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Sparrow knew she should have felt… something about everything changing, but she just didn’t. Whether she was drunk or not, there was just nothing left and being drunk was just an easier way to pass the time. At first after Recluse’s death, Sparrow had locked herself away, screamed until her throat was raw and cried silently after that. She reflected on everything and felt like she had nothing. She had wanted freedom and fun times and she had none of it. Everyone she had spent years committing herself to was either gone or dead and the pirates that remained didn’t need her.

She felt too many obligations, too much pressure, too much loss. It was suffocating and Sparrow was sure she had died to her sorrows and all at once just… stopped feeling. It scared her at first- in whatever distant, logical way one can be scared without truly feeling it. There was no more anger or sorrow or desire to do anything different. She couldn’t even truly say she felt tired anymore, even though it felt like all she did these days was sleep and drink. She was thinner than she ever had been, her fur regrowing from Friar clipping it short so it would be easier for her to neglect and not look as bad. She wallowed in that, looking and feeling like someone unlike herself.

Then, Gil came and relieved her of her duty. She let him, knowing she should feel something for it, whether it was competition or insult or pride in him, but she didn’t. And then, like an old weary ghost, she simply followed. When he moved them, she thought surely she’d be upset, that she’d be homesick. She wasn’t and she wanted to feel sick at the notion, but it was what it was.

Now Gil called them and they gathered again, in a new area, under new leadership. Already he had a plan, was a better leader, but this wasn’t the freedom she craved when she created the pirates. This was a proper pack. She knew that, logically, but felt disconnected from it all, like it was happening around her, not to her. She sat and listened, still and as silent as a ghost.