, but he’s long since past blindly trusting people. It might have been nice, safe even, but he’s learned.
He’d trusted too easily, and he’d paid the price. He didn’t question any of the small things he’d noticed, didn’t ask about the increasingly fearful whispers of civilians. He pretended not to notice as Ruben slowly started to grow paranoid and cold, starting more arguments than conversations and physically pushing Chip away more than once. He ignored the red flags and the alarms ringing in his head because this was supposed to be his home.
Truthfully, he’d been trying to find a way out of the guild when it was clear Ruben was leading it more towards a gang. He’s wanted to leave and finally get on the seas once again, but the want to stay had always been bigger than the tug of adventure.
At least, it was for a while.
Chip chuckled to himself. It was fitting that the way he’d gone out was so… fiery. In more ways than one.
He remembered the night pretty clearly- despite the fact that he had been tipsy. He’d turned eighteen maybe a week or so ago, and Ruben had taken him out for a drink. Or at least, to swipe some liquor from a local bar for them to drink in the safety of the base.
It had been just a simple question that had sparked the flame- just an innocent inquiry of what Chip wanted to do in two, five years or so. And Chip, for once, decided to be honest.
One thing led to another, and after a few broken bottles, not-so-quiet insult matches, and half-assed apologies and promises, Chip had a plan.
Less than a week later and Chip was on the seas, on his own and refusing to look back at a flaming port.
Chip sighed, tilting his head up to glare at the stars. And here he was, roughly two years later, mind a scattered mess over a tie he’d long since cut off. He’s moved on by now- found a crew he actually wanted to trust, a family he wanted to keep- he really shouldn’t be thinking about this. He shouldn’t care anymore.
Chip’s never been the best at not caring, anyways. He held onto whatever he could tightly; the coin in his pocket and the fresh tattoos that ran along his skin was proof of that. As much as he ran from his past, he has never been and probably will never be great at moving on.
He let his head drop back down, surprised at how close he was to his ship already. Had he really been that lost in thought?
The Albatross was a welcome sight nonetheless, a tenseness in Chip’s shoulder loosening as he climbed aboard and ran a hand along the ship’s railings. It wasn’t the most impressive ship in the harbour, nor was it the most put-together, but it was home. And hopefully it’d stay that way.
He waved at Alphonze as the warforged turned towards him, ducking under the deck before he could ask any questions. Chip slipped into the sleeping quarters, not surprised when he didn’t see any sign of Gillion or Jay. Those two were stubborn: they weren’t going to give up a search easily.
He sat down on his hammock, pulling one of the thin blankets there around his shoulders. His shirt was draped over the side of one of the cots, lightly stained a rainbow of different colours, and while (despite popular belief) he did have another shirt he could wear, he couldn’t bother at the moment.
The ship swayed lightly in the waves, Chip gently rocking with it. Despite the calmness of the night, Chip knew he wasn’t going to get any sort of sleep tonight.
Pulling out his coin and fiddling with it in attempts to rein in his racing thoughts, he waited. He’s not going to like it, but he knows Gillion and Jay are going to hound him for answers, not only to where he’d been, but to this ‘Price situation’ as well.
He’s got a lot to talk about when those two get back.