He won't.

Ow...

Three things hurt right now. My face from an **** of slaps from Priscilla; who wouldn't speak to me no matter how many times I asked what was wrong. My body, which had scales falling from it constantly as my transformation wore off; only two things from that other form remained, my enlarged wings, and the horns, which had shrunk down to tiny nubs. Finally, my ass; sitting on an old wooden fishing boat back to the Ihsrom's Breath, and then to the Maiyo's Kiss to be pulled up via their lifeboat pullies took its toll on my secondary cheeks. This rear pain all in spite of the new pair of pants I was given.

I supposed my feelings were hurt as well, with Cilla refusing to tell me why she was so angry...

But, thank the Gods, we're finally heading back down to our room deep in the primary vessel of the trade convoy. As I finally make my glorious return to my sleeping mat and flop down, I begin to feel aches, and a sensation of sluggishness. Creaking my neck up slightly, I see Ashes chucking handfuls of the scales that had fallen from my body into Zana's hat; for 'research' into my anatomy. So far, Zana's research consisted of her getting disappointed at my refusal to shift my heart as Madness had, back when he was around; after all, I don't want to end up killing myself by doing it wrong.

Ashes speaks to the red-cloaked Ranger, her voice chiming out. "Hey, Cilla, want me to make some bolt-heads with Monster's scales? From what I can tell, they'll pierce clothing and thick hide pretty well when grinded to a point."

Priscilla doesn't respond, instead heading to the rooms further back; where we were during the siren's song. Of all the places...

Then, the voice of Captain Thrusk can be heard. "You will be staying here then, Mister Scott. Alongside Osil and Ehur; the room opposite those women there. Once we dock in Bounty, you'll be heading off."

"Thank you, Captain. I'm quite glad to finally be somewhere dry; if nothing else." Responds the depressive tones of the man in the tan-suit. "Oh, and should we meet again, I'd love to make you an outfit. A shame I lack the materials as of now."

Scott... well, he said he'd talk to me after we got out of that dungeon.

He was even so kind as to come to me, rather than **** me to get up from my sleeping mat; coming to our doorway and asking. "Hello, all. May I come in?"

I answer; speaking in jest. "Yes, but less stabbing me this time."

Scott takes a seat on the floor, stretching back far enough for a loud *pop* to be heard from his back. "Ah, much better. Three weeks in a dungeon does terrible things to your spine, you know."

"Hey, Monster, who is this guy?" I hear the voice of Ariel say from atop the staff of a newly arrived Gabriella; who appears to be shaking slightly with minor Vibrosis from the healing she's been providing to the newly rescued crew.

"Ah, I suppose I should introduce myself to the rest of you." Standing up, the tan-suited Barbarian bows, exclaiming. "Scott. Tailor. Cursed by He Who Dwells Deep. Lovely to meet you all for the first time. Usually by now, I've had to restart the loop..."

A flash of golden light and feathers occurs, signaling the physical manifestation of Ariel; who says. "Woah, woah, woah! Cursed by Khalthosh?! That's a hazard if I've ever heard one!"

"Oh dear! Don't worry, Mam! It only harms myself." Exclaims the tailor; his mistake not yet known to him.

"MAM!?"

...

After half an hour of yelling, trying to get Ariel to calm down, more yelling, and Gabriella taking leave; bringing her divine brother with her to go get some food for us from the kitchens, we finally could hear Scott speak.

"Where was I?" Scott asks, rubbing his head to aid his new headache. "Ah yes. My curse. Please, do not fret yourselves over much about it. It effects me, and me alone."

"Wh-what is it." A shaky Zana asks, holding the brim of her hat; ready to pull it down over herself at any time.

Clearing his throat, and hiding a small blush to his cheeks, Scott quickly says. "A resurrective temporal recurrence, with a fateful **** curse should I not fulfill its requirements."

"What." Is the best response I can think of.

An unexpected voice speaks; given the mood of the one who owns it.

Cilla, returning from the backroom, says. "When he dies, time resets backwards to a certain point; as well, he's destined to die if he doesn't do something specific. Now, what is this requirement? ****? A ritual? An offering?"

"I'd rather not say..." Mutters Scott, only to change his tune when the Runacathy operative cracks her right fist simply by clenching it strongly enough. "Sex. The condition is sleeping with a woman... please don't set me back..."

"Really?" Cilla asks, perking a brow. "That's... unusual for his spheres of influence."

Looking resentful; but not towards Cilla, the cursed tailor says. "Not when your a follower of Pyurus... he found it fitting to **** me to break my vow of celibacy to my patron; repeatedly... the bastard squid..."

"Wait, your a follower of Pyurus?" I ask; combined with the blond hair, I was starting to get worried that I might have Sarmenti's brother or something sitting with us; I wouldn't put it past my luck...

"Why, yes. Most Krownavins are. While Krow may have fell; our faith remains." Says Scott, before asking. "Is... that an issue? I know Tailum worshippers see us as weak, but none of you have the ritual scars I'd associate with that lot."

"Its not an issue." I reply. "Just... bad experiences."

"I see... well. Is there much else that you all wish to know? I'd quite like to rest, if that's fine with you. A hammock would be like a bed of angel feathers compared to the mess I had in that dungeon." Scott stands, straightening his jacket.

Before I can answer, Cilla speaks, saying. "Yes, that sounds great. My charge is nearing the Seknium himself from the looks of it."

She then taps me with her boot, saying. "We're not sleeping here tonight, Monster. Come along... now."

What? But I wanted to know more about... ugh... whatever...

Not wanting to anger Priscilla any more than I already had, I rise, grabbing my sleeping mat, and following her to the back room; waving to Scott as he heads to the room where Osil and Ehur stay. We headed even further beyond where the 'incident' happened, passing a broken box, cracked floorboards, and newly repaired support beam. Now well and truly sequestered away in a compact section of the storage, Cilla pulled from her cloak her own sleeping mat, resting it in the corner of the little area. I follow her lead, about to flop down my own mat...

However, she she stops me, with words that befuddled me to no end; said in a tone that cause me to feel things I really shouldn't.

"No... put it next to mine..."