Holy Crusader, the Hellblazer

From Hispaniola with Love || Pirate!AU || closed for tattoosandmusclecars

John hacked away at net fiber with his tiny, inadequate knife. Of course she had a point too. Every argument had multiple sides and telling and all were just as valid as any other. Still, his gift was making his point of view the most important in everyone’s mind, no matter class, station, occupation or what have you. She was being obstinate.

“If it eases your mind in the slightest, I saw your lord and his entourage scarper into a long boat before the ship actually exploded,” he commented. He glanced over his shoulder, curious to see what she intended to do to help. Undressing…that was…well, it was something. John smirked and went back to his task.

“I’m sure he meant to wait for you, but…well, boom.”

Finally freed from her dripping, clingy bonds, Isabelle stood before the man in nothing but her shift. So it was likely that her father survived. The fact that he didn’t look for her before setting off hurt, but she was still relieved. She began to rifle through the debris caught in the netting, unsure of what to do to help. She wasn’t trained for this in the slightest. Hopefully her present company had some survival skills. Looking at him, Isabelle was hopeful.

“He’s probably out looking for me right now…” her tone was flat though; she was hardly expecting a rescue party to come into view on the horizon any time soon. She looked to the man, anxiety creasing her brow. “What’s you name, sailor? And, um…what can I do to help?”

Lord what’s his name was probably drawing up a search party as they spoke. Which was why John wasn’t too keen on staying long. Whatever he might convince the lady to say about him in the meantime, he was still responsible for a mutiny. People hanged for that.

“Name’s John,” replied the sailor. Finally, he got through some of the netting, enough to draw some of the rigging away and get at the barrel in the front. “If you’re going to help, do us a favor and scour the beach for anything better than this bloody knife, yeah?”

“John.” Isabelle tested the name, decided it fit. “I’m Isabelle.” She stopped trying to untangle the net and gazed at their surroundings. It was such a pitiful stretch of land, she didn’t hold out much hope that she’d find anything. But she would try; at least it would keep her from throttling John for getting them into this mess.

“I suppose I could try,” she sighed, slipping off the one shoe that had survived and trudging up the beach. It seemed like there was nothing but sand and palm fronds, but after a few minutes, she found what she supposed to be a hidden cache. It was mostly hidden by a pile of fronds, but there it was, just waiting for her to open it. “Hey John,” she called over her shoulder. “I think I’ve found something.”

John cleared out the netting, finding two more barrels of powder. The sea chest he'd had his eye on held a set of dueling pistols, shit for aim and with only one shot each. There was a burlap sack of sodden, clumped up grain, but it wasn't salvageable. They apparently wouldn't get lucky with these bits of the ship's water-logged corpse.

He perked to hear her call his name. Perhaps she had a bit of luck to her yet. John forced himself to full height and wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun was hot even so early; it fatigued him from the start, not to mention exerting himself like that. He hoped she'd found something useful so they could get out of this sun soon.

"Found something indeed," he remarked with a grin. He leant down and pushed some fronds aside. "Fortune smiles upon you, luv. I'll have to keep you around after all."

"I don't like dogs, much less hyenas."

@neverarhyme"I will say that you're cuter than a hyena."

From Hispaniola with Love || Pirate!AU || closed for tattoosandmusclecars

John hacked away at net fiber with his tiny, inadequate knife. Of course she had a point too. Every argument had multiple sides and telling and all were just as valid as any other. Still, his gift was making his point of view the most important in everyone’s mind, no matter class, station, occupation or what have you. She was being obstinate.

“If it eases your mind in the slightest, I saw your lord and his entourage scarper into a long boat before the ship actually exploded,” he commented. He glanced over his shoulder, curious to see what she intended to do to help. Undressing…that was…well, it was something. John smirked and went back to his task.

“I’m sure he meant to wait for you, but…well, boom.”

Finally freed from her dripping, clingy bonds, Isabelle stood before the man in nothing but her shift. So it was likely that her father survived. The fact that he didn’t look for her before setting off hurt, but she was still relieved. She began to rifle through the debris caught in the netting, unsure of what to do to help. She wasn’t trained for this in the slightest. Hopefully her present company had some survival skills. Looking at him, Isabelle was hopeful.

“He’s probably out looking for me right now…” her tone was flat though; she was hardly expecting a rescue party to come into view on the horizon any time soon. She looked to the man, anxiety creasing her brow. “What’s you name, sailor? And, um…what can I do to help?”

Lord what's his name was probably drawing up a search party as they spoke. Which was why John wasn't too keen on staying long. Whatever he might convince the lady to say about him in the meantime, he was still responsible for a mutiny. People hanged for that.

"Name's John," replied the sailor. Finally, he got through some of the netting, enough to draw some of the rigging away and get at the barrel in the front. "If you're going to help, do us a favor and scour the beach for anything better than this bloody knife, yeah?"

"Hyenas are weird though."

@neverarhyme"They're more majestic than ferrets. Calling you a type of dog is better than you calling me a type of rat."

"I just thought of it, you're the one who took it as an insult."

@neverarhyme"A ferret...how is that not and insult? At least a hyena is a strong killer."

"Rude."

@neverarhyme"You started it."

From Hispaniola with Love || Pirate!AU || closed for tattoosandmusclecars

John hacked away at net fiber with his tiny, inadequate knife. Of course she had a point too. Every argument had multiple sides and telling and all were just as valid as any other. Still, his gift was making his point of view the most important in everyone’s mind, no matter class, station, occupation or what have you. She was being obstinate.

“If it eases your mind in the slightest, I saw your lord and his entourage scarper into a long boat before the ship actually exploded,” he commented. He glanced over his shoulder, curious to see what she intended to do to help. Undressing…that was…well, it was something. John smirked and went back to his task.

“I’m sure he meant to wait for you, but…well, boom.”

"If you were an animal you'd definitely be a feret."

@neverarhyme"What's your reasoning? I mean, yeah I can see that, but I'd like to know if you mean that as insulting as it sounds."

From Hispaniola with Love || Pirate!AU || closed for tattoosandmusclecars

The endless expanse of the sea, the gentle mist of a stray wave catching just right against the bow. John could very easily make a home here. There was freedom and like companionship, a throng of folks with the same mindset, the same goal. Live free and uncaring on the sea. No one aboard particularly cared for the naval presence. Some lord or another and his entourage required the Sea Lady to be commandeered and captained by His Royal Majesty’s Captain Swain.

Which John could not very well stand for. He hadn’t much invested in this crew, but he could see the affront to nature every time that blue-coated bastard set foot on deck. He wasn’t in charge, it wasn’t his ship, but he was particularly good at causing an uprising.

And thus was how most of the Sea Lady caught fire, exploded and ended up floating about the tides in bits and pieces. This was becoming a regular thing for him, causing a ruckus with a significant helping of destruction. Couldn’t a guy just organize a mutiny without ruining everything for everyone?

—

He woke on a sandy beach of an island he could walk across in all directions and get to the other side before sunset. Debris washed up alongside him, barrels, bits of rigging, the right arm of the ship’s figurehead. And…a lady. John approached carefully, kneeling beside her. He felt for pulse and breath and found she was still very much alive, though her skirts were beyond saving.

“Oi,” he said, poking at her face. “If you’re gonna die, may as well do it now.”

Isabelle’s face twitched. Then it twitched again. She opened one eye to peer at her assailant, swatting the offending finger away from her face with a pale hand. “What are you doing,” she asked as she struggled to sit up. She was soaked, and the water that clung to her ruined skirts weighed her down a bit, but she was able to finally resume an upright position. The sight of the beach around her caused memory to come rushing back, however, and she was soon staring up at the clear, blue sky once more.

“The ship” she muttered, searching the sky for answers. She turned her head to the man beside her, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead. “This is all your doing, isn’t it?”

He saw the cogs turning in her pretty head. Evasively, he stood and put just a bit of space between them. As she worked through her situation, John set about examining the debris. If he was lucky, there would be provisions amongst the wreckage. Something salvageable until he could get off this rock. Maybe something edible or alcoholic.

“That really depends on how you look at it, luv,” he said with a dry chuckle. His head was pounding from striking a bulkhead when he jumped ship, he remembered that much. It was a wonder he wasn’t dead. “I wasn’t the one with the rich daddy, forcing hardworking fisherman to abandon their course and ferry you lot away to Cuba under naval escort. My crewmates weren’t happy with the arrangement, I just encouraged them to do something about it.”

He used his boot heel to crack open the lid of a barrel. Clean air hissed through the broken seal, it was bone dry inside. Gunpowder. “Shite, bloody useless,” he grumbled.

“So this is your fault!” With a modicum of difficulty, Isabelle got to her feet and stormed over to where the man stood on the beach, dragging her heavy skirts along with her. She’d have to do something about that, but right now, she was too distressed to care. Were there any other survivors? Did her father make it out all right? Her head throbbed and swam with unanswered questions, dry mouth working to voice them all at once.

“I can’t believe anyone could do anything so reckless.” She was in his personal space, standing on tiptoe to look him square in the eye. “And what do you propose we do now? Since you’re the one with the plans and all. Tell me what happens next.”

"Oh, go ahead, point your pretty little finger," he teased, moving on to the next barrel. "But in case you hadn't noticed, there en't no guards to come spirit me away to the gallows, or servants to bring you your meals. So you can stand and screech and really let me have it, or you can help me sort through this mess so that maybe we have something to eat tonight or tools to hunt with."

He took the knife from his belt and started to cut through a large net that had gotten tangled up with rigging and casks and barrels. He saw a sea chest or a footlocker or something in the midst, and felt good about it.

"Did you even stop to think about the weeks worth of wages that ship missed out on because of you?"

From Hispaniola with Love || Pirate!AU || closed for tattoosandmusclecars

The endless expanse of the sea, the gentle mist of a stray wave catching just right against the bow. John could very easily make a home here. There was freedom and like companionship, a throng of folks with the same mindset, the same goal. Live free and uncaring on the sea. No one aboard particularly cared for the naval presence. Some lord or another and his entourage required the Sea Lady to be commandeered and captained by His Royal Majesty’s Captain Swain.

Which John could not very well stand for. He hadn’t much invested in this crew, but he could see the affront to nature every time that blue-coated bastard set foot on deck. He wasn’t in charge, it wasn’t his ship, but he was particularly good at causing an uprising.

And thus was how most of the Sea Lady caught fire, exploded and ended up floating about the tides in bits and pieces. This was becoming a regular thing for him, causing a ruckus with a significant helping of destruction. Couldn’t a guy just organize a mutiny without ruining everything for everyone?

—

He woke on a sandy beach of an island he could walk across in all directions and get to the other side before sunset. Debris washed up alongside him, barrels, bits of rigging, the right arm of the ship’s figurehead. And…a lady. John approached carefully, kneeling beside her. He felt for pulse and breath and found she was still very much alive, though her skirts were beyond saving.

“Oi,” he said, poking at her face. “If you’re gonna die, may as well do it now.”

Isabelle’s face twitched. Then it twitched again. She opened one eye to peer at her assailant, swatting the offending finger away from her face with a pale hand. “What are you doing,” she asked as she struggled to sit up. She was soaked, and the water that clung to her ruined skirts weighed her down a bit, but she was able to finally resume an upright position. The sight of the beach around her caused memory to come rushing back, however, and she was soon staring up at the clear, blue sky once more.

“The ship” she muttered, searching the sky for answers. She turned her head to the man beside her, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead. “This is all your doing, isn’t it?”

He saw the cogs turning in her pretty head. Evasively, he stood and put just a bit of space between them. As she worked through her situation, John set about examining the debris. If he was lucky, there would be provisions amongst the wreckage. Something salvageable until he could get off this rock. Maybe something edible or alcoholic.

"That really depends on how you look at it, luv," he said with a dry chuckle. His head was pounding from striking a bulkhead when he jumped ship, he remembered that much. It was a wonder he wasn't dead. "I wasn't the one with the rich daddy, forcing hardworking fisherman to abandon their course and ferry you lot away to Cuba under naval escort. My crewmates weren't happy with the arrangement, I just encouraged them to do something about it."

He used his boot heel to crack open the lid of a barrel. Clean air hissed through the broken seal, it was bone dry inside. Gunpowder. "Shite, bloody useless," he grumbled.