Chapter Text
A smattering of grey rain fell from the sky as Artis Artisian methodically dragged the end of a wet paintbrush against one of the pale white pieces of paper scattered across his makeshift desk. It was nearing evening and though moderate winds were causing the boat to rock considerably, it didn’t hinder Artis’ work. He was more than used to it by this point.
Through a window overlooking his desk, Artis could see a vast grey ocean stretch toward the horizon. The first time he’d been on a boat, the wide expanse of nothing had frightened him, though he’d quickly come to associate the sight with excitement at the infinite possibility instead. Nowadays, the sight didn’t inspire much of anything other than a small shiver at the thought of going out in the rain to ready the boat for sailing.
Artis sighed and returned to the task at hand. The dry paper crinkled slightly under his hand, already beginning to buckle and crease from the water, and Artis couldn’t shake the prominent feeling in his chest that it was all wrong.
Fidan’s eyes had sparkled like brilliant sunsets. His poor copy didn’t have an ounce of the life and joy that she had effortlessly exuded and looking at it only served to make Artis vaguely nauseous.
He ripped the paper from his notebook with a dejected sigh, quickly pushing a few loose papers on top of it and smudging the color in the process. Artis’s heart trembled for a second, and he wondered why he kept doing this to himself?
It’s not like it would bring her back.
This was the routine Artis found himself living through most days. He got up with the sun, readied the boat, and set sail as the seagulls cried. Some days he brought nets or fishing rods with him and spent the day immersing himself in work and routine. Other days, like this one, he simply took the boat out far enough that no sounds could reach him and sat in the stillness.
The watercolors were reasonably new, having been gifted to him by Teb on Artis’s 118th birthday. In two years' time, Artis had used up almost half the box, and he’d become proficient at mixing the remaining colors to get the browns and greys that he wanted. Numerous paintings of vast, grey oceans littered the walls of Artis’s cabin, though rather than liven the place up like Teb had suggested they only served to make old wounds ache.
Artis didn’t have the energy to take them down, though.
For now, he let his brush rest in a half-filled glass of muddy water and got up from his chair, intent on heading outside despite the rain and beginning the journey back to shore. He caught a quick glimpse of his reflection in the window as he got up, meeting dark, tired eyes and a worn-out expression.
He certainly didn’t shiver at the sight of a translucent hand gripping his shoulder.
She was lively today, it seemed.
As Artis checked the fastenings of the sails and rigging, he felt light fingers dance delicately along his arms and shoulders. He pointedly avoided looking down the side of the boat as he worked, only really able to perform the tasks due to many years of muscle memory ingraining the methodical movements in him. Artis hated the days when she was this active. It tinged all of his actions with a hint of fear that was just great enough that he couldn’t avoid thinking about it. Every action became a guessing game of whether she’d try to grab his hands or shoulders, and with every turn of his head, Artis wondered if he’d catch sight of her dark eyes in a reflection he’d forgotten to cover.
His hand reflexively brushed off the place where Artis could feel cold, wet fingers gripping his arm. Of course, there was nothing but salty air and the cries of a seagull that had perched on the stern, staring at him with beady eyes in an almost mocking way. Artis ignored it in favor of turning the boat shorewise and resisting the morbid urge to glance down at the small reflective puddle that had formed at his feet. For a second he thought he could feel warm breath by his ear, but Artis ignored it. Maybe if he kept telling himself it was only the wind he’d eventually believe it.
----
The town of Atropa stretched out alongside the coast like it was an extension of the very rocks it was built upon. The buildings were all blanketed in a perpetual blanket of white mist, and even on sunny days the gray buildings and rickety brown docks were steeped in a kind of washed-out dreariness. Artis loved and hated Atropa. It was a quiet town where nothing ever happened and it had taken from him his wife and one of his best friends.
The docks were nearly empty as Artis steered the bow of his ship toward his pier. The sun was only just beginning to touch the treetops that surrounded the schoolhouse, the oldest and largest building in the village. Artis knew that Teb liked to finish up his evening shopping when the sun set, and he’d no doubt worry if he didn’t see Artis’s boat docked when he was on his way back. Artis couldn’t begrudge him that sense of security, and so he strived to be back at the docks at least half an hour before sunset, just in case.
There was always this small moment of unreality when Artis stepped off of the boat and onto the pier that rested next to it. A few seconds of Artis’s body expecting the pier to rock under his feet, followed by a moment of sheepish realization as his mind caught up. Back in the day, Artis had been unsteady on his feet for hours after disembarking, but now he didn’t take more than one stumbling step before he acclimated to the feel of firm ground beneath his feet. A distant tinge of tar hung in the air, as did the everpresent taste of salt and brine and seaweed. The feeling of rough rope in Artis’s hands was a familiar sensation as he set about fastening the boat to the pier. Through the din of crashing waves and seagulls, Artis could hear the voices of two passers-by further inland.
“-Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Yes! Now come on, don’t chicken out last minute-”
Artis’s eyes drifted from the task at hand for a moment, and his grip on the rope faltered as he stared down into the water below. The shadow of the boat made the water appear black and infinitely deep, even though Artis knew it was less than two meters to the sandy seafloor. After a moment’s reprieve Artis could see shapes start to form, nestling between waves and in ripples from light raindrops hitting the surface. The shape of a face, pale and small against the vast darkness of the ocean. A hand, reaching toward the surface but never quite reaching far enough.
Dark, empty eyes staring up at him and a mouth yelling something Artis would never understand.
The pier creaked under the weight of quick feet, but Artis wasn’t listening, enraptured as he was by the sight of Fidan Artisian’s arms stretching desperately towards him. The urge to reach out toward her, bring her to safety, was nearly overwhelming but Artis pushed it down as he often had to do. His wife was long gone, and this pale afterimage was beyond saving. Had been, for many years.
The thought echoed in Artis’s head, filling his heart with ice and his limbs with lead as he fumbled to grab the rope again. He felt sick, chilled to the bone by breeze and rain and thoughts he couldn’t keep out of his head. His heart pounded like he’d run a marathon.
He forced his hands to stop shaking as he redid the knot, fastening the boat to the pier as securely as he could manage with tears blurring his eyes and rain running in rivulets down his hands and arms. And maybe it was the whispers of the wind that obscured the approaching steps of boots on wood, or maybe it was the rain and the tears that made Artis keep his head down and miss the sight of two dark-clad figures rapidly approaching. Maybe it was the thoughts of Fidan keeping him trapped, even as one of the figures reached for his wand and recited the words of a spell Artis had never heard before. It was difficult to tell but either way, the outcome was the same.
The spell hit its mark and Artis Artisian fell backward onto the pier, asleep.
---
“-What do you mean?”
“Jagun! Lower your voice!”
Artis’s mind felt muddled and numb as he slowly began to return to consciousness. He felt cold wood under his head, and when he tried to open his eyes they fell shut immediately again. No matter how he fought, he couldn’t force his weary body to wake up.
“I will not lower my voice Amika, you kidnapped somebody!”
“And? You want the entire neighborhood to hear? It’s not a big deal, we’ll have him tell us what he knows and then we’ll let him go.”
“Are you kidding? What if he sees our faces? Or recognizes our voices? He’ll go to the cops and we’ll be screwed!”
Artis stilled his breathing, lying very still on what he now realized was a wooden floor. He’d been kidnapped? That didn’t make any sense at all. He wasn’t anyone worthy of kidnapping, hell he hadn’t even brought home any fish that day. What could a gang of criminals possibly want with him?
“Don’t tell me you hadn’t thought of that Amika, for fucks sake.”
“Hey- calm down. I just- we just gotta sit down for a bit and come up with a plan. We need the information-”
“-you need the information. Personally, I’d rather we throw the damn thing back in the ocean and be done with this whole mess.”
Artis’s mind was racing. What information? What was going on?
“Well yeah but-”
“Heya, guys-” a third voice, thinner than the others and heavily accented cut through the argument. “I think he’s wakin’ up.”
“Fuck!”
“Dammit, I said lower your voice! I’ll just cast another sleep spell on him and we’ll- figure out what to do.”
Artis’s heart sank, and he tried desperately to force his heavy body to move out of the way, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate and his head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton.
“We can’t keep casting sleep on him forever!”
“It’s not forever just-” Artis heard two heavy steps toward him on the floor, and he did his best to roll out of the way but didn’t get far before the sound of rustling robes made him assume his assailant had grabbed their wand. “We’ll figure something out? Okay?”
“...Alright. Fine.”
That was the last thing Artis heard before his world went black once more.
---
When Artis next awoke, it was with a much clearer head. The first thing he noticed was that he was sitting now, his back leaned against some kind of wooden wall and his feet folded under him. To Artis’s right was another wall, small slivers of what seemed like candlelight filtering in through gaps between large wooden planks. It didn’t take Artis many seconds to figure out he was sitting in some kind of wooden container, most likely a box or a closet. His captor hadn’t made any attempts to tie his hands together, so Artis could easily feel out the dimensions of his makeshift prison. Sadly, whatever box he was stuck in seemed to be locked, so Artis couldn’t do much but knock on the door, putting as much weight on it as he could in the vain hope that he could simply press the lock open. Unfortunately for Artis, the door did not budge an inch.
He spent a fair few minutes wrestling with the door to little avail, before another sound cut through the silence. Footsteps pitter-pattering on the floor outside. Someone had entered the room Artis was stuck in and as he waited with bated breath, three more someone-s followed. The sound of muffled whispers accompanied the footsteps, and Artis strained to hear what was being said.
“-does he even use all of this stuff for?”
“I dunno, crimes?”
“Isn’t he a detective though?”
“-Oooh! Shiny!”
“No- Integrity don’t touch that-”
The voices didn’t sound like they belonged to his kidnappers, but Artis was still apprehensive. Then again, these strangers may be his best bet at getting out of the cramped, stupid box. Artis’s knees were seriously starting to hurt after being folded for so long.
“Aw, why not? We came here to take stuff anyway, right?”
“I guess…”
Taking a deep breath, Artis came to a decision. Whoever these voices belonged to, they sounded younger and less nefarious than his kidnappers. If there was a chance they could help, he had to take it. He took a moment to steel himself, settling his nerves, then threw himself at the door, pounding as loud as he could.
Immediately, a chorus of screams sounded from the outside of the box.
“Gah! Who did that?”
Okay, Artis admitted to himself. In hindsight, there were probably better ways of announcing his presence.
“Oh no, what if the place is haunted? I promised Delnys I wouldn’t get involved with any more ghost stuff...”
Artis sighed. “I’m not a ghost,” he said loudly, knocking once more for emphasis. “I’m in here.”
“Oh- Oh my god, wow. Okay-” The brightest of the voices trailed off. “What are you- err- doing in there?”
“I don’t know,” Artis sighed. “Can you get me out, please?”
“Uhm- yes! Of course! Integrity?”
“Yes! Mr. Voice, I’ll lockpick the door, okay?” The same person who had previously been whispering about stealing shiny things replied. Artis couldn’t help thinking that as far as thieves went, these ones were remarkably polite.
“My name is Artis,” he clarified, resting his back against the back wall of the box. “And yes, that would be very appreciated miss.”
“Alrighty,” the voice chimed from outside the box. “We’ll get you out in no time, Mr. Artis.”
“Just Artis is fine.” Artis could hear the sound of metal scraping against metal outside the box, almost musical to Artis’s ears after so long stuck inside it. Now that help was on its way, Artis allowed himself a moment to collect himself, dropping his head in his hands and breathing deeply as his situation properly sank in for the first time. He’d not only been kidnapped off the pier, now here he was being rescued by actual thieves, who knew how to lockpick. Honestly, Artis had lived through a fair amount of adventures in his years, but this day counted among his strangest.
The door rattled a few times and Artis waited with bated breath. Then a thud, and a click and-
“Alright! You can come out now!”
Artis wasted no time in pushing open what turned out to be a closet door. Actually, he wasted so little time the person who’d let him out barely had time to move out of the way, and he almost crashed straight into the short, grinning tiefling girl who was crouched down in front of the closet.
“Hello!” She said, holding out her hand before Artis even had the chance to get up off the ground. “I’m Integrity I Idleberry.”
Artis blinked, taking her hand. “Uh, hello. Artis Artisian.” He didn’t know what else to say. “You’re very polite for a thief.”
“Thank you!” Integrity beamed at him.
Someone to Artis’s right cleared their throat gently, and Artis turned to see a dark-haired human girl, looking to be about Integrity’s age. Actually Artis realized, surveying the room, there were four kids in total. In addition to the tiefling and the human, a half-elf with curly dark hair was standing next to a short gnome with big glasses and a big grey hat on his head. They looked to be about student age and were all observing Artis with wide eyes.
“We should get out of here,” the human girl continued, glancing at the other kids one after the other. “We didn’t expect to find you here, but we’re glad we did.”
The dark-haired girl nodded. “Yeah. The guy who lives here is a creep, but we didn’t think he was a kidnapper.”
“In any case, it’s best if we go before he returns.”
Artis couldn’t do much but nod wearily. Things were moving very fast, and he was very confused.
“We’ll explain as much as we can when we’re at a safe location,” the girl continued, and Artis nodded. Yes, that made sense. He hoped dearly that the thief kids did have some kind of explanation for things. At least they might explain who this cryptic “he” who apparently lived here was.
“Thank you,” Artis said, getting wearily to his feet. “I suppose we should get going then.”