This boi was drawn by @starleting on Twitter. I figured that I should probably show you him before I switch to better-fitting, angstier pics for the plot.

Not that it's easy to find angsty pics that aren't going, like, way too far.

xXx

If the box felt uncomfortably small when Lance was first locked in it, it was absolute agony now. He could barely see the sun shining through the glass in the holes leading into the captain's personal quarters, but from what he could figure, it had been days since he'd been in the open ocean. Three? Four? Something like that. More than he would have liked. In any case, it was probably the worst time of his life.

Even with the necklace, he felt the loneliest he'd ever been. While it offered him some consolation to know that Keith was nearby, it was awful to be so close, yet unable to see each other. They couldn't even talk to each other because of the stupid air carrying sound wrong.

And the pirate in charge? The captain? He'd grabbed Lance's face to look at him better. He squeezed really hard. Sure, it hurt, but it was also completely uncomfortable. The man was just... looming over him. "I bet you want to know what you have in store for you," he'd said. And then he dug his nails into the tender flesh of Lance's cheeks. At that point, Lance had given up on trying to be nice 'for his own sake,' as the captain had put it. He used his own nails. And then the captain punished him for it by pouring hot water into the box.

Stupid box. Stupid air. Stupid pirates.

And now the ship was supposedly close to more pirates. He could hear the guards by the door talking about how near they were to the 'island' where they were going. He was pretty sure 'hours' weren't that big of a unit of time. So what was he going to do in the little time that remained? Was he going to try and escape? Or would he hunker down and hope for the best when they reached the island?

At this point, it could get better or worse. Lance had no idea what to do, and frankly, he hated how indecisive he felt. If he tried to escape (if he could even make a viable attempt), he could end up with a punishment even worse than before. But if he didn't do anything, if the pirates had their way, he could end up just... dead. Yet on the other hand, he might be treated a hundred times better where they were going. If he tried to escape and got caught, he could just be depriving himself of what would have been decent treatment.

"Land ho!" a deep voice bellowed, shaking him out of his thoughts. Wait, were they already there? What had happened to his 'hours'? He'd probably guessed their length wrong. It wasn't like he was very good with the units of time he was accustomed to.

So was he going to try and escape? Now he had none of the time he'd thought he'd have, and--

He heard the door open, and he could see new light spilling into the room through the bars on the top of his containment box. What he guessed to be two pirates came in, laughing uproariously. He wasn't sure until he saw them because he still had no idea how bovengrond sounds worked yet, but he was right about them being there to watch him. They didn't seem particularly bothered to do anything other than talk obnoxiously loud, and though going under the water in the box helped, they still gave him a rather irritating headache.

They treated him like he wasn't even there, which was at least better than what happened with some of them. A few times, a group of men would just stand around him, staring at him and sometimes poking at him or kicking the box to get him to react. He tried not to give them the satisfaction, but he couldn't help but flinch once or twice at the when it happened.

He sank down as far in the box as it would allow, laying on his belly with his tail curled around him. There wasn't nearly enough space for him to straighten it out, so he had to settle for moving it around regularly to keep it from getting stiff. Although it was mediocre by mermaid standards, he still wanted to keep it in pristine-- or at least decent-- condition. Even in captivity, he didn't want his pride and joy to waste away to nothing.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the pirates burst into another fit of obnoxious laughter. He hugged his arms around himself and counted silently to ten to calm himself. Before he realized it, he'd reached twenty, then thirty, then forty. They got on his nerves like he didn't know was possible, and he couldn't even do anything about it.

Their laughter ended abruptly. One of them groaned. "What are you doing here?"

Lance frowned in confusion, then realized the man had been talking to someone else when the unknown presence responded, "What, can I not exist without getting in the way?"

"Apparently not," the second pirate that had been guarding Lance sneered.

"Look, can you just... not be here? We have one job, and we're not going to ruin it because we got distracted by the most useless man on the crew," the first said impatiently.

Unprovoked, the newcomer replied coolly, "If you think I'm the most useless, clearly you've never met Varkon."

"I'm right here!" the second protested.

"I'm aware," the newcomer said calmly.

"Just go away already, Kuron. I know for a fact that you're not here on the captain's orders, and you can't just go into his cabin because you felt like it."

"All right, I get it. I just thought that I could talk to the mermaid for a bit."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I've been talking to its human friend and thought I might have some insights as to how he thinks. They worry about each other, you know."

That certainly caught Lance's attention. This pirate-- Kuron?-- had talked to Keith. Maybe he was hostile, but any news was better than none, and Kuron seemed to be his only hope of getting it.

"Kuron, go away. How do I know you're not just trying to steal the mermaid for yourself?"

"Please." Lance could almost hear the eyeroll in his tone. "What am I going to do with a mermaid? I'm as stuck on this boat as you are."

"I'm still not taking any chances."

"Fair enough. It's probably just as well, since there isn't much to say to get him to talk. His friend seems to be doing fairly well, other than the obvious 'stress being held against his will by a crew of hostile pirates' thing."

The pirate seemed more confused than anything else. "All... right? I'm not sure why you're telling us this."

"Ah, forget it. I don't see why I talk to you if you never listen."

Wait, was... was he talking to Lance? Clearly, the other pirates didn't care... Was this pirate helping the captives, then? He mentioned talking to Keith, so maybe Keith had convinced him to side with them.

That was one ally they had, then. And that was better than none.

"Captain's on deck!" someone called. It took Lance a moment to realize that the pirate who seemed to be on their side, Kuron, had walked away. He furrowed his brows in thought as another set of footsteps approached. Did that mean they had a potential means of escape now?

"Anyone come in while I was gone?" an uncomfortably familiar voice asked the men by the door.

"Kuron stopped by, but he only talked to us for a while. He tried to go in, but we stopped him," the first pirate reported.

"Of course he'd do that." The captain sighed. "We are ditching that cripple the first chance we get."

"Hear, hear!" the second pirate agreed heartily.

"Varkon, stop agreeing with everything I say. It gets on my nerves."

"Of course, sir."

The captain sighed, then entered his cabin. Lance immediately did his best not to draw attention to himself; it made life easier for everyone if the captain just forgot about his existence.

The man pulled out a feather, a tiny container filled with ink, and a thin, dry material from a drawer. He set them on his desk and dipped the feather in the ink, then started to... what was he doing? Was he... drawing with the feather? Lance was enraptured by the curious sight, so much so that he forgot about going unnoticed. However, the captain was so busy with whatever it was that he was doing that he didn't even notice the mermaid watching him.

There were footsteps by the door. "Captain, we've spotted the island. We'll be at port within the hour."

"Mhm," the captain responded distractedly. "Carry on."

The pirate walked off, leaving the captain to his scribbling. What was he doing, Lance wondered? And why was it so important to him?

xXx

"Captain. We're preparing to dock."

His footsteps left the cabin, leaving Lance to himself. "All hands on deck!" his voice called.

All right, now what?

He pressed his hands against bars on his box for the millionth time. He had to get out while he still had the chance. This box was designed to keep him in, and all previous attempts of getting out had been futile, but there just had to be something wrong with it that he hadn't noticed before. There was always a way out of a problem. He just had to find it.

He ran his hands along the edges of the top. Was there a crack he could expand? No, not that he could see. A weak clamp holding it shut? It didn't seem so.

But there had to be something. There was always something.

"Ahoy!" a distant voice called. "A good voyage, I trust?"

"A bountiful one!" was the slightly closer reply. "We got a mermaid!"

There was a moment of quiet, then the distant voice spoke back up. "You're kidding."

"You wish! We'll be kings with the reward!"

"Assuming you've actually got it."

"Why wouldn't I be? You can see it for yourself when we dock! It's beautiful!"

Lance grew vaguely uneasy as he listened to the two talking. They were talking about him... like he was an object. Some beautiful, but absolutely lifeless, thing. Or maybe a really nice fish they'd caught, if he thought about it. He supposed the second was an appropriate comparison, though it didn't make him any more comfortable with any of it. Especially considering that people probably ate the fish they caught.

He hoped the analogy wasn't more accurate than he'd originally intended.

Soon, there were more voices, and there was a great commotion outside as they prepared to bring the ship up to the shore (Lance presumed). He'd made hardly any progress, and he realized: maybe he wasn't meant to escape. It was when he stumbled upon that thought that he started to panic. What if he wasn't meant to survive? What if they just killed him right off the bat and ate him? What if they tortured him to death or pulled off his scales and dumped him back in the ocean to die or ground up his bones to make a fake death cure to make even more money?

The door slammed open. Lance flinched at the sudden noise and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, pushing himself as low into the water as he could. Maybe they'd just forget him if he could make himself small enough.

The footsteps gathered around him, and there was a series of loud clangs. Lance covered his ears against the painful sound, but it quickly stopped. He cautiously lifted his hands from his head just as the box started moving. He barely managed to brace himself on the sides of it before he was suddenly moving, carried in the box... somewhere.

He saw the ceiling of the captain's quarters disappear, replaced by the blue sky. He stared longingly through the grating separating him from his freedom. There wasn't a cloud in sight, further taunting his helpless position. He could almost taste the open waters again.

Lance was suddenly thrown against the side of the box as it was dropped on its side by the rail, sending the water that was keeping him at least partially comfortable spilling over the side. He yelped and clutched his arm, which had hit the bars fairly hard. He bit his lip as the box, now empty of water, was tipped back onto its bottom, and he fell back where gravity took him.

"It's amazing," one of the men carrying the box commented. It was then that Lance realized that when they weren't focusing on not tripping over themselves, they were gawking at him. He curled his tail around himself and turned his face toward the scummy wall of the box, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Maybe they'd leave him alone if he ignored them long enough.

Then he heard a familiar voice call his name. "Lance!"

"Keith!" Lance called back. He could hear his friend, but couldn't see him, curse the stupid box. "Where are you?"

"Lance!" Keith called again. "I'm-- I'm here!"

The necklace was warmer than it had been since Lance sang two nights ago, and the mermaid could hardly stand it. "Keith! I can't..." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I can't see you!"

"I know, but--" Lance heard a low thud. Keith grunted, and the necklace flashed briefly with heat.

"KEITH!" he shouted.

"I'm okay," Keith shouted from farther away. "I'll get you out! We'll be okay!"

"Keith!" Lance yelled. "Keith!"