Killian McKenzie

Killian sat on the beach, fashioning strips of leather from his last good jacket (and a concerning amount of rope Lyssa just happened to have in her backpack) into a makeshift "flight harness" to properly secure his passenger. Pausing for a moment to fidget, he reached down to his neck, clutching the "Asshole's Teeth Necklace" his sister made him all those years ago. As he held it gently in his hands, his satyr companion spoke up, loudly.   "Y'know, having some people teeth on your necklace? Just a wee bit creepy, don't'cha think?"   "Lyssa, love... the sheer amount of rope you had in your bag for a waitressin' shift excludes you from judging my creepiness, I believe. And this was a gift from m'sister, back when we were just a couple'a pups. What's your excuse for the veritable shibari surprise in your pack?"   She blushed, her purple cheeks shifting to a more reddened hue. Her refusal to acknowledge his question led McKenzie to believe he'd already answered it for her.   "Don't'cha think we should be figuring out where to go next?"   Killian was still shuffling the teeth around in his fingers. His look of frustration shifted to a sly grin as he turned back to Lyssa de Luna.   "Nothing to figure out, love. We are headed to Marketoon."   "What's in Marketoon?"   Killian Mckenzie let out the first deep belly laugh he could muster since the pair's ordeal as he replied.   "My sister... and therefore, probably also one less asshole than yesterday."   Lyssa got all tied off and securely slung to the harness slung from Killian’s chest, and the tiefling unfurled his infernal wings once more as the pair took to the skies. He slowly and gingerly accelerated, unsure of how much strain his still battered body could take. It wouldn’t be long before the sea sped below them in a blue blur, however. McKenzie was in a hurry to reach his sister. She had been away “on assignment” to her newer patron, Kitt (no relation, but as the God of Vengeance, there was a resemblance). The Twins had a strict “no contact” rule when she was working, almost entirely due to the attention that the two would attract together. Breaking it was not something Killian had done even once in the few hundred years they’d been so well-known, but these were extenuating circumstances.   “I’m sorry about your jacket, Killian.”   Lyssa broke the silent flight with a blurted apology. Killian was not particularly a fan of shirts, and his prized leather duster had just been carved into strips that kept his passenger safely secured to his now completely bare torso. The satyr couldn’t turn around to see him, but she felt his musculature behind her, and her second thought was that he must be cold, moving at this speed and altitude above the vast ocean, without at least a shirt.   She had decided not to indulge her first thought.   Killian grumbled out a bit of a “no worries,” but the tiefling was muffled by the sound of the wind rushing past. He was a bit distracted, regardless, having nearly cost the same passenger her life the last time his focus wavered. He resolved to never make that mistake again… not with her. There was something about this woman that intrigued him. Sure, the ropes were enticing, but that wasn’t it. Lyssa was not particularly well-traveled, but she had a certain edge to her that was unexpected. Not that her compassionate nature was a facade, not even slightly… but there were teeth in there, and she wasn’t afraid to bite.   “Killian, check your brace… feels like one’a your pistols is poking me, might’ve got loose!”   Lyssa yelled back, and now the tiefling was the one blushing.   “Are you sure it wasn’t the long gun, love?”   ---   The pair flew through the remainder of that day and the entirety of the next night, Lyssa sleeping en-route but Killian not once pausing his flight to rest. As the next day dawned, they could see the "city" of Marketoon on the horizion, and shortly after that first sunrise the pair shared together, they made landfall in the city.   ------------------------

“I suppose I need to get you somewhere safe, love. But I’ve gotta get word to my sister that I’m alive before she burns the continent in retribution. I won’t let any harm come t’ya on my watch, but I can’t promise to always have my eyes on you. I’m mighty sorry… which is not really something I’m used to… but we’re still not out of this.”   Lyssa blinked a bit as she sat in the sand, staring at the still-broken Killian. His left arm was pulverized and still useless, his non-prosthetic leg was shattered. But the only thing he seemed to care about was her safety, her protection. This was a far cry from all the stories she’d heard about the legendary pirate, who was known for serving his own interests first and foremost. The world had mostly been lucky, in that his interests aligned with those of the liberators and not the oppressors. At least, that’s what Lyssa knew from “reliable sources.” As she sat up, then stood she gingerly moved toward him.   “Mister Killian… you’ve got to lie yourself down. Let me stabilize your limbs before we move, at least. I understand you are a force of nature. However, it’s a bit stubborn and not very helpful to cause yourself unnecessary discomfort.”   The satyr knew not all stories rang true. In all the time he moonlighted as “Kolin” at the bar, McKenzie had never acted the monster he had often been painted as. She knew he attempted to keep a low profile despite his disguise being largely ineffective, and her deduction was he just knew to be on his best behavior. The flaw in this deduction, however, was now clearly burning beyond the horizon after their razor’s-edge escape. He had no reason to save her other than it being the right thing to do. As the massive winged tiefling gingerly lay prone on the sand, Lyssa began by stabilizing his fractures with a lesser restoration spell, and then using the skills she’d been taught as a young nomadic fey, fashioned driftwood splints to further brace the areas damaged beyond her limited magical prowess.   “Just Killian, love… I’ve been around but I’m still shy of my forties. Until today, I still had my devilishly good looks. Stop talking to me like your grandfather.”   Lyssa actively drew back as the realization hit her, this was no wizened old man but a supernaturally frozen man in the prime of his life. She blushed a bit, but an almost snarling scream of pain rang out in the moment. She had yanked back on the bindings as she was bracing his shoulder. It would need regenerated or replaced with a prosthetic as soon as possible, and the sudden tension on the area lit up every neuron in McKenzie’s brain with screaming pain.   “Oh, fuck… I’m sorry, Mi… I mean, Oh fuck I’m sorry Killian. I’m almost done. Test your legs out… can I call you Captain?”   “Only when my sister’s not present. We’re co-captains when aboard together. And only if’n you’re joining the crew…”   As he stood up, Lyssa de Luna, the wandering satyr who’d wandered to Greynor, thought of her goals and aspirations. She had begun waitressing at Raythanya’s to get closer to her idol, Dolly. She had been working up the time and money and courage to ask if she could perhaps offer up a payment for on-the-tour tutelage and mentorship, just for a few shows around the way, of course. But now, that was a smoldering crater of a dream, along with the town she’d come to hoping to find herself, and perhaps find someone to share her wanderings and whims with. She contemplated these things in the face of Killian McKenzie’s offer, because Lyssa knew from her travels that a pirate never extends such an offer frivolously or in jest, but only to those genuinely chosen.   Is this out of pity? Or does he really believe I’d make a good pirate? Hells, does he just have some desperate need to keep me alive out of some moral obligation? Lyssa was not sure, but she knew that one way or another she was expected to present an answer. Killian gingerly tested his leg, where her magic had proved far more effective in mending bone and restoring some structure, and he grinned. Not the terrifying grin of violent intent she’d seen flashed in their hectic escape and his swearing of revenge, but the kind, almost adoring smile she saw right before he got sniped by a flaming rock fragment and dropped her.   “You’ve done me a great kindness, Mademoiselle de Luna. I only wish I felt the ravishing beauty I normally did, so that I could offer you a good, solid reward…”   Killian McKenzie, for the first time in centuries, felt awful for making an innuendo at an inappropriate time. And it caught him off guard, as he tried to move both arms and wave off the statement, momentarily shrieking as his left still failed him completely.   “I’m sorry, Lyssa. You’re… well, you’re better than that. You’re a smart one, and you handle yourself well. And I’ve always known you were tryin’ to figure out what makes me tick, and if I’m who they say I am.”   He paused for a moment, and rooted around in his singed pockets, pulling out a somehow pristine blunt. As he lit it, he continued.   “I am, but I’m also not. I did the things I did, how I did, because they brought me joy. Right now, joy is gonna be in short supply. So the way I see it… it’s brought me joy to see you do no harm yet take no shit. And maybe you’re someone that reminds me why it feels good to do the wrong things for the right reasons. So, about the crew…”   Lyssa looked into the blazing white pupils set in Killian McKenzie’s black pearl eyes, and she smirked. A far more violent smirk than the bubbly bard usually offered up, but one that seemed like it had been longing for its time to shine.   “Aye, Captain. Lyssa de Luna, formally accepting your invitation.”   “Brilliant, love. Welcome to McKenzies’ Privateers.”   ---------------------

“It’s time for us to get scarce, love.”   Killian didn’t explain. He just scooped Lyssa de Luna up under his arm like a football, spread his massive fiendish wings, and took to the skies.   “Now, mister Killian, ‘no’ means ‘no,’ you understand this.”   “Dearie, turn and look up, and tell me again how I’m propositioning ya.”   As the Satyr turned her head and looked to the skies, she saw the swirling vortex of clouds, the unnatural churning of the skies. Then, she gasped in horror as she saw the comet streaking toward them. Fiery fragments of stone and metal began streaking past the two, and Lyssa shrieked as Killian began weaving through them, jolting her, but never once slipping in his vice-like grip around her waist.   “That’s not natural, darlin. And I don’t mean in an enticing way.”   “What’s gonna happen?”   “I don’t know, Lyssa. But it’s not going to be good. And we’re not promised to be around to witness quite yet.”   McKenzie refocused his attention to the task at hand… avoiding the massive object bearing down on them at incredible speed. He summoned every ounce of his own supernatural quickness as he darted between comet fragments, unable to teleport out of danger due to his passenger. Unholstering his revolver, a gift from the legendary gunslinger Zagreus, the tiefling blasted a path through the smaller debris. Lightning flashed and flared from the firearm, and Killian exploded through the hole bored in the almost-solid wall of fiery rock that once blocked his path. His Satyr passenger did her best to remain calm, but her bleating and shrieking punctuated their passage through the rain of destruction.   “I’m sorry, Mister Killian… I’m tryin’ t’keep it together, but I’m scared…”   He took just a moment to look down at her, and the normally anxiety-inducing infernal grin took a disarmingly compassionate appearance, if only for a brief moment.   “You’re doing fine, love. Scream if you need to, just hold still so I don’t lose ya. Huh, title of my sex ta... SHIT!”   Killian rocked backwards as a fragment of comet caught him square in the left shoulder, and Lyssa screamed in horror as she felt herself in free fall. Killian cursed his momentary lapse of judgement, but shot downward with a speed seemingly faster than gravity itself. Determined to ensure his lapse of judgement didn’t prove damning to his friend, he flew directly through a boulder the size of a small house. McKenzie barely winced in pain as his left shoulder and the boulder both shattered from the impact, and he swooped past and caught Lyssa, gripping her tightly with his right arm, and tucking her in close to him once more.   “Tie yourself off with that rope on my belt, Lyssa! I don’t have another arm to break, and I’m not leaving without you!”   He turned skyward once more, skimming the surface of the sea for a brief moment before gaining altitude. At this point, all Killian McKenzie could do was try to get as much distance between them and the impact as possible before the main body of the comet made contact with the city. He groaned as the pain in his obliterated shoulder caught up with him, but only pushed harder, faster, desperate to survive and find out who he needed to execute for this genocidal event.   “Oh my god, Killian… it’s happening…”   As Lyssa got the words out of her mouth, night turned to day in an instant, as the world exploded, quite literally, behind them. Killian never looked back to witness the blast, still racing from the epicenter, pushing, until the world around him went white. Instinctively, he curled into a ball, folding his wings and coiling his body around the woman now tied to his waist. In that moment, Killian offered up a prayer to Asmodeus.   “Aye, y’Infernal arsehole. It’s me, your favorite pain in the ass. This feels like someone broke them rules you’re a fan of, and if y’could perhaps lend me some of that devilish luck, you have my word I’ll help with the response.”   Then, the world went black.   Killian woke up on a beach, and in all the turmoil, even one of the most well-traveled pirates in Tellus had no idea where. Every bone in his body felt broken, and his left arm hung limp, shattered nearly beyond recognition. Surprisingly for the notoriously selfish McKenzie, his only thought was finding Lyssa. When he heard her groan softly and stir behind him, he let out a breath that he never realized he was holding.   Good. Barely a scratch on her. My good deed for the day, I suppose… the tiefling thought to himself as she came to… and shrieked, pointing back at him.   “Mister Killian… your arm! Your… your horns!”   He reached up and screamed a loud “FUCK!” as he felt the broken remnants of his glorious horns. He screamed again, this time in pain, as he felt his good leg buckle underneath him, the pulverized kneecap barely in better shape than the non-existent shoulder. Refusing to accept lying down in this moment, he unfurled his tattered wings and hovered in the air, cursing in every language he knew profanities in, which were all of them at this point.   “You need a doctor, a cleric, or something, Killian…”   Killian’s smile slowly returned, but it was no longer the soft one he had flashed to comfort her. Instead, it was more unsettling than the Satyr had ever seen before.   “No, love… I need a forge.”   He looked back toward Greynor, the fire in the sky still blazing. He lifted his remaining functional arm to the heavens, middle finger extended. Somehow, though he couldn’t move the arm even the slightest, his left hand slowly and tediously mirrored the gesture, otherwise limp at his side. He shouted to the skies as tears of anger and grief streamed from his face.   “I am Killian FUCKING McKenzie, and I swear before ALL the gods and devils, you’re gonna be sorry you missed!”   -------------------

As dawn broke on the high seas of Tellus, Killian Mckenzie flew to the top of the rigging on the Kit and Killian, taking in the beautiful sunrise over the water, and breathing in the salty air. This trip, he thought, was going to be amazing. They were on their way to take another one of Kit’s marks for every copper they had, and for Killian, this usually meant a lot of time carousing in the local pubs and taverns, shadowing his sister, and also providing an on-call diversion, between his large, imposing, winged frame and his ridiculous antics. Killian was not averse to violence, he definitely relished it, but there was a part of him that would much rather drink and screw away the time. So many pretty faces I’ve had to bury already, each new one hurts just the same. They’d have ALL made better lovers than corpses, I’m sure of it.   Always the early riser (winks), Killian made his rounds of the vessel in relative solitude, most of the hired crew was prone to sleeping in, and he liked making sure everything was in order personally anyway. As he inspected the various sections of the ship, he pondered one of those crew members in particular, a man by the name of Okaanen. Oak was one of the most capable of the vagrants and drifters the McKenzies often attracted, and probably would have been well out of their price range and their social circles, were he not cursed to be a weretiger. The McKenzies didn’t care if he had “special dietary needs,” it was just one less grave to dig for them, or usually with Oak, several. But despite these circumstances, the man was kind, pleasant… and there was something about him Killian found absolutely thrilling. Usually, the winged tiefling pirate was the most exotic partner in any entanglement, but a natural shifter cursed to be even more… shiftatious, perhaps? Hells, as weird as Killian was, he was always looking for something weirder, and here he was, right on board… Perhaps I’ll give the seaman a little… uh, visit. It’s about time to rise and shine, and I’ve been told I’m fantastic at the first part.   As the large, unwieldy Tiefling attempted to sneak into Oak’s quarters, the equally large and unwieldy weretiger snored heavily, providing the only cover that would have ever masked Killians entrance into the room. Killian crept over to the sleeping tiger, and he leaned over to stroke his glorious hair, whispering into his ear, “Good morning, my dear Okaanen, care for some company?”   What happened next, happened so quickly that, to this day, Kit, with her otherworldly sense of when her brother has fucked up royally, still doesn’t quite know what all transpired. In an instant, Oak spun around. His lazily dangling arm, having still been clutching his greatsword even in sleep, whirled around, propelled by pure instinct. Killian leapt to the right, and he grinned in amusement… and then listed to the left and hit the floor. In disbelief, he looked down at the space below his knee where leg used to exist, before it had been cloven off as if he were someone’s ham. As the reality sat in, Killian yelled to Okaanen, who by now was sitting up on his bunk, also in disbelief, though moreso at his captain than himself.   “Do me a favor and dump this on the wound, would ya?” Killian threw his bag of black powder to the man, and Oak did as instructed, with a look of confusion about why the captain was in his room still. As Killian lit a small fuse cord, he looked up at Oak. I hope you don’t intend on finishin’ the job now that you’re coherent, this much is my own fault but were ya to go any further with your declining of my company I’d have to hold it against ya.” As the reality of what had just transpired set in for Oak, Killian touched the lit cord to the black powder, and howled, as in a flash, his wound was cauterized.   “Fire resistance comes in handy sometimes, Okaanen. Also… I’m figurin’ I owe you an apology. I would’ve happily taken no for an answer, but perhaps I shouldn’t go wakin’ up mostly strangers with a proposition.”   Oak shook his head, dumbfounded at both the situation at hand, and the captain’s response to losing a leg. “Uhm, I appreciate that Captain, and sorry, you’re not my type… but um… the leg? I’d reckon you’re gonna need to do something about that. And I understand if this breaks my contract. Accidents happen as far as I’m concerned, but that was your leg, and you are one of the captains.”   Killian laughed as he stood back up, using Brimstone as an impromptu crutch. “Well I’m offended, Okaanen. Firstly, I’m everyone’s type, but I understand if you’re not in the right place for us. Secondly, I’m a tinkerer, Oak. Legs can be replaced but I’ll be damned if I can find another sword arm like that. What do you say we make this contract a bit more permanent.. first mate?”   --------------------------

Ayeeeeeeee.......... Some misfits fell into Satan's lap He smiled as he pulled their strings But little that infernal cunt did know These misfits were plannin' other things     So don't count out the misfits They're all you've got when the shit hits From the sea to the sky they ne'er say die And they'll ne'er back down from the fight   From far and wide, they gather’d round Now by fateful contract they’ve been bound And as the world around falls down These misfits carry on   Pirates, cutthroats, lawmen too These misfits make quite a motley crew Might find it surprisin', some are just like you But still they carry on   So don't count out the misfits They're all you've got when the shit hits From the sea to the sky they ne'er say die And they'll ne'er back down from the fight   They fought through the wood for the Foresters They kicked in the sunken kingdom’s doors They’ve been beaten, bruised, and still ask for more Because the misfits carry on   All wrapped up in a cosmic plan At the whims of the gods and devils o’er man But they never lose their grins as they make their stand They know they’ll carry on   So don't count out the misfits They're all you've got when the shit hits From the sea to the sky they ne'er say die And they'll ne'er back down from the fight     From the High King's Seat To the depths beneath These Misfits just won't die...

Killian made his way toward the area his sister chose to keep watch from, carefully, as not to attract any unwanted attention, because as quiet as the area had been, trouble always follows a McKenzie.   He moved with a purpose, using everything he knew about his sister to retrace her path, always the only one who could catch the ghost known as Kit McKenzie. As he came up on her position, he crouched, careful not to disturb the area or reveal her presence to any outsiders. He quietly began speaking to her in Infernal, out of her reach in case she was startled, but more to allow her her own space, as startling his sister was not a task easily accomplished.   "Dearest Kit, you've got the look of someone trying to pull their vessel by the anchor. I know that I promised you some room to be your own devil, but I feel like we’ve drifted too far apart as of late.   May I sit here awhile with you, sister? You don’t need to say anything if you’d rather not.”   Killian continued on hurriedly, clearly troubled himself, almost seeming sheepish, which was becoming all too familiar of a feeling for the normally obnoxiously cocky Tiefling.   “We’ve met a lot of new people in the recent weeks, and I know that I’ve been less present. I’ve found things I haven’t ever experienced, or realized I wanted to. And I don’t regret a single moment. It’s changed me, Kit, and I think maybe in ways for the better. I can’t explain it, but there’s hope. Maybe not for a happy ending, but at least a better one.   But it’s left me feeling far away from the safest port I have in the storms of life, and that’s you, dearest. You’re the reason I can feel hope in the first place, the reason I can feel at all, literally. And the story of the McKenzies is always a tale of two Tieflings, facing the world side by side. That story’s far from over, love. You’re my family, my twin, literally my equal in all things. Our lives are our own, but I refuse to live mine without you, Kit.”   Killian shrinks back a bit, and huddles in his jacket against the cold, saying nothing else, but gently reaching a hand out to his sister’s shoulder, looking for the connection he felt he had maybe let falter a bit as of late.   —------   Despite Killian’s caution, Kit still found herself startled – something she was having to get used to, against her better judgement and feelings. It was leaving her a bit unsettled. But then again, she hadn’t been herself lately either.   Kit glanced at EGO and asked him to keep eyes out for Arathorn, before turning to face her brother, stepping towards him in a crouch, looking up at the Tiefling that had always stood a good height above her. She knew her eyes were still red from crying, but just like she always did, she was pretended there was nothing to see, in the hopes he might buy it.   She peered at him curiously.   “An odd time for such a conversation brother. What brought this on?”   —   Killian looked down at his sister, and he grinned, taking her cheeks into his hands as he looked into her eyes, warmly and somewhat sadly himself. “Kit, I’ve been all over the world with you. I’ve always been able to tell. I thought at first I was doing what I ought to, leaving you be in your fits with the Infernal Cunt, trying to make light of you and the Forester as if I’m not worried sick for you with him, and for him with you, and for the whole world with the both of yinz…   But in trying to let you be your own Tief, I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself… like it or not, we’re forever intertwined, sister. And I apologize for it, I can’t help it, Kit… I’m sorry if I’m smotherin’ ya, but it’s just not the same elsewise.   I know it’s not your problem right now. We’ve gotta get the Forester back out, and that’s what I need to help right now. But… I know you’re hurting, and I know you miss him. It’s your business and all, but if I could just sit here with you, feel it with you, maybe, I’d appreciate it. If I’m not getting too overbearing, I mean.”   The strangest thing about Killian’s words to his sister in the moment was the complete sincerity with which he spoke, a far cry from his usual playful demeanor with Kit. He’d genuinely felt as if Kit had wanted him to allow her her own time, and that he was betraying his sister’s wishes to bother her now, in this moment.   —------   Kit froze, unsure whether to laugh, scream or cry that her brother seemed to be able to pick up on her distress, but also read her so wrong. She stood still for a moment, trying to keep herself stoic and unwavering, but felt her bottom lip starting to quiver and the tears starting to well.   “You dumbass,” she said, dropping her gaze and shaking her head. “Where did you get this idea I wanted space or less of you in my life? Ever?”   She ran a hand through her hair in frustration, looking up at him.   “Yeah, I miss him, but Killian, that’s not what’s going on here.”   Kit slumped down to a sitting position, breathing heavily, lowering her voice further so EGO couldn’t hear, even though they were still conversing in Infernal.   “I… Killian… I… fuck, I don’t even know how to say this.” She paused for a moment, fighting to hold the tears back. “You don’t owe me closeness, brother. You and Neru – I understand you’ve found something you refused to accept you wanted. I heard you tell him you love him – I know what that takes for you. I’m…I’m not mad about it. I’m not mad that you’ve found someone else that fills a void for you. It’s just been hard, you know, accepting it. Accepting that things are changing between us, that you’re not there anymore.   And… it was hard. Really hard, when Asmodeus almost killed me, and you shrugged it off. Of course I know you were proud of me for standing up to him. But normally, normally you would have seen my attempts to hide just how bad it was and you would have called me on it, forced me to let you comfort me. That was the moment I knew – I knew that Neru had become the person you needed.”   There was no bitterness in her voice, and the sadness seemed more about herself than at any point a reflection of Killian.   “The Forester and I, we’re not really there. I don’t even know if that’s a point he wants to get to. And that’s okay, I don’t need to. It’s just been hard, being alone in ways I never have before. It’s not your fault brother. You’ve never, never once been overbearing. Not even close. It’s just been even harder facing that absence.”   She sighed and pulled off her damp glove, wiping the welled tears with the back of her hand.   “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be there for me, or feel like you’re forcing yourself to be the part of me you always were. I don’t want you chained to me. But I’ve never felt like you were smothering me. I’ve never felt as though you were too much. I… fuck. I wouldn’t even be in this mess I’m in right now if I did.”   Kit drew her knees up to her chest, unable to look at Killian as she spilled out everything going on.   —   Killian sat down next to his sister, and put a large arm across her shoulders as he pulled her close. “Sister, there is NEVER a time where I won’t be here. NO DEPTHS CAN DROWN IT, Kit.   You’re as much a part of me as these wings of mine, and you’ve helped me fly all the same. But if ever a moment comes where I’ve got to choose a life without you in it, that moment will see me choose you, EVERY time.   Neru and I, I don’t KNOW what we are, what we have, and it’s true, I do love him, but love isn’t pie, or maybe rum would be a better analogy here. My love for you is no lesser for any I’ve shared with Neru, dearest. And he and I, I don’t know if we’re forever. I don’t know if either of us has a care for such things even. We’ve been out in the wilds alone and needed some companionship.   I’ve taken such a liking to our new friends that I want to think of a life that includes them, Kit. But the life is always about the McKenzies.   And as far as the Infernal Cunt is concerned, his lack of contact with me was the first indication that something was afoot with you, so I suppose we should at least thank him for being as stupid as always.   However, there is one part of this that doesn’t sit quite right with me, dearest sister. You can’t tell me who I can be there for. I don’t care for you because I have to, Kit.   I care for you because you’re just like me, and I love me so fucking much… you know that.”   Killian winks, and pulls Kit into a huge bear hug, just holding her close as long as his notoriously squirmy sister would allow.   —-----   Kit settled into the hug, fighting off tears and inhaling her brother’s familiar, comforting scent.   “I didn’t mean you shouldn’t be spending that time with Neru,” she said quietly. “I’m thrilled for you. It just… did you know we haven’t had more than a few words with each other in weeks? It’s been hard. You have Neru, Neru and Fae have each other, Silver and Oak; Lucas, EGO, and Arathorn are content to keep to themselves. And I… I haven’t really had, well anyone. Not in that way. It’s an adjustment. It’s just been hard.   It just felt as if our time had passed, and if that’s what it’s supposed to be, I’d accept and support it.”   She sighed, feeling the weight of all the emotions she was trying to bury rushing to the surface, and heaved, the tears starting to pour out. “If it’s not now, though… well I… I’m happy… because I’ve missed you. So much.”   —-   “Kit, this is never over. Not now, in the midst of finding our way through the cold and the barren wastelands, and beyond our interpersonal relationships, the weather has shifted for the worse as well I suppose… but I digress, as usual. Not until we both have drawn our last breath will the story of the Chaos Twins be over. That’s my promise to you now and forever. Because the only one I want by my side always, to the barren shores of Nessus and beyond, is my sister, my dearest Kit. Others are welcome to come, but without you, it just doesn’t feel whole.”   —----   Kit sniffed and wiped away her tears, then replaced the glove on her hand.   “I… I’m glad to hear that, Killian. I’ve needed to hear it.” She hugged him tightly then pulled away.   “As to your earlier question, I would never say no to you joining me on watch. We shouldn’t leave poor EGO to tend to this all.”   She returned to her previous position and looked sheepishly at EGO. “Ugh… you didn’t hear any of that, okay?”

Kit sat on the bow of the ship, listening as Killian gave orders to their new crew – their first crew since Ma and Pa had been arrested. They had decided Killian would give the speeches. Kit wasn’t much of one for talking to groups or inspiring them, at least, not in the way that Killian could. He had sat in on many of their parents' inspiring crew speeches, while Kit had always been more interested in sneaking around and learning what she could about their new boatmates before they revealed it. In this particular situation, however, Kit felt spying on them would do more harm than good. Not that she expected to get caught by anyone, but on the rare chance she did, it would not go very far for crew morale if their new employers didn’t trust them. She couldn’t feign simply being the captains’ mischievous daughter on this one.   Still, trust was not something safe to give any crew offhand, and while she couldn’t sneak around, she could watch them closely for any signs or indications of things to be wary of. Kit couldn’t say this crew alarmed her, but she and Killian knew from the get-go there was a decent amount of anti-Tiefling sentiment amongst them. Crews were there because it was a job, and if they completed the job, there would be a large payout – larger than most ships were offering at the moment – and that was enough for them to overlook the twins’ condition.   There was one new crewmate in particular that gave the teen complete pause. A middle-aged man named Iril had vyed for the position of crew lead. He had an impressive pirating career and came well-recommended from other ships. He had not expressed any animosity towards the twins, not even a single jab about their heritage, but something about the way he watched the two of them didn’t sit right with Kit.   The job they were bringing the crew on was simple. A wealthy proprietor, one their parents had often worked with, had a map to a potential secret isle of treasure, and had hoped the twins would take a crew to procure it. Working for the wealthy was normally something the McKenzies stayed away from, but Ma and Pa had always said this man was cut from a different cloth, that his wealth was simply a means to an end that gave him the power to fight against the wealthy castes and protect those who needed it. Kit didn’t trust anyone with wealth, but she trusted her parents’ judgment. So when a message had arrived for the twins, asking them to take the ship’s helm and fly their family colours, she had agreed without hesitation. Now, however, as they began to hoist the sails and raise the anchors, hesitation began to set in.   As Killian finished his speech, Kit swung her legs around and leapt off the bow gracefully, approaching her brother while the new crew dispersed to their various jobs. Even now, Iril watched her, his gaze unblinking, no emotions or thoughts spread across his face. She couldn’t read him, and this unsettled her even more. Reaching her brother, Kit turned her back to Iril so that he couldn’t read lips or hear her words on the winds.   “We need to be cautious about the crew lead, Iril. Somethin’s not right,” she said quietly.   Killian grinned down at her. “Kit, you’ve got to stop worryin’ so much. We’re pirates, no-one’s quite right. Once we’re done this job, we can get rid of ‘em if you’re still wary and hire someone else for the next contract.”   Kit’s tail twitched involuntarily at her brother’s casualness. “Just promise me you’ll watch him,” she pleaded.   “All right, all right. For you, dear sister, I’ll be cautious.”   Killian’s idea of caution was far different than Kit’s. While Kit kept her distance as they sailed the seas, Killian got closer to the man, drinking, getting a feel for him. He recognized the vibes Kit had been getting as well, but like his sister, couldn’t quite pin them. So he stayed close, building rapport with the man, and doing his best to keep an eye on him at all times.   The journey to the island was mostly uneventful, save for a storm on the fourth night that nearly knocked the ship overboard. Still, aside from a half-broken mast that was easily repaired, the crew all survived and the K&K came out relatively unscathed. Pirates were no strangers to storms on the open waters, and the elder McKenzies had spent a great deal of money and time investing in reinforcing the ship to withstand even the most severe of storms.   By the sixth day, they began to make their way to the point the island should be, according to the map. Sure enough, as the horizon crested into the sea, their lookout in the crow’s nest called down.   “Island up ahead, Captains!”   Killian grinned. “This is going to be too easy.”   Kit, however, had her reservations. Something about the crew hadn’t seemed right the past day or so. The way more of them kept casting shadowed glances towards she and her brother, the whispers between them, and often an odd silence where there would normally be crew chatter. Killian told her she was imagining it, that her anxiety was likely getting the better of her, but Kit wasn’t so sure.   Now, as they began their approach on the island, Kit felt unease growing in the pit of her stomach. Where there would normally be excitement amongst a crew regarding the potential find, there was very little. Most of the crew seemed to lie in apprehensive wait, almost as if they were expecting something specific to happen.   The ship had just moved within a mile of the island when their man in the crow’s nest called back down. “A ship on approach!” he hollered.   Sure enough, another pirate ship, with navy blue flags and sharp navy lines along the hull of the ship, came into view.   “That bastard betrayed us,” Kit growled, turning to Killian, who was quickly trying to assess the situation. No-one else was supposed to know about the island – they had been told there was just one map.   A gunshot rang out and Kit whirled around to see the man in the crow’s nest fall to the deck, a sickening crunch as he hit the wood. Iril stood with most of the crew behind him, grinning wickedly.   “No, my dear, your proprietor didn’t betray you,” he sneered. “You cursed devils took contracts from the real pirates. You don’t even deserve a ship. Pirates! Devil spawn don’t deserve to use that title.” He spat on the ground. “No, this – this is our turn to teach you filthy fiends the lesson your parents were too soft to teach you. That damaged goods like you belong in only one place – Davy Jones’ Locker.”   For a moment, there was silence as those who had chosen to side with Iril eyed friends who hadn’t, and those who hadn’t looked around in bewildered confusion. As Iril lifted his pistol and pointed it at Killian, Kit screamed and leapt into action, throwing a dagger into the chest of the pirate nearest Iril, and lunging over the ledge of the helm towards the traitor.   Then, pandemonium broke loose.   —--   As the ball shot from Iril's pistol impacted Killian's chest, the force of it threw him over the ship's rail. He could feel himself, first falling, then sinking, but he couldn't move, couldn't kick back toward the surface.   Bullet must have grazed my spine, he thought to himself, trying to analyze the situation at hand, always attempting to find the path out nobody else saw.   Should have known Kit was onto something, it's never worth the risk doubting her. Now, can't move, can't breathe… Killian was calm even in his inner monologue, but the situation was inescapable, and he knew it. The blackness of the depths surrounded him, and he continued his chat with himself in an attempt to maintain his consciousness, holding out hope that someone was coming after him in all the chaos.   At least I got to take the ship out with her. Should have been a bit better, I suppose, but I bet she's got it all well in hand…   Killian saw his sister and parents, years ago, playing on the shores of an island, near a recently covered hole in the dirt, and then, nothing.   —----   Kit had no idea who was on their side, if any, as she began her attack, using her tail to stab another pirate drawing their sword as she lunged at Iril with two more daggers.   The other ship was cresting up on the starboard side, cannons being rolled out and lit. This wasn't just a mutiny. This was an ambush. All of this to eliminate two Tieflings. And steal the treasure, of course, but it was about them specifically. Their devil blood. Kit felt every ounce of herself boil in rage.   Before she could reach him, Iril pulled the trigger of his pistol again, the bullet soaring past the side of her face.   "You missed," Kit said haughtily, freezing as she realized Iril was still grinning wickedly.   "Did I?"   Kit's body went cold, the world around her slowing as she spun around to see Killian grab his chest, blood beginning to pour out as he stumbled backwards and over the edge of the ship.   "KILLIAN!" Kit screamed, her heart stopping. Everything around her seemed suddenly muffled and blurring together. She felt the pirates swarm her, heard Iril's voice.   "You always take out the thing that means most to the biggest threat," he cackled. "You're pathetic. You're weak. Without your brother, you are nothing."   She felt several pirates piling on top of her, beginning to tie her hands with ropes as tears streaked down her face.   "No no no no no, this is not how we die," she said quietly, feeling defeat creeping over the rage. She knew no one could hear her, but she pleaded anyway. "Whoever helps me, I'll do anything… just save my brother."   The world went still, and a coy voice echoed across the silence.   "Anything? My dear, that is a big promise to offer."   Kit looked up, realizing she was no longer under a dogpile of pirates or bound. She wasn't quite sure where she was. Beneath her was sand, the air hot and humid, as desert stretched around her as far as the eye could see. It was desolate, no signs of any life, plants or otherwise.   Shimmering like a mirage, a figure appeared before her. He was unmistakable, with four large horns, purplish skin, and an excessively handsome face. Asmodeous, god of the hells, strutted towards the teen Tiefling, and held his hand out, grabbing her tenderly under the chin and lifting her face so her eyes met his.   "Kit McKenzie. You know, I've had my eye on you and your brother for years," he said before moving his hand to hold it out in front of her in an offer of help.   Kit grabbed his arm and pulled herself to her feet, staring at him curiously.   "You two have such… potential…but you need guidance. Your parents, oh they trained you well, but even they do not know what you are capable of, what you hold within you."   "Killian's dead." Kit was shocked at the lack of emotion in her voice. A fact, stated plainly.   Asmodeous chuckled. "The line between barely alive and dead for eternity is so finely blurred, dear, and a line I have power to control."   This had Kit's attention.   "Will you save him?"   "Well that depends entirely on you," he said coyly. "I am here to make you an offer. I need an emissary of death on the seas, and you are more fit to carry that than anyone else. Should you allow me to become your patron, to imbue you with the power of a Warlock, I will keep your brother alive."   Kit contemplated the offer, feeling the hairs on her neck stand on end. "What would be required as your emissary of death?"   "You kill those I deem necessary."   Kit felt herself seize up. "I won't kill innocents."   Asmodeous raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Is anyone truly innocent, child?"   "I won't kill children. I won't kill anyone who isn't evil, whose only true crime is needing to survive. I won't kill just for the sake of killing."   A long sigh of inconvenience came from the dark lord. "Very well. I find that condition agreeable. You may choose whether or not to carry out an execution. But be warned, there will be limits on your vetoing of my orders."   "What will those limits be?"   Asmodeous shrugged. "To be determined. Perhaps the best way to put it is a word of caution – do not abuse my leniency. There will be a price to pay if your refusal to carry out an execution is merely an excuse to escape killing."   At that, Kit matched the devil's coy smile. "You say you've been watching us. Have I ever shied away from killing?"   "See, that's why I like you Kit."   Kit closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn't like this. Didn't like any of it. But Killian's life was worth everything – even her soul.   "You'll bring back Killian, unscathed?"   Asmodeous nodded, grinning.   "He'll be the same Killian mentally? You're not going to put something inside him that's not him?"   "You have my word. Killian's heart, his soul, his mind, will be his, without another being placed inside."   Kit nodded. "Then I'll do it."   "Excellent. Now, you have a mutiny to survive."   Kit was instantly snapped back to the present, her hands bound, pirates surrounding her. The canons from the other ship blasted and she felt them strike the K&K. Crew members were using ropes to swing over to the attacking vessel, fleeing to their escape.   Kit felt her veins thrumming with a new power as she closed her eyes mentally picturing a thread of magic string pulsing in front of her. She couldn't explain it, but somehow she already knew what to do. With a scream of rage, a blast erupted from her body, sending the pirates surrounding her soaring through the air. The two that had been binding her hands now had their chests blown wide open, the scorched ropes falling from her wrists. Kit stood, the wood beneath her charred as if a bomb had been set off, and raised her head defiantly, her eyes completely black.   —-   In the depths below, Killian McKenzie, straddling the line between this realm and the next, suddenly jolted to his senses. No longer feeling the draining of his breath, in fact seemingly regaining it even as he quickly rose from the murky blackness, first toward the pinpoint of light that showed him to the surface, then, when closer, toward the growing speck of darkness within the light that was the Kit and Killian, and the sister he knew in his gut needed her brother’s help.   I don’t understand… I shouldn’t be, I can’t… I don’t care what it is, it’s a chance to help Kit, just a little farther…   Killian’s body began accelerating upward, almost supernaturally fast through the water, and he burst forth from the sea to the air just in time to see Kit blast back some of her assailants. A rage welled up inside Killian, the man he trusted putting him in a watery grave was nothing, but to try and take dearest Kit… this incensed Killian, and a musket shot rang out as he bellowed “IRRRRRILLLLL!” Killian flew toward the deck and the men still trying to subdue his sister, and lashed out with his tail, which seemed to reach well beyond its usual grasp, as he dragged one of the mutineers off of the ship entirely, dropping him into the cold sea, directly into the path of the K&K. Killian flew back over the melee, beckoning to his sister.   Kit, up here! Take my hand, sister!   As she leaped to grab his hand, Killian once again reached out with his tail, grabbing Captain Iril himself and throwing him to the side as he tried to take aim at the McKenzie sister this time. “How dare you just refuse to die like this! I DEMAND you get back down there where you belong, this INSTANT!”   As Killian flew with Kit back the helm in an attempt to regain control of their ship, he shook his head at his sister. “I don’t know what ya did, Kit. But as mad as I am at you for it, I’m more grateful for you saving my life. I just hope by Asmodeus’ charm you didn’t put yourself in danger for me.”   He let another shot forth from his musket, and with a sweep of his tail brushed aside three of the sailors trying to block him from the helm, and as he took it himself he called back to Kit, with an even more devilish grin than usual, “Show em what we do to mutineers, dear Kit.”   With that, Killian navigated the ship ever further away from their adversaries, and toward more open water, taking special mind to swing the ship just enough to cause it to heel to the port side, throwing friends and foes alike off-balance, save for his sister, whom he knew would be prepared for just such a maneuver, giving her the opening she needed to retake the upper hand in the fight.   —--   Kit’s world stabilized again as she heard her brother’s voice from above. She didn’t know how he managed to get above her, or what was happening with his tail, but she knew it was him – really him, and had taken his hand without hesitation.   As Killian threw the ship to the side, spinning the wheel wildly, Kit stood still, feeling the momentum under her feet. When the motion was in her favour, Kit jumped, allowing the turning ship to thrust her leap further. She drew her daggers and spun them in her hands, glaring at the mutineers that remained standing, waiting to see who would come at her first. Most of them had positioned themselves between Iril and the twins and their supporters. Kit found herself wondering for a moment what Iril had done to win such loyalty, even in the face of certain death.   A half-orc woman and an elf were the first to come forward. They charged, swords drawn, hoping to divide her attention. Kit jumped over their blades as they thrust their blades forward, towards her ribs, flattening the handles of her knives in her palms. She grabbed their heads to help her leap, smashing them together as she swung over them into a flip. From behind, as they stumbled, she dropped the knives back into a firm grasp and stabbed backwards, one into each pirate’s back. She retrieved the blades before turning to face them, then slashed her arms, slicing into their spines as both dropped to the ground, alive, but paralyzed.   —-   As he saw her dive into action, Killian centered the wheel and flew forward from the aftcastle, diving into the fray, clubbing an unfortunate goblin with his musket and sending the poor bastard overboard with a mighty uppercut swing. That felt… good, Killian thought to himself, a primal rage building within him as he unfurled his wings once more, launching himself at mutineer after mutineer, every swing seemingly more brutal than the last, covering the already fearsome looking Tiefling in the blood of his enemies. Killian was feral, furious, and above all enraged that these fools would dare endanger his sister.   His own wounds seemed to have disappeared, in fact he moved with a near supernatural strength and speed in his furious assault. His eyes, blackened from the depths, burned with two bright white pupils, radiating an eerie otherworldly light that terrified those foolish enough to meet his furious gaze. Normally a calculated fighter from afar, the McKenzie brother looked more like his sister, given the scope of violence he created in the face of these opponents.   As the ship's course brought it toward the shallows, Killian finally regained his senses, and took to the skies, back to the helm. As he navigated the ship to open waters, he noticed Iril looking around, seemingly attempting to find an opening to abandon his foolishness. Unable to leave the K&K unguided, he called to Kit. "Don't let that bastard live, sister!"   —----   Kit nodded in recognition and turned to face Iril. Two more of his mutineers moved in front to replace the men, and Kit grinned wickedly, bearing her teeth like a feral cat.   She glanced at the one to her left, a large man covered in tattoos, and lifted the palm of her hand. As she did, a ring of fire erupted in a circle around the man. He reeled back in terror, then froze in confusion as he realized the fire was not burning. Kit continued to lift her palm upwards, the flames forming around the man. He began to panic as he realized he could not move outside of the magic now covering him in the shape of a large bell. Kit cocked her head to the side, winked, and closed her hand into a fist, yanking downwards. As she did, a loud going rang from the bell and the man inside screamed as he covered his ears, dropping to his knees. Blood poured out his ears as he shook in pain.   Kit ran towards the woman to her right, leaping and landing a kick up the side of her head, then swinging her leg back to grab her around the neck by bending her knee and forcing the woman down. The woman managed to slip out, causing Kit to crash to the ground. Kit slammed onto her back, letting out a loud grunt. The other pirate swang an axe down towards her, Kit tumbling out of the way, then flipping to her feet as her opponent's axe got wedged into the deck of the K&K. Kit landed a solid kick to the woman's spine, then leapt onto her back, arms wrapped around her neck. After stumbling forward from the kick, the woman reached up to try to pull Kit's arms from her. Kit would have choked the life out of her, but didn't have time. Instead, she snapped the woman's neck, turning to face Iril, who now stood defenseless amidst the chaos. Only a few of his mutineers were remaining, the rest of the crew still loyal to the twins corralling them into a central spot.   Iril looked around in a panic, then pulled a small stone from his pocket, thumbing it as he stepped backwards from Kit.   A flash of light from the other ship caught the corner of Kit's eye, and seconds later another flash of light opened into a portal beside Iril. Before Kit could lunge at him, two arms reached through and yanked Iril in, the portal closing immediately.   "FUCK!" Kit yelled, whipping around to look at Killian as if to say 'what do we do now?'.   She glanced at the remaining six mutineers, and heard a voice – Asmodeous – whisper in her head "Consider this your first kill order… and a gift. Execute the one in the middle. Do what you will with the rest."   Kit, so furious and filled with emotion, didn't hesitate. She pulled the wedged axe out of the deck and walked towards the man her patron had identified. The others scattered to the side as she approached, the man staring her down.   "Do your worst, filth," he spat at her.   Kit didn't react, continuing her approach. As she neared, she lifted the axe and swung it into the man's neck, his head dropping off his body, as the body crumpled to the ground. Kit looked at the crew members standing by.   "Throw him overboard. Feed his head to the sharks."   She looked up at Killian, her eyes shadowed and dark.   "What shall we do to the rest of the scum brother?"   —--   Killian looked at his sister, and the animalistic feeling from earlier swelled up inside him yet again.   “Well, we can’t trust ‘em, and their friends are gone now,” he said, gesturing with his musket toward the ship rapidly distancing itself from the K&K. Killian looked at the five remaining crew members, then turned to address the remainder of the crew who had not turned on the twins.   “My comrades in arms, I am quite pleased that you all chose to see past our appearances and NOT attempt to extinguish our lives today, unlike SOME” - a gunshot rang out, and Killian briefly smirked at the four remaining mutineers as he continued.   “.. of our dearly departed and currently departing here had chosen to do. You see, my dear sister and I were the children of ordinary folk like any of the rest of you, a lot of you, in fact. Ma was an Eladrin, and Pa a human. Still are, wherever the High King’s Seat has ‘em rotting these days. And we’ve no quarrel with anyone on account’ve who they are, provide they extend us the same courtesies. We’ve all seen what can happen when folks are impolite” - a sickening CRACK rang out in the air as Killian drove the butt of his musket through a skull, glaring at the three mutineers they held captive.   “... but YOU ALL, you’re real honorable folks. Kind of crew that gets me all emotional out here. When I was down in the depths, courtesy of their boss,” - A muffled yelp erupted as Killian’s tail lashed out, coiling around a neck and twisting with a SNAP, as Killian laughed at their two captives,   “...I could only hope someone was lookin’ out for my dear sister, and here you all were, helping to hold the line. I’m mighty sorry yinz all had to witness, of all things, something as disrespectful as a mutiny, but it won’t happen again, I PROMISE” - another scream as Killian’s tail once again lashed out, throwing a flailing form into the main mast head first, leaving him in a shattered heap. Killian turned, reloaded his musket, and smiled disturbingly at the only captive they held.   “May you see better choices in the next life,” Killian said calmly and quietly, as the blast from his musket engulfed the man, blowing him over the railing and into the waiting blackness.   As the last man hit the water, Killian seemed to immediately regain every bit of his panache and his playfulness that had been absent just moments earlier.   “Now, that treasure…. Shall we?”

Killian fell into a deep sleep, and as he did, his mind wandered. He thought of Devlin and Kit, partially due to their voices outside of his tent, and partially due to his own fears, due to the jests of Devlin earlier, of failing to be there for his sister by dying recklessly.   He tossed and turned, growling and snarling as he fought phantom foes, his tail lashing out and knocking his musket from its perch. Thankfully, it was unloaded, normally using his magic to generate ammunition.   He woke in a cold sweat, hearing Devlin and Kit talking outside of the tent.   She's not sounding happy. Good. That means she feels comfortable around him. Killian smiled to himself. He may have found Devlin to be almost as irredeemable of a prick as he thought himself to be, but he was glad Kit had at least one other set of eyes to watch her back.

Killian sat at the bar, sipping a whiskey, but this was no night of carousing. He was focused, alert… even quiet, which never bade well for anyone in the vicinity.   Out of the corner of his eye, he watched, as a rotund man with an even more rotund purse arose from his stool and made his way out. His black eye was poorly obscured by the work of someone completely unfamiliar with concealer, which drew a chuckle from the tiefling. He buried his face in his whiskey glass as the man glanced over on his way out.   Killian waited a few moments, trusting that the enchanted pebble he put in the man's coat pocket would be enough to track him. Kit was the stealthy one, but he was solo tonight. He had convinced Oak to make a slight adjustment to their course, and made sure she was asleep before he slipped off the ship. This man had tried to violate his sister, and though he knew she handled it herself, Killian McKenzie loved nobody more, and he took such things personally.   As he paid his tab and left, Killian spread his wings and quietly took flight. Though it was frowned upon in most human dominated areas, the thick coastal fog and moonless night were on his side. As he approached an alleyway from above, he smelled the faint scent of juniper, which he had enchanted his mark to emit. He had his man, and as he swooped down from above and behind, Killian's white pupils flared red for a moment with rage.   The man wheeled around and attempted to speak, but Killian never gave him a chance, swiping him with a clawed hand and swinging his tail around, catching the man in the back of his skull with a belaying pin, sending him sprawling to the ground on his face.   "You're in the right place, now, trash," Killian remarked to the man, glaring at him, wings spread wide for effect. "You tried to force yourself on my sister, and if you were that bold, I'm sure there were many more. I may be a devil, and a pirate. But you, sir, are a monster."   "She was a whore and a charlatan, and I should have snapped her pretty little neck!" The man drew a dagger from his hip and lunged at Killian's left leg, drawing… a laugh, as the blade deflected off of solid metal.   "You're not the first cunt that's tried to stop the inevitable. I almost feel bad for you… and then I remember what you did that got you here." Killian lifted his leg and kicked the man in the face, sending him tumbling backwards, possibly dead there. A blast from his musket before he flew away into the mist ensured it wouldn't matter.   When Killian returned to the ship, which Oak had already started out of port, his sister was looking off the bow into the water. "I know what you did, Killian. I didn't need your help, y'know." She had the man's engagement ring in her hands, looking at it with amusement. "I could feel the seas changin', knew we were headed here. You can't hide things from me, brother."   "I know, dear Kit. I just needed to set it right. I told him why, too. If he was bold enough to try you, he'd do it to anyone. No woman deserves that. Besides that, you're my sister, Kit. I'll never suffer a man living who thinks they possess you."   Kit smiles, and slips the ring onto a silver chain, handing it to Killian. "Keep that one, brother, so that you never remember either of those statements. You're a good man, Killian McKenzie, even if you're a better pirate."

Gather 'round, ye lads and lasses 'Fore I've got to beat yer asses I've got a tale to tell yinz 'bout The scourge of many nations   Twins of Chaos, no child divine Pissed and plaster'd most the time Dangerous as the hells themselves The wise don't heed their invitations   Those McKenzies sail the seas, been doin' so before they walked Some would say they've only ever learned to "talk the talk" But never say a foul word, when a McKenzie could be near They'd gut poor souls for far less, and then steal the bastard's beer   Twins of Chaos, no child divine Tho pissed and plaster'd most the time Dangerous as the hells themselves The wise don't heed their invitations   Kit, a fire starter, sometimes literally, you see And Killian, well he's quite a sight, especially when angry More volatile a pair, I surely challenge yinz to find Because the twins McKenzie could make Satan lose his mind   Twins of Chaos, no child divine Pissed and plaster'd most the time Dangerous as the hells themselves The wise don't heed their invitations   Always on the run, but never really running They'd rather have some fun, and keep the whisky coming Some have said the two are hidin' hearts of gold But if you're buying that one, I can't help but kindly scold