Notice Island: Attack on Dreams by the Men of the Seas

[mildofthewild]

What do you think is so special out there that you can't get here?! You're a disgrace to fishmen!

If mom and dad could see you now, obsessed over these little toy boats!

If you wanna be with those humans so bad, why don't you go and join them?

DON'T COME BACK TO FISHMAN ISLAND. WE'LL KILL YOU IF YOU DO.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

The pounding of Orous' wooden shack doors pulls him away from memories of the past and into the world of consciousness, the young fishman sitting up before slamming his head into the shelf above his bed. After 6 years of the same routine, one would think Orous would just take the shelf down...

"Oro! It's almost 5 a.m., the guests are going to be here any minute! We gotta get the bar ready! Oro!" 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the pain from his head, Orous fumbles around aimlessly for his clothes, tripping over stray beer bottles before stumbling across his outfit. 

"Oro, are you awake!? Oro!" 

"I'm comin', I'm comin! Jeeze, just...just go ahead, I'll catch up!" Orous shouts back, growling as he pulls the bright pink dress shirt over his frame. He can hear a huff of disapproval and the steady retreat of someone leaving the small shack he calls home. With a sigh, he manages to complete his ensemble, eyes trailing across the room before landing on the crown jewel of his outfit: the worn bandanna hanging from his bed's rafters. He gazes across its surface, looking at the crudely drawn ships and small smiley faces that the children of Notice have graced with their art skills. He reaches down to the floor, swinging a bottle around before draining the last few drops of alcohol into his jagged maw. He tosses the bottle away, sighing as he ties the bandanna around his mouth, completely hiding it from the world once more. 

"Well, here we go again..."

---

Orous stumbles across the island, leaving his hut on the edge of the forest surrounding Notice Island and heading into town. 5:30 a.m. Raining. He can't remember a day it wasn't raining, but that doesn't bother him so much. The droplets feel good against his skin; felt like home. He arrives at the bar that greets guests entering Notice Town, entering the swinging door and sitting at the bartop. He slowly starts cutting lime wedges, all the while his co-worker stares at the hunched over fishman, slightly worried. A sigh passes between them both, then a grunt, until finally Orous can't deal with the pregnant pause sitting between them. 

"What is it, Daimo," Orous says, not taking his eyes away from the bartop. He starts running a damp and slightly worn rag across its top, clearing off any stains from the previous day. 

Daimo, a slightly pudgy man with a thick and bristling mustache, shrugs as he leans against the bar top, washing some of the mugs from last night. "Just curious what's eatin' ya. You get a rough crowd last night?" 

Orous chuckles lightly as he starts fixing the stools around the establishment. A few were busted, and he'd have to try and fix them up later during his break. "Nobody's rough, not by the our standards anyway. No, just...been thinking about home a lot."

"Home?" Daimo says, curious. He never hears much of Orous' past, least of all his home. 

"Yeah, home. Just...well, was thinking more about some people recently from home. Just got me a little down."

"Ain't you always down?"

"Ain't you always slackin' off? Here, I'll wash those, just get started on hauling the barrels in, the shipment should be here any minute. After that, non-stop drinkers." Orous growls at Daimo, the pudgy man rolling his eyes and heading out. Orous sits alone for a moment at one of the stools, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, deep in thought over the last words his brother ever said to him. "Probably glad I'm wipin' down counters for humans, ain't ya," he whispers to himself before he hears the door open. He takes a look at the clock on the wall, sighing as he stands up. Customers. Today was set to be another long day as guests arrive at Notice Island.

---

[Harusame]

On A Unknown Island ...

Turtle looked towards the door as it swung open, her temporary clinic typically low on patrons at this time of the evening. Yet as she saw his shape, draped in a dark coat with a hat covering his features, she knew what was coming. She could feel the inevitable drop in her stomach. But she let it play out anyways, letting him sit down, walking towards him, giving him a friendly smile.

'Can I help you sir?'

'Only water can keep secrets made at the well.'

She sighed. 'Unless a thirsty man seeks a drink only to find coin.' She pulled out a couple of beri, sliding it towards him. 'What's the damage?'

He pulled into his coat and spoke. 'Your admirer heard about the incident last week. It was the blade that tipped him off. Not many doctors running around carrying it.'

She cursed, turning to the cupboards where she kept her supplies as she began packing it up. 'That woman is raising three kids. I wasn't going to let a few bandits walk away with her dinner money.'

The man shrugged. 'Noble intentions often lead to unintended results.'

She rolled her eyes, shoving what little she had into a bad, her books, bandages chemicals. Then moving into the back she grabbed both her rapier and the sword that seemed to always cause her grief, Asagao, clipping them both to her belt. 'So where am I off to next?'

The man slipped her an envelope, which she picked up. It contained a few beri and a scrap of paper with the next destination. She smirked. 'Seems a bit on the nose, don't you think?'

===

Notice Island, A Few Days Later

'-and that's why I can't have fish before bed!' Turtle concluded as the people gathered around her guffawed at the conclusion of her story. Notice Island had seemed a bit middle ground upon the first arrival but the spirit of the people really made it worthwhile. They were kind and welcoming, and Turtle found herself fitting in already.

They begged her to tell another story but Turtle shook her head, getting to her feet. 'No, no, no .... not until we get more drinks! Next round on me!' They cheered and Turtle sauntered to the front, leaning over the bar counter as she eyed the man they'd called ...

'Oro, was it?' She squinted, knowing full well there weren't many fishmen bartenders on the Island who matched her height. Without checking if she caught his attention, she hooked a thumb back at her table. 'Another round for the table please. And take your time, I'm running out of fables to feed them.' She smirked, winking back the fishman before offering her hand. 'I'm Turtle by the way. You make a mean mug of mead my friend.' She put a hand on her chest. 'I brewed myself back in the day.'

[mildofthewild]

The roar of the patrons might as well be background noise for Orous, the Fishman concerning himself with cleaning some of the used mugs in the lull between orders. His eyes squint as he locks on to a particularly troublesome stain, the wet cloth unable to scrub it out. He grits his teeth beneath the bandanna mask, opting to try and scratch at it with his webbed hands. He scratches vigorously, the glass squeaking from his effort as he looks through the bottom. In the midst of his cleaning, a large shape approaches, distorted by the glass of the mug. 

"Oro, was it?"

The glass cracks as he jumps slightly, Turtle catching the Fishman off guard. Growling, defeated, he places the mug slowly back on the counter before looking at the patron. She was easily one who stood out from the usual crowd; Orous was too used to pirates dressed in week old rags, civilians looking to explore or travel across the blues and marines with pristine uniforms that were juxtaposed with their crude sense of humor. There weren't many people on Notice that could look him in the eye, and he half expected she was half-giant but he dismissed that pretty quickly.

He blinks slowly as he listens to her, eyes slightly glazed. That being said, he admitted to himself she was quite charismatic, and she likely knew that from the casual wink she threw. His eyes linger on her out held hand, Orous debating whether to leave her hanging or not. He sighs heavily and grips her hand, shaking it with his webbed fingers.

"It tastes like $&^$," he says, before he starts pouring another round. "I ain't allowed to brew some of the good stuff; Daimo says it's too strong, knocks the customers flat out. Surprised you like it if you know your way around a mug," he says, placing one of the mugs on the counter top, froth bubbling over the edge and running in small rivulets down the side.

"...you story was funny," he says, mumbling slightly under his breath. His years on Notice didn't do much for his social skills outside of growls and sighs. Compliments were difficult.

[Harusame]

Turtle flinched as the glass cracked, raising an eyebrow, but it didn't rattle her too much. She knew the legends of Oro's kind, the scary fishmen. Some people saw them as nothing more than animals, some as devils, as monsters. But to her, they were just people with different skin and bodies. They were still fundamentally people. And traversing the last few years across the Blues she'd seen her fair share of strange things.

It was a curious thing, finding a Fishman in a bandana serving patrons in the North Blue. It was as if he simultaneously fit in and stuck out, with everyone acting so casually around him. But something in the way he hesitated to grip her hand spoke volumes. He seemed either bothered or ... unsatisfied.

He didn't seem to be a fan of the mead and Turtle scoffed, listening as he tried to stumble through their little interaction. She could tell that he wasn't used to chit-chat, but it didn't bother her. Dealing with withholding customers was part and parcel of her craft. Yet the comment on her story made her smile. Maybe he wasn't too uncomfortable.

'It does taste like shit. It's a good thing I don't drink for the flavour.' She smiled, pulling out a few beri and putting it on the counter as she waved for some of the others to come to pick up their drinks. They gestured for her to return but she waved them off, letting them know she needed a moment before turning back to Oro.

']I'm glad you liked the stories. What's yours?' She quirked a brow, picking up one of the mugs and sipping lightly as she looked at him. 'I apologize I tend to be ... naturally curious. Especially with a little alcohol in me this thing,' She gestured to her mouth. 'Just keeps running and running. But what's a Fishman doing here, serving these people, looking like he doesn't want to be?'

[mildofthewild]

The question catches Oro off guard. No one really had ever been, well, curious about why he was on Notice Island. Travelers would often stare, slack-jawed at how he towered over them, or he'd be given a wary eye as if to dare him to make one wrong move. He was used to being a novelty; another sight to behold on the great open seas for those that had never come across a Fishman. No, the question of why had never come up, so surely this "Turtle" could forgive the awkward pause as he lays a hand on the Beris.

Looking warily at her, he pulls at his bandanna slightly, keeping his face covered as he brings one of the coins to his mouth. A metallic CHK as hardened teeth bite against metal, the coin keeping its shape as he places the rest in holding behind the counter. "Sorry," he mumbles, letting the bandanna fall back fully, "Just gotta check. I uh...I got lost." 

Orous shifts on his feet, scratching the back of his rather wide shoulders as he looks back at Turtle. "I mean, I...ugh, I dunno why I'm so nervous. Everybody knows about 'em, Fishmen I mean. I lost my way when I was young, got mixed up in stupid dreams and all that. Marines brought me here, and...well, that's that. It ain't exciting or funny like yours, sorry." He says, growling slightly as he leans forward on the counter. Turtle can just barely make out the small protrusions of sharp edges beneath the bandanna as Orous shifts. 

"Just sort of made my piece. And let me tell you somethin', lil miss, I'm exactly where I need to be! If I'm upset, it's jerkwads and creeps that wash up in here that I gotta deal with. Lookin' like I don't wanna, why the hell wouldn't I want to be here? Don't you know this place is supposed to be one of the prize ports in the North Blue? Couldn't pick a better place to call home. People are...well, they're there. And I love my job...love it..." He trails off, staring down at the counter, wiping a finger across the surface and grimacing as it leaves a trail in the dust. "Gah, just wiped this down this morning..."