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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Mar 14, 2015 7:37 pm 

treacherous as the sea

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"I'm tellin' you, Blake, this is the way to do things! You go out, find a ship, rob some innocent people, and boom, tadah, you get rich and kiss this shithole goodbye in the same go. Bam!"

Mallory slapped her hand down on the wooden table in her kitchen. Her childhood friend, Blake, sat opposite her, and right now, she was looking at him with a crazy, reckless shine in her golden eyes.

"Look, I'll make this real simple for you," she continued, fished a carpenter's pencil out of her messy, brown bun, and began to scrawl on the table.

Step 1: Get out of here
Step 2: ????
Step 3: Profit!


The girl threw the pencil down next to her 'plan' and sat herself down again with an air of having just presented the most genius scientific theorem in the History of Everything, which, when you looked at the History of Everything in Port Denyan, it probably could qualify as. A fishing village, it had quite a lively harbor, but that was really it. Most of the boats coming in and out were local, but every now and then, one of many pirate ships would dock there - and Mallory intended to be on it when it left again. Never mind the fact she had never actually been on a ship before. Piracy just seemed indefinitely more glamorous than being a dyer's daughter. She reached over the table and grabbed Blake's hands with a begging expression in her eyes.

"Come on, man. We gotta get outta here while we're still young. We'll be dust soon!" She added melodramatically. Was she maybe whining a little? Yes.

Did she care? No.


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PostPosted: Sat Mar 14, 2015 8:05 pm 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Blake nodded along as his best friend in the world jotted down the plan; honestly it wouldn't have even needed to be a very good plan, to be enough for him- anything was better than living the rest of his days scrounging around for food and hoping Mallory could sneak him some scraps from the dinner table. She may have hated her life, but Blake envied the wealth she possessed, living in the dingy hut with the shelter from the rain and the floorboards that were only about halfway rotted through.

"Tha's brill'yant," he said in a hushed whisper as he stared down at the words he could actually understand (which were just half of them, but it was still enough to give him the gist of it).

"We could be richer'n a couple'a lords. Livin' in palaces wit' servants to wipe our asses'n serve us food'n stuff," he said excitedly as he pondered on the glories that awaited them, running a hand through his messy, thick black hair that was just barely long enough to touch his ears at the sides. All they needed was a ship, and then life would be one big fat slice of cake. Or whatever it was rich people ate. It didn't matter much to him either way, all he wanted was to get out of Denyan, and the quicker the better. Living on the streets had given him an unquenchable desire to simply get away, no matter how it happened. The water was likely the fastest way.

His folks had died from a sickness when he was young, and his reddish-tinged face still bore the scars of the same disease which had, for some reason, decided to spare him. Unfortunately, his parents had been as poor as dirt, so once they were gone he'd had nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever Mallory got her parents to part with for his sake. They never let him in the hut though, claiming he smelled too bad. Blake thought he smelled just fine, since just about everything in Denyan smelled like old fish and sweaty balls.

"Wha's th' plan, Mal? Steal a ship? They's two o'three ou' there at th' docks now."

He had no idea what was next, but Mallory would lead the way. He was a year older, but she definitely had the brains between the two of them. He'd follow her to the ends of the earth.

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Mar 14, 2015 8:25 pm 

treacherous as the sea

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"The plan, Blake," she replied triumphantly, "is to get aboard the pirate ship. I think it'd be better if we actually tried to, y'know, shack up properly with'em before we try sneaking aboard or anything. They should be easy to find. C'mon!" Without waiting for a reply (really, he'd already said he was in, and she knew he would follow her like a puppy, possibly because she usually had food), she grabbed hold of his dirty, bony hand and ran towards the town as fast as her skinny legs could carry her.



"You will take us with you!"

Once again, Mallory's hand slammed down, except this time, it was on a bar desk she could only barely reach. She still had Blake in tow. The bearded, filthy man, drinking a mug of something foamy and yellow that she wasn't entirely sure was actually beer, looked decidedly unimpressed at the two determined, twiggy children.

"We can scrub the decks! We can - we can empty buckets! And - do other useful things!" Mallory never wanted to hear this pathetic tone in her own voice ever again.

"The boy, maybe, but women are **** on ships," the pirate growled. He was hungover and not in the mood to be pestered by adolescents. He never was, but today was an especially bad day. His neighbor, however, gave the pair a calculating look.

"I think we should take 'em, Rog. Or at least just the boy. Could use an extra pair of hands. Might be useful one day. In the far future."

Mallory bit her lip to prevent it from quivering too much. It was so unfair. It was her plan, her idea, and she wanted to get away and get rich just as much as Blake, and then they only wanted to take him! She glared at 'Rog'.

"I'm worth twice as much as Blake!" She said haughtily. It wasn't true in all aspects, but definitely some, and she didn't think Blake would mind her outburst.


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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Mar 14, 2015 9:13 pm 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Although Mallory was, to an outsider's perspective, pulling him along to the run-down tavern, Blake knew if he wasn't jogging along at a matching speed she likely wouldn't have been able to tow him in her wake quite so well. While they were both quite thin (Blake much worse off for obvious reasons), Mallory was positively short. He never talked about her height, knowing that she hated always having to look up to people - him included - but her stature became even more of a contrast than usual once they entered the ramshackle pub that Blake knew was often frequented by the pirates who passed through Denyan during their travels.

The pirates were shockingly unmoved by Mallory's determination; Blake was horrified upon realizing that they wanted him, and not her, to go aboard with them. Sure she was a girl, but she was the smartest person he'd ever met! She was definitely the smartest person in all of Denyan- she'd taught him numbers and letters, as best as he could learn them, drawing in the mud with a stick or counting rocks and shells out by the coastline. He could read a bit and he could count up to 12 (the next one was bad luck, which was why she'd stopped teaching him there- at least, that was why she said she'd stopped. And Mal never lied- that was a fact).

"I'm worth twice as much as Blake!"

Upon hearing the words, Blake moved forward and stood alongside his ally, trying to slouch down so as to avoid looking too much taller than her. He took their scorning of her as a personal insult. "She's righ'," he said angrily, glaring at Rog and the other one. "She's smarter'n anyone I know, an' she'd make a better deckhan' or swabber or whatev'r you call 'em, than anyone!"

When they merely watched him blankly, he went on, still furious. "She's worth three'o me, an' if you don' take her I ain't goin' neither!"

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Sun Mar 15, 2015 9:24 am 

treacherous as the sea

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The girl heaved an inner sigh of relief deep within the privacy of her own mind. She gave Blake's hand a grateful squeeze. If she wasn't going, he wasn't going, and pirates didn't kidnap, right? They only took inanimate objects of a certain value from people who didn't really need it.

Rog downed his beer angrily and said nothing, but his neighbor gave them a wide, golden-toothed grin. Mallory couldn't help but grin back in excitement. This was what freedom looked like - tattooed, sweaty, and with clunky, valuable teeth - and she loved it.



"Oh, my God..." Mallory was mumbling incoherently to herself as she hung over the ship's bulwark and watched the contents of her stomach drift away on the choppy waves. She had absolutely not been prepared for this. The ground under her feet usually didn't move. She risked a quick glance away from the water in an attempt to locate Blake, but had to return to her slumping as another wave of stomach acid threatened to fly out of her mouth and to freedom. Rog sneered at her as he wound up rope a bit further down the side of the ship. She waved at him in a way she hoped looked nonchalant.

"Why don't ye make yerself useful and learn how to tie a knot, instead of puking yer guts out?" He shouted at her. She cringed, but managed to take the few shaky steps down to Rog while holding on tightly to the rail.

"Did ye lose yer friend?" He asked as he tossed an end of rope to her. Mallory nodded, too afraid to open her mouth. Rog tied and untied a reef knot faster than Mallory's eyes could follow.

"Learn this. Yer friend's doing fine. I doubt he's fallen overboard already, although he don't look like he has the brains to stay on the right side o' the bulwark!" Rog laughed hoarsely and left Mallory to her own devices. She stared at the huge coil of rope in front of her. What on Earth had he told her to do?


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View Likes PostPosted: Sun Mar 15, 2015 4:52 pm 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Blake's bare feet skidded across the slimy deck, only stopping once his body slammed into the bulwark separating him from the deep water that churned all around them. He groaned, clutching his ribs even as he felt the searing pain that accompanied the introduction of numerous splinters into his left foot.

"Boy!"

He looked around, locating the speaker after a bit of initial difficulty due to the continuos spray of salty vapor rising from the waves on that side of the ship; like nearly everything else about being on the ship, it would certainly take some getting used to. It was the man from the tavern with the gold teeth- he gestured, and Blake moved gingerly towards him, throwing his arms out to either side in an awkward (and probably a bit comical) fashion so as to maintain his balance as the ship continued to sway under him.

"Still findin' yer sea-legs, eh? Well, it'll take some time," the pirate said in a voice that was both low and clear as Blake finally reached him. He was at a loss for how the man could be standing so leisurely on the deck even in such choppy waters. "For now, you got work to do. Ain't no room on this here vessel for people who can't carry their weight. You look skinny enough to chuck overboard with one hand," he added observationally, "but you'll still need to work. Fill that bucket over there with seawater, and make sure the rope's fastened before you do! We don't have spare buckets to waste. Then, mop up the guts and chum over yonder," he ordered as he pointed off to the putrid patch of fish-sludge Blake had unknowingly slid right through earlier. He frowned down at his feet and saw that some of the putrid stuff was still caked onto them.

"Yessir, I'll geh righ' on it," he said with an eager nod as he began another balancing act so as to reach the worn, wooden bucket near where his ribs had been introduced to the rail. "Name ain't Sir," the pirate called after him as he moved. "Cor, be it. Seeing as you're dumber than a pile of bricks you'll probably forget, but there it is. Now hurry up!"

Blake nodded gleefully at the compliment even as he quickened his steps, his arms flailing a bit more wildly as he moved with his feet creating small squelching sounds with each step he took. He had been called stupider than a heap of **** and dumber than a pile of rocks, but never bricks. These pirates seemed to appreciate him like no one back home ever did, aside from Mal of course.

He hadn't seen her in some time, and the thought of his friend rekindled his worries about her. In spite of her enthusiasm to get away from Denyan and get started on the road to riches, Mallory had not taken very well to life on the ship. He hoped to see her soon- he was always concerned about being away from her too long, because he knew before long he would do something stupid to screw things up. He needed her, although the pirates didn't seem too concerned about keeping the two of them together.

As he carefully lowered the pail into the water, watching as the ship's momentum caused it to get yanked back by the currents and nearly torn from his grip, he stared back at the coastline to see that it was now barely visible. The rope was sliding through his hands, burning his palms as the pail began to get left behind, but he was too busy breathing in the sea breeze with a look of quiet joy on his face. The rocking of the ship didn't nauseate him, and the air was about as clean as anything he was accustomed to. More important than anything, he was away. Away from the life he had hated so much, and well on his way to vast amounts of wealth along with his best friend in the wor-

"Boy! What're you doing! Pick the ****ing' thing back up!"

Blake jumped, realizing that there was barely a foot of rope left. He hurriedly yanked at it and immediately found himself flying over the bulwark, his light body unable to stay grounded given the force of the pull coming from the other end. Apparently, he was supposed to have secured the rope to something else in case of such an occurrence, but the thought didn't occur to him until after he saw the deep blue, greenish water flying up to meet him.

"You stupid, boney son of a biscuit-eater!" Cor shouted as a pair of strong hands seized him by the legs and began dragging him back onto the ship. "You better hold onto that rope, or you may as well jump in after it!"

Idly, Blake wondered if he knew how to swim, but then he realized he couldn't really remember- in any case, he tightened his grip on the final inches of rope and prayed the pirate didn't let go of him.

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2015 9:22 am 

treacherous as the sea

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After having satisfactorily (in her own opinion, at least, she hadn't asked anyone else) tied and untied knots a couple of times, Mal's concentration was broken by the sound of raucous laughter from somewhere behind her. She turned her head just in time to see Blake stretched out in the air with a rope at one end and a pirate at the other. She had no idea whether to be embarrassed because they were laughing, be angry because they were laughing, or laugh because it looked pretty stupid. In the end, she decided to let rope be rope, ran over to Blake, dodged under one skinny arm and began pushing him backwards by his shoulders until he finally had (un)steady ground under his feet again.

Gold-Tooth gave them a sour look.

"Yer more trouble than yer worth, that's for ****ing sure. Shoulda followed my first instinct and left the ****ing..." He stomped away after having grabbed a mop and hurled it like a spear at Mallory, who only barely dodged it. Her stomach was churning again, but it felt more like anger than nausea. ****ing?!

"Hey!" She howled indignantly at the much bigger, stronger, and overall far more intimidating man.


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View Likes PostPosted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 1:39 am 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Blake felt the solid (if slimy) deck under his feet again and breathed a sigh of relief, leaning on the bulwark and staring down into a shallow puddle of seawater right in front of him; if he squinted, he could just barely make out his reflection. The muddy brown eyes were situated under two thick eyebrows- he suddenly frowned, confused. One of his eyebrows had always been missing about half of the hair, as a result of a particularly thick scar leftover from his illness. Yet there the brow was, perfectly normal!

He straightened up, smiling cheerfully, before feeling something dripping onto his eyelid. One wipe of his hand later, and his palm was covered in something that looked like mud but smelled like it had come straight out of somebody's ass.

"Oh," he mumbled as he tried to wipe the substance off onto his already filthy shirt. "S'just ****."

Before he could do more than wonder how he'd managed to get that particular material on his face, he remembered that he had just nearly drowned and he turned to shoot Mallory a look of gratitude- she failed to see it, however, as she was preoccupied by the mop that had been launched at her person.

The pirate with the teeth that shone with yellow brilliance similar to **** after a festive day of drinking ale (he used to do the odd job here and there for tavern owners in exchange for the occasional mug, with only small amounts of dirt and bugs floating around in them-the extra stuff made you drunker, they told him) had launched a tirade at them before following up with the mop, and though Blake missed most of it, he did catch the final word.

He stared from his incensed friend to the broad back of the departing pirate, and felt his ears grow hot with rage.

****ing? Don' nobody call Mal no ****ing! he thought furiously as he grabbed the mop and, with a bellow of bestial fury, he took off running at the man that was three times his size and probably five times his weight. ****ing got fleas, an' Mal ain't had none cept' for tha' time she let me sleep in th' hut wid'er!

"Gon' give you a peg leg righ' up you's ass!" he yelled as he took careful aim with the handle of the mop- he wasn't sure what exactly he was planning to do, nor did he understand what would happen afterward, but nothing mattered in that moment except for the fact that his friend had been wronged.

Luckily, they would never find out what would've happened had his attack been successful, because... it wasn't.

The ship heaved violently to one side, and Blake's feet, still unused to the deck's uncertain surface, went skittering out from under him. His legs splayed out in front of him and he landed hard on his backside, whilst the mop handle fell partially underneath him and snapped in half under his weight. A split second later, he released a howl of pain as a shard of wood imbedded itself into his arm.

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 2:18 pm 

treacherous as the sea

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"That could have gone worse," Mal said after a moment of quiet that was occasionally broken by hisses and sobs of pain from Blake. The half-a-broom had been removed rather forcefully by Mal and lay discarded by the door. The broom handle had left a nasty hole in his arm, but you couldn't see bone, and she took that as a good sign. Following the ruckus on the deck, Rog, or someone just as big as him, had grabbed both runts by the neck and thrown them inside what Mallory could only describe as Hell, except maybe less fiery. It was cramped, it stank, the rolling of the ship was even worse below the deck, and the boards were kind of wet and creaked more than she would have liked.

"I suppose we should be grateful that they didn't just chuck us overboard. We'd be swimming around in my puke," she added conversationally as she went for another fruitless search in the brig for some sort of wrapping for Blake's arm. Even if she acted like everything was all right, the red stain spreading from underneath Blake's broad hand and onto his shirt were beginning to worry her. Could you die from having a broom stuck in your arm?


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View Likes PostPosted: Wed Mar 18, 2015 1:30 am 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Blake grunted as Mallory continued searching the vicinity for something; he wasn't sure what she was looking for, but then he remembered the blood spilling out slowly from under his hand. "Mal, y'think it'll ge' better if I givit som'air?"

He moved his hand slightly only to see the flow quicken immediately; he clamped his palm back down and released a squeal of pain at the harsh stinging sensation he felt upon making contact again. In an attempt to forget the pain, he took note of his surroundings; the sound of dripping water was all around them, there was mold (or mildew? he wasn't sure) everywhere and although they couldn't feel the ship swaying quite so much anymore, the floorboards he sat on felt so waterlogged and soft he wondered how long it would be before he sunk right through.

Normally he would've worried, about being thrown down into the brig, or about the boards under him, or about the wound in his arm that still bled freely, but he had no reason to be concerned. Mallory was the smartest person in the world- if anyone could figure things out, it was her. He grinned sloppily up at her as she joked about her puke, suddenly aware of how lightheaded he was feeling.

"Mal, d'you, d'you think if we tore a bit off m'shirt?"

He blinked sleepily as he stared at the horribly dirty fabric covering his chest. A section ripped off from the sleeve would probably be good for a bandage- it seemed like a good idea, but it hadn't come from Mal so he wasn't sure. He didn't often get good ideas. But then, the pirate had called him dumber than a pile of bricks, earlier. The sea air must've been making him smarter.

"Mal, d'you think fish can talk? How come they's never says nothin', but they's alway know to swim t'gether?"

He blinked, and everything around him suddenly grew very fuzzy.

"If I were a fish, m'name… name'd be Codie."

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Wed Mar 18, 2015 3:55 am 

treacherous as the sea

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She glanced back at Blake from the corner where she had found nothing to use as a bandage. The shirt wasn't a bad idea, and she felt vaguely ashamed that she hadn't thought of it before him. Along with being thrown into the ship's equivalent of a prison, that really was a new low.

"Codie's a good name," she told the wall in a for her gentle tone when he began mumbling about fish. It really didn't look good, but she was fairly certain that bandaging his arm with his shirt would make it even worse. Mallory absentmindely picked at the fraying bottom of her own. Her shirt was far from clean, either, but at least you could still tell it had been white at some point, and best of all, there were no stray shitstains on it. Resolutely and with her back firmly against Blake, she pulled off her shirt and tore a long strip from the bottom of it. Even if he could only see her back, with its almost ridged spine and unhealthy skin, she was still blushing. Not like she had much to hide, but still!

Having put her shirt back on, now an inch shorter than it was before, she dropped to her knees next to her friend and almost slapped his hand away from the hole in his arm. Mallory drew a sharp breath as she pulled up his sleeve and began wrapping the strip from her shirt tightly around the wound.

"Hold still, moron," she snapped at him, more because she needed to be angry instead of panicked, and not so much because he was actually moving. With a knot that Rog probably wouldn't have approved, she decided that she had done all she could for her friend, and slumped back against the wall to sit next to him, careful not to bump into his shoulder. The floorboards had sickening red spots on them.

"Did they say how long we would be in here?" She asked him very quietly, placing her hand over his in case he was scared.


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View Likes PostPosted: Wed Mar 18, 2015 7:07 pm 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Blake examined the bandage on his arm with a weak smile, as Mallory sat down next to him and put her hand over his. She knew just about everything, so he shouldn't have been surprised she could fix him up- why, she said she could count all the way past five-teen! Whatever that was.

"Did they say how long we would be in here?"

He shook his head, casting a sidelong look at her. She looked drawn and pale; it was clear she hadn't adjusted very well to the ship's movements, but at least for the moment she didn't seem too bothered by it. More worrying was their immediate plight.

"Nah, they ain't said nothin'," he mumbled, shutting his eyes as his head continued to swim. "Y'think they gon' come back f'us?"

He opened one eye and looked sadly at her ripped shirt; he wished she hadn't done it, as he would've preferred to use his own. Sure, hers didn't have **** on it and his did, but who was to say **** wasn't good for injuries? Blake knew a few people who'd **** themselves back in Denyan, and none of them had been hurt at the time.

He shut the eye again and waited in silence, wondering how much longer they'd be stuck down there.

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Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Mar 21, 2015 6:44 am 

treacherous as the sea

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"Dunno," she replied honestly. At least there were no rats down here. Mallory wasn't squeamish; there were more rats than people in Denyan, which probably said something about the living conditions there, but there was just something about their sickly fur and wriggling noses that set her off. But she wasn't squeamish. She wasn't. She had just tied a rag around someone's bleeding arm, did squeamish people do that?! No, strong people did.

Having quietly proved her merit to herself, she gave Blake's hand a small, reassuring squeeze.

"But they'll get us soon," she continued with fake optimism. How long had they been here? It felt like hours, not that Mallory had ever learned how to tell time, much less seen a clock. Either the sun was up, or it wasn't.

The thin stream of flickering light that suddenly penetrated the darkness felt like a submarine supernova to her eyes. The girl sprung from her slumped position on the floor, making it to the bars in the door faster than her dad had left her mom. They were saved, and without seeing as much as a whisker of a rat! The flickering light came closer and turned out to be Rog, Mallory's new favorite person in the world.

"Are we getting out?" She practically yelled at him, pressing her face against the door. Rog took a moment to wipe spit away from his face. It was kind of impressive, really, since she was only just tall enough to even see through the bars.

"No," he replied in the same gruff voice he always did. "Figured yer sorry asses might be hungry," he added. Was Mallory making things up, or did he sound slightly nicer than normally? Rog held out a couple of crackers, and she stuck her bony arm out as far as she could.

"Thank you!" She yelled at his retreating back. Rog pretended not to hear. Mallory turned around slowly, looking at the crackers in her hand like they were made of solid gold.

"Look, Blake, it's food..." She whispered. Her grimy, brown hair had escaped the bun and was hanging from her head in uneven tufts. "It's food!"


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View Likes PostPosted: Sun Mar 22, 2015 3:36 pm 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Blake stared numbly as the bars of their cage melted, forming a glistening metallic puddle on the floor that slowly widened to the size of a small pond. He watched, mesmerized, as an enormous fish's head protruded from beneath the surface. A wide, unblinking eye regarded him for a moment, even as he realized that Mallory had just been right next to him and he now had no idea where she was.

"BLAKE," the fish roared in a booming voice befitting a lion or a bear or something, "YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME."

"Wh-wha? How'd I do th-"

"CODIE IS A TERRIBLE NAME FOR A FISH. YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF."

Blake was stunned. How could this be happening? How could Codie not be a good name for a fish? He felt his lower lip quiver as his hopes and dreams came crashing down around him.

"Bu' why? Why can't it be'a good na-"

"IT IS TERRIBLE, I SAID. IT IS SO BAD, IF I WASN'T A FISH I WOULD DROWN MYSELF RIGHT NOW."

Blake felt tears of grief and disappointment forming in his eyes as he moved closer to the black pond, staring imploringly at the giant creature.

"Please… wha's y'name? Please, I wan' to ge' better a-"

"MY NAME IS JOSEPH. AND YOURS, FISH OR NOT, SHALL NEVER BE CODIE. YOU ARE FOOD."

"Wh-what?"

"It's food!

Blake opened his eyes, which were still somewhat wet, to see Mallory holding a couple of crackers in her grimy hand; he stared at them for a moment, blinking as he regained a sense of where they were, before realizing just how hungry he was. He took one and devoured it without hesitation, chewing greedily as he looked up at her, beaming. He had no idea where she'd gotten them, but that was just Mal being brilliant as always. He was sure she'd managed to make them, or perhaps she'd found them hidden somewhere nearby. Her hair was looking very disheveled and her skin seemed even filthier than before, but he knew a genius when he saw one.

"Thag goo," he mumbled with his mouth still full. He glanced hopefully at her other hand, wondering if she also had something to drink. Crackers always made him thirsty. He wondered if Joseph ever got thirsty.

His arm was still throbbing painfully, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. He hoped it wasn't because he'd run out of blood.

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Mar 28, 2015 12:46 pm 

treacherous as the sea

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"Yeah," Mal replied around a mouthful of vaguely moldy cracker. ****ing better be grateful after she'd gotten food and "fixed" his arm. She allowed herself a small sigh. It was hard being the brains of this whole 'get rich or die tryin'-operation. If she was honest with herself, she had not expected the 'get rich' part to be this difficult already. She wasn't going to be honest with Blake, though. All they had to do was get out of this cell, and Mal fully intended on breaking out if they weren't let out soon. Thinking about consequences was for losers and wimps.

After devouring her cracker, she began examining the door in a manner she hoped made it look like she knew what she was doing. She scratched at the wood around the hinges with her broken nails, knocked tentatively on the bars, all the while making little 'hmmm'-noises.

"How's the arm?" She asked Blake after a couple of minutes of inspection, but without turning around. If the door had weak points, Mal would sure as **** find them, and this inanimate object required her full attention in case it decided to try something funny.


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View Likes PostPosted: Wed Apr 01, 2015 11:04 am 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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"S'good," Blake replied, watching as Mallory prepared to engineer a daring escape. He could see that she knew what she was doing, and that it would only be a matter of time before she figured out how to take the door apart. He scanned the vicinity outsider of the bars, wondering if there was anything useful there they could use once she got them out.

His arm was still in a great deal of pain, but he didn't want to distract Mal from what she was doing. She always told him it was best to stay quiet when "her genius was at work", and though he knew what genius meant, he'd never seen anything come out of her and start working before. In any case, he hoped to get some kind of rum (pirates drank rum, right?) once they were out to help with the pain. It was one of the things he'd learned in Denyan. Alcohol could numb the pain of anything, even a dying marriage, an old barman had told him.

"We gon' swim f'it, or take over th'ship, Mal?"

In the distance, he suddenly thought he could hear a great deal of noise coming from somewhere aside from over their heads. It sounded a bit like Denyan when one was by the shoreline.

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Fri Apr 03, 2015 2:09 pm 

treacherous as the sea

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Mal rolled her eyes at Blake. Taking over the ship, really?

"We're better than this - raft," she replied scornfully, and gave the door another trying knock with her knuckles. "And whaddya mean, "swim"? We're in the middle of the oc-" The cry of a seagull interrupted her, and she stopped in the middle of her sentence. Seagulls never flew out to open sea. Admittedly, The Shaels were one giant clusterfuck of islands, and even on the longest distances, it barely took more than three days to sail from one shitty port to another. The two of them had barely been on board for a day, so they could not have had traveled very far. Mallory was so occupied with listening to the birds outside that she didn't notice the heavy footsteps approaching the door, and thus was unprepared for when the door was slammed into her face and made her stumble backwards and fall over Blake's legs.

"WHAT UP, SLUTS," Cor yelled as he burst into the cell, looking viciously satisfied with himself. "Rollin' around on the deck. I knew it." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Yer both off the ****ing' ship. I want to see the dust clouds of yer heels five seconds ago. Leg it!"

Mallory scrambled to her feet as she pushed herself away from Blake, her cheeks burning with unwarranted teenage shame. "We're not rolling around, ew," she replied as she hastily grabbed her friend's hand, scared that Cor would think he was too slow in the uptake and literally kick them out. "And we're legging now!" The two of them left as quickly as they could, stopping for a breather on the docks. Letting go of Blake, Mal rested her hands on her knees as she bent over, wheezing. Shouts of joy could be heard from the ship as the gangway was pulled back and separated the kids from the ship permanently. Mallory let herself sink down dejectedly on a nearby innocuous barrel, watching the ship leave port almost has soon as it had gotten there.

The shouts of joy turned into shouts of alarm but a few moments later. Mallory's head snapped up, just in time to watch the ship break in half as a galleon decided to plow through it with little regard for the pirates on board. A wide smile spread across the girl's face. She spat at the ground and looked smugly at Blake.

"I knew that would happen."


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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Apr 04, 2015 6:12 pm 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Blake stared, confused, as Mallory leapt up from his lap. He didn't understand why she was blushing, or why Cor was smirking at the two of them as if he had encountered something highly amusing.

And what was wrong with rolling around? He loved it. Sometimes he'd roll down hills, or off of that one rooftop that was low to the ground, near the coast- he'd decided to end that particular pastime when he'd been unable to stop himself from rolling right into the water, into an area being urinated into by roughly half of a ship's crew. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, but he probably should've figured it out based on how uncommonly warm the seawater was.

_-_-_-_-_-_

At first, upon exiting the ship alongside his partner, Blake felt a bit embarrassed at the sounds of joyous celebration that erupted upon their departure. They couldn't have been that bad. He thought they'd done fairly well, and given a bit more time he was certain Mallory would've been promoted to First Mate, at the very least. Maybe that's why they threw them off- they probably didn't want a woman to be in such a lofty position. Yes, that was it.

Hearing a very different kind of commotion starting up behind them, Blake turned in time to see the ship break in half as a much larger vessel rolled right through it with buttery ease as the occupants shrieked in terror and anguish.

"I knew that would happen."

Blake could only stare at his friend in wonder.

"Y'brill'yant, Mal. Jus' brill'yant. How'd y'even know?"

She had saved their lives, getting them off the ship in time- yes, she was without a doubt the best pirate he'd ever known. All those men on the ship had been none the wiser as to what was about to happen, but not her. He smiled as he turned his attention to their new location, observing the bustling port around them. It would only be a matter of time before they were filthy, stinkin' rich.

All he needed to do was keep following along with what Mal said- she'd never lead him astray.

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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View Likes PostPosted: Sun Apr 19, 2015 6:43 am 

treacherous as the sea

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Not for the first time, Mal was grateful for Blake's lack of brains. It was a love-hate relationship, really. On one hand, it genuinely sucked sometimes to have to explain every little detail. On the other, he rarely cared as long as he knew it was all her idea, because she was so much smarter than him.

"Oh, well, female emission," she replied, pronouncing the strange words with some difficulty. She had heard her mom say it once in response to a time she had caught Mal with expensive, purple dye all over, and Mal had asked how she had known she'd been doing something she wasn't supposed to. She winced at the memory - the slap still stung, even eight years later.

As satisfying as it was to see Cor and Company drown, Mal's stomach decided they had been watching long enough, and growled loudly. She rubbed at it absentmindedly. The galleon was amazing, she had never seen a ship that large. Even if the people sailing it weren't pirates, Mal would be able to find pirates if they were aboard, wouldn't she? And maybe they could get a trusted position and then turn on the entire crew and take over the ship for themselves! Yes, this was certainly no raft.

Mutiny would have to wait. Food was more important. She hopped down from the barrel with a dejected sigh and shot Blake a very telling look. Even if he was less intelligent, he had the better nose of the two, and might be able to sniff out something edible.


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View Likes PostPosted: Tue Apr 21, 2015 12:13 am 

It is a hollow shell of what it once was.

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Blake watched Mallory jump down from the barrel, and the look she gave him said it all. His thoughts on female emissions, and on whether or not that was what they were actually called (he was pretty sure they were actually 'tune-issions', but then again that might have had something to do with tuna, and Mal was never wrong) were interrupted by the sound of his stomach rumbling.

It was at that moment that he recalled that the only thing he'd had to eat all day was a single, rather moldy cracker. He still didn't know where Mal had even gotten the things. He turned around, mindful of the throbbing pain still emanating from the arm that had been broomed (or had it been a mop? He wasn't sure), and sniffed the air, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the area.

Thin legs began moving of their own accord as something reached his nostrils; if there was one thing he'd picked up on from his time on the streets, it was how to find food. And not just any food, either- the right food. Smelling fish meant the market or the boats, and that was usually no good (it didn't help that fish was 90% of everything he'd smelled for his entire life, living by the coast), and smelling things cooking was no good either because they'd need money for that. No, it was something different he sought after, something-

He froze, his eyes widening excitedly as his pockmarked face stretched itself into a grimy grin.

"Chick'n," he muttered, abruptly changing direction and plunging into some bushes on the other side of the street, nearly getting himself trampled by a group of dockworkers as they moved past the market stalls that made up a considerable portion of the area. He was so intent on the smell that he never turned around to check on Mal; hopefully she was right behind him. He thought he heard her back there, anyway.

The bushes led to even more bushes, and soon he was feeling digs and scratches on the exposed skin of his arms as the branches grazed him, but he still kept onward, now crouched down if only on instinct.

After an amount of time he couldn't possibly identify, he paused and turned painfully to his right (a thick branch was jabbing him hard in the midsection) and extended his hands into the bush in front of him so as to part them. He stared, wide-eyed, at a man snoring in the shadow of a large oak tree. To his right was a basket, from which the aroma of fried chicken was rising, now more pungent than ever.

There was also a bottle tucked under one of his arms, which Blake stared at longingly for a moment, mindful of his injury, before turning back to the basket. His hunger trumped everything else at the moment, even if he was still in pain.

"Y'see it, Mal?"

_________________
Learning a simple lesson isn't always simple. Sometimes, you have to slowly lose everything great around you to understand the gravity of your shortcomings. Admit that your egos have grown too large, that you've lost your sense of what you realistically are, and maybe you can repair the road that has broken beneath the weight of your failings. Or maybe you'll just keep going as you've gone, and you'll learn nothing, and eventually, everything around you will become dust. To be honest, that's by far the likeliest of all outcomes.


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