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Post by Mr Spock on Apr 20, 2013 15:20:11 GMT
Angel's heart sat in her throat as she turned the key in the lock and pulled it back with shaking hands.
She was free.
Fifteen years of captivity in that house, in this suburb, in this country, had ended with that movement. For the second time in her life, Angel had waited patiently and painfully, and now she was again her own mistress. A pocket heavy with gold, a shoulder free of responsibility, and the possibility of a price on her head looming ever closer with each passing minute.
A life of relative luxury and boredom meant Angel had aged well, much better than she would've out in the ocean that had been her home for most of her adult life. Her salt-hardened skin had softened to a gentle mocha, the sun's mark not leaving as easily as the grime did. Her burgundy hair was the same as ever, and releasing it from its restrictive ties as she walked let it fall down her back in the same waves she'd always had. She pulled her light summer cloak tighter around her as she headed into the bright city's underbelly, though still dressed more for a state ball than for the seedy tavern she pushed her way into, her dress catching dust on the floor as she shut the door behind her and the roars of the tavern died down into suspicious murmurs and a series of aggressive looks.
That was, until she pointedly tucked her cloak behind the old cutlass, shined but still scratched and worn, making the oiled pistol on the other side visible. Most had the good sense to avert their eyes, some sniggered, and some frowned, as if trying to conjure a memory that was escaping them.
She strode through, head still high, and ordered a pint from the bemused barman who was old enough to know better than to question her. She sat on a barstool, her posture defying the nature of her dress.
"Y'know which of these men own ships lookin' for a return to the golden age?" she asked, slipping back into the lilt of speech she'd been avoiding for so long. She gave the barkeep half a crooked smile and he shook his head, but before he could speak the filthy man to the right of her, dressed mostly in rags and with only one eye, raised his voice above the stupored murmurs they were previously.
"I'm quite sure, love, the drunks in this bar know a lot more about the golden age than you ever will. And there aren't gonna be any return anytime soon, love. So I wouldn't worry your pretty little head about it."
Angel's eyes flashed, but she chose not to respond and drank deeply from her flagon, pointedly ignoring the raised tone of the whispers since the lout beside her's shout had crossed the room in Chinese whispers. She scowled into a her ale and mused. Clearly, her reputation no longer preceded her.
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Post by Taya on Apr 21, 2013 10:54:43 GMT
"Fifteen years is a long time for even the scourge of the Caribbean to be remembered." The blonde patron at the end of the bar said as he finished his ale with a swig and a grimace. He looked at Angel through tortured blue eyes. Holding up his empty tankard, the barkeep was quick to keep it filled. No matter how much he drank, the man didn't seem to get rid of his pain or to even find piece in being drunk. The barkeep held out his hand for the man's payment. "This one is on the captain without a ship. I make it a point to never pay for business meals."
The man gave her a bitter smile. Even through his hard, malicious stare, one could tell the man would be handsome if he desired. In fact, he was oddly clean despite the filth around him. But it was clear that he wouldn't hesitate to drop the first person to question his past and would take pleasure in it.
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Post by Mr Spock on Apr 21, 2013 11:06:56 GMT
Angel quriked her eyebrow, a curiosity flitting across her face as she paid the barkeep and turned in her seat to face the stranger who seemed almost consumed by his own agony. Angel made a point of not asking questions, just as she made a point of not being asked them. People always ran to the sea. Who was she to ask what they were running from?
"So my reputation has not completely watered away," she commented, unable to keep a smirk from pulling at the corner of her lips. "Tell me then, sailor. What do you know of me?"
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Post by Taya on Apr 22, 2013 2:11:39 GMT
"what makes you think I am merely a sailor?" The man asked raising only one eyebrow. "And you, dear lady, are only remembered by those cursed with my recollection for everything. I've heard enough tales to wonder what happened to the queen of the seas, especially since her throne sails without her. The Sea Valkyrie disappeared from these shores with her captain, but yet in distant lands there are those who claim to have seen her pillaging still with a new captain."
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Post by Mr Spock on Apr 22, 2013 8:37:59 GMT
Angel relaxed a little, resting one elbow on the bar as she slouched, contemplating the blonde man over her tankard for a few moments and the relief that hit her with the tales of the Valk still in operation, elsewhere in the world. That was all she needed. That was proof that her ship was alive somewhere. That her family were alive. And she was going to take them both back.
She let the familiar and garish movement of a grin so unladylike it would have made her father's blood curdle trace her lips.
"That is what I seek to solve. As it were. I think my ship has been sailing a little too long without her captain."
It was clear from Angel's lack of hesitation that she didn't consider the Sea Valkyrie to ever have been properly out of her hands. More on hold, waiting for her to return to it.
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Post by Taya on Apr 22, 2013 9:31:17 GMT
The man raised an eyebrow again.
"And you think she is still yours for the taking?" He intoned. "Most would say not. But what is curious is how you intend to find her without a ship if your own." Despite how much drink he had imbibed. It was now for certain that he was unfortunately sober as he eyed her up, wondering if she had gone soft.
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Post by Mr Spock on Apr 22, 2013 9:42:11 GMT
Angel mimicked his eyebrow, gesturing at her own hip, from whence she'd drawn the money to buy the man's drink.
"Don't know many people that carry around enough money to buy a house, unless the times have changed dramatically."
She paused, her smile not fading.
"Anyone who claims she isn't mine can fight me for her and we'll see just how mistaken they are, won't we?" she spoke with a flair of confidence that was almost charming. "Many have underestimated me. I fear you do the same."
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Post by Taya on Apr 22, 2013 9:49:38 GMT
"That is a habit I have broken. I do not doubt in your ability. Just whether such a claim still stands." He said finishing his drink. "So are you looking to buy or for passage to West Indies?"
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Post by Mr Spock on Apr 22, 2013 10:29:27 GMT
Angel smirked.
"Like I said, there's a ship waiting for me out there. Just got to go and take it. Though I'm fully aware the taking of it may result in damage to any ship I try to storm it from, so I accept the cost might be higher than passage normally is..." she paused, drank from her flagon with closed eyes that told of a wistful contentment, "But I prepared for that eventuality. Now, stranger, do you have a ship or are you conversing with an old captain for fun?"
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Post by Taya on Apr 22, 2013 10:35:56 GMT
"Fun Is not something I do." He muttered darkly. "I have a ship. But be warned. She's my ship. You will not be giving orders on my vessel. I have no qualms on leaving you at the closest port or the middle of the sea should we come to odds. My name is Captain James Blackwell. I want half the gold upfront and the rest to be calculated when we see what you do to my ship. Do you agree?"
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Post by Mr Spock on Apr 22, 2013 11:26:00 GMT
Angel laughed quietly, a richly dark laugh that didn't suit her outward appearance.
"I wouldn't consider a single step over your head, Captain," she said, dragging out the word as if she relished even being able to say it, bowing her head as she did. "You have yourself a deal."
She pulled the pouch from where it was attached to her belt. She shoved her hand into it and pulled out a fistful of shiny coins, placing them on the bar without ceremony.
"Faith money, Captain Blackwell. The rest of that half upon your ship."
She grinned a grin wide enough that her eyes glinted and for a moment, she fitted perfectly into her dank surroundings, regardless of any genteel dress that stayed her before.
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Post by Taya on Apr 22, 2013 11:49:10 GMT
James scooped the gold into a pouch and stood with grace rarely seen in such a dive.
"I have a few preparations to make. I hope you can make it to the docks within the hour of your own accord. Or we will lose the tide. Unless you wish to wait until tomorrow."
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Post by Mr Spock on Apr 22, 2013 12:24:41 GMT
Angel smiled and turned to look up at him, shaking her head as she did.
"Do I not look like I've spent quite enough time on land to you, Captain? I shall be there within the hour, don't y'worry."
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Post by Taya on Apr 22, 2013 12:43:13 GMT
James gave a nod before with a sweeping gesture, donning his coat and hat. He left heading straight to a small building in the less seeder part of town. Inside was various scientific equipment of the day and a rather thin care worn man. The gentleman looked up at James and shook his head.
"I am doing my best." The man said shaking his head. "But the research is slow going."
"You are the finest mind I could find. Believe me when I say, you are the right man for the job." James said taking his purse from his belt. "I've brought you more funds. Keep half for whatever you need, you know what to do with the rest." The man nodded and took the purse full of gold. "I will be away for sometime. But please continue to your fine work and if you are in need of anything my coffers are available to you."
"I might have more success, if I were to examine patient."
"That, Doctor, is impossible." With that James quickly left and headed for his own, heavily armed merchant vessel.
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Post by Mr Spock on Apr 22, 2013 13:09:35 GMT
Angel gently downed her ale, smiling to herself and sliding the tankard back down the bar to the barkeep before she stood determinedly and strode out, drawing her hood over her head and beginning to bargain with backstreet salesman, changing everything but her arsenal and the small wooden box tucked inside her cloak.
In half an hour she was sat on the dock, her hair tied off her face with a strip of bright red cloth acting like a headband, that trailed onto the shoulder of her waistcoat, over a shirt she'd bought deliberately because it was yellowing with age, right down to the breeches and boots and suddenly she was herself, whole again, staring at the ocean with a desire so wanton she could barely contain herself. The box that had been in the cloak which now swam around the bay, sinking with the dress that was doing the same, was now sat on her lap.
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