IX. Several Months In.

Aprillies 13th

Dear Diary,

Today marks seven months since I left the farm and Veridia.

In some ways, it feels like it’s been a lot shorter than seven months. For example, I’ve known Majel for less than a year, but she’s already one of the closest friends that I’ve ever had. (Besides Janice, Carol, and Judith back on the farm, of course.) 

On the flip side, sometimes—especially during long trips where there’s nothing to do—all I can think is “Oh my gods, it’s only been seven months?” Like whenever Majel and Cain get into an argument that I’m in the middle of, or when we get into a fight with another ship, and I have to spend the entire day pailing water and patching holes with tar. (I loathe opening the tar barrel—even a quick peek inside makes the lower deck smell for days.) 

Since the farm costs more than it earns, I’ve been keeping up my monthly payments to James, coveringall of its expenses like equipment loans, taxes, hay for the cows, as well as his salary. (With how much he’s getting paid, he better be putting as much effort into keeping an eye on them as I used to!!)

I give as much as I possibly can to the farm—only keeping enough to support me while I’m away. (Cain encourages us to take as many resources from “commandeered” vessels as we can, especially ships affiliated with the Horatio Empire. While this saves some money, we can’t live off of it alone.) 

Last year, I spent the months of November and Deocaerus back home. I plan to do it this year, too, and the year after next, and so on and so forth. Whenever I’m feeling down, I just close my eyes, clear my head, and fantasize about coming back home…

If I ever feel guilty about leaving my crew behind during the winter, I remember that I’m not even needed around at that time. 

Whenever the sea turns into one big block of ice, Cain pirates all by himself. He anchors the Festering Wound inside Crypt Keep and trades a ship for a wolf sled. He’s been talking about switching the wolves for zombies this year, (since skeletons and wolves are a dangerous combination), but I can’t imagine that possibly working out for him. (Rigor mortis + freezing temperatures = not a fun time.)

Majel goes through something Doctor Picardo calls “torpor,” which is like a less-intense hibernation. She won’t move as much and eats more than usual, since she has this natural urge to save her energy. She would spend all of her time back at Crypt Keep, held up in her quarters, only leaving for the odd trip to the commissary.

So with no Captain around, a recluse Majel, and a bunch of pent-up, hungry zombies, I would rather just go back home.

Sometimes there’s this voice in the back of my head that berates me for my life choices. Since I am considered a pirate, I’d definitely be sent to prison if I'm ever caught by the Navy—facing the gallows, most likely! And that’s if I go out easily—I’m sure there are many other fellow pirates who would gladly send me to the bottom of the ocean with a new hole in my neck to breathe with. (What I fear most in this world is running into Blackbeard himself—even if he is dead. They used to say the same thing about Captain Cain, you know!)

But then I remember who it’s all for in the end. Yes, I may spend each day on a rotten ship, covered in blood, surrounded by both pirates and the living dead—but knowing that the farm will still go on because of my efforts gives me the strength to go on.

—D’anna