Swift.

Philip Swift; missionary. [Pirates Of The Caribbean roleplayer] {tracking tag: naivemissionary}

[insanevictor]

Annie sat beside the man she believed to be Finnick, she attempted to sit and be patient, but she couldn’t be. She was afraid, what if he was hurt? Why did he look like he had been washed onto the shore by the violent waves of the night before? Gently she placed a hand upon his arm, to show her support for him and for him to know it was her.

His eyes opened and she smiled, “Finn…” But the male quickly shot her down, he wasn’t Finnick. It didn’t make sense to her, he looked just like the man she loved with all her heart but it wasn’t him. “Philip? N-not Finnick? O-oh… oh dear, I’m sorry. I’m truly very sorry.”

It would be rude of her to walk away and leave the man in the sand, but she felt the tears building up and she did not wish to cry in front of a stranger, even a stranger who seemed so familiar and wasn’t particularly attentive to his situation.

Rocking back onto her heels, Annie stood up and turned away to face the ocean. Finnick was out there somewhere, he had to be. He couldn’t be gone. She needed him and he had promised her that he would return, Finnick Odair never broke a promise. Especially not to his Annie.

And then it hit her, she couldn’t leave the man alone. He could be hurt and if he was to die, it would be her fault for leaving him. Turning back, she looked down. “D-do you need help?”

[naivemissionary]

Sunlight flashed brightly when he briefly opened his eyes; green orbs assaulted by the light, everywhere. Too bright; too sudden; too sharp. The energy to keep the eyelids from closing in a protective stance was more than he could afford to exert in that moment. The visage of the female that he knew was situated beside him was something that had escaped him; the warmth of her hand against his skin keeping him in the present, allowing him to fight the darkness. Perhaps he would be okay, if this woman was as kind as she seemed in the brief seconds he had known her.

The sorrow in her voice when he announced his name was something he felt acutely. He was the cause of that. Whoever this Finnick was, he must be someone of great importance to the female. She had mistaken him for Finnick; did that mean a similarity between the two? Or had Philip been so badly beaten by the sea that he was almost undistinguishable from his former self? Not that such a thing mattered; not when life still flowed within him. God must have a further purpose for him.

Slowly, the male began an attempt to move parts of his body, making sure that they still functioned. Toes - yes; fingers - yes; a slight raise of the larger appendages - everything seemed fine. Fine until he tried to lift his head, and a wave of dizziness overcame him. Annoying - as conveyed by the low groan that escaped his lips - but at least it too was still functioning.

"I believe I will be fine once this bout of dizziness subsides," he mumbled, licking his lips to aid his speech; the sharp tang of salt attacking his taste-buds as he did so. "May I query as to where I am?"

[maggins]

[sheissyrena-blog]

Syrena nodded to his response, trying to put a bit of enthusiasm into her reaction for his sake. After all, it’s not his fault we have to stay so close to the shoreline, she reminded herself.  ”That’s fine.” Syrena tried to reassure him. “It’s better than sleeping out in the wind.”

She felt one knee buckle under her slight weight and tried to adjust her stance to better support herself. “I-is there a place to sit?” Syrena questioned shyly, unsure of how much longer she’d be able to stand before her legs gave up on her.

[naivemissionary]

If he were the type of man to do so, a laugh might have burst from between his lips, regarding the comment about sleeping outside. But that type of man, he was most definitely not. Understanding that she was trying to make light of the situation bloomed within; compassion at the fact she tried to do so quickly mixing with it. A night in Tortuga was anything but fine; but he would attempt to make it bearable for the pair.

A room was required. Syrena's want to rest her legs made that something of even greater import. Subconsciously, a lean arm snaked around her; an attempt to bear some of her weight. Such proximity to her still caused a well of discomfort to flow inside him; but helping someone in need was not something that he could shy from. A duty - was something he would have named the impulse.

Green orbs glanced at the buildings in front of him. A few signs suggested a place to bed; but some offerings were more dire than others. One, three doors down, promised to be the most acceptable - not that that was saying much; but it looked as though it would have to do - if there were any room.

A slight movement of his head in that direction accompanied the following words: "I think it best if we find a room for us to occupy for this evening. There would provide you somewhere to rest your legs." An after thought; "Are you able to bear the discomfort for a short period longer?" Features were etched with a slight flair of concern.

[samclaflin-fans]

Sam Claflin Picture of the Day :)

[ask-prince-lightning-dash-deact]

Reblog if you have skype

[sheissyrena-blog]

"Excuse me." A small timid voice cut through the crowd. Syrena made her way through the crowd slowly, grabbing on to people as she passed them to support herself, ignoring the glances of several leering men who followed her movements. She was wearing a simple, tattered floral dress that had washed up in the waves a few days ago.

"Excuse me, pardon me," she finished, arriving at her destination, Phillip.  She latched on to his shoulder both for support and comfort.  "Is this the only place available to stay?" She asked softly, looking at the rough crowd surrounding them and then up at him worriedly.

[naivemissionary]

Green orbs turned to the female now at his side; the despair of their situation becoming slightly less prominent, as something more akin to wonder swan from within the depths. Wonder at the prospect that she was here, on land, with him. A continuous wonder at her existence. His eyes had been opened recently; no longer was he quite the naive clergyman that had set sail to spread the word of God to those who needed it. Wonder at the fact that he still existed, and that he was not now in the arms of the almighty Father.

A slight incline of his head was the initial response that came to her question. Thoughts turned back to the desperate situation they had found themselves in. He was the last person who would desire to bed down in a place such as this, but there was not much in the means of other options available. "Unfortunately, I believe that we must stay here, at least for tonight," was spoken, regret tingeing the words as they were uttered.

[insanevictor]

Walks on the beach were always Annie’s favourite things to do. The sand beneath her toes, the sun beating down upon her skin and the cool ocean breeze clearing her mind. Yes, she found them to be relaxing, and for someone like her, that was something she needed. However, there was something different that caught the eye of the Victor on her walk that day. A body, the body of a male. Whoever it was looked terrible and she debated if it was just something washed up by the tide, someone who hadn’t seen life in a while. Initially intending to walk away, she continued on her path though curiosity took over and she quickly hurried back there. 

She stood over the damaged body and had to count to ten to keep herself calm. He had such a familiar face, a face she loved so dearly. “Finnick?” Dropping to her knees, she checked to see if the man still had a pulse, and he did. “Finnick? Please? Finn?”

[naivemissionary]

Philip was racked by waves of darkness trying to pull him further and further into their depths; occasionally, he would almost break the surface - his subconscious screaming to be allowed reprieve, like a drowning man desperate for air to fill his lungs. On one such journey of near surface exploration, something caught his ear. Even with blackness surrounding him, the female voice sounded to him. It had an almost familiar lilt to it; not that he was in the custom of having many in the way of female friends or acquaintances. In the congregation, yes, there were a number of females; but the days of him standing on a pulpit seemed far behind him now.

Eyelids began to twitch as the eyes underneath grew determined to open. Those sea-green orbs were desperate to be welcomed by something other than blackness; it was almost boring now, that Philip seemed to have been unconscious for so long.

The female voice sounded once more; a desperation within it equal to his own desperation to awaken. At first, he had believed the words uttered to be his own name; but as he started to win the battle, he realised this was a folly. Not Philip; no; something similar though; Finnick? He did not know who Finnick was or, if not a name, what it meant. Where would he find himself once awoken?

Lips moved slightly. In his head, he was trying to say his name; the desire for whoever this was to know that he was Philip was perhaps an unnecessary one, but it was all his brain could think of. Again, he tried. Tried until he managed to hoarsely whisper. "No... Philip."

[naivemissionary]

".....and I believe that I might still be. Pray tell, where is this place?"

[theblackpearlscaptain-arc-blog]

Ahoy mates. Appearing to be, Captain Jack’s crew is growing mighty large. Seeing how I am always the most humble and giving of pirates - I am offerin’ a little giveaway! Huzzah, am I right? Here how it works:

Must be a crewmember. { following }

Reblogs only.  

One reblog counts.

This be a mini giveaway so the prizes are as follows:

Five winners get a promo post of their blogs; with a rating score and a description of what I like most about said blog and muse.  

Three winners get a starter from Captain Jack himself. If you don’t want a new thread then you may replace with a promo post or somethin’ else of that like. One note on this: Starters can be tricky. If our muses don’t mingle well we can discuss other options.

One winner will have all of the above; plus a nice little link on me blog for a few weeks. Sound deal am I right?

This starts today and ends on January 4th, at 8pm EST.

Good luck, buckos. 

[astrid-appreciation]

[naivemissionary]

Happy New Year to you few followers that I have on here. I hope that 2014 is a great year for you all. <3

[lostinyourwords]

[naivemissionary]

Tortuga. It was not exactly the type of place that you would expect to find a young clergyman such as Philip. But there he was. The place was filled with debauchery; with too many souls that needed saving. Sure, the young man was used to spending his time amongst sailors, amongst pirates; and he knew what their sort were like. But this place, it was a million times worse than any pirate ship. All of their drunkenness, their bloodthirsty attitudes, their sleaziness - it was all amplified here. And every corner turned led to yet another example of this sin. It was a great misfortune that he had ended up here. It had not been through choice; just as him travelling with pirates had not been his choice.

Philip's hand continually strayed to the cross that he wore around his neck; tracing the outline of it, in an attempt to find some sort of comfort.

[naivemissionary]

The pale gold colour of the sand; the blue-green of the ocean; all in all, a scene of beauty; a scene of peace. Except for one thing - the figure on the beach. The man lay on the edge of the shore. The waves lapping over the lower part of his body; his head and torso nestled by the sand. Lids were closed over green orbs; brown hair lay matted on the forehead; rusty remnants of blood marred the pale skin. It would not have been folly to mistake him for dead. Until one was close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest; steady, but not as strong as would allow relief. There was still some life within the male. He had not given up yet.

Still - what had occurred to allow a body to be washed up on the shore in such a manner? It was evident that some misfortune had befallen him.

[naivemissionary]

The pale gold colour of the sand; the blue-green of the ocean; all in all, a scene of beauty; a scene of peace. Except for one thing - the figure on the beach. The man lay on the edge of the shore. The waves lapping over the lower part of his body; his head and torso nestled by the sand. Lids were closed over green orbs; brown hair lay matted on the forehead; rusty remnants of blood marred the pale skin. It would not have been folly to mistake him for dead. Until one was close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest; steady, but not as strong as would allow relief to the viewer.

It was evident that some misfortune had befallen him. How else would he had ended up in this position? Especially a man such as himself - a wooden cross hung around his neck; somehow surviving the previous displeasure. It marked him clearly as a man of God; but how did a clergyman come to be washed up on the shore?

[scribetiloa]

You have the entirety of ONE ask to make my muse blush and squirm bad enough to need a cold shower. Go nuts.

[naivemissionary]

I believe now might be a good time to get some roleplays up and running on here; or at least discuss the possibility of getting something going between Philip and anyone interested.  I will get some sort of starters posted up later for the Susan and 2 Annies i've mentioned ideas to (probably should have done that before now...) Anyone else - hit up my ask box, or tag me in something, or whatever - neither I nor Philip bite. ;)