Dark Tides

Percy could only describe the way his childhood home looked in the morning fog as ghostly. Had it always been so small and run down? Part of him knew that it did, but he'd been away for so long that it was almost surreal. This wasn't a house, this was a damn shack. Some of his worst memories came from there. It wasn't exactly a gentle and friendly type of area. He'd beaten as many people up on these streets as the number of times he'd been beaten by them. He sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy hair, pushing it back and looking behind him as he heard footsteps approaching.

And there was a prime example of what a cutthroat little place it was. Not minutes into arriving home, someone was already suspicious coming towards him, twirling a knife in his hand. The man himself seemed a bit out of shape, sporting about as many scars as Percy had along with bruising right under his eye. There was also something familiar about the scruffy man, but Percy was too on edge to care. The last thing he was looking for was a fight.

"What's your business here?" the man demanded.

"I live here."

At first, the man seemed amused, believing it to be a lie. Percy didn't blame him. He had been gone for five years, after all. Saying he looked different was an understatement. But then the smirk dropped off the man's face, looking at Percy in utter shock.

"It can't be," he muttered. "Percy Everett? Is that you?"

"In the flesh," Percy shrugged.

"It's Luke. Don't you remember?"

Percy frowned, suddenly seeing the resemblance. Of course, what he remembered was a bright young boy, who he always felt was full of potential. Percy believed that Luke could have even found a way to become king someday. He was good at weaseling his way into things. Now, the light had left his eyes. His brown hair was long and unkempt, his facial hair overgrown, and his clothing old and dirty.

"What has life done to you?" Percy muttered, holding out a hand to Luke.

"The same thing it's done to you, my old friend," Luke chuckled, shaking Percy's hand. "It's a good thing I found you before anyone else did. Big guy like you, and a stranger? You would have been taken down quickly. I'll be sure to make it known that you're one of us. Welcome back to the gutter."

With one quick wink and a smile, Luke disappeared again. Percy shook his head, turning back to walk towards his home again. Once a weasel, always a weasel. Yet somehow, seeing his old friend made Percy a bit more confident as he pushed the front door open, looking around the dark interior.

He didn't have to look for long. Malina Everett stuck out in the darkness with her brightly colored clothing, gold bracelets clinking as she sat down and stirred a cup of tea in her hand. It didn't matter how much she and her family were struggling. Malina would never sell those bracelets. She hadn't changed very much since the last time Percy had seen her, though it was clear that illness had certainly taken its toll. Her once bright and beautiful face was much paler and thinner. As long as Percy could remember, her hair always stretched all the way down to her waist. It used to be such a dark black that it almost shined blue in the light, though now it was streaked with gray. What really got to Percy, however, was that as soon as he stepped inside, she already had her sharp blue eyes piercing into him.

"So you finally decided to come home," she said flatly, still stirring the tea.

"How long ago did you see me coming?" Percy asked, lazily dropping the bag he'd been holding on the floor and pushing it out of the way with his foot.

"I dreamed I was shepherding two lambs," she explained. "They ran away from me. I have this dream often, but the lambs never return. This time, one of them did."

"Maybe I wanted to surprise you," Percy suggested.

Malina said nothing, setting aside her cup of tea and picking up a wooden crutch beside her chair, using it to help her stand. Ever since she'd grown ill, her legs hadn't been of much use. Percy went to her before she had to hobble over to him. She pulled her son into a tight hug, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, my little lamb," she laughed. "My heart can barely take the joy I feel when I see my boy again. And here to stay! I couldn't have asked for more."

"It was about time I grew up," he sighed, hugging him mother back, but a bit afraid he'd break her since she'd become so frail. "Just... promise me you won't ask me where I've been and what I've been doing. Even if you've already heard things."

"Of course, Percival."

While seeing his mother again felt like a dream, reality hit Percy before he even had a chance to be welcomed home. His mother was a fortune teller, and most of her income came from readings and the sale of handmade charms, many of which she wore herself for protection from "dark energies". Even Percy wore a charm around his neck and under his shirt, though he only half-believed in what his mother did. However, the service wasn't enough to make a living. Malina was barely making it by.

Percy thought he'd made a great deal of money from the island until he found out how many expenses were necessary. About a quarter of it was gone to buy supplies so Percy could fix the holes in the roof of the neglected home, and another third went towards keeping food on the table. The rest was spent on Malina's medical expenses. Percy knew his mother was very sick, but he had no idea how bad it had gotten. The doctors didn't know what was causing it or how to treat it, but Malina was loosing feeling and movement in her arms and legs fast.

"Can't you use some sort of 'witchcraft' to heal yourself?" Percy asked her one day, when she was feeling worse than normal.

She didn't hesitate to take her wooden crutch and give Percy a good whack on the pack of the head. He winced and flinched, rubbing where he got hit. It wasn't the first time, of course. He often said things that ended with him getting hit with the crutch.

"Careful with that word, Percival," his mother scolded. "The people don't take kindly to it, and it could lead to serious punishment. As for the illness, if there was something I could do, I would have. There is no use moping over it. That invites dark spirits into our home."

With all the moping and complaining Percy was doing, he wouldn't have been surprised if their house had practically become an inn for demons. Within a month, all the money was gone, and they were back to the beginning. Malina gave her readings every so often, while Percy made peace with the idea that he desperately needed a job. It made him miss his time on the seas even more, though there was no turning back. His mother needed him.

He'd go out early in the mornings looking for employers looking for labor workers, but found that with his raggedy appearance, few took him seriously. He ended up frequenting the tavern nearby, drinking gin instead of hunting for work. Often times, Luke would join him.

"I can't do anything," Percy grumbled. "I have no valued skills."

"You could work at the docks," Luke suggested. "Loading and unloading."

"I can't. I might see someone I know," Percy sighed.

"Blacksmith?"

"He has two young boys to do his work for him."

"Baker?"

"He says I'm far too filthy to be near food."

"Military?"

"I had an experience with the navy recently. It took a... strange turn. Long story."

"You could write a book."

"No I can't."

"Sure, all you have to do is-"

Luke caught Percy giving him an annoyed look, and shut up immediately.

"Well, I'm sure lots of writers can't read or write. You're not the only one. Find someone to write it for you-"

"You're making it worse," Percy groaned.

"Sorry, sorry," Luke smirked. "You're right, it's too much to ask for a little light in lives like ours. On the less grim side, that one over there in the hideous orange dress is giving me the eyes. Find yourself a lady, Percy. Take your mind off things."

"No, thank you," Percy grunted.

"Your loss," Luke shrugged, downing the rest of his drink as he stood. "You used to be more fun to be around."

Percy said nothing as Luke moved around him and left him alone, leaning forward and letting his forehead hit the table with a soft thud. Why wasn't he having a little fun? Before, it was because he was afraid to upset Emily. Now, he wasn't sure what his excuse was. He hadn't seen her in a month. He hadn't seen anything comfortable and familiar in a month. Maybe that's why he felt he was going mad.