THE THROW-AWAY.

❝ 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 ? ❞ — ( 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈𝙳𝙰𝚈, 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙴. )

[caribbeanfates]

( # CARIBBEANFATES ) : a select duo-multimuse mainly featuring ELLIOTT " ELI " SPARROW. written by kris / riju ( 30yrs | she / they. )

heavily affiliated w / @rocpst ; cordelia jones.

credit goes to cavalierfou for most of the graphics on this blog, @rocpst for editing them to match the blog aesthetic. please read my rules here. eli goes by they/them.

[caribbeanfates]

"Stop looking at me like that."

" like wot? " they give her a playful smirk, one brow quirked in her direction. " ye have to be more specific, cordelia. use yer words, i know ye can. "

[diielord-a-deactivated20230611]

»»-----------► .. . 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐈𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒, cordelia was never good at gift giving. the only reason for this was no one, not even her mother as far as she knew nor the crew of the dutchman had practiced it with her when she was younger, a wee lass, and so she hadn't thought much of it.

no wishes were made on any of her " special days " back then.

.. until she met someone who completely turned her world upside down in a single night ― turning into several years, actually.

everyone knew their story ; a storm had harshly cracked the starry sky that night, how could she forget ? she'd taken them from their home, treated them like a prize. .. yet for some reason, elliott sparrow had still chosen her of all people to give a chance ( even to this very day, the passing reminder of this in her head made her head spin .. and her heart warm. ) .

guilt riddled her mind once she'd realized, a day before their special day, the fact that after all these years she'd had never once thought about giving them something in return for the huge, ' unwanted at the time ' favor.

❝ ye really shuid wash 'at damned thing, ❞ she motions to their sash, knowing better than to sneak up on them, though couldn't resist as she leaned in the doorway, a furrowed brow accompanied by a raised one ; with a smug smile that could kill.

no, cordelia had something planned. that was certain. she waited until the permission to enter was given and continued her teasing, ❝ ye've worn it since th' day we met an' no' once hev i seen ya clean it. no wonder it dis ma nut in evry' time we're within proximity o' each other. ❞

@caribbeanfates | plotted birthday starter.

[caribbeanfates]

“ Oi! ” They give her an incredulous look, which is quickly broken up by the smile that curls the corners of their mouth upwards. Eli lets out a laugh, beckoning her forward. Closer. “ I’ll ‘ave you know that I ‘ave washed it! Just not whene’er you’ve been around. ” Still... it couldn’t smell that bad, right? They lift part of the sash to their nose, drawing in a breath; the regret is immediate, given the way their face scrunches.

“ ... aye, I s’pose it could use with another cleanin’, ey? ”

“ Wot’s all this about, Cori? Ye know I’ve learned t’ spot ulterior motives from a mile away. ”

[caribbeanfates]

crltyrsed​:

“ an’ eli is better ‘an whit th’ others hev bin callin’ ye, so a’ll take a gander an’ say we’re even. ”  she whispers while picking at the mess under her nails and doesn’t even give any sort of satisfaction of what the crew had been calling them. it was embarrassing, downgrading even. for her at least, knowing what it implied. 

‘ pirate-dog ’ was just about as demeaning as it could get on the ship, it meant exactly what jones had been calling them this whole time, they were her ‘ pet ’ and she was responsible for them. jones, along with the rest, thinking this was a game annoyed her to no end. they knew this, and it only made them laugh more.

           no matter, she proved her point enough, no reason to let it get to her now. 

unfortunately letting go of her issues didn’t stop the fact the autumn air was nipping at her exposed skin. shivering, she huddled closer to the wall as if that would help then placed the book down and wrapped her arms around her knees. she could see her breath, making her remember that eli themselves weren’t immortal.

“ if yer done botherin’ me, it’s warmer doon below. ye shuid get some winks befo’ mornin’. ” what she was saying wasn’t friendly advice, it was a warning. at least, that’s what she told herself. just like her, they would have a harsh batch of chores, so it was best for them to sleep while they can.

Oh, they’d heard what the crew called them. They’d just elected to ignore it, because they’d been called a lot worse by the pirates that frequented Tortuga when they were growing up.

Eli watches her for a few moments, as she curls in on herself, and then removes their own coat and shifts to drape it around her shoulders.

“ I’ll go back down t’ the brig in a bit. I wanna see the stars for a bit first. ‘Sides, the cold don’t bother me that much. ”

They’re doing their best to treat her with as much respect as possible; after all, she was the one charged with keeping an eye on them, and Elliott figured being polite might prolong their life for a little bit longer.

[caribbeanfates]

crltyrsed​:

her glare only intensifies by their comments, especially with them asking for her real name ( that she herself barely remembers to begin with some days. ), “ aye, let me go an’ dae ‘at real quick ― an’ then watch as they tie me tae th’ mast fur th’ seagulls, ” she tells them, tone laced with bitter sarcasm before continuing,  

“ as fo’ my name, ‘at is none o’ yer concern. ye be best tae mind yer own business. ”  her voice becomes louder towards the end, as if she wanted the rest of them to overhear her giving advice to their recent addition. then she readjusts herself to get as comfortable as she could on a hard floor, opened her book once more and pretended to read it. 

moments later, once she knew the coast was clear, she ripped a blank piece of the page and smudged gunk she’d collected with her finger off the deck to spell out something. 

bold as it was, the stowaway smacked her hand against elliott’s thigh; the one containing the folded up paper and if they were to open it, they would see one word. 

                                                ‘ CORDELIA. ’

When she brushes them off, Elliott just accepts it. If she didn’t want to share her name, that was her choice, even if the curiosity would eat away at them. But they respect her decision, and they’re more than willing to drop the subject...

... until her hand reaches out and smacks against their leg. How curious. As she draws her hand back, they look down to see the small piece of paper settled there. With a quirked brow, Elliott unfolds it, but it sure to keep it close so nobody else can read it.

‘ Cordelia. ‘

“ ‘at’s a nice name, ” they muse, idly folding the paper back up and sticking it in their pocket. “ Better ‘n stowaway. I’m Elliott. Just Eli’s fine, though, if it strikes yer fancy. ”

[crltyrsed-deactivated20221103]

       WE ARE THE RECKLESS, WE ARE THE WILD YOUTH.

                                                                                                                  ©

[caribbeanfates]

crltyrsed​:

@caribbeanfates​ | cordelia && elliott | 01

“ I’ve telt ye once afore ‘at ye’re lookin fo’ a beatin’ if ye don’t stop tryin’ tae have a blether wi’ me ! ”  cordelia harshly snaps at whoever had the gall to interrupt her as she slams the crusted book in her hands shut. gaining the attention from a few various crew members, though going back to their last minute chores the moment she turns her glare on them. 

not like she would do anything. the last time she fought a crewmember, despite winning against him, it ended in her gaining a hell of a sunburn; she’d rather not deal with that, or worse.

time passes, she turns back, “ honestly, it takes nae effort tae shut yer geggie. whit could possibly be so important ? ! ”

“ Wot, a lad can’t just ‘ave a chat with their captor? ”

They should consider themselves lucky that they’d been allowed out of the brig at all, as long as she kept an eye on them. A fair trade, really; they weren’t stuck in a barnacle-encrusted cage 24/7. Though, she seems far less enthused about this than they do.

“ Ya ne’er learned how t’ make friends, did ya? Y’ oughta give it a try some time! ” Elliott says this, as if there were possibly anyone aboard the Dutchman that she could be friends with. They’d heard what they called her, whether whispered or shouted: ‘stowaway.’

“ At least tell me yer name? ”