Post by takenbythestormx on Jul 27, 2015 21:11:21 GMT -5
The Captain's door crept open quietly. They were aboard his
second ship, the Crimson Lust. A woman in short, blonde hair and some
rather rugged studded leather armor swiftly made her way through the wooden frame.
Somewhere on the deck of the ship, a man's laughter crept through the
planks. "Captain Abrams." She spoke firmly. The man looked up from
the shotgun still disassembled on the desk. "What're you needin' of me,
lass?" His pale blue eyes traced over her but noticed nothing out of the ordinary.
"There was another fight this morning." She looked at him with a tinge of
annoyance, almost as if he himself had been the one provoking it.
"One of the men was killed." She waited around as if she wanted an explaination,
as if he could wave a hand and correct the situation and return the dead man's
blood to it's rightful place in the dirty pirate's veins.
He sighs, his eyes trailing back down the the weapon before him.
He begins to oil the barrel once again. The shotgun appeared to be very old.
The metal was oiled well, and despite some nicks in the barrel
it still presented itself well. The wooden parts of the shotgun however
were long since splintered and discolored. They told of a time when
perhaps the weapon hadn't been so well taken care of. Perhaps in the Captain's
earlier days when he took less care of the things that kept his body from being
claimed by lead, or fire, or the bottom of the sea.
"I know. I heard the whole thing in here." He grumbled. His voice
almost made it sound like he was losing hope in something, though his
visage wouldn't have given it away as easily. He continued to clean and
oil as they spoke. "They're all pissed because we're almost out of
fucking food, Abrams." She crosses her arms, adamant now. "I myself haven't eaten
in the past two days!" She strode forward a few paces as if she were trying
to pressure the Captain. Like a pillow trying to pressure a mountain.
His cold blue eyes took back to her as she cussed at him. He leans forward over
the weapon and places his arms on the desk.
"And just what in the fuck would you have me do? We've been moving north,
closer to the trade route. We haven't seen a single other FUCKING ship on the
horizon. Why don't the men try a bit of fishing? Oh right, because the worthless
drunkards threw over all the nets last time they finished off the ale and decided
that trying ta fish while they could barely walk was the best course of action."
He was glaring before, his voice raised as he spoke. Now he leaned back in his chair
with his arms crossed. His glare softened a bit. He wasn't that angry, but he
wanted to make it clear to her that he did care. Luck just wasn't in the wind.
".. Maybe you should come up top yourself and help the men keep an eye
on the horizon. You can spot a ship further out than they can. You've proven
so on multiple accounts." She crosses her own arms now. She had calmed down
some herself now, having gotten a rise out of the Captain at least.
"Just wait Sarah. One more day we'll be back in the trade route.
I'd prefer not to risk drawing out a battle while we're down on men and
weak, but it is apparent that we're out of options." He quickly moved to
piece the shotgun back together and left it alone on the desk. He stood up and
limped around the small room towards her. Captain Abrams only looked like he was
about 5'8, but he was built thick enough that it was imposing in and of itself.
His arms were covered in old tattoos and scars. His face was graced with a full,
dark beard. There were some scars on his face as well, though most were on his chin,
covered by the beard. He had one on his nose and one by his left temple.
She sighed as he stood and nodded in understanding. "I still do recommend you
joining everyone on the deck. Tensions are high and another fight could break out
anytime. I can't keep them all in check on my own." She blew her bangs out of her
eyes. She had the most beautiful green eyes and now they were pleading with
the Captain. He grinned, shaking his head a bit. "You got it, first mate." He grabbed the
shotgun from his desk and hung it from his belt in a leather holster. "Go on." He
motioned his head up towards the deck. She nodded once more and turned, leaving as
swiftly as she had entered. He watched her go and sighed before he started to limp after her.
((This seems like more of a bio than a journal. It's just glimpses into the past of Captain Juliet Abrams.
I'll continue to write more as I go. Stilll stuck away from my PC and real internet for 2 weeks.
Hopefully by the time I get back and can play the character I'll have a good background built for him.))
second ship, the Crimson Lust. A woman in short, blonde hair and some
rather rugged studded leather armor swiftly made her way through the wooden frame.
Somewhere on the deck of the ship, a man's laughter crept through the
planks. "Captain Abrams." She spoke firmly. The man looked up from
the shotgun still disassembled on the desk. "What're you needin' of me,
lass?" His pale blue eyes traced over her but noticed nothing out of the ordinary.
"There was another fight this morning." She looked at him with a tinge of
annoyance, almost as if he himself had been the one provoking it.
"One of the men was killed." She waited around as if she wanted an explaination,
as if he could wave a hand and correct the situation and return the dead man's
blood to it's rightful place in the dirty pirate's veins.
He sighs, his eyes trailing back down the the weapon before him.
He begins to oil the barrel once again. The shotgun appeared to be very old.
The metal was oiled well, and despite some nicks in the barrel
it still presented itself well. The wooden parts of the shotgun however
were long since splintered and discolored. They told of a time when
perhaps the weapon hadn't been so well taken care of. Perhaps in the Captain's
earlier days when he took less care of the things that kept his body from being
claimed by lead, or fire, or the bottom of the sea.
"I know. I heard the whole thing in here." He grumbled. His voice
almost made it sound like he was losing hope in something, though his
visage wouldn't have given it away as easily. He continued to clean and
oil as they spoke. "They're all pissed because we're almost out of
fucking food, Abrams." She crosses her arms, adamant now. "I myself haven't eaten
in the past two days!" She strode forward a few paces as if she were trying
to pressure the Captain. Like a pillow trying to pressure a mountain.
His cold blue eyes took back to her as she cussed at him. He leans forward over
the weapon and places his arms on the desk.
"And just what in the fuck would you have me do? We've been moving north,
closer to the trade route. We haven't seen a single other FUCKING ship on the
horizon. Why don't the men try a bit of fishing? Oh right, because the worthless
drunkards threw over all the nets last time they finished off the ale and decided
that trying ta fish while they could barely walk was the best course of action."
He was glaring before, his voice raised as he spoke. Now he leaned back in his chair
with his arms crossed. His glare softened a bit. He wasn't that angry, but he
wanted to make it clear to her that he did care. Luck just wasn't in the wind.
".. Maybe you should come up top yourself and help the men keep an eye
on the horizon. You can spot a ship further out than they can. You've proven
so on multiple accounts." She crosses her own arms now. She had calmed down
some herself now, having gotten a rise out of the Captain at least.
"Just wait Sarah. One more day we'll be back in the trade route.
I'd prefer not to risk drawing out a battle while we're down on men and
weak, but it is apparent that we're out of options." He quickly moved to
piece the shotgun back together and left it alone on the desk. He stood up and
limped around the small room towards her. Captain Abrams only looked like he was
about 5'8, but he was built thick enough that it was imposing in and of itself.
His arms were covered in old tattoos and scars. His face was graced with a full,
dark beard. There were some scars on his face as well, though most were on his chin,
covered by the beard. He had one on his nose and one by his left temple.
She sighed as he stood and nodded in understanding. "I still do recommend you
joining everyone on the deck. Tensions are high and another fight could break out
anytime. I can't keep them all in check on my own." She blew her bangs out of her
eyes. She had the most beautiful green eyes and now they were pleading with
the Captain. He grinned, shaking his head a bit. "You got it, first mate." He grabbed the
shotgun from his desk and hung it from his belt in a leather holster. "Go on." He
motioned his head up towards the deck. She nodded once more and turned, leaving as
swiftly as she had entered. He watched her go and sighed before he started to limp after her.
((This seems like more of a bio than a journal. It's just glimpses into the past of Captain Juliet Abrams.
I'll continue to write more as I go. Stilll stuck away from my PC and real internet for 2 weeks.
Hopefully by the time I get back and can play the character I'll have a good background built for him.))