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Apr. 1st, 2026 01:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
belayThere was a recently collapsed tomb somewhere nearby, and the one responsible for it (with absolutely zero regrets) now sat inside a dim, salt‑stained pub, a strange compass turning slowly in her hands.
Lara Croft, Lady of Nine Bells Islands, adventurer, survivor, and arguably one of the most stubborn people alive, had heard through the grapevine that Trinity wanted this compass. Wanted it badly. Wanted it because it pointed toward something bigger—something ancient and dangerous enough to reshape the world. Something that could strip free will from every living soul until all that remained was obedience to a handful of zealots.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Getting the compass had been a war in miniature. Fear arrows. Explosive traps. A hand‑to‑hand fight with one of Trinity’s pirates that she’d barely crawled away from. Every trick she knew, every instinct honed by years of running and fighting and refusing to die.
Now she sat in the pub, bruised, exhausted, and staring at the compass as its needle spun lazily, like it was thinking. Like it was waiting.
She wasn’t sure what her next move was.
She set the compass down with a soft wrinkle of her nose, subconsciously wiping her hand on the leg of her pants as if something unsavory was on it. The compass felt wrong. For something so small, it carried an unnatural heaviness as if it were part of something far bigger. It felt like it was ever so subtly buzzing in her hands, waiting for just the right moment or motivation to move and Lara didn't like it one bit.
"Another one of my fathers obsessions found," she says after a moment, not really to anyone in particular. "It won't point out islands on the Grand Line one by one. It won't even react to those islands. It'll just...spin idly until we're near wherever it wants to go. Now, where that is? I've no idea. But if it's somewhere Trinity wants to find, it can't be anywhere good."
Lara Croft, Lady of Nine Bells Islands, adventurer, survivor, and arguably one of the most stubborn people alive, had heard through the grapevine that Trinity wanted this compass. Wanted it badly. Wanted it because it pointed toward something bigger—something ancient and dangerous enough to reshape the world. Something that could strip free will from every living soul until all that remained was obedience to a handful of zealots.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Getting the compass had been a war in miniature. Fear arrows. Explosive traps. A hand‑to‑hand fight with one of Trinity’s pirates that she’d barely crawled away from. Every trick she knew, every instinct honed by years of running and fighting and refusing to die.
Now she sat in the pub, bruised, exhausted, and staring at the compass as its needle spun lazily, like it was thinking. Like it was waiting.
She wasn’t sure what her next move was.
She set the compass down with a soft wrinkle of her nose, subconsciously wiping her hand on the leg of her pants as if something unsavory was on it. The compass felt wrong. For something so small, it carried an unnatural heaviness as if it were part of something far bigger. It felt like it was ever so subtly buzzing in her hands, waiting for just the right moment or motivation to move and Lara didn't like it one bit.
"Another one of my fathers obsessions found," she says after a moment, not really to anyone in particular. "It won't point out islands on the Grand Line one by one. It won't even react to those islands. It'll just...spin idly until we're near wherever it wants to go. Now, where that is? I've no idea. But if it's somewhere Trinity wants to find, it can't be anywhere good."
