Chase Evans - 'A Stable Self' @chasingthered - Tumblr Blog

beyond-the-veille:

The captain almost laughed. “You an’t got much of a choice in the matter, sweetheart! This in’t one of your daddy's trade deals. You don’t barter wi’ someone like me. No, you should be thanking me instead- way I see things is, I’m offering you your life. Either you play along nicely, keep your mouth shut, and let me and my crew escort you safely back to our ship where you can wait for mummy and daddy to pick you up- in, I don’t know, a month or so- or I can decorate this room with your innards.” She shrugged casually. “Choice is yours.”

Her crewmates picked that moment to enter the room, swords drawn. Scarlett motioned for them to surround him.

Chase took a quick look around the room and then faced Scarlett. Not only would his internal organs seriously ruin the interior decorating, but he also knew when it was time to give up. Telling himself it wasn’t surrender, he lowered the sword in his hand. Without lowering his head, he knelt down and placed it on the ground.

As he straightened back up, he said, “I’ll take my life, then. I don’t fancy your skills as a decorator.”

#beyond-the-veille #beyondtheveille #I'm too tired to do two longer replies rn so have this one first #Sassy Chase is sassy #Sassy Chase may also be dead if he's not careful with being sassy

beyond-the-veille:

She saw the lump in his throat as he swallowed down his anxiety. She saw the thin tip of his rapier almost vibrating from the unsteadiness of his hand. Saw the fear, masked by forced determination, in his eyes. Contrary to what he may have wanted her to believe, the black-haired boy was no threat.

“You’ve got nerve, boy.” She slowly turned away from the mirror to face him, seemingly unperturbed by the sharp steel at her throat. There she stood for a moment, sizing him up, the silence punctuated only by the ticking of an ornate grandfather clock and the faintest shouts and ringing of swords outside. Then, quicker than lightning, Scarlett drew the pistol from her belt and aimed it at the boy’s head. “But nerve don’t win against lead.”

Scarlett was on a tight schedule. There were a dozen more buildings to rob on this island before she could consider this a profitable endeavour, and countless unsearched rooms in this house alone. Killing this boy and moving onto the next room would be the quickest and easiest course of action. However…

She cast her mind back to the painting they passed in the dining room. A brilliant idea sprang to mind. "So you’re the lord and lady’s son, are you? Their only son, too… Bet you’d fetch a prettier ransom than what I could get from these trinkets.“

With her free hand, she pressed her fingers to her lips and whistled loudly. Angelica and May would be here soon.

As she turned, Chase watched. He was waiting for the sword to be swatted out of his hands, to be held up against the wall with a shorter blade in true pirate fashion. “I like to think so,” he replied, allowing himself no more than a moment to consider whether it was a compliment or not.

He hadn’t exactly anticipated a pirate having a gun. He probably should’ve but, for all his worldly education, his parents hadn’t considered a pirate’s arsenal to be a worthy topic for the son of a nobleman. His eyes flitted to the weapon and back to her face, but he didn’t lower the sword in his hand.

Shaking his head, as dangerous an occupation as that could be with a gun pointed at it, he told her, “You can’t buy my parents. You’d make more money taking everything in this house. The guardsmen won’t be able to stop you, they’re all down at the docks.”

He swallowed again. “I’ll even tell you what’s the most valuable.”

#beyond-the-veille #beyondtheveille

beyond-the-veille

@chasingthered

Guided by the flickering light from their torches, three figures split away from the chaos at the bay and strode with determination up the winding, pitch-black street that led to the mansions on top of the cliff, armed to the teeth and completely fearless.

The crew of the Tempest provided a perfect distraction down by the seafront, torching down buildings and battling guardsmen while Scarlett and her accomplices took on the mansion- the biggest, most opulent building on the island, belonging to some rich lord or another; she really didn’t care which one, as long as he had something worth stealing. With all the commotion at the bottom of the hill, they found the house almost completely unguarded, and had no trouble breaking in through a large window on the ground floor.

They seemed to be in some sort of dining room, judging by the excessively large oak table and the frankly absurd amount of silverware. Scarlett ran a coarse hand over the polished table top, her footsteps echoing as she crossed through the otherwise-silent room. A painting in a gilded frame on the opposite wall caught her eye: a haughty middle-aged couple in exquisite dress, each with a hand on the shoulder of a young, dark-haired boy stood between them. A family portrait, she guessed. It was a beautiful painting, but there was no time to look at in in any great detail; sooner or later someone would discover the broken window and sound the alarm.

“Scout the ground floor and take whatever we can sell,” she commanded, “I’ll take the floor above. If you need to kill anyone, make sure you do it quietly.” Angelica and May nodded silently and left the room. Scarlett took one last look at the portrait and left after them, creeping up the stairs in her soft leather boots. Nobody was awake to bother her when she reached the second floor and chose a room at random to search.

Luckily, the room seemed to be empty. Nobody lay in the four-poster bed that took up most of the room, nobody stood on the moonlit balcony that faced the burning seafront, and most importantly, nobody sat at the jewel-laden dressing table in the corner. Scar made her way over to this last feature an began to study its contents- dozens of magnificent silver, pearl and gold necklaces, countless jewelled rings, and dazzling brooches and pins covered the marble surface of the dresser, more than Scarlett could fit in her leather bag (not through lack of trying). She didn’t realise someone had joined her till she felt the point of a sword press against the back of her neck.

Her eyes darted to the mirror on the table. A boy stood behind her, no younger than herself (but judging by the way he held the sword, nowhere near as experienced). Scarlett let out a cruel, quiet laugh as her hand crept towards the sword at her belt. “I’d put that down if I were you, lad.”