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The Salty Air We Breath(Erit and Eva)

EvaRose

EvaRose

Star
Joined
Sep 12, 2013
That day started as it normally would for a person like her, a person who was left in the dark all her life. She woke up when she felt something brush against her nose, blinking a few times before opening her eyes so that the green orbs can look at the room she was in. Another pair of eyes, beady red eyes, was peering back at her this morning though. Most people might have been scared if they saw red eyes when they woke up, but the sight made her smile. "Hey Snow, you're looking chipper this morning," she whispered. The animal squeaked softly in confirmation then his red eyes seemed to disappear as he moved off the bed.

She sighed softly as she sat up on the bed now, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face. As she continued with her normal morning rituals, she couldn't help but think about her father. She had no idea what she was, he never told her exactly what their species happened to be. All she knew is that people thought they were good luck to be seen, at least in their animal form. They only had one animal form though: a black panther. Her father told her stories when she was little, spinning tales of how their kin was first born into the world. Something about a dragon and a cat woman, but she couldn't remember the worlds exactly now.

She couldn't remember much about her father either, it had been years since he died. It was only four, she was twelve when he was shot, but it was like forever in her eyes. She didn't mind living in the forest by herself, though she went to the town every now and again. She was going there today to buy more vegetables, and see if there was anyone selling fruit. It was hard to grow fruit there because of how cold it got during the fall and winter seasons, so all they could do is have it imported. It tasted so rich to her, better than anything she ate before. She knew there were many different kinds of fruit, but never thought to remember their names. No, she only knew them by their color and shape, at the same time remembering which she actually liked the taste of.

"Come on Snow," she said softly. When she spoke to animals her voice was different, some kind of unholy sound that resembled growls and human words alike. She knew it sounded different to human ears, and they could understand little of it; but animals were more insightful, they could understand what she said when she spoke that way. She wore a green dress that accented her eyes and her light brown skin. She didn't know what her mother was, the woman died only a year or so after Jyade was born. Her father rarely spoke about the woman before he left, though Jyade suspected she looked a lot like her because she looked nothing like her father.

She looked down when she felt something start to weigh down her dress, smiling happily when she saw that a white ferret was climbing up her skirt. The ferret was Snow, a animal she saved only six months ago. She found him in the snow, abandoned by his mother because of his unusual pigment. She took him in and took care of him until the spring, which was when she tried her best to return him to the forest. He came back though, always ending up on her pillow before she woke up in the morning. Even now she didn't know how he kept getting into the house, but she wasn't about to ask. He was a good companion, especially since he chased the mice out.

She was still as the ferret continued his upward climb, soon perching himself on her shoulder. He moved behind her black locks, hiding closer to the groove of her neck. With that done, she bent down, slipping her black shoes on. They had a low heel to them, low enough so she was comfortable walking in them. She looked around the small cottage with a sweep of her eyes before turning to the door that she was near. She opened it then stepped out into the morning light. She could hear the church bells ring from where it stood in the middle of the town. Sometimes people were executed in front of it, if they did crimes bad enough that they had to be killed in front of it, 'to purge the evil in them from the world.' She never saw one of those hangings though, didn't think it would be right to just stand there and watch as someone is killed.

She pushed these thoughts back as she closed the door, not caring to lock it. After all, people didn't just storm into house, right? Because of how little she did know about the world, she didn't know any better. She didn't think about what there was beyond her home, the forest surrounding it, and the town. She knew that there were people that came from different places, but she cared not to ask them about those places. They would've, most likely, told her if she was the type to ask. She wasn't bad to look at, though she'd most likely say she wasn't pretty because of how she was taught to show modesty. To say the least, she had the body some women yearned for. It came from days spent hunting and light meals to keep her food supply from running low. She wasn't as lucky as most of the women in the town.

She was quiet now, and so seemed the world, as she started to make her way down the small path that led to the town. She knew the way there, which was why she was able to make the journey. Most people would get lost if they tried to travel down such a narrow path, without her help anyway. Most of the townspeople didn't bother to even glance at her, let alone ask her for help through the forest. They thought she might be a witch, a notion that made her giggle whenever she heard it. It kept them from bothering her though, which was enough for her not to say anything about it.

It wasn't long, only twenty minutes, before she found herself in the town. She started to walk around, buying anything she thought she needed. She had enough money since she sold some of her mother's old jewelry, which there was still some of in the house. She didn't like selling her deceased mother's things, but she couldn't starve to death if there was a way to earn money to buy food with. It just didn't make sense. It wasn't long before she had three bags of vegetables, and one that had four apples. She sighed softly as she stopped for in the entrance of an alley, looking out to the street. Of all the things she didn't like, carrying bags had to be one of them. She relaxed her shoulders now, trying to conserve her strength until it was time for her to start walking back to her home. Her eyes turned to a tavern then, the only local place to eat besides the bakery. Her feet carried her towards the door, looking in at the people for a moment before stepping inside, going to a table near a wall and setting the four homemade bags down on top of it. Even though it was early there were people inside, not that many yet but still enough.
 
Sometimes, not missing any particular body parts can be a problem. Especially for a pirate. Particularly for this pirate, who was the only one out of his whole crew who didn't have an eyepatch, peg leg or hook for a hand. Because of this, the six-foot-tall three-foot-wide man dressed in fine—if a little worn—silk clothing with a polished pistol at his right and sharpened schiavona at his left was not taken for a pirate by anyone except those who bothered to look at the wanted posters; a wide-brimmed hat helped with that identity-hiding as well, though. The man's footfalls were loud and heavy, each impact of his pristine leather boots making a heavy thud upon the wooden walkways of the city's port district. He had given his men free reign of the past few days while the dock workers moved the supply orders into the hold of his ship, the Eternis Inferna. The man himself had stayed behind to make sure none of those workers did something unwise, but now that their work was finished he decided to round up his men for departure. He had already found most of them, but the skipper and second mate had vanished from the port area. Looking up the hill leading into the town proper, the man had a rather good guess of where they'd gone, and went up in pursuit.

Naturally, he found them right where he expected to; drunk and causing trouble for the more respectable crowd. At the present they were over by the table of a fair lass with vivid green eyes, saying things that most men wouldn't even pronounce in their sleep in the presence of a woman. With deliberate, heavy steps, the man strode up slowly behind the two, and when they didn't notice him, he cleared his throat quite loudly. As they turned to face him, he raised the brim of his hat with a finger, scowling down at his subordinates. They quickly tried to stammer out... something. He didn't really know what they planned to say, as he seized both by the collar and lifted them off the floor, knocking their heads together. He spoke, his voice a reverberating bassy rumble that practically shook the floorboards of the tavern, saying "So, Ed and Jac, what was it you were supposed to be doin' when I came for ya?"

The two stammered out something along the lines of "Hurrying back to port, sir" as he set them down, knuckling each in the side of the head before shoving them out. "Git, both of ye, and don't let me catch ye foolin' about like this again or you'll catch worse than me fists in yer 'eads! Out!"

And got they did, scurrying out like mice in the face of the captain's fury. The giant man sighed, a heavy growl to most, and turned to the young woman, bowing slightly. "Terribly sorry for them, Miss. Been at sea for quite some time, now, and... well, most 'aven't yet 'ad the chance to see a woman quite so fine as you. If there be anythin' I could do—in recompense for yer troubles, like—jas' say the word, savvy?"

(Here's hoping my trying to type out his accent is acceptable...)
 
((It is, it is. Most can't/don't, and I'm one of those people.))

Sitting down and eating was rather difficult when there were two men near her, saying things that made the other men in the tavern look on uneasily but saying nothing to shoo either. Snow stayed where he was hidden behind her ear, his ticklish fur brushing against her neck as he moved. The men were muttering to themselves, wondering if she would put a curse on the two men when someone else walked into the building. It seemed as though all eyes went to him, this colossal man, except her own. She was trying to eat her bread and ignore the two at the same time, which was rather hard to do. Her gaze lifted though when the voices stopped, and even Snow stopped moving to look at the man. She chewed her piece of bread during the ordeal, lips curving a bit into a small smile though she refused to laugh. There was a look of laughter in her eyes as she looked at the man, swallowing the piece of bread before speaking. "You people amuse me, unlike the townspeople here; they're a bore." The girl was too naive to know what he meant when he spoke of women, though her cheeks still flushed a light shade of red at red at what seemed to be a compliment. Nobody there said anything about her looks before, too scared that their whispered lies were true and she was a witch.

Snow was suddenly poking his head from behind her hair and looking at the man, nose twitching as it did so. The owner saw this and scowled at her. "Damnit woman, I don't care if you allow rats into your own home but they don't belong here."

"He's not a rat. He's a...weasel, I think." She picked up the ferret and placed him on the table carefully, letting them see the furry tail of the creature. The man still muttered under his breath though, looking displeased about the animal's presence. A soft sigh escaped the girl before her gaze turned back to the stranger. She was about to turn down the offer when out of the corner of her eyes she saw her four bags. It didn't take her long to think of something, not long at all. "May you carry my things for me then? It's a bit tiring, doing it by myself." Her ferret was looking at him, tilting his head as his nose twitched and it smelled the salty scent of the sea that came off the man.
 
"Well, I'll be damned..." He smiled down at the little creature that hopped off the woman, offering his hand for it to smell. "It's been a while since I've seen one of these critters. Very popular among the wealthy ladies, supposedly. Considered good luck in some parts... Carrying yer things ye say? Fair enough, I s'pose." He gathered up the four bags in one large, muscular hand, hefting them over his shoulders with relative ease. "Where to, lass? Someplace uptown, I'd wager; pretty thing like you must'a been snatched up for a rich man's wife or the like."

He started off, then stopped and turned back to her, remembering something important. "I forget me manners. Lein Skevi, miss; sailor, soldier, and friend to skilled tailors."
 
"W-Wait," she quickly picked up Snow and ate her last piece of bread before getting up and following the man, the other men in the tavern chuckling at what was said. Of course he was going the wrong way too, and she had to hurry after him, staying some distance behind unlike he stopped moving altogether. As always, she swallowed the bit of food before speaking, as her father taught her. "L-Lein," she said softly, trying out the name. "Well, Mr. Skevi, I don't live in the town. No, I'm not even married yet."

Snow was perched on her shoulder, looking at the man with slowly blinking eyes before moving behind her hair and out of sight. "Jyade Rivers is my name. I can't say I do much but I live every day happily." There was a bit of pride in her voice, as though she had to stand up for what little she did do. At her age, in those days, a person her age would already be married or being courted. She did have the looks of someone noble with the way she held her head high and always stood or sat with a straight back. The way that she moved was graceful, her footsteps silent with ease after years of catching her own meat with nothing but a bow and arrow. Meat cost more than fruit did, which made it a hassle to purchase.

"If you would, my home is this way." A part of her was starting to regret taking him up on that offer. His words helped remind her of what she didn't have with ease. He was carrying her bags for her though, and it didn't seem as though he was saying those things intentionally. Remembering what he said earlier, Jyade reminded herself that Lein was a seaman and not a member of their little society. He didn't know any better and, quite frankly, that's why she liked him. Her feet carried her smoothly to the edge of the forest, her looking down at the ground for some time, long enough for her to see the start of a small path. After having traveled the same way for so long, of course a path would form. "I hope I'm not an inconvenience to you, Mr. Skevi," she said softly to him as she started down the path.
 
He gave a small smile, following the woman with relative ease, only stumbling twice. "Pah! 'Taint any trouble, miss Rivers, I assure ye. Can't 'elp but wonder what it is about ye that makes ye need t'live out here, though..."

He glanced about them, looking behind for the telltale seafoam-green-and-sky-blue uniform of a Navy officer, and finding none. "Though I s'ppose it can 'ave it's advantages. Peace and quiet and the like, livin' off the land. A quiet life..." A nice retirement after a pirate's life, indeed. But Lein was hardly old enough to consider retirement yet.
 
"But lonely,'" she said, mostly to herself. There was no reason for her to think that somebody cared about her, about the things that happened to her while she lived out in the forest away from their town and surrounded by wild animals. No, they didn't give a damn about her. "The townspeople don't like me because I'm different. They say I'm a witch, especially the women. They fear me for some reason, they hug their men close when I walk by as if I will snatch them up. Much more complicated than animals are humans, that's what my father used to say." She found that statement to be true since he died too. Animals were simpler in most ways, they couldn't burn or hang their own kind even though they could shun those they didn't like. In a way, a group of people were nothing more than animals in her eyes.

"You...said you were a sailor?" She asked, looking back at him as she changed the subject. There was a hint of curiosity in her eyes, a look that made a shine come to the lovely orbs. It made her stand out more in the shade the trees made with their leaves that blocked the sun's rays. The window blew steadily there for it was blocked from almost every direction in those woods by trees, bushes, and other vegetation. Birds could be heard, singing their songs of praise, showing happiness over the fact that they could live another day. "What kind of places have you gone to? Are they different from this country?"
 
"Aye," he said, chuckling softly. "That I did, that I am, and that they are. As many places as there are people, each as different from each other as you and I. I remember, there was one place where a person's wealth determined how long their 'air could be, and the wealthiest lady in town had a coil of it, ten feet high! And another time we drew in to port where the people ride giant lizards, instead of 'orses or mules. Got quite a shock there, we did." He nodded to Jayde, a small smile on his face revealing his teeth—oddly pristine and white for a man of his profession. "And many places where being called a witch was a compliment, and where men would throw themselves at the feet of such women, seeking the 'onor of being their 'usband. Ye should try finding yeself a way out ta sea; words can scarce do it justice."
 
"I could never. Poor Snow can't stand it at the docks, let alone on a ship." Her eyes lost their curious look and were soon downcast, her shaking her head quickly and making her hair move as she did so. "No, no, this is my home; I was born hear, my mother and father died here and so will I. Leaving will only make those selfish people in town happy. Anyway, I am no witch, at least not that I think. I've never met a real witch, so how would I know?" She turned forward then, making sure that she was going in the right direction and not about to run into a tree. He was strangely clean and...nice for a man. The only person she found nice to her was her own father. Her slender fingers found their way to her hair, pushing a few strands back and tucking them behind her ear. "What's it like out at sea? You have cooks on your ship for food, right? And how about storms, they do enough damage to the houses in town, they must jostle a ship pretty good."
 
He took a deep breath, sighing it out very softly. He wasn't very used to being surrounded by the smells of land rather than the briny air of the water. "It's both alike and different to this, really. A lot of the time, it's dead silent 'cept for th'occasional jabbermouth. But there're times when ye can't get a moment's peace, and e'rything's gone topsy-turvy and e'ryone's scurryin' about like someone's jus' kicked o'er the ant-'ill. But then things sort themselves out, and it goes back to bein' all calm, like the sea on a clear sky." He sighed at the thought. Lein was a terror on the open waters, wanted at practically every port, but unlike the others he did regret some of the things the job required. "Aye," he picked himself back up at her next question, "a good cook is key to a smooth voyage. 'Ungry swabs get distracted, and distractions on the water can be fatal. Storms moreso; it's why most ships will do their best to steer clear of 'em. If they know up from down, that is. The winds can get ye all turned about, rain can leak int'a th'old and spoil whole weeks' worth'a supplies. The waves are the worst, though; one wave can tip a whole galleon upside-down. A surer death sentence than any black spot or judge's order."
 
The woman nodded slightly in response, having listened to every word he said as though he were a priest giving a sermon. It was nice to talk to somebody without being glared at or fearing she might be captured and hanged at any minute. Fear was never a good thing really, and she felt it every time she went into town. That was why she only did so when needed. "Sounds like a...hectic lifestyle if you ask me. Like you always have to be prepared for something bad." She slowed down a bit once the reached the clearing that her house was in, stepping up to the door and opening it. "Come inside, the least is can do is send you off with something for your troubles." As she stepped in, Snow was starting to climb down her dress, using his little claws to hang on until he was on the floor. The ferret scurried off then, going to do whatever it willed. "Oh, the kitchen is right over here." Jyade turned to the right and into the kitchen.

Spending so much time by herself meant that she had to preoccupy herself, and her home was a symbol of that. The floorboards were clean, as though she stayed up through the night scrubbing them. The walls and furniture were the same too. It wasn't as lavish a house as most had, but it was definitely clean. In the kitchen was her fireplace, over the wood was the pot that she always cooked her stew in, clean as the rest of her things of course. There was a bucket of fresh water on her counter, and she could only say it was fresh because it came from a river. In those days, the freshest water came from the rivers that ran through the forest. Water in the towns and cities were usually teeming with disease. There was a wood burning stove, something she rarely used but in working condition. "Just set the bags by the bucket." Biting her lip, the woman reached up to gently scratch the back of her neck. "You wouldn't happen to be hungry, would you? I do have some food if you'd like something to eat I can cook."
 
The strongly-built seafarer set the bags down carefully by the door, waving a hand at his newest acquaintance and shaving his head, a tinge of regret playing across the expression hidden still by his hat. "'Preciate th'offer, little miss, but I'd hate t'impose me comp'ny on ye any further, and I've business to attend to at the docks. If I'm ever in town again, though, perhaps I'll take ye up on it."

As he turned to leave, he stopped himself at the doorway. Being surrounded in deafening quiet for so long hadmade Lein very attuned to changes in his environment, and scraps of sky blue moving between the bushes was a very big flag as to what was about to happen if he didn't avert it. So, he pulled out his pistol, cocked back the hammer, and shot into the sky before running into the brush. And just like that, the "Titan of Tienten" vanished into the woods, leaving an innocent girl at the mercy of his pursuers. They always fell for it, really; fire off a round, everyone looks around to wonder who'se been shot, and away he would go in the confusion. He avoided the main road, and by the time anyone of consequence noticed, the Eternis Inferna was already well into open water, and Lein Skevi had once again avoided capture without any casualties... except maybe the girl. He would always regret having to do that, and the night after departing did something he had only done twice before; partook of rum. And quite heavily, at that; the Captain out-drank his entire crew that evening, and had two entirely different sorts of regret swimming about in his aching head the next morning.

But ever after, the name Jyade Rivers would be synonymous with choices that Lein would wish he didn't need to make, to the point that it spread through his crew and, in time, to others as well.
 
The silence of the morning is broken by the sound of a flute, the soft noise carried through the air from a ship that is rocking in the gentle waves of the ocean. Aboard the ship are men of different ages, size, and race, as well as one woman. The woman sat on the steps that led to the wheel, the wooden flute pressed gently against her plump lips. The crew stayed silent in their hammocks as they listened to the woman play, some of them feeling the sadness that she did. One in particular had tears in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. Each day started out the same way, with her playing her flute for their ears and their ears only. It had been this way for five years, the only day she didn't play was one of those days were she was too forlorn to force herself out of bed. None of the men knew why she was so sad, and not one dared to ask.

The woman played as the sun peaked out from beyond the horizon, the light it brought streaming down on her slender figure. She wore nothing but a dress that had been cut years ago to make it better for her to fight in. The skirt covered half of her thighs while the top was cut so that it was more like the shirts her crew wore. The wind blew roughly against the ship, causing the area of the shirt that was near her waist to rise. As it rose, a mark was able to be seen by whoever dared to look at her in such a way. It was of a bird, a nightingale that was trapped in what looked to be the thorny branches of a rose bush. On the top of this mark, small but noticeable nonetheless, was the letter 'C' which marked her for what, and who, she was.

Once the sun covered The Nightingale, a clipper that she proudly called her own, the woman lowered the flute. Her eyes were distant as she looked at the rising sun, feeling twinges of sadness as sounds rang through her head. She could still hear it; she could hear people yelling around her, her own voice as she screamed as loudly as she could, and the sound of a crying- "Captain," a voice said from the door that led below deck.

Her green eyes shifted to the man that stood there, the sadness still in them. She did not hide her feelings from this man. Did she love him as much as she did her first love? No, she did not. However, she did trust him the way she trusted her most loyal animals. "August, I'm sorry if I played for too long. I... dreamed again," she said with a sigh as she looked away from him, in the direction of the sun. "The crew, are they awake yet?"

The man, known to her as August, nodded slowly before making his way over. "Do we have a heading?"

"Tortuga. However, if we pass by any navy ships, we are to... relieve them of their supplies." Her face grew hard as she got to her feet. She looked at her boots, which were at the bottoms of the steps by him. She walked down the steps, staying on the last one before bending down and slipping the boots on. "I want to stay there for maybe a few days, relax for a bit. Do you think the men will like that?" She asked, flipping the last boot on before standing up straight to look at him.

August nodded then walked up the steps to the wheel. "Gale, do you really want to continue this journey of yours?" He asked just before she was able to walk through the doorway and below deck.

Gale sighed softly, slowly shaking her head before looking back at him. "I've been at this for years, August, don't ask me such a stupid question." She didn't wait for him to reply before turning, walking down the steps that led below deck. She passed a few of her crew, who tipped their hats to her out of respect as they went by. She went into the kitchen, setting the flute down on the counter near the sink before gathering some ingredients. She started to make breakfast for her and the crew, still humming a hearty song under her breath as she cooked. The woman wasn't the same person she used to be, it was hard for even a man to come out of jail and be the same but for a woman in those days it was near impossible. Even from her crew she hid her true name. It had been seven years since she was jailed for a crime she didn't know she committed, since her home was burned as she watched helplessly, since her very innocent was snatched away. And she forgot. She forgot what he looked like, what his name was, and liked it that way. If she remembered his name then there was no doubt that she'd be hunting him down.
 
Seven years to the day passed after his last hangover. His eyes to the sea, one hand on the ship and the other behind his back, a certain captain leans against the railing of his ship, a once-glorious craft of ebony and iron stolen from an eastern lord, now aged and worn from the years of salt and cannon-fire. Not a day had passed without a certain name, and the innocent young face it marked, searing the backs of his eyes and giving the giant of a man a headache even the devil would feel pity for. He had, naturally, changed over the years; long, unkempt golden hair was tied back in a ponytail by an old leather strap, and his gunmetal-grey eyes—which gave him no end of trouble ever since he lost his favorite hat, for rarities gave him distinction—were shadowed by days of sleep lost for his sins. He stared out over the water, listening to a melody it seemed only he could hear. A shrill, mournful sound, that seemed to taunt him with that damned day, playing nearly every morning. "Seven..." he muttered to himself, his voice like that of a rockslide. The sound of footsteps on the planking behind him took the captain from his reverie, and he turned on his heel to face the approacher—his newest skipper, who was nervous ever since being so promoted because the captain had smashed in the skull of the last one using his own peg-leg, giving the post a reputation for being cursed. "S-sir..." he stuttered, making a shaky salute, "a-all the shares have b-been decided... To w-where do we sail next?"

The captain turned his gaze back to the horizon, then nodded to himself. "Tortuga," he rumbled, "Two or three day's rest there while we requisition a new ship, and per'aps some new crew to replace the band of drunken louts in the brig." Trying to see if they could fire themselves out of a cannon. Any other would have had them shot on the spot, but this one was more merciful in some respects. And more ruthless in others, of course. "Of course, Captain Hawke." The skipper replied, glad for an excuse to get away before he was gutted with his own hook.

Hawke. Yes, that was his name, now; he changed it once or twice a year to keep the Navy boys on their toes. He'd never had a real name; he had given himself one when he escaped to sea, but it hadn't kept. None of them did, really. He'd been quickest to abandon one in particular, the name of a man who betrayed the trust of a naïve young woman woman. The last skipper had dared breathe it aloud, and for that he had been killed. Not even the captain dared speak it; he thought it an ill omen, a curse to brand one with that name. An insult even to traitors and kin-slayers, to be named Lein Skevi.
 
With bellies full of stew and minds making up all the possibilities of what could happen during their stay, the men were singing jolly songs and readying themselves for a night on the town. And what could she do to stop them? Nothing of course. They were men. In her eyes, men were nothing but pigs who would turn their backs to you whenever they had the chance and think nothing of it. It was rare for her to make port in towns where pirates weren't welcome, fearing that what happened to her might happen to someone else and not wanting to be the person whose crew did that. The only reason her crew listened to her was because they knew about her. She fought men without fear in her green eyes, stared them down easily and when needed could torture a man without feeling sick after. In their eyes, she was the sea. She was a beautiful things they loved to be around but could turn on them easily.

There was a hint of fear in the eyes of each of her crew members when they looked at her, except August of course. He was a special case, the son of the man who saved her from the gallows and the only person who stayed a part of her crew for an entire five years. She was known for finding out which man was weak, which who couldn't listen to orders and getting rid of them as soon as possible. Before she did though there was always payment for such behavior though. Captain Gale wouldn't tolerate insolence.

Tortuga came into view and shouts of glee came from the men. August steered the clipper smoothly to port, looking at his captain every now and again to watch as the breeze made her black hair dance at her waist. He was quick to look away when he saw her move though. Gale turned to look at him, sighing softly before moving to his side. "You will walk with me today?"

"Don't I always?" He grew silent, thinking over his words before speaking. "I-"

"Hold that thought." Her feet carried her down the steps and into her quarters, fingers pulling the door closed behind her. On her bed was a Husky, a grand looking dog with a fine coat. "Off my bed, Dante," she growled she began to undress. A light growl was the dog's answer but it did as she said, getting off the bed and to the floor, tail wagging as it looked at her. She was putting on her best clothes, a black skirt and a white shirt, both cut from different dresses of course, which could only mean one thing. Once her boots were shiny and her hair combed, the woman stepped out and the husky followed at her heels. They were at the port by then, some of the men lowering the plate as she attached her sword to her waist. Of course, that wasn't the only weapon on her, though it was the only one that could be seen. "And I want everyone back by morning! If you aren't on this ship then..." she trailed off and her lips curved into a smile. Some just looked away while the others shivered at the silent threat. "Now off with you." And off they went, laughing and joking as they starting to the town, no doubt going to visit one of the burlesque houses.
 
The Eternis Inferna made port at dusk, to the sound of many whoops and hoots from much of her crew as their boots hit the dock. The exception, of course, was the man currently known as Captain Hawke, who made his way down the gangplank with a heavy, deliberate slowness. There would be no leisure for him, at least for this evening. While his men went off to the pretty women who liked money more than purity, Hawke made his way to the one he knew would give him as fair a bargain as can be found in a wretched hive of scum and villany such as this, a woman known only as the "Mistress of Thieves", or "Ma'am" if in her prescence. She'd given him quite the offer for his ship before, and though it was need of some sprucing up she doubtless wanted it all the same for the reputation he'd earned it.

As the sun went down and the city came alive, he reached the set of mismatched double-doors that signified her place of operations. He knocked twice, handed his gun over to the serving-girl who opened the door, and then went to the sitting room. He was still on his feet, standing alert when she came, a woman with straight black hair like a raven's feathers and ice-blue eyes. Certainly, more than a few men wished she had more than just equipment for sale. And more than enough had lost something more valuable than gold to ensure that such desires remained private. "Ah," she clapped her hands together as she gave a small sigh, "my most valued customer returns. Here with more trinkets to barter away? Or perhaps you're looking to reminisce about old times, mm...?"

Hawke's expression remained statuesque and neutral, though a scowl flickered across it at her last remark. "I would rather not remember why ye make that offer." He strode stiffly over to one of the three chairs in the room, resting his hand on it's back and rolling his colossal shoulders as they writhed under the memory of flame and flog. He screwed his eyes and took several breaths before continuing. "I'm 'ere to bargain for a ship; Inferna has served me well, but needs repairin' which I can't sit around for. So, if ye 'ave any well-fitted ships in yer possession, I'd like to know."

As it turns out, she did, and soon they were down at the docks inspecting it. It wasn't exactly quite so classy as his old ship, but was well-crafted nonetheless. "She's called Marquis of Dawn. A fair bargain, considering the repairs that Inferna will be needing." Hawke, however, was not quite paying attention. Shouting nearby was a commonplace event here, but it concerned him because he recognized the voice of one of his own men in the hubbub. "Fair enough, aye. I'll take her, now if you'll excuse me..."

Taking his leave rather hastily, he pushed his way through the crowd—an easy task, since many simply made way for someone of his size—until he found the particular building from which the quarreling voices originated. Sure enough, a youth from his crew was arguing with some other fool over a whore. He reached into the shouting match and picked his subordiate up by the scruff of the neck, extending an arm to the other one as a shorthand for "keep back". He frowned, a tired sigh rumbling the earth beneath his feet, as he spoke to the cabin boy, "Well, now. What seems to be yer problem with me 'ired 'and here, sir? 'E say somthin' stupid again?" He turned to adress his crewman, "You know I hate when you boys say stupid things, Eric..." He scowled down, cutting quite a figure of intimidation for the runaway child who couldn't even grow a proper beard yet, who had stowed away on his ship one day months ago and, rather than be killed, begged to join them. The boy spoke up fiercely, quite capable of ignoring his fear when he wanted to, saying "Well how was I s'posed to know this old buzzard'd want her? Way I see's it, I was here first, so I should get her!"

Hawke cuffed the boy's ear, growling like an earthquake. "Ye hardly even have yer first chin-hairs yet, sprat!" He roared, quite the deafening sound for anyone within arm's reach, a roiling thunderstorm riding atop an avalance. "Now get!" He pointed down to the docks, where they were moving supplies onto the Marquis. "Yer the watcher tonight!" Eric, trembling under suddenly-shot nerves, set off at a shaky trot. Hawke glared at the greying old man who'd been the other half of the problem, before pulling out his pistol and shooting him. As the other man fell, Hawke growled out "Only I yell at my crew. Anyone else care to disagree?" He reloaded his pistol as he spoke, glaring about at the crowd, most of whom were doubtless either too frightened by or too familiar with him to dare cause him trouble. There were sometimes exceptions, though...
 
And she was one of them. All she had been doing was walking around, enjoying a tart as she strolled through Tortuga with August at her side. Her dog had been left on the ship, which was enough for her to feel safe about her valuables. The sounds of a quarrel reached her ears, a sound that made her turn and start in the other direction until August reached out to take her by the arm. There was no way he would put a hand on her without a good reason, and so she turned around to look in the same direction he was. Gale could see nothing over the heads of the taller men but August could. "No, no, no," he muttered softly under his breath. He moved forward quickly, hand slipping from her arm though she followed anyway.

He pushed through the crowd, trying to get to the man before it happened. Her hand clutched the back of his shirt, helping her move through. By the time they were at the front and she was able to see that one of the men in the middle of the crowd was one of her senior crew members, which came in handy when new recruits were brought, the other man had his gun out and shot the poor old man. "What in blazes made you think you can shoot one of my crew-?! Damnit, August, let go!" He had been trying to hold her back but she looked at him with a gleam in her green eyes that made him picture his own death. As soon as he let go of her, Gale moved forward, looking at the man with a fire in her eyes. Shorter she may be, but she made up for it with her feistiness.

There were whistles coming from some of the men in the crowd and she stood up straight as usual, her green eyes looking at every single one of them before she spoke. "Whistle again and you'll find your tongues at your feet." There was no joking tone to her voice, no laughter or joy in her eyes to speak of. Her crew was smart enough to move out of the crowd, all except her first mate who stayed still, scared of the man and for her life at the same time. Her eyes quickly went back to look up at the tall man before her, who she knew was a captain though she could care less. "So what'cha gotta say for ye'self ya' yellow-bellied landlubber?!" The woman was a ball of furry by then. The whistles that had came from the men didn't help. She hated being whistled at as though she were one of those whores, hated being near those buildings that housed such women. Sure, she wasn't exactly innocent anymore, but it'd be a cold day in hell before she allowed a man to touch her for money.
 
He looked down at the woman who had stormed up to him, her green eyes flashing lightning. She practically spewed fire as she shouted, while the large man maintained a neutral expression. "Simple," he rumbled when she was done, "'e picked a fight 'e shouldn't 'ave, and payed the price for it. If 'e'd left, 'e'd a lived, but he didn't, so he didn't." Green eyes, and a pretty face just like hers. But it couldn't be; she was probably long dead by now, and he just couldn't imagine that innocent girl with such fury in her face. Nonetheless, he said it; "Odd, I knew a girl looked quite a bit like ye, once; sweet lass, 'ad a lucky ferret for a pet. Got relatives?"
 
Even with her anger she heard his words and they sent a chill down her spine. Almost instinctively, she reached up to touch her neck, hoping but knowing that her little wouldn't be there. Her eyes became stone cold then, but she felt sick to her stomach as memories of her past came back to her. "Ain't got none; don't need none. Stay away from me and my crew." She turned away and this time August moved back as she walked past, starting down the street quickly as she tried to stay composed. August muttered incoherently under his breath, telling some of the crew to bury the old man properly before turning and hurrying after his still furious captain.
 
"I will if they will." He muttered in reply, glancing at the corpse before shrugging. "Per'aps I'll take Anneth up on her offer after all." He was, as far as he knew, the only one to know the name of the woman who'd traded him his ship just a few moments ago, and he knew for certain he was the only one she allowed to sleep with her. He wamted the night to end on some sort of good note, and so he made his way back through the rat warren that was Tortuga's streets, to the mismatched double doors, and soon enough was immersed in the glories of a beautiful woman. There were, sometimes, benefits to the occasional selfless act, Hawke supposed.

When the sun rose on the town the next morning, it would find Hawke staring out over the harbor, into the horizon, and trying to look into the future. He wanted to figure out where they would head next before they set out the next day, but for some reason couldn't quite decide. "Bah," he said to himself, "it'll come to me in due time, I suppose."
 
As always, Gale was the first one on her ship to wake up, playing her flute and letting the sound carry through the air and into the ears of those in Tortuga. The sound was lovely really, sad but lovely at the same time. That day she was playing for someone besides herself, for the man that was shot the day before by some other man who, of course, didn't give a damn. Men, they were worse than animals. Most of her crew wasn't on the ship but she didn't care, knowing that what happened the day before must have frazzled some of them the way it did her. They heard the familiar sound where they slept though and rose, getting themselves cleaned up a bit and starting for the ship. Gale sat on the only thing that kept men from being thrown into sea during a storm at times, looking over the ocean with her back to the other ships. Her dog laid near her, silent as he listened to her play the flute. The wind blew against her back every now and again, making her locks dance and her shirt rise just enough to show the brand on her skin.

In a few minutes she was done and sighing softly as she held the flute in her hand, looking out at the water with a faraway look in her green eyes. Her mind was on her deceased ferret Snow, biting her lip as her memories of her "old life" seemed to come flooding back to her. She was starting to remember by then, remember her own name and a tall man. A shout came from her as the name did, her crew just starting to come aboard and thinking about leaving as she slid off the railings, her boots thudding against the floorboards. "So the bastard did know me." Her hand was at the hilt of her sword, as though she would draw it and cut any man who stepped toward her down. The hand left it though and her eyes turned to August as he came to the deck from below. "August, I want rum. Now. We're all going for some except..." She trailed off, pointing to three of the men, "You three are to stay here. Dante will be watching you of course, so don't try to sneak off the ship unless it's sinking."

Gale walked down the plank and sighed softly as her boots touched the dock. She felt better for some reason, knowing that her anger the day before was justified. August and the rest of her crew walked behind her, wondering hat was going on. She slowed down a bit and took hold of her first mate gently by the arm, leaning against him and making his cheeks turn red. "You know August, I just remembered something. I knew that man we saw yesterday."

His cheeks lost their color and she felt him grow tense. She didn't care if he loved her then and there, just wanted to know how far his feelings would take him. "How exactly did you know him?"

"In a way I'm sure you don't want to think about." He grew even more tense and angry when she said that but she ignored it, letting go of his arm and moving forward so that she was walking in front of him again.
 
Hawke shuddered slightly, to the sensation of someone walking on his grave. Someone, somewhere, very badly wanted to kill him, and he had a rather good idea as to who. He turned to Anneth, who was still lounging about in her bed—she only had work to do when he or others like him were in town, and she had tabs on each—and cleared his throat to draw her attention. "D'ye suppose yer little assassin lass could get a message out for me? And give me back me gun before she leaves." The ice-eyed ex-slave gave a small little smile and clapped sharply.

And so it was that the new crew of the Marquis of Dawn was ready and waiting to go while their captain was still working his way to them, taking the backmost of the back ways in Tortuga, which to be fair could seem nothing but back ways to the untrained eye. With a bit of luck, he'd get to the ship without incident. Without it, well... He was quite handy in a fight, but wasn't very good at not killing his opponent. So he hoped the little lady who'd haunted him these past seven years didn't suddenly come to smite him in the form of an irate Pirate Queen, for both of their sake's.
 
Drunk and silly were they. August tried to his her more than once before she left him there, glad that she thought about it before going out. There wasn't truly any thinking when it came to her decision. There wasn't truly a decision that was made. It just happened. It wasn't rare to find someone in Tortuga roaming the streets with gun cocked and sword drawn, and mostly everyone was still lazing about in their homes at that hour. She was met with no opposition as she walked through the streets, the back alleys were stalked by her, the girl who once hunted in the forest around her home barefoot so she could eat every week. She was good with both sword and pistol, definitely best with a pistol though.

She followed no thoughts but her feet carried her slightly, her movements as graceful as ever, like that of a snake slithering up to someone, ready to bite and poison them within seconds. And then she stopped. Behind the wall she hid, breathing steadily and trying not to be heard as she listened to approaching footsteps, going in the direction of the dock of course. And when she thought she was close, Gale moved, sword no higher than her shoulders of course. Any higher and she'd be at a disadvantage. She fell short though for she wasn't even poking him with the tip. "Mr. Skevi, don't tell me you're avoiding me. That's a very, very mean thing to do."
 
He stopped. Not short, not dead, and not suddenly. He simply stopped, and without turning around he knew already that fortune had forsaken him once again; he started to believe the superstitions about women only bringing ill luck to sea-faring men. "Sorry, little miss, but the only Mr. Skevi I know is dead. Died with a sweet little girl in the forest somewhere. 'E was a traitor of the worst sort, and got what he deserved, if ye ask me." He turned on his heel, a sad, tired, resigned frown on his face as he looked at her. "Simply saying 'sorry' would be a waste of me breath, so instead I'll say this: If ye fight me, ye may well end up dying a second time 'cause of me, and the last thing I need s'another ghost doggin' me every step." Aye, if only things'd turned out differently, he thought, she might yet 'ave lived a happy life. Perhaps I should'a retired when she offered me the chance...
 
"That's kind of too bad, you see, I kind of want to die." The look in her eyes were nothing but serious, dead serious actually, because she wasn't about to joke when it came to such a subject. "So, either I will kill you or you will kill me. Let's just remember that I am a bloody witch, so if neither 'appens ya' might find the sea's on m'side." There was no time to inwardly curse herself for speaking like that again. It seemed to happen all the time when she got angry now, having spent so much time around pirates with them yelling those words at each other, it got stuck in her head and just popped out every now and again. "Because death would be a relief for a woman put in jail and who can barely remember why she escaped instead of letting those damned people hang her so she wouldn't spend the next six years of her life waking up, screaming from nightmares and cutting off the fingers of any man who dared to touch her." That fire was in Gale's eyes again and her anger seemed to radiate off of her, at least that's how it felt to her. "You are Lein Skevi, maybe that's not your name now but you are still that sorry excuse for a man."
 
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