Chapter 101: Plague (1)
With a large puff of smoke, Morris exhaled as he watched the sunrise from the top of the power plant’s roof. On his left arm was a myriad of tattoos, similar to the ones inked by seafarers, each of which had a meaning, a story, or a brush with death.
The first tattoo he ever had was when he was 14, the one at the top of his forearm, and it depicts his first journey. The first time he sailed on the sea, it depicted the sea, the sun, the birds, the islands, and the palm trees, all framed by his ship’s window. This is the first Chapter of Morris’s story and one that was famously known about him, his first journey, the one that made him what he is.
But it was all a lie; this wasn’t the first Chapter of his story by any means. His childhood was just as eventful as his adulthood, and he came from a really troublesome background. If not for the sacrifice of his mother, he wouldn’t have lived to be Morris De Brosa. This was depicted by his second tattoo, the one of a woman dressed in black and a naked child tattooed in reverse, sleeping soundly inside her dress.
Morris’s arm was a tapestry of inked stories, some true, some embellished. A compass, once a symbol of misdirection, now marked his path. Sails, once embraced by the Kraken’s tentacles, spoke of battles survived. Gilded pistols, trophies taken from a vanquished foe, served as a reminder of both victory and vulnerability. Amidst these tales of adventure lay a simpler image: a dahlia flower, a round table, and a broken crown, their meaning a mystery left untold.
Morris wasn’t a fan of showing off his tattoos to strangers; thus, as he felt a presence coming close behind him, he covered his arm and hid the journal in which he was scribbling a new drawing on.
"I’ve been looking for you, Sir Morris."
A masculine voice spoke as a wavy-haired tall man approached him. Looking back at Logan, who was carrying two plates filled with food, Morris turned with a smile and faced his new friend.
"You keep holding up honorifics as if they mean something. Call me by my name already," Morris said as he received a plate from Logan.
"It is not every day one becomes friendly with a man of your renown," Logan argued, but seeing how Morris became uncomfortable, Logan decided to go with the flow, "Alright... Morris."
"What is this?" Morris asked, raising his plate up.
"Our breakfast, pastries, courtesy of Miss Esmeralda. You would be surprised at what she can make with whatever she finds," Logan replied.