"Get off me, you rabies-infested beast!" Varin yelled, trying to shake Nami loose. The navigator was currently wrapped around his head like some furious constrictor, doing her damnedest to either snap his neck or suffocate him on the spot.
Why? Because he had snapped one of the branches on her tangerine tree.
It had been maybe ten minutes since Allsunday had left, ten minutes since she'd left that cryptic smile and mysterious air behind. Varin had laughed so hard over Luffy's confusion about whether she was a 'good guy or bad guy' that he'd lost his footing and stumbled into Nami's grove. The laughter had been worth it… until he heard the sick crack of a branch breaking under his weight.
Now he was paying for it.
In Varin's opinion, Allsunday was neither good nor bad, just clever, playing her own angle. She'd admitted to letting Vivi tail her, all so she could learn who the real boss of Baroque Works was. A spider weaving her web, using them and Crocodile alike as chess pieces to reach whatever her endgame was. She wasn't to be trusted, but she wasn't stupid either. And that, to him, made her far more dangerous than someone who wore their intent on their sleeve.
But none of that mattered right now.
What mattered was stopping himself from biting Nami's fingers off as she clawed at his jaw, trying to wrench it open enough to remove his head entirely.
"Snapped?! SNAPPED?!" Nami shrieked, yanking his hair so hard he swore he heard roots tearing out. "That tree is priceless! You worthless mongrel!"
"I was laughing!" Varin's protest came out mangled, his words cut off every time Nami twisted his face. He staggered back across the deck, thrashing like a man possessed. "You–you're insane!"
Sanji sprinted out of the kitchen, stopping so hard smoke trailed from his heels, smoke trailing from his lips, eyes wide with panic. "Nami-swan! Please, calm yourself! Don't waste your elegant touch on trash like him!"
"SHUT UP AND GET ME A NEW TREE!" she roared, not loosening her grip for an instant.
Zoro leaned against the mast nearby, arms folded, watching the whole scene with a wolfish grin. "Don't bite her fingers off, idiot," he called lazily. "She'll only kill you slower."
"Don't tempt me!" Varin snarled, snapping his teeth dangerously close to Nami's knuckles.
Usopp peeked from behind a barrel, voice cracking as he yelled, "She's gonna kill him! She's really gonna do it this time!"
And through it all, Luffy just sat cross-legged on the deck, head tilted, still pondering. "So… is Allsunday a good guy or a bad guy? Or maybe…" He squinted, as if the thought might be profound. "…a weird guy?"
Varin would've laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all, the schemes, the cluelessness, the chaos of this crew, if only his lungs weren't currently being crushed by the orange demon who looked two seconds away from ripping his head clean off.
With a grunt, Varin twisted hard to the side, trying to shake her loose, but Nami clung like a barnacle fueled by pure fury. Desperation, or maybe sheer survival instinct, kicked in, and Varin forced his arm back at an unnatural angle until his fingers brushed her shirt.
"Gotcha," he growled.
With one savage tug, he yanked her loose from his head. Nami yelped as the sudden motion left her weightless for a beat, then found herself dangling over open sea, suspended by the scruff of her shirt in Varin's grip.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" she shrieked, legs kicking wildly over the water.
"Correctin' a mistake," Varin huffed, his voice still ragged from her chokehold. "If you're gonna try and take my head off, then you can get a closer look at the ocean. Maybe she'll cool you down."
"PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW, YOU BEAST!" Nami howled, her fists flailing in blind fury.
Sanji exploded forward, eyes popping out of his skull. "VARIN, YOU SWINE! HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON HER!" His leg snapped out, only for Zoro to block it with a single lazy swing of his sword, grin still tugging at his mouth.
"Don't," Zoro chuckled. "Let's see how this plays out."
"ZORO, YOU USELESS APE!" Sanji barked, veins throbbing in his temple. "I'LL CUT YOU TOO!"
Usopp gasped dramatically, pointing a shaking finger. "HE'S REALLY GONNA DO IT! HE'S GONNA FEED HER TO THE SEA!"
Meanwhile, Luffy had tilted his head further, still locked on his earlier thought, and muttered, "Maybe Allsunday's a both-guy…" before his eyes finally flicked to the chaos.
"Oi, oi," he said, voice as casual as if he were asking for lunch. "Varin, don't throw Nami into the water. She's my navigator."
"Not throwin' her," Varin said, lips pulling into a wolfish grin as Nami flailed. "Just lettin' her get some perspective."
"MY TREE DOESN'T NEED PERSPECTIVE, IT NEEDS TO BE ALIVE!" Nami screamed, every syllable carrying the weight of imminent homicide.
Varin's arm swung slightly, rocking her over the rolling waves, his grin widening with every passing second. "Y'know, for someone so small, you sure try to kill me an awful lot. Maybe I oughta toss you in, let the sea decide which one of us is crazier."
The ship creaked under the strain of the tension, Sanji vibrating with rage, Zoro laughing like he was watching theater, Usopp panicking, Luffy only half-present, and Nami dangling helplessly over the water like a furious, screaming cat.
Varin let Nami dangle for one more heartbeat, grinning at the way her fists and feet flew like a wildcat. Then, without warning, he spun on his heel and hurled her across the deck.
"KYAAAAH!"
Sanji's eyes bulged, heart nearly exploding as he darted forward. With all the grace of a man catching his one true treasure, he snagged her midair, bridal style, and skidded to a stop.
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND?!" Sanji roared, cradling Nami like she was a priceless jewel. "HOW DARE YOU TOSS AN ANGEL AROUND LIKE A BAG OF ROTTEN MEAT!"
Nami clung to his shirt, seething, her face red more from rage than the throw. "I'M GONNA KILL HIM! I DON'T CARE HOW, BUT I'M GONNA KILL HIM!"
Varin cracked his neck, utterly unbothered. He leaned against the railing, arms folding loosely over his chest, grin never fading.
"It was one branch," he said simply, voice flat with amusement. "One. A single branch won't kill the whole tree, so calm down before I toss you again."
Sanji practically foamed at the mouth. "ONE BRANCH?! THAT TREE IS SACRED! MORE SACRED THAN YOUR LOUSY NECK!"
"Then maybe I should've let her snap it clean off," Varin said with a wolfish bark of laughter, clearly enjoying every second of their outrage.
Usopp's jaw hit the floor. "We're all gonna die."
Zoro leaned on his swords, smirking. "Can't lie… I'm kinda enjoying this."
Meanwhile, Luffy blinked slowly, then pointed at the tangerine grove. "Hey, Nami. If the tree dies… do we still get oranges?"
"LUFFY!" Nami shrieked, veins popping in her forehead.
Varin's chuckle rumbled low in his chest as he watched her unravel in Sanji's arms, entirely satisfied with himself.
Varin let the silence reign for a second before he raised his hands in mock surrender, eyes still glinting as he leaned back against the rail. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he said, though the smirk tugging at his mouth stripped the words of much weight. "But let's be real, one broken branch isn't going to kill the tree. You're acting like I uprooted the whole grove."
Nami's glare could have set the ocean aflame, and Sanji was already puffing out his chest like a storm about to break, but Varin pressed on, his voice dropping low enough to sting.
"And besides, " his gaze cut back to Nami, sharp, deliberate ", if you really want to kill me, go ahead. That'll be one less person standing between you and Crocodile. One less body to throw at a warlord of the sea."
The words hung there like poison in the air.
Varin tilted his head, baring a fang in something halfway between a grin and a challenge. "So be my guest. I'd love to see just how confident you are in taking him one-on-one, little orange."
The silence that followed was broken only by Karoo's nervous quack and Usopp's quiet, horrified gasp. Sanji nearly crushed his cigarette between his teeth, caught between wanting to defend Nami's honor and realizing the weight of what Varin had just said. Zoro, meanwhile, barked out a low laugh, leaning back against the mast.
And Nami? She didn't strike again. Not right away. But the way her fists tightened at her sides, the way her shoulders quivered, it was clear she wanted to.
Nami's fists trembled at her sides, her knuckles bone-white. For a moment it looked like she might actually leap at him again, finish what she started, but instead she sucked in a long, hissing breath through her teeth. Her eyes burned hotter than the sun baking down on the Merry's deck.
"Fine," she spat, voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You're right. We do need every warm body we can get if we're going to stand a chance against Crocodile. But hear me, Varin, " she jabbed a finger at him like it was a blade ", the second we're done with him, the second Alabasta is safe, I swear I'm coming for you. And no branch, no smart mouth, no fangs are gonna save you."
Varin only chuckled, low and unbothered, like she'd just promised him dessert after a meal. His smirk widened, showing a hint of fang. "Good," he said simply. "I'll be waiting."
The deck fell silent again, thick with unspoken challenges, until the ship groaned against the waves and the journey pressed them onward.
It didn't take long for the rest of the crew to scatter, the earlier storm of tempers breaking apart into quieter ripples of their usual chaos. Varin, however, wanted none of it. He slipped below deck, found himself a corner where the shadows pooled thick against the wood, and stretched out across the planks. He wasn't tired, restless, if anything, but the shade and the faint lap of water against the hull brought a coolness that dulled the sun's sting. It was the closest thing to peace he'd had in hours.
At least until the interruption.
A shadow fell across him, deliberate, blocking the thin light that slanted down through the cracks above. He cracked open one eye, the golden slit gleaming in the dim.
"Need anything, Princess?" Varin drawled, his voice low, rough, but unmistakably laced with sarcasm. His gaze slid lazily up to meet hers, Vivi, arms folded across her chest, chin tilted just enough to show she wasn't here by accident. "Did I do something to upset you?" he added, almost idly, though his tone made it painfully clear he didn't care if the answer was yes or no.
Her brows drew together, the faintest crease marring her otherwise practiced composure. "Why haven't you told them?" she asked after a beat, her voice quieter than expected, but insistent. "About yourself, I mean. Aren't you supposed to be… family? Or something like that?"
For a long moment, Varin said nothing. His other eye opened, both settling on her with a weight that was almost unbearable in the stillness. He didn't move, didn't sit up, just studied her like one might study a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong picture.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth ticked upward, though it was a humorless sort of smile. "That what you came down here for, Princess? To play inquisitor? You sure it's your business?"
The silence stretched, the ship creaking faintly beneath them. He finally pushed himself up to sit, arms draping loosely over his knees, eyes never leaving hers. "You don't get it yet, do you? Some things are better left unsaid. Better for them, better for me. Family…" he scoffed, a low growl rumbling beneath the word, "…isn't about spilling every scar and secret the second someone demands it. They'll know when it matters. If it matters."
His gaze sharpened then, cutting into her with the kind of intensity that made Karoo's feathers ruffle even though the duck wasn't even there. "But I'll tell you one thing, Princess, " he leaned forward just enough, his voice a dangerous whisper, ", you bring it up in front of them, without me choosing it, and you'll regret it."
And then, as if the moment had never been heavy at all, Varin leaned back against the wall, eyes sliding shut once more, his tone snapping back into casual dismissal. "Now run along. Don't you have a kingdom to save?"
"We are actively working on it," Vivi shot back, her arms tightening across her chest, her voice firmer than before. "Stop deflecting, Varin. You know just as well as I do that it will matter. Especially if we survive Crocodile. Your family will know. Especially her." Her eyes locked onto his, unflinching now despite the way her hands trembled. "Your sister. She's an admiral now."
Varin's lips curved, not into a smile, but into something caught between grim amusement and memory. His eyes cracked open again, glinting in the shadows. "Huh. Heard one of 'em did," he murmured, voice dry, as if discussing the weather. "Makes sense it was her. She's always been… tenacious."
Vivi's frown deepened, disbelief coloring her features. "You really don't care, do you?" she said, almost incredulous. "That you being a pirate will put a target on your crew? On them?"
That earned her a laugh, short, low, humorless, like gravel grinding together. He tilted his head back against the wood and exhaled slowly, as if her concern was nothing but smoke in the air.
"Care?" Varin repeated, tasting the word, letting it hang between them. Then his eyes snapped back to hers, sharp, dangerous, like the point of a blade angled just shy of her throat. "You're talking about care, Princess, when your kingdom's rotting under a lizard's thumb and you came crawling to a bunch of pirates because you had no other choice? Don't act like you're the expert on what's dangerous to a crew."
But Vivi didn't flinch, not this time. She pressed on, her voice rising with a heat born from desperation. "A warlord is one thing, but an admiral is different, Varin. She's different. Your sister impressed the higher-ups so much she became the first fourth admiral in history. Do you understand what that means? You really think your family will let you just walk around? Do you think the Navy will ignore you?" She shook her head, almost pleading now. "You're a walking contradiction to everything they stand for. You are proof that they can fail."
Varin's smirk widened, not in humor, but in something darker, sharper. He pushed up from where he sat, rising to his full height, and though he didn't close the distance between them, his shadow did. His voice dropped, low and steady, carrying the kind of weight that felt like it could bend iron.
"Good," he said simply. "Then let them choke on it."
The silence that followed was thick, pressing, broken only by the groan of the ship against the sea.
"You really don't care if you get them all killed, do you?" Vivi asked, her arms falling limp to her sides. Her voice wasn't sharp anymore, it was stunned, thin, like she couldn't quite believe the words she was hearing.
Varin's head tilted, his gaze narrowing into slits of silver. The quiet hum of the ship seemed to fade, the cool shade below deck suddenly stifling. His other eye snapped open, gleaming with a dangerous light.
"Don't insinuate I don't care for them," he growled, each word edged with iron. The sound was low, animal, vibrating in the narrow space as though the wood itself might splinter under the weight of it. "I care for them more than anything else on Midgard."
His teeth flashed, the barest hint of fang visible as his jaw tightened. He sat forward now, elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched like a predator about to spring. "But don't confuse care with weakness, Princess. I'm not naïve enough to think I can shield them from everything. This sea eats the weak. They all knew that when they stepped aboard. And if death comes for them, it'll come because they stood tall and fought, not because I tucked tail and bowed to the family I left behind."
Vivi took a step back, but not because of fear for herself, her gaze flicked to the ceiling above, where the rest of the crew slept or laughed or argued, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath their feet. "You say you care, but every step you take paints a target bigger than the one already on their backs," she whispered. "That's not care, Varin. That's recklessness wearing love as a mask."
Varin barked out a laugh, short, bitter, but alive. He stood fully now, towering over her in the dim light, and for a heartbeat, the only thing between them was the sharp scent of salt and iron. "Maybe," he said finally. "But better reckless and free than leashed and rotting. My sister can carry her title. My family can cling to their thrones. Let them. I'll carry this crew, and if anyone wants to rip them from me, admiral, warlord, or god, then they'll bleed for it."
The ship's timbers creaked as though punctuating the vow, the sea's endless rhythm underscoring the weight of it.
"Besides," Varin breathed, rolling onto his back as if tiredness had finally found him, "you don't get to lecture me about recklessness, 'Princess.'" He let the title hang there, taunting, loose, then closed his eyes as if the conversation was finished.
Vivi's hand went to her mouth, not in shock this time but because she needed something to steady herself against the hollow ache his words left. She stayed where she was, small and upright in the cool shadow, and her voice came out softer now, but steady. "Why–why do you hate me?" she asked. It wasn't a theatrically wounded question; it was plain, blunt, the kind that stripped away politeness until only the truth remained. "Why do you look at me like I'm, like I'm a problem, not a person?"
Varin's eyes opened, slow and weary. For a moment he said nothing; the ship's boards creaked, the world outside the hull breathed in slow tide. When he did answer, his voice wasn't cruel so much as blunt, his favorite tool. "Hate? Don't make me sound petty, Princess." He turned his head to face her, the moonlight catching the hard planes of his face. "It's not hate. It's… irritation. Disappointment. A sort of furious pity."
She flinched as if struck by a hand, then flared. "Pity? You'd pity a princess who tried to save her people?"
"Aye." He pushed himself up on one elbow, eyes on her like a man measuring the weight of a thing he'd been asked to carry. "I can respect wanting to do something brave. I can respect the guts it takes to stand up to warlords and tyrants and all the other monsters men make for each other. But there's a different sort of respect for how you do it." His jaw tightened. "You did it like someone blindfolded. You crawled into a nest of knives hoping your charm would be enough and were surprised when someone tried to peel your fingers off. That's not courage. That's not strategy. That's… stupid."
The word landed like a stone. Vivi's breath hitched; she opened her mouth, closed it. "You're cruel," she whispered.
"Cruel gets shit done sometimes," Varin said flatly. "Look at what happened. If it wasn't for these lunatics", he nodded toward the sleeping chaos of the crew above, "you'd be dead right now. And your country? Worse off. You walked alone where you should've brought a shield, or a plan, or even one competent ally aware of what they were walking into. Intent doesn't fill graves, princess. It doesn't pave the roofs or make the grain. Intent makes good stories for poets. Results keep people alive."
Vivi's face crumpled a second, a flash of raw, human shame and fear. "I–" she began, voice brittle. "I thought I could do it quietly. I thought I could learn enough to, " Her hands clenched. "I was trying to be careful."
Varin's expression softened by a hair, not much, and only in the way a knife's edge dulls if you run it over cloth. "Trying and doing are different," he said. "You tried in a palace. You tried with whispers. Then you walked into a pit expecting it to be shallow. I don't resent you for wanting to save your people. I resent you for being surprised when the pit had teeth."
She swallowed hard, the shame and the fear warring with a stubborn pride. "So what now?" Her question was small. Practical. Real. "Do you leave me to die because I was foolish, or do you help?"
Varin's voice rolled out from his corner of the hold, half-lazy but sharpened by something that wasn't quite mockery. "Cap'n already said we're doing it, so we're doing it. That's the long and short of it." He shifted onto his side, the wood creaking beneath him as one eye flicked open toward Vivi. "Besides… you've got some courage wrapped in a pretty package. Refine it. Teach it how to bite instead of just bark, and maybe, just maybe, you'll be a force worth reckoning with one day."
He gave a small shrug, almost dismissive, though his words lingered heavier than his tone let on. "Like I said, I don't hate ya. Never did. I just think you ain't the brightest. Not yet."
Vivi's lips pressed into a thin line. She should have bristled at that, every part of her upbringing screamed that she should, but instead she stood there, arms loosening, caught between irritation and… something else. A strange, reluctant acknowledgment that his blunt words held truth.
Her voice, when it came, was tight. "Not yet?"
Varin smirked, letting his eyes fall shut again. "Aye. Not yet. But fire's fire, princess. Given the right fuel and someone to show it how to burn, even the smallest flame can set a whole empire ablaze."
For once, Vivi had no immediate reply. She only stood there in the dim light, staring at the half-feral pirate who spoke of her flaws and her potential in the same breath. Then, without another word, she turned sharply on her heel, her cloak snapping behind her as she left him to the shadows.
But not without the last word. "You called me pretty," she tossed over her shoulder, her voice cool, almost taunting, though the faintest shade of pink colored her cheeks in the faint glow.
Varin's eyes cracked open at that, his grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Aye," he said under his breath, voice low, meant for her ears alone, except she was already gone, her footsteps fading up the wooden stairs.
He exhaled a slow laugh, letting his head drop back against the planks. Shadows shifted with the sway of the lantern, wrapping him in flickering dark. "Stubborn little thing," he muttered, more to the silence than anyone else, before closing his eyes once again as the ship rocked him into stillness.
"Ababababababa, "
The sound split the air like a thunderclap, alien and booming, so strange that Varin's eyes snapped open before his brain even caught up. It wasn't a sound that belonged below deck, or anywhere near mortals for that matter. His instincts flared like a spark in oil.
The next thing he knew, his claws had raked into the wooden planks, and he was halfway up the stairs in a blur of motion. The flimsy doorframe stood no chance, splinters exploded as his shoulders tore straight through it, daylight blinding him for half a heartbeat.
And then he froze.
What towered before him was not a storm, not a monster from the depths, but something that made even his feral instincts blink and falter. A giant. An honest-to-god giant, every tale he'd ever heard made flesh and muscle in front of him. The man loomed like a mountain, blonde beard wild and but oddly kempt, helmet horns catching the sun as he grinned down at them with the innocence of a child.
Varin's throat caught, his eyes wide, and excitement that even a child couldn't rival welled up in him.
"Ohhh, there's a new one!" the giant boomed, voice carrying like rolling thunder. "Hello, new friend! My name is Brogy!" He slapped a hand to his massive chest in greeting, the force of it sending a gust of wind over the deck.
Varin barely noticed, because his gaze was already snapping toward the ground.
Nami and Usopp lay sprawled like rag dolls, their skin pale, sweat shining on their brows. They twitched faintly when Brogy's enormous finger prodded them, like a curious child poking a bug.
"I think your friends may be ill, little one," Brogy said again, his massive brows knitting with genuine concern. His voice carried over the treetops ringing the shore, warm but booming enough to rattle the Merry's hull.
"Ha, no, they're fine," Varin said, brushing it off with a laugh that was more teeth than humor. His eyes, however, cut sharp toward Usopp. The sniper was flat on his back, trembling like a fish out of water, pupils shrunk to pinpricks. For a man who had spent years lying his way out of fear, the look on his face now was naked, raw terror. And his gaze locked with Varin's, pleading without words: save us.
Nami wasn't any better. Her complexion was pale, her lips pressed tight as though sheer stubbornness was the only thing keeping her from screaming. Even her hand, usually firm on her staff, quivered against the deckboards.
Varin's expression softened for just a heartbeat, enough to let them know he'd seen their silent cries. But then he straightened, rolling his shoulders back as he lifted his chin toward the towering figure.
"Ignore them," he said casually as if Nami and Usopp weren't about to faint dead at the sight of the giant.
"You're from Elbaf, correct?" Varin asked, his voice calm, almost reverent. His eyes gleamed with something between curiosity and respect, though his stance remained firm, ready for anything.
Brogy squinted, lowering his massive head, the shadow of his jaw engulfing the deck in shade. His breath rumbled like the roll of thunder as his gaze sharpened on Varin's face. Then his laughter died, replaced with a spark of recognition, ancient, startling, as if he were staring through the years themselves.
"…No… that face…" Brogy rumbled, his tone hushed with disbelief. Then it came, heavy and sure, a name spoken like an echo dredged from memory:
"Skornar."
The sound of it hung in the air like a bell tolling from centuries past.
Varin blinked, his casual smirk faltering for the barest moment. "…What did you just call me? You know my grandfather."
"Skornar the unbreakable!" Brogy roared, his laughter booming again, shaking the trees around them. "Your eyes… your hair… you're the very image of him! You called him grandfather, you're that monster's grandson?!"
Varin, though, only tilted his head. His smirk flickered, then steadied, that wild gleam still alive in his silver gaze. "I… look like him when he was younger?" he asked slowly, like he was testing the sound of it. Then his mouth tugged into something halfway between amusement and thought. "…That's actually… kinda interesting."
Brogy's massive hand slammed to his chest, his booming voice carrying like a rolling wave through the jungle. "What's your name, young one?" His eyes gleamed with a warrior's pride, but also the weight of memory. "I wish to know the name of the grandson of the strongest man I've ever had the pleasure of fighting!"
The words rang with such conviction that even the trees seemed to lean in. Varin didn't flinch under it. He stood tall, well, as tall as a man could beneath the shadow of a giant, and tilted his chin up to meet Brogy's gaze without a shred of hesitation. His eyes burned, not with arrogance, but with the steady defiance of someone who refused to bow, even to a legend.
"…Varin, just varin" he said simply, his voice low but steady, carrying across the clearing with weight all its own. Then, a faint smirk tugged at his lips, sharp and dangerous.
Brogy's grin widened, his booming laugh erupting again, shaking birds from the trees. "Ababababababa! A fine name! A warrior's name! Varin, yes, that suits you!"
Before he stopped.
Brogy's great head tilted, the weight of his gaze pressing down like a mountain. The sudden silence was deafening, his earlier laughter gone, replaced with something heavier, older. The forest seemed to pause with him, even the birds holding their voices as if waiting for his judgment.
"You are clearly a Styrnvald," Brogy rumbled, each syllable grinding like tectonic plates. "So why do you refuse the name? Why cast it aside?"
The question struck harder than any club could have. That might be a problem. Varin realized his mistake. A giant's pride wasn't a thing to toy with, and certainly not Brogy's. One wrong word and the man could crush them without effort. He wasn't strong enough yet, not for this, not for a full blown giant who dwarfed even legends.
So after a heartbeat of silence, Varin did what he always did. He gave it blunt, sharp, and without dressing.
"I'm no longer part of them," he said, voice steady but stripped of pretense. His eyes didn't waver as he looked up at the giant. "I… was, uh, removed."
The word echoed, small in comparison to Brogy's booming tone, but it carried. Like a knife tossed onto the table.
Brogy's brows furrowed, shadows deepening across his massive face. The air seemed to grow heavier, every creak of his leather armor and groan of his bones sounding louder than it should.
"…Removed?" Brogy repeated, voice low, carrying both disbelief and curiosity.
Brogy's voice rumbled like stone grinding against stone, low and final. "Hmmm. Ok. I won't ask further. You seem like good folk, just Varin. I'm sure your reasons are your own."
For a moment, silence fell across the clearing. The kind of silence that wasn't empty, but heavy, weighted with things unsaid, with truths too sharp to be spoken aloud. Even the jungle seemed to respect it, the constant buzz of insects and the cries of distant beasts falling away as though the island itself was listening.
Varin didn't move. Didn't flinch. He just met the giant's gaze, the faint curl of a smirk tugging at his lips. He'd been measured by a warrior of Elbaf, weighed on scales older than kingdoms, and somehow, somehow, he hadn't been found wanting.
And then Brogy laughed again. A booming, thunderous sound that shook the trees and sent birds screaming skyward. "Ababababababa! The grandson of Skornar the Unbreakable, walking a road all his own! What a strange age this is!"
The laughter echoed, rolled, swallowed the silence whole. But beneath it, Varin only muttered under his breath, words lost to all but himself.
"Strange age or not… mine all the same."