signs of change || dawn & hook
@dawn-tless ;; past thread - first meeting
The news had piqued his curiosity – something that was rare these days than he cared to admit. With the changes that had come to Neverland, the Captain’s ferocious appetite for intrigue and conflict had been left sadly lacking in purpose and he had found himself slinking into moods fouler than usual, lasting longer and longer each time. Winter blues, he’d heard one of the crew call their own restless, dissatisfied moods, but he knew it was more than that. It was more than the weather that had changed on the island; the weather was a symptom, not the cause, and until something shifted, until he could find a way to ignite the spark of passion in himself, his men, until he could find that tipping point (and perhaps more importantly, find the motivation to look for it) one grey day would pass into the next. And so it was that the infamous captain of the pirates of Neverland had been more than a little intrigued by the news that his men had captured a foundling in the woods… and when the details had been revealed, he’d been on the verge of delighted.
He’d ordered the captive brought to one of his safe havens; one of a handful of places that he had claimed as his own in his many, many years on the island. This particular one was carved out of the mountainside, and despite the entrance being nearly invisible unless one already knew what they were looking for the cavern system itself was expansive, with numerous twists and turns and many nooks and crannies where he had stashed supplies, weapons and a small part of the personal treasure he had amassed during his tenure as Captain. He had directed the captive to be brought, hooded and hands bound, into one of the main chambers: tall and spacious, but just small enough to be on the verge of cozy when first observed. A round table sat in the center of the room with two chairs, one larger and more intricately carved than the other. The table was covered by a dark red runner upon which two goblets, a bottle of rum, bottle of wine, pitcher of water, a bowl that held an assortment of fresh, plump fruits, a basket of fresh baked rolls, a small bowl of butter, and an assortment of meat carved from a freshly roasted boar. Torches flickered in braziers set on the walls of the cave, and a number of crates and barrels were stacked into the corners.
“That will be all, gentleman,” Hook clarified to the two men that brought the bundle of long, scrawny limbs into the room, gesturing them away. “Please, allow me,” he spoke, drawing closer to the figure and reaching for the burlap sack that hooded their features, sliding it up and over, and in the next moment he drew a dagger from his waist and flicked the razor sharp blade through the ropes at his ‘guest’s’ wrist with ease. “Allow me to apologize for my men,” he continued, “they are more rogue than gentlemanly by nature, and this place – as I am certain you have learned already – is far from kind to those with tender spirits.” He offered a smile, charming, even seemingly sincere.
She was starting to believe she had been better off to die in the streets than to follow after the strange music. Then again, she had yet to out-rule the possibility that she had died, and this place would serve as her purgatory for all of eternity. It was one negative event after the other, and though she had already emptied her insides before she had been captured (again) she found herself wanting to repeat herself. They had not been kind, nor gentle, and while Audrey had certainly done her best to kick them off, she was still young and malnourished. She had no chance. Not to mention, she wasn’t the slightest bit comforted by the fact that they had yet to kill her. After all, that scrawny boy--what was it, Slightly?--hadn’t killed her right away, merely led her to her death.
But she didn’t want to think about that. It was a bittersweet win. The bloodshed she had caused would haunt her forever. She had been dragging her feet purposely as they led her to God knows where, deciding that if she could not escape, at least she would not be a compliant victim. No, she would go out kicking and screaming--only that, she was too smart to do so right away. She had to take in her surroundings first, gain knowledge of her opponent, and then decide her next course of action. She may not have meant to...that boy...but to be killed by someone else shortly after would mean she had taken his life in vain. She didn’t flinch as the sack was removed from her head, but she did begin to shiver. She couldn’t help it, it happened involuntarily and at the most inopportune of times. Besides, it was cold and damp. But if it was to be read as a sign of weakness, perhaps she could get off with being underestimated. She may still be a child, but at least she was a survivor.
What he had to say didn’t matter, because as far as Audrey was concerned, without knowing his identity any other information was useless. So she wasted no time in asking. “Who are you?”
