there&#x27;s a captain in there somewhere

John backed up slowly with Theo, glancing at him with faux outrage briefly that was tinged with a hint of real irritation. “You bloody well think so now, do you,” he hissed very quietly. “Oh, good to see you’re paying attention, and here I thought that the whole ‘idiot’ nonsense was some rubbish I invented. I’m not your ruddy Prince Charming, and I’m not having my face beat in because someone else can’t keep his mouth s—-”

Theo was already gone. Racing off into the sunset.

John glanced once more at the other man’s former opponent, the building annoyance clear as day on his features.

“Shit.”

He ran.

After a few moments racing after him, he caught up, breathing hard, his heart beating punishingly quickly in his chest. ““Was just passing through. Looked like a spot of excitement, my mistake. Next time I won’t, mate,” he said between deep breathes, still bent over slightly, winded. “Next time, I’m just going to watch.” They were harsh words, but he knew it was a lie the moment it left his lips, straightening, his hands jamming into his pockets.

John exhaled and knocked shoulders with him gently, a playful movement, some of the irritation dissipating from his gaze. “Do I,” he inquired, amused. “Want to display your flawless reasoning skills and riddle me why?”

You Remind Me of the Babe || Isabelle & John

Once it was just them Isabelle turned her full attention to him. She took a sip of her drink as she spoke, informing her that someone recognising him didn’t happen often. She smirked at his comment about royalty but didn’t reply. As soon as he mentioned his age and joked that his memory was going Isabelle winced. She’d been thirty-two once. Isabelle was now into her fifties and with the sudden arrival of new blood she was certainly feeling it. The last twenty years had flown by for her, Isabelle had spent time looking at her face in the mirror in the mornings trying to work out what the hell had happened and how the hell had she got involved with all this.

Isabelle looked at him, he seemed to little excited to find why his face was so familiar to her. She did debate with her herself a little, wondering if she should tell him now or let him wait a little longer. Isabelle took a swig of her drink before she came to her decision. “Correct me if I’m wrong but at some point, have you lived in Portsmouth?” She looked at him. “I knew a family that lived there when I was a child, you remind me of them.”

#such an accurate quote for john

John was still grinning sunnily, leaning in his chair, and why shouldn’t he? He was a good-hearted rascal with simple tastes, which included a nice conversation with a pretty lady, and who was he not to enjoy himself? Seemed harmless. Tortuga had gone a bit downhill in his opinion, diverting from the rumors as it did. He had found his way here on a misbegotten broken-down brigantine only because that was where his saviors were already headed, and beggars couldn’t be chosers, but he couldn’t lie and say that there hadn’t been a spark of excitement. It was meant to be a bit of a party town, a center of debauchery, and if any one could appreciate a fair spot of debauchery, it was Captain John Martell.

The turn out had been…underwhelming.

Tortuga seemed mostly populated by women who could likely murder him with their pinky, or else seemed, to put it a kind word…tired, and he wasn’t up for anything particularly ambitious past a harmless flirt. As for the rest of it, so far, he’d seen more bar fights than carousing, as if these dense people couldn’t figure out the difference between a nice chat and a drink and bashing someone else in the head. He cheerfully acknowledged he wasn’t the paragon of maturity, but still, to him, a bit childish.

The smile hesitated on his face before falling, less of a quick drop and more of a graceful swan dive. He settled in his seat, looking at her a bit more conservatively. “Do I look like a Navy bloke to you,” he questioned, quirking a brow and diverting with a short laugh. “Is it the hair? Too conservative?” He was being knowingly flippant, distractive, but there was a flash of something in his eyes that likely told her all she needed to know. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of who he was. “I’ll let it grow out. Perhaps get a peg-leg. Purchase a parrot. I’d say macaw for preference, but it’d be less pleasingly alliterative.”

He was running dry on distractions.

“Look, love, even if I did know some people there - a long time ago, mind you - the chances of it being those few people are somewhere in the range of just about none.” He exhaled, tilting his head. Maybe he was getting a bit worked up over nothing. “What’s their names?”

#p:pirate

cpt-tightpants

I may be love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it.

Spike, Buffy The Vampire Slayer (via cpt-tightpants)

Blood || Theodore & John

Sweat, blood and booze it was a recipe for disaster if there ever was one. Theodore was in the midst of a small crowd the sun scorching his back whilst his opponent stepped forward. It wasn’t the first time he’d drunk enough to get himself into trouble like this and it surely wouldn’t be the last. Blood trickled from his lip that’d split from earlier, his previous opponent had succumbed and somehow Theodore had come out relatively unscathed. That said his breathing was ragged and his head was beginning to pound like a relentless drum.

“King, and kings are unbeatable,” the mantra was silent barely audible over the chanting and leering. He threw a punch, it missed and badly at that. He was unlucky that his opponent had well timed their foot to be in precisely the right place to trip him up. Theodore was sent to the ground but as quick as went down he was back on his feet again, there was a certain grace to his movements even if they were a little sluggish from the booze.

Fuck you.

Theodore was far too preoccupied with finding an opening to announce this out loud that and his hand had disappeared into his pocket. The dagger was cool to touch and small enough that his opponent might not notice the glint of metal in his hand.

Why play nicely when you could cheat and win.

The latter was ever so important to him – it didn’t happen particularly often. Theodore lunged with the dagger aiming for the arm, not an injury that’d result in anything serious but merely enable the siren to get a better advantage. He was losing and he hated it. As he drew back, just far enough to be temporarily out of reach, Theodore wiped the blood that’d trickled down to his chin. He already wanted another drink.

John Martell wasn’t much for fighting. Oh, he loved the adrenaline rush as much as the next chap, whether that was lifting a jeweled necklace or spending a night with a good woman, but he never quite got the appeal of having his face bashed in. A lifetime of being approximately scrawnier than most other men, average in height and not particularly strong, he had hedged his bets early in life, knowing that he had one single, solitary advantage, and that was that he was clever enough to never put himself in a situation where he’d be at a disadvantage. John did best when charm was an option, when he could wield it like a weapon, and bend circumstances by pure tenacity, but no man was going to be much charmed when his blood was up, which left him out in the breeze and not much use.

Still, even at a disadvantage, if he was trapped in such a situation he could rally to it, accustomed to having to talk men out of killing him since he sailed under the black. As a skinny Navy lad, the last survivor on his ship taken by pirates, it’d taken a Shakespearian-worthy performance to convince them that he was worth keeping alive. To be honest, in the beginning, he had been a bit of a clown, he was witty, and sharp-tongued and refused to grovel, and the captain found him amusing. Just about when amusement started to wear thin, John would reveal a new skill he had learned in the wee hours or in small pockets of time to add to his worth, a new selection of engaging character traits, a quick-fire shift of strategy.

In the end, he had made first mate, all while making it look effortless and carefully cloaking the endless years of hard work and all the skill it had taken him to pull that off. Everything had always worked against him save for one thing, which was that he either had the luck of the devil, or he was really, really good at endearing himself to men who on an ordinary day could use him as a toothpick. Some men were alpha males, big, swaggering fellows with bellow-y voices, who could communicate with a single level glance ‘don’t fuck with me.’

John was not one of those men. He never wanted to be. All he wanted was to survive, to thrive, and to go where the wind took him. No greater plan, just a shifting plan day by day. Whatever was amusing and kept him not only breathing, but feeling alive.

As for the former point, the pirate was perfectly content to skirt the little death-match that seemed to have been playing out in the middle of town, until he heard an unmistakable voice. The sauntering pirate hesitated slowly, damnably. A deep exhale escaped him, and he looked up at the sky for a moment, questioning why this was happening to him. There was a long, seemly endless pause over the sound of the continuing fighting, and then he turned on his heel, almost savagely annoyed.

“Should have bloody left you,” he muttered darkly as he strode towards the scene, quickly surveying it and executing a masterful eye roll when he did, in fact, locate Theodore. The siren was fighting a true Goliath, big, muscular, and spitting mad, and had the bruises to prove it. This was suicide, and for a moment, John hesitated again, before stepping in between them like an idiot, aware in every instant of his stupidity.

He squinted up at the giant, blinking in the garish sunlight. The giant had hesitated, teeth grounding.

John gave a little wave.

“Hi,” he said, reaching behind him blindly to grapple and grab onto Theo. “Sorry, he’s…a bit slow. Bit of a mistake. See, was dropped on the head as a baby, accounts for his good looks and his spectacularly poor judgement. Sure he didn’t mean it. Captain John Martell, mate, at your service.” The words were an endless stream, his brain firing on all cylinders, his smile brilliantly fake. “Say, why don’t I buy you a drink, and we all forget this ever happened?”

John glanced back to Theo, and his eyes flashed, telling him not to say anything. Shut it, I’m saving your ass, he mouthed surreptitiously, and turned again to face the other man with another bright smile. “Oh, that was nothing, just saying…you…Tortugans…Tortugites…did you know Tortuga is Spanish for turtle? Me either, mate. Learn something every day. No, what I meant to say was…what lovely grass. You turtle chaps are all about impeccable landscape maintenance, I can give you that. Look at those dunes. Never saw anything like it in my life. All…sandy... and nondescript. Top marks.”

A sharp elbow rammed into Theo’s ribs lightly as if to say play along.

punks-and-poets-deactivated2016

lovingthetie:

Yo ho and a bottle of rum

#inspiration

reel-drone

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Beneath You (2002, USA)

#fc

sasheenka

#inspiration

Theodore grinned he supposed he shouldn’t have expected anymore from him and yet the same way John had move the bloke earlier out of the sun it showed he cared. Even if Theo didn’t quite see it, didn’t quite register it, he was far too busy trying to fumble through the haze for a comeback. Pirates, it was true they weren’t particularly trustworthy hadn’t they proved that of themselves on Polaris? He supressed it, pretended it didn’t happen, but he couldn’t ignore that he still held a shred of resentment for them as a whole. Even if it were only select individuals to blame.

He was never particularly bright. Picking fights he couldn’t win and being in general overly ambitious but somehow it didn’t seem that way to ask for a bit of trust from John. “Trout? I’m offended you think that lowly of me,” he scowled at the pirate. He was a siren not some common river fish. It was becoming easier and easier to think clearer as if the water had forced him into a state of sobriety, in truth he was still far from it but baby steps.

“And, you are alright for a human but not quite devastatingly handsome.”

The siren was practically humming with the scowl long gone for a smug smile he felt a little less like the drunkard that walked the streets and more himself again. It was refreshing. Like coming home only this time he was truly home. “Pirates may not be trustworthy but sirens do not have the best record either,” especially not around here, “you’re lucky I’m still drunk or I might’ve pulled you under,” but he wouldn’t.

As if his grip on coherent sentences was slipping once more Theo disappeared beneath the water momentarily it was dark but the surface glimmered with the harbour lights. It was beautiful, sometimes so much so that he wanted to share it but who would trust a siren enough to swim with one?

He broke the surface for the final time his hair unfortunately covering his eyes but he didn’t intend to linger much longer so he left it. There was only so long a man could talk to the water before he’d draw attention and Theodore didn’t fancy letting anyone else privy to his true self just yet. More than enough people knew as it was, “don’t forget tomorrow Captain,” out here his voice was almost harmonic with the waves.

John felt a peace settle into him the longer he stayed out, overshadowing the pounding of his heart, which was racing almost pleasantly, rather than desperately. He always loved adrenaline, loved the chance to taste adventure and risk just because he could, even if he shied when violence towards others was involved. There was a humming in his veins than came from danger, but the danger was still, as of yet, rather comfortable, rather far away. It’d keep him up at night, the idea he saw a chap turn into a fish, but for now, he was an optimist. The blond turned his head away from the siren after a long moment, and looked up at the sky, tracing the stars as they began to slowly, lazily rise over the undulating water. It was a thoughtful look that most would not expect from him, but things rarely were what they appeared to be in their entirety.

It was easy to put John into a box - the devil-may-care, undereducated pirate, who relied on trickery and pelvic sorcery to skate his way through life, and perhaps some of that was true, but focusing on the obvious detracted from the deeper truth of the man. The deeper truth was that he could, beneath the sardonic, extroverted mask, be quite quiet, and quite thoughtful. Surprising eloquence flowed from him, mispronounced large words from where he had seen them in books, taught to read by a man his crew had captured, flavoring his speech. His expressions were subtle, and his eyes touched with a bright, natural intelligence, but above that, a true and obvious good nature. His charisma wasn’t showy, it was simply there, a little streetwise, a little snarky, but something pure under the acidic tongue, the quicksilver smirk.

“And, you are alright for a human but not quite devastatingly handsome.”

“Something wrong with your eyes,” the pirate returned automatically, not glancing back at him yet, still leaning back and watching the stars. The moonlight heightened the fresh scar above his eye that transversed his eyebrow, making him look less fierce than endearingly off kilter. Still, it looked painful. “I’d get that checked if I were you.”

Blue eyes slid over at last as the siren continued speaking, head tilting slightly, before he sat back a little, stretched, settled back into a relaxed, easy posture, legs dangling from the dock. “If you ready wanted to pull me in, you’d have pulled me in? You could pull me in now and there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do to stop you, although I can’t say I’d be really fond of the idea. Drowning would be inconvenient. Not many a man got a ship back from the grave, except, if the stories can be believed, for a very few and rather unfortunate examples.”

He flashed him another one of his white, sharp grins. “I’m a pirate, I’m the pirate, n'est-ce pas? I live day to day surrounded by men, women, children who’d like nothing more than to see me dead, and the only reason I’m still alive is that I’m remarkably good at not being dead. Might be one of my best talents. I’m Captain John Martell, mate. And that’s all you or anyone else has to know about me.”

The man stood up slowly, lazily, a bright figure in his arterial red jacket with the gaudy, worn braid, hands thrust into his pockets, smile infectious. “I’m not the drunkard, Sunshine,” he called, his voice twinkling with laughter over the waves.

He wasn’t some ruddy Pirate Lord with responsibilities, with treaties and deadlines. He was bloody well Captain John Martell, with only three goals in life, and those three goals were simple: regain the Amity, keep his freedom and raise an adequate amount of Hell. That was all he’d promise, all he’d ever promise. He was about as trustworthy and punctual as a cat, and made no apologies to it.

“I’ll show up if it suits me.”

Still, he was smiling.

The water was cold. Not bitterly it wasn’t quite like the waters of his home sea but without the sun high in the sky to warm the turquoise waters they were tepid at best. That and it was a shock to the system to be quite suddenly enveloped by the sea. He should have been comforted but Theo was more concerned with how he had returned last he could remember he was leaving the inn. Then it hit him with a wave of nauseating shame he’d fallen into the mud, which had been graciously washed by the water, and unfortunately the rest was unknown to him.

That was until Theodore resurfaced with a lot more grace than he’d entered the water he was away from the dock edge but the shadowed figure was an easy guess even in the dark. He swam closer, slowly as if he was suddenly a cautious man, still tipsy but the water at the very least had woken him up just enough. Once close enough Theodore called out, “I suppose I should thank you”.

Hair plastered to the sides of his face and a smirk lingering as if his life depended on it he looked up to John, “don’t suppose you’ll keep this to yourself?”

Theodore kept his head just above the water with a slow pulse of his tail beneath the water but for the most part he simply bobbed along with the gentle waves, effortless. The latter entirely important with him not being entirely sound of mind he wasn’t particularly proficient or focused on staying afloat. Swimming and alcohol didn’t mix even if you were half fish, especially if you were half fish. In all honesty he was surprised the pirate had dragged him down to the docks he could’ve easily abandoned Theo in some dark alleyway to be someone else’s problem.

He supposed that beneath every smirk there was some redeeming persona just bursting to break free, not wholly true of Theodore but sober he was somewhat different. To some he could almost pass for redeemable and yet here he was drinking the days away.

“Gotta say I’m not used to people seeing my fins on the first date,” the grin was unmistakable.

John might have dumped him in the sea like a sack of waterlogged potatoes, but he also lingered a bit longer, putting his characteristic red jacket on again against the chill, keeping his eyes on the figure in the water. He told himself it was because he had never seen a bloody fish-person before, and certainly that was part of it, but a greater part of it was that if he remained unconscious, he’d drown, and he didn’t just drag him through the alleyways for no reason. Should thank me, he thought sardonically, but his eyebrow quirked when he actually replied.

He’d had been distracted briefly, watching the graceful way he swam in the water, a thousand times more graceful than the drunken reveller on land. It was the difference between seeing a seal toddle awkwardly on a beach and seeing its liquid speed and dancer’s precision in the sea. Although the John’s face was hard to see in the shadows, sitting down on the docks with his arms placed behind him, chest out, posture relaxed, he seemed vaguely impressed. To be honest, it didn’t much occur to him, the danger. He was too busy being fascinated, which was probably the reason his career had been as exciting as it was thus far.

Nothing like this.

“Oi, thanking me implies I did anything but dump you in the harbor, mate,” the pirate snarked, with a brief shrug, although a hint of a smile touched his lips. “On my way down the docks anyway,” he lied. “And it was funny.”

He looked down at him, gleaming white against dark water. “Bit of a request from you. Doubt you’d believe me if I said I would, anyway. Pirate, Sunshine. Not most trustworthy blokes on the block, if you’re a bit behind on your reading.”

His grin in return to his quip was sharp, white, and entirely genuine.

“A date? Not sure about that, me. I’m devastatingly handsome, you’re an anthropomorphic trout. Hate to say it, love, but we might have to start seeing other people.”

It wasn’t like Theodore drank stupid amounts of alcohol he just couldn’t handle the damned stuff very well so what might get your typical man a little chattier got the siren more towards black out drunk. Truth be told he should know his limits by now but apparently not as this wasn’t the first time he’d ended up in the mud. This time there was someone to drag him out of the mud. Which was fortunate because the sun had all but disappeared and it wouldn’t be long until water was going to be a necessity.

Unbeknownst to Theo however, who was still pleasantly not with this world but still breathing, the sun disappeared leaving Tortuga within the nights grasp whilst he was still draped over John’s shoulder. Now this might have been alright if the man knew he wasn’t human or if they were better friends but given they had only just might it wasn’t the best predicament. The change wasn’t immediate but with the stars shining above and Theo unable to hold it off his feet bound together forming that heavy black tail.

The scales rippled up his once human legs and the unfortunate man still attempting to take Theo to an unknown location was left with a still unconscious siren draped over his shoulder. The change to his natural form was just enough to get a grunt out of him but no words, no chance of a sentence and still no place for John to haul his ass too. It wasn’t even as if he could wish that John wouldn’t leave him in a ditch without water, which would have severe consequences, he had no awareness of what was going on.

“You look a skinny little chap, but you’re like lugging a pile of bricks,” the pirate rather ungraciously muttered as he half dragged, half carried the man’s unconscious body along with him. “Remind me again why I’m doing this? Your winning personality?” He was perhaps, complaining more than was strictly appropriate, but he was a pirate, not a saint, and he certainly wasn’t running for Most Altruistic at any time in the near future. A flicker of concern was felt deep in his gut, which he tried to ignore, but failed, thinking quickly about where he could bring him. John was a bit of a drifter himself, without a proper home base in the port outside of the expensive inn. Then again, he hadn’t been intending to stay long. He supposed he could sneak Theo into his modest room, set him up with a blanket, check in periodically to make sure he hadn’t inhaled his tongue.

He was already heading that way, cutting through an alleyway, when he felt Theodore become even heavier. A quick glance at the man in his arms, and his brain promptly decided to stop working. A tail. A fish’s tail. Or more accurately, a man’s tail as that was what it was attached to, black and shining like the coils of a snake, the fins lacy and admittedly impressive. For a moment, John just stared, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as his brain tried to vehemently deny what his eyes insisted they were seeing. They battled it out for another long beat, before his eyes won out.

John raised his head again, his eyes round as a child’s that was just told a scary story. His lips twitched, and he tilted his head.

“Huh,” was all he said.

When he was able to think again, which took another few moments, he set Theodore down and took off his jacket, and his own overcoat, and used them to wrap the tail out of sight. The mermaid - merman?- looked a touch deformed, but at least the fins were no longer poking out. He’d have a hell of a time explaining why Theodore had his legs wrapped in jackets, but maybe a quick panicked mention of an injury might be enough to stem any questions. To be honest, he looked ruddy stupid, but there wasn’t time to worry about that.

Children’s logic told him fishy things usually required water, so that was the direction he headed, lugging him to the docks and keeping to the back alleys, glaring pointedly at any curious glances. The fins blessedly stayed wrapped up and out of sight, however, which he was eternally grateful for, long enough to drag Theodore to the edge of the docks. “All I wanted was a quiet drink, I get a sing-along evening with a demented salmon,” he grumbled to himself, ignoring the adrenaline pouring through his body, the way his mind still continually fought him on his circumstances. “Right, in you go.”

And without ceremony, he dropped him over the side and into the harbor.

Sunshine, the nickname would have made him scowl only he was far too drunk to care anymore and so he greeted John with another broad grin. “Do this every afternoon,” only since his pirate companion had disappeared the afternoons that he was drinking on had slowly diminished which, he was certain some people around here would be pleased about. The taverns not so much after so many years of drinking at various inns on the island he’d become somewhat of a loyal if a little annoying customer. This was his way of forgetting.

“A mighty fine gentleman,” he answered with a clearly sarcastic tone just quick enough that it might seem like a natural answer. Since he’d arrived Theodore hadn’t been too sure exactly what lie they were supposed to live by nowadays so it tended to change who he talked too. Drunkenly he’d once told a young woman he was a pirate who had stolen great bounties and treasures. Only she’d figured out the truth or part of the truth when he didn’t have enough coin for their drinks.

Theodore nodded he’d divert via Amphion’s which would dissuade any possible doubt that he wasn’t a civilian upon the island, her home was convenient even if it meant he occasionally had to help out. “Of course,” he drawled, “being sober is one of my many talents”.

He lurched from the bar and very almost went tumbling to the ground but in some kind of odd grace he saved himself from the muddied floor. It was embarrassing really but the siren didn’t seem afflicted by his almost accident. “Let us go into the night,” Theodore practically sang. He didn’t wait to see if John was following he simply assumed the man would trail behind as he left the inn. His feet were a little wobbly as if it was the first time he was walking on human feet. “I’m not entirely…,”

It was too late he toppled over into the mud without a single trace of grace.

John moved a step back with the instinctive grace of a man who dealt far too much with men who didn’t know how to hold their liquor. Theodore was at an incline, up to the point where he wasn’t anymore. To his credit, there was no sagging at the knees, no girly attempt to soften the fall. He merely went from standing unsteadily on his feet, blinking slowly, to flat down on his face.

The pirate exhaled a theatrical sigh, and paused, looking down at his prone body. He lifted one ragged boot and poked him gingerly in the side. “Oi,” he said, nudging him again. “You better not be dead, mate. Not much for heavy lifting. You got yourself down there, you can get yourself up.” Another gentle nudge.

“Really?”

Slowly, he knelt down, again with a deep reluctance, although he wasn’t heartless, fainting could be a symptom of something greater, but in this case, it was a symptom of a pitiful alcohol tolerance and he’d likely be fine in the morning, if he could keep him on his side. Ignoring the mud that smeared onto his clothes, the wiry pirate pulled up his newfound compatriot unceremoniously, draping his arm over his shoulder, supporting him with a grunt, grimace, and eye roll. “Must be a ruddy saint, me,” he grumbled darkly as he half dragged, half carried the man forward, struggling under the man’s meager weight. “And I’d consider it a kindness if I knew where I was going. Soon. If not, this might turn into a whole lot of your problem.”

They were empty words, sardonic words, without any real cruelty. John wouldn’t leave him defenseless, even if his predicament was of his own design. He might have been a pirate, but there were limits to his behavior, much to his chagrin. A deficiency in moral fiber didn’t amount to a total lack of conscience.

“What does he think I am,” the pirate muttered to himself as he continued on. “A bloody carthorse?”

The incoherent mess of a song came to an end, the barmaid seemed more relieved than anyone else in the inn, and he went back to his drink only it never quite touched his lips. “You will,” but he wouldn’t and even Theo knew that no-one ever seemed even the slightest bit impressed with his plans and schemes. Majority of them did inevitably fail hopelessly and the only ones that succeeded were at other’s expense but who can say he didn’t try. “блядь.” A quick flash of regret filled him as he realised he’d meant to have been working that afternoon but it didn’t linger long.

“Should do this more often,” he added with a mischievous grin that spread from ear to ear, most unlike himself but then he never was himself drunk. “And you sing good for a pirate,” albeit a few sometimes did pique his interest but the majority were well terrible there was no denying the truth.

“I think-,” he started but lost his train of thought immediately.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the lights of the candles and oil lamps blurring ever so slightly if he’d been stood without support perhaps this would’ve been the moment he fell. But lucky for Theodore, and his dignity, he was leaning enough against the bar that this wasn’t the case. If he dared to leave however that’d be another matter entirely. He’d put himself into far worse situations before but somehow even though the haze he wanted to impress John.

Stubborn and arrogant meant even in such a state he had appearances to withhold, although he wasn’t doing a good job thus far. “Tomorrow come to the marketplace morning, sober and ready to plan,” cause he was still quite serious about commandeering a boat.

The edge of his lips quirked upwards as the mess of a song came to an end, and unable to help himself, he clapped briefly, his applause both sarcastic and genuine, before settling back against the bar, eyes curiously remaining on his face. He was an odd one, bit sharp, bit determined to shave off the edges of sharpness through drink, and God knew that wouldn’t take much of a job. John too had to watch his consumption when that was what he had a mind to, he wasn’t the most impressive physical specimens that had ever walked the earth. Most of his life he had compensated by being quick and being funny, or by utilizing the ever-popular toolbox items of seduction or charm. He didn’t just dislike fighting on principle, he’d fight if forced to it, and the blade at his hip wasn’t purely ornamental, but in addition to a general respect for life, dislike for pain, he didn’t much fancy losing. For as much of a physical footnote as he was, Theodore was much slighter, wispy as a teenage maiden’s idol. He was surprised he wasn’t flat out at the speed he’d been drinking.

Well, at least he was amusing.

“Oh, aye?” An eyebrow quirked, his grin sharp and white, eyes sparkling. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol himself a touch, but with his consumption, it just took the edge off whatever reserve he might have laid claim to, admittedly not much. His body posture was open and expansive, and there was something almost devilishly mischievous that danced within his gaze. “Well, you’re confident, I’ll give you that. Shouldn’t make promises you might not keep, Sunshine, I’ll be looking forward to it now. Though I don’t think you can handle doing this more often, mate.” The last sentence carried a slight threat of some seriousness looming just over the horizon of hilarity, he didn’t want him to take it too far. Not that he didn’t respect every man’s healthy desire to destroy himself, but that annoying ticking of conscience told him that if the bloke got any more drunk, he was the type to open his mouth and start a riot.

“If I’m a pirate, what are you, then,” John asked curiously, clear he was pleased by the compliment. “Don’t seem much of a fighter. Not anything wrong with that. Anyone can be a brawler, smarter man is the chap who gets what he wants without it. Less pesky impalements, chipped nails, that sort of thing.” A small, amused huff of air escaped him, watching him try to stand. He expected his offers of help to be brushed off, but he thought he should offer it the same. He convinced himself it was because a fallen, unconscious Theo would be just one more thing to trip over, but this sudden altruism was also out of some glimmerings of curiosity, and the fact that it would indeed be unpleasant to see him get trampled. John was sardonic, but he wasn’t heartless.

“I’ll walk with you,” he announced finally, and it was an announcement, carelessly picking an action and a direction with the kind of scruffy certainty that any one-eyed alley-cat would have been proud of. “And I’ll be there, sober as a priest. Will have kicked all my habits, ready to step into the glowing enlightenment of your plan. Looking forward to it, really.” There was an ironic quirk of his lips following, as most people thought ‘kicking his habits’ highly unlikely. Truth to say, most of any drunkenness he put on in daily life was a bit of a show. Easier for people to underestimate a man who wasn’t all quite there. And he liked living down to people’s expectations. Made it that more fun when he broke them.

“Will you?”

#p: siren

inwhichiluvmusic

Well, I’m so above you And it’s plain to see But I came to love you anyway So you pulled my heart out And I don’t mind bleeding Any old time you keep me waiting Waiting, waiting

#music

I try to believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

Alice in Wonderland

#quotes #inspiration

Theodore gave a laugh and a little too late nod of recognition, everything was slurred as if he was watching the world through fogged up lenses. Perhaps he ought to slow down on the drink. Yet he couldn’t put it down, he never could it was inevitable that at some point he’d stumble just close enough to the sea that it’d swallow him whole. It was lucky in truth that he hadn’t yet been discovered still drunk half in the water half strewn across the sandy beach.

A glint flashed across his eyes, like firelight dancing in the dark, and with a smug grin that just about reached his cheeks he answered. “Here?” The disbelief was faked and not all that well with the liquor sloshing his thoughts into an incoherent mess. “Not much to see,” at least nothing out of the ordinary so long as you didn’t count the presence of sirens nor the elixir. Theodore sometimes wondered how these newcomers would react if they found out about the former, the later well more oft than not it’s what pulled them here or so he thought anyway.

“Now that,” he took a quick sip after the glasses met, “I do not think I can do”. It was true he didn’t spend much of his time sober. He wanted to blame that damned pirate for offering him a skin of drink but Theodore had only brought it on himself. “A plan on the other hand,” the smirk returned with ease and he leaned back just a little, tankard firmly on the bar now. “That I already have,” Theodore was quite serious even if the other wasn’t.

“But if I revealed it now give away all the mystique.”

Commandeering a ship now wouldn’t that be a sight, whilst he envisioned a large warship crashing through the waves with him at its helm Theodore probably couldn’t even sail a dinghy. He wasn’t sure whether the others would leer or be envious the former seemed more likely.

Without much warning Theodore burst into song, only it was a mismatch of this and that and didn’t particularly make sense the occasional word sung in Russian and the rest English. It might appear spontaneous but it was habit once he’d drunk enough, if he was lucky he’d get the inn to join in. On the occasion his melodies were a little offensive and on such occasions Theodore found himself back out in the mud. Tonight would not be one of those. Just an innocent incoherent mess.

John watched him, amused, but there was something itching at the back of his mind. Some concern, hatefully rose up to remind himself that he still had a conscience, even regarding a mouthy stranger. Make no mistake, the pirate was all in favor of a few hard drinks to take the edge off, but he was less of a fan at recognizing self-destructive tendencies in other people. Cramped his style, he thought, to have other people moping about bars as if their problems were too much to take. Must be the reason it irked him. Not that he cared. Still, he felt that annoying itch of regret that was becoming far too familiar for his liking in the last couple of months, that feeling, God help him, of doing something wrong.

“Looking forward to it, mate,” he said, lounging with a show of magnificent indifference against the counter. “I’m sure I’ll be very impressed.” There was a sardonic edge to his speech, softened only by the playful wink he sent his way. “You scheme me up a solution to all my problems and I can hold out for the sake of mystique.” As long as it bloody well worked, which it bloody well wouldn’t, but John too had always been a mad hoper of hopes and a dreamer of dreams. The third son of a fisherman was supposed to be the third son of a fisherman all his life, and a fisherman too, besides. It was one of those startling impossibilities that he had gotten as far as he did, made a little name for himself, crewed a ship, evaded the noose. Certainly not through fire and blood, nor through strength of arms, but through pure, inventive cunning. Oh, and an excellent public relations campaign.

If the world was how the world was meant to be, John would have been killed unceremoniously the first time he set foot upon a pirate vessel, and the world would be a touch quieter for it, a touch more sedate. As it was, it was a mad and often wonderful place. Tristram Courbet, the fast-talking and quick-thinking fisherman’s son was fated to die unceremoniously when his Naval ship had been boarded, dead along far better fighters.

No one told him that.

The lips of the impossible man quirked up slightly, his head tilting as Theo sang. First priority was to keep him from tipping over, second priority was to make sure that none of the lyrics crossed the borders into too creative, he didn’t feel like wading into local color this evening, but with those priorities in mind, the other man was a fair singer. Made no ruddy sense, half of the thing in some Slavic muttering, but rather nice all the same, his voice clear. John joined in with a low hum, catching part of a snippet of the melody, his voice rough, surprisingly quiet, not fully breaking into song. When he caught Theo’s eye, he raised his tankard to him in a silent salute.

#p: siren

You Remind Me of the Babe || Isabelle & John

Isabelle briefly glanced at the other woman he was with for a moment before looking back at him. She still couldn’t place his face and it was bugging her, a lot. She sat down the other side of him and took a swig of her drink. “This one will suit me fine, merci and I think I’ll survive without a song.”

She went silent for a moment as she debated with herself about what she should say next. Should she just come out and say it, or should she made up something bullshit excuse to why she had asked to sit with him. After a minute Isabelle decided that she might as well come out and say it. “You remind me of someone.”

“Not it a bad way. In a good way, a very good way.” She smiled to herself slightly. “I know it might sound a little crazy but hey, around here crazy in the norm.” Isabelle looked at him, taking another swig of her drink. She waited for his reply, she needed to find out why he reminded her of home.