So what've you been doing for almost half a year, boys? · 12:35pm May 23rd, 2014

Here's what I've been up to.

17th day of Spring. Year 833 of the Era of the waves. Place unknown. Somewhere between Haven and Gryphon's Cradle. Course NWW; steady; about eight knots.

Water.
A thousand, thousand miles in every direction, the surface of the Bay of Bridles was an endlessly shifting blanket of quicksilver. He stared out to sea, and counted the quiet slaps of the waves against the Luna's prow.
One thousand, one hundred and twenty-five. One thousand, one hundred and twenty-six.
He raised his eyes briefly, scanning the horizon. There were no port-lights or distant strobes of lighthouses, not even the tiniest glimmer of a cabin-light. There was not a single murmur of life out there. Instead, there was only the dark horizon, made less sinister by the moonlight, and he had taken to staring at the soft, silver peaks of the water that ran as far as he could hope to see.
One thousand, one hundred and thirty-two. One thousand, one-hundred and thirty-three.
He allowed himself to fantasise briefly about the stars. In the far distance, the heavens met and merged with the ocean in a seamless, eternal sea of black, one field of stars pressed against another that twinkled and glimmered with every ebb and flow. He pictured Seabreeze making sense of the constellations, her scarred leg pulled tight around his shoulders as she raised the other hoof to the moon, telling him about the stars and the stories of their creation. Seabreeze told tales like no other, and like every skilled storyteller she deserved to be treasured. She was a custodian of pony history and lore, and when the sea's endless monotony washed away his spirit, she could breathe life back into the lifeless.
In the Era of the waves, you were born at the waves, and you would die at the waves – that was a certainty. But Seabreeze gave hope that there was something else out there, something other then just salt and water.
The tapping of water-droplets onto the deck shook him from his trance, and he lost count.
It's a distinctive noise, water droplets pattering onto oak. It wasn't one he heard much in the Equestrian Sea. Wood was hard to come by, and good, lacquered wood – like the kind that had been used in the building of the Luna – was worth its weight in silver. It was a shame there was nopony else around to appreciate it, really – the craft of carpentry was tragically ignored enough among ponies as it was, and the Luna's finery did not deserve to go to waste.
“Hello, sailor,” purred a voice, and he turned to hail the newcomer.
There she was again. The gorgeous mare with a sleek, light coat the shade of cream, with streaks of the same lost in a mane of rose and violet. She did not stand, but instead sat, her legs tucked beneath her in the picture of grace, the deck behind her slicked with seawater. Her horn shimmered, and her voice tickled his ears and kissed them gently, filled with the richness and sweetness of hot plum wine.
“Are you pleased to see me?” she asked, smiling curiously.
He swallowed, feeling the scraping of salty saliva down his parched throat. But he was very pleased to see her, the most beautiful mare in the ocean. He nodded, and her reaction was instant. She smiled more broadly, and the dark outlines of a crimson blush filled her cheeks.
“I've been waiting a long time, my love,” she said, her voice music to his ears. “Just to spend time with you. Just to see you again.”
His heart jumped. She was pleased to see him, of all ponies. She had waited so long to see him.
Just to see you again, her voice reminded him.
He nodded, and took a gentle step towards her. Her words kept reverberating through his head, and he felt as if there was something he had forgotten, but it was fine. She was here to see him again.
Again. The voice echoed through him. Again.
He silenced the thought. His heart knew that such mundane things were not of interest when she was around, and so he turned his attention upon her. She still sat upon the deck, her gilded and violet locks still dripping faintly onto the small pool that was beneath her.
...Again, her voice said.
And then, in a moment, the here and now came rushing back to him. He felt himself reel as icy horror washed over him, shocking him back into the unpleasant reality and rattling his sleep-addled senses. He stumbled back into the railings with a dry sob. He remembered where he was. He remembered this was not the first time he had been visited by the mare. Instantly, the desire to fall into her warm embrace left his heart, but it lingered in the depths of her beautiful violet eyes.
“Stop,” he replied, and the voice that left him was creaking and shaky, like a weathered oak cabin under a stormy sky.
“I...” The mare blinked once or twice, her mouth opening slightly in confusion. “What do you mean, my love? I don't understand.”
His lack of sleep was her undoing, and ultimately his saviour. Like the moonlight on a fishing knife, his constant vigilance allowed him to become blunt to the world. Hunger, thirst, even the self-inflicted pinch to keep himself awake – everything was slowly drowned out by the urge to close his eyes and give in, to the point where he heard nothing but the thud of his heart in his ears, where he feel nothing but a deep chill and thought of nothing beyond a number in his mind, a number that trudged onwards with every push of the waves. Beyond a day of no sleep, his inhibitions had began to slip. Beyond two days, they vanished altogether. It was the night of the third day for him, and every refuge was an eternal comfort, with no questions asked.
But that was why she was so dangerous.
Against the boat's prow was where he had propped the boathook. Now he snatched it up in his teeth, the pole's thin, sharp catch glinting in the moonlight as he brought it to bear.
“My name is Torrent,” he said, dredging the last of his energy. “And you are an invader.”
The mare blinked. Her mirage shimmered like heavy fog in a northern headwind, and a wreath of magical energy rippled across her form. For the briefest of moments her eyes flashed, and he saw the truth again, reflected back at him from two yellowed catlike slits of hunger and want.
But they quickly vanished again. Her pupils returned to the dulcet, gossamer-soft violet that plucked all the strings on his heart like a flimsy wooden lyre.
And all the while, she kept smiling at him. He wrenched his eyes away from hers, and almost immediately felt them water. He blinked hard a few times, relishing the path of salt water down salt-crusted cheeks as fear cut a swathe through his stomach.
How long had he been staring at the mare?
“Is that so?” She murmured, her voice matching the silky smile playing amusedly across her lips. “Why do you deny me, my love? I only wish to be yours.”
Struggling to avoid staring into her eyes, he gripped the boathook tighter in my mouth.
“You aren't Princess Cadence,” he croaked.
The love alicorn cocked her head, pouting slightly.
“But of course I am, my love. I look like her, don't I?”
His gaze trailed down to the mare's tail, and back up to the tip of her fluted horn.
“Yes,” he said.
“Then why question otherwise?” She asked, slowly standing and unfurling her wings. The droplets of water atop her glossy wings fanned either side of her. “You wish to be mine, is this not so?”
“More than anything,” he said. The mare turned and took a few long, graceful strides to the side of the ship, so that she was little more than a foreleg's reach away.
“Then why fight?” she added softly. “Are you scared? Does it pain you to know that there is nopony else in this world that loves you as I do?”
His heart wretched. It seemed unlikely that she knew exactly how much damage she was causing him with just the briefest glimpse of love, warmth and affection, however superficial he knew it to be. The prickling of her kisses on his cheek from the first night of her toying still made him shiver in fear and longing.
The mare laughed softly, her voice never abandoning its heavenly warmth. “Oh my sailor, my love. We spoke of this when we met, hmm? I am sure your mother would yearn for you to find happiness. Come now. Why are you are afraid of the below? Are you scared of us ponies, whom you so callously call 'the drowned ones'?” She hunched herself forward slightly, the flesh beneath her fetlocks shifting and spreading to reveal dagger-like claws, separated by thin membranes of green webbing.
He had nothing to say to that. With his heart thumping in his ears, he wasn't sure if he could even manage a reply, let alone force out something menacing.
“I can give you everything,” she giggled softly. “I can give you peace. I would marry you, sailor, in the temple of Aquarius. You would become my husband, one of us, and we would make love deep into the night, every night.” Her amber eyes glittered with predatory delight as she bore her unearthly fangs. “I can give you sleep. I can give you love, and I can give you respite from this cruel world of salt and stars. Does this not please you, my love?”
He replied by swinging the boathook as hard as he could at her.