Haam, as it turns out, is the God of Pirates.
Charlotte feels like she has heard of him before, but can’t say from where.
This iteration of Charlotte has forgotten much of the events of the Phase 3 story, because they were undone by her past self’s time manipulation. She sacrificed her own memories at the end of this to avoid the temptations of godhood, as detailed in “421 - Quill and Ink” – Ed.
His “afterlife”, or divine realm, takes the form of a sailing ship. It literally emerged from the street near Charlotte’s coffee house, and now sails across the globe, unseen by mortals. When the sun is in the sky, the ship shifts into what Charlotte understood to be the Underworld, for the convenience and safety of the vampire Vermillion.
But it is not the Underworld Charlotte knew. Haam opens her eyes to the Sea of Thought - the psychic landscape of human history and imagination.
Britain to Africa to South America. Manny has stories aplenty, and Haam’s “buccaneers of the beyond” share his enthusiasm for the sea, and for the discovery of new places and new things.
To Charlotte’s delight, revisiting the places of his life is also endowing Manny with ectoplasmic form. Each encounter seems to bring out memories Manny had forgotten. As he relives his old life, he is literally becoming a complete person again.
Maury Jones is an accomplished people-watcher.
She shepherded the younger Ponies through their various hardships while in her mid-20’s. She built a - well, not thriving, but successful - career as a vlogger on YouTube out of guts, ambition, and a great radio voice. She’s pried secrets out of interviewees that wore literal and metaphorical masks.
Now, aboard Haam’s pirate ship with the others, she can tell that several of her teammates are experiencing something strange. She wastes no time calling it out.
“You three are definitely feeling something, and damned if it’s seasickness.”
Charlotte, Bodark, and Vermillion are “you three”, and they each react strangely at first to the call-out. To get things moving, Maury arbitrarily selects Bodark first. Though English is not his first language and he still struggles at times, she’s pretty sure he will give the clearest answer first.
“There is something familiar here. Like a storybook from childhood I have forgotten. It is like finding empty vodka bottle. You do not remember the drinking but the smell lingers.”
“The French word for it is ‘déjà vu’,” Maury explains. “It means ‘already seen’. It’s the sense that you have experienced something before.”
Bodark nods his head in understanding. “Yes. That is it.”
She turns next to Vermillion. Though far more articulate, the vampire is incapable of uttering the complete truth. She’s made it a hobby to try and dissect what he really means, and she’s especially interested now.
“I…”
The normally smug vampire begins to spin one of his lies, and halts. Maury takes a perverse joy in seeing him stumble, but her feelings turn more sympathetic as he continues to struggle. Finally she cuts it short.
“You… will… get back to me later, I’m sure. Charlotte?”
Maury knows that Charlotte puts great thought into what she does and says. Certainly if she’s feeling some kind of false memory, she can explain it?
But the ghost simply sighs, and looks worriedly at Maury. “It’s that. But it’s not that. It’s something… something significant. Something… like…”
She struggles for words. “Ominous. Not as conventional speech has it, being a synonym for ‘scary’ or ‘spooky’. Ominous in the sense that I feel an omen. A phenomenon portending a future event.”
Maury has felt no such thing. Or if she has, she’s chalked it up to the excitement of a new journey.
She consults with the two other members of the group.
Manny the Skull has been here before. Indeed, he’s recreating a journey he went on in life. He seems excited, not bothered, at the prospect of reliving old memories. What he feels is not déjà vu, but nostalgia, Maury concludes.
Daphne Palin is a more interesting case. She hasn’t seemed bothered by any such feelings. But she affirms the sensation when Maury questions her.
“Oh yeah, there’s some divine shit going on, definitely. Some kinda prophecy shit. It’s just that I’m pretty sure this is a good thing for us.”
With that revelation, Maury decides to return to Charlotte. Charlotte, in turn, calls on the pirate captain Haam to fulfill his promise.
“You said that you’d answer my questions to the best of your ability. Now is that time. Several of us have felt something like an echo of the past, or a former memory, associated with this trip. Do you know the significance of this feeling?”
Haam considers for a moment, and Charlotte is immediately suspicious. It’s faster to remember the truth than to concoct a lie. But he speaks, and she listens.
“You’ve traveled this road before. Not all of you. But most of you. In another place and time, in another fashion. Your souls wish to remember this regardless, because that is the nature of memory. It is a treasure which must not be lost.”
Charlotte tilts her head curiously, and stares at the unassuming, smiling man. “Why would we forget?”
“That treasure of memory was a costly sacrifice you chose to make. It is deeply buried, yet you left yourself a map.”
Haam grins. “And who better to help one find buried treasure than a pirate?”
Vermillion is staring over the railing of the ship when Bodark finds him.
The werewolf’s native Russian is better than his English. He speaks with confidence when shame doesn’t shackle his tongue.
“You had nothing to say, back there. I’ve never seen you lose your poise before.”
The vampire turns and smiles strangely. “What can a liar say when everything is the truth?”
Bodark wants to snort, wants to write it off as just another glib quip like the thousands he’s heard. But something about the other man’s eyes make him reconsider - and consider.
“The ‘déjà vu’. The ambiguity of what is real. Reality itself is in question. What really happened? Not just one thing. Many things. And you can’t say which is which…”
A realization strikes him, hard. “You cannot say what’s true. You can not say what’s true. You aren’t dodging the truth. You are forced away from it. Into the dark, like the sun that burns you…”
The vampire still says nothing. But his eyes are hurt, and lost. Like a child’s, Bodark thinks.
He has only recently become a man, he reminds himself. Like me. The sophistication, the education… his mind is old, but his heart…
He lays a gentle hand on Vermillion’s shoulder. “Hey. Hey. You need say nothing. But this feeling I see on your face… The face you show me, when you are not lying…”
“You carry this burden, don’t you. Always and everywhere. You cannot say what you think. You cannot tell us what you know. And it builds up. It festers like the scum in a well that has not been pumped in many years. You must lie. And every lie is a brick in a wall you build between yourself and others.”
The anguish in Vermillion’s eyes is now clear, as he wordlessly looks back to Bodark.
The stocky werewolf just smiles. “You are a complicated book, my friend. Full of twists and trickery. And I will never give up on trying to read you anyway. You are a story I must read to the end to be satisfied.”
He reaches out, and pulls the taller man into a warm, lasting hug. And Vermillion, unable to say what he feels, can only return it in pained silence.