Quirking an eyebrow in her direction, Christophe picked up a card and flinched when she trapped his left wrist. āYou know, you shouldnāt have done that. My wrist hasnāt healed properly.ā He huffed out, rolling his eyes. Would now be an appropriate time to yell for Thea?
āIts not my fault you were in my line of sight.ā Christophe grumbled, free han running through his hair. āHey, hey, you cant take my coffee. Its the only thing keeping me awake!ā
āOui? What are you going to do about it?ā She didnāt much about the status of his wrist, and it looked healed enough at first glance that she couldnāt summon up any real guilt about it. There wasnāt a pirate on the island who hadnāt suffered a nasty break, and they got through life just fine. She kept the coffee just out of reach, running a finger along the rim of his mug. Most people up in the middle of the night were killing time until they got tired, not actively pouring caffeine into their veins.Ā āWhat a terrible excuse for having no manners. Why do you have to be kept awake?ā
It was a bit of a chance to go to the Canteen at that hour, Theo might have been there but Thea was hungry after her long day of work and play and decided as long as she was careful, it would be okay. She put together a simple sandwich from the buffet and grabbed a pint of her 2nd favourite beer - she wondered if they carried her first favourite but doubted it - and sat at a booth that afforded her the best view to spot trouble so she could high-tail it out of there if she had to. She was distracted watching another woman eating, tickled at the deconstructed meal she had chosen in contrast to Theaās when suddenly said woman was coming over to her. Thea froze, eyebrows raising as she sat and pulled out a deck of cards with beautiful imagery on them. She recognized her constellations and smiled lightly as she set her sandwich aside and brushed her fingers off before cutting the deck as instructed,Ā āTheyāre beautiful cards..ā she didnāt know why her voice was so quiet and she cleared her throat, forgetting all proper etiquette and manners and holding the moment and space between them as it was, anticipation starting to rise.Ā
Willette had first been attracted over by the womanās stare, but as she got closer she recognized the muscle locked look of someone on guard. It intrigued her, and she waited for her to bolt, but she never did. And she had the good sense to wipe off her fingers before she touched the delicately painted cards, so she was forgiven for her staring. She chuckled softly to herself as Thea whispered, a low and private sound.Ā āGood instinct. Talk too loud and youāll scare off the spirits,ā she poked fun, taking the cards back and instructing her to draw three. She put the cards face up, humming at what she saw, which was a whole bunch of nothing. But she was drunk and bored and felt like digging into the past of this pirate she didnāt know very well.Ā āSkilled with a knife, are you?ā With a long finger, she tapped the first card. She had seen the small blade Thea carried around, plus she had a small knick on one of her hands that looked knife related.Ā āBrave, but subtly so. An excellent quality.ā Her fingers traced the constellation of the next card, the Queen of Swords, each star a fleck of white.Ā āThis is a tragic constellation. Ursa Major. The Greeks say itās the image of Callisto. She was a follower of Artemis, and as he is wont to do, Zeus fucked that up. He transformed into the goddess and seduced her, and she was cast out of the Hunt and turned into a bear by Hera. All her fault, for loving Artemis. But at least she got a constellation out of it,ā Willa shrugged, wondering if other people cared at all about the tragedy woven into the story of the stars, or if they didnāt enjoy late night wine soaked mythology lessons.Ā āWhat have you done thatās constellation worthy?ā
Christophe was drinking a cup of coffee, grumbling to himself. He knew it was well past eleven, so he was trying to decide if he wanted to go back to Theaās villa and get yelled at, or just stay in the canteen till he figured sheād fall asleep. Looking around, his eyes landed on someone who was eating a slice of bread and some cheese like their life depended on it. Finding nothing to be interesting to watch in the canteen, he closed his eyes and sighed. As he heard someone sit down across from him, his green eyes shot open. Grabbing the cards, he quickly did the task he was told to do, then took a drink of his coffee.
Willette picked up the deck again once he had cut it, fanning them out in a semi circle so he had options.Ā āPick three,ā she told him impassively, though the ice in her voice should have been somewhat of a warning. She wasnāt used to having all of these royals around, and it set her skin crawling. She waited, coiled like a snake, and when his arm reached out for the first card she struck. The handcuffs she had pulled out of her bag in preparation were ready in her left hand, and she closed it around his wrist and attached the other side to the railing that ran along the booth they sat in, effectively trapping him.Ā āItās rude to stare,ā she informed him, stealing his coffee while she was at it and raising it to her lips.
After years spent on an island, the crisp roar of waves along a shoreline at night shouldnāt be so mesmerizing. If the novelty hadnāt worn off by now, Maddox reckoned it never would. Once he had settled on a steady buzz from too much red wine, the gunner decided to take the long way back to his villa. And then the lights in the canteen caught his eye. His initial thought: did anyone ever think to lock a fucking building at night to keep the rodents out? Of course not. Because theyād never had to worry about pilfering princes and princesses before.
Luckily for the preservation of Maddoxās road to halfway being hammered, he found Willa lining her stomach, obviously having spent time nursing her own bottle. His ass was barely in the seat before sheād slapped a deck of cards down in between them. Charcoal eyes assessed the wear on the top card, the color, the inky blue and the faded white colors.Ā āSure you donāt want me to do the reading myself, save you the trouble?ā There was no otherworldly prophecy in the cards. The former grifter knew the trick. Same one he used on his marks. But he took a drink from his bottle and placed it on the table. His fingers cupped the stack, running a thumb over the edges before cutting the deck in a lopsided half with a barely there smile on his lips.Ā
Cayden let out a short huff in pain as he felt the womanās knee dig into his chest. Cayden was a lot of things and he thought of himself as a patient man, however given the fact that this woman took something that he had asked for and currently had knee on his chest his patience Ā was running then. ā It does actually,ā he growled out feeling her push into him a little more,Ā ā I got it after working on the main house I asked if I could keep it I was told I could soā¦ā he huffed using his leg to swipe the other woman leg that was keeping her above him. He was quick, he caught her before she could fall on him and now had her pinned to the ground.Ā ā So now that we established that it is indeed my possession Pirate.ā his voice was firm but there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes,Ā ā Would you like to give me back my notebook? Or do you plan on wrestling me a little more?ā
āI have a philosophy question for you. If you give a toy to a dog, does it belong to him? Or do those who arenāt free lack the ability to have ownership over objects?ā Now she was just dabbling in semantics, intent on seeing the inside of the notebook and ready to get creative about it if she had to. Her playful expression turned stone cold as he swapped their positions, pinning her to the ground. Her fingers were still wrapped tight around the notebook hard enough to turn white, sheer stubbornness kicking in.Ā āFunny you should ask. I didnāt plan on it. What were you writing?ā She asked as an afterthought, because if he willingly cracked open his skull for her she wouldnāt have to do any reading at all, and her curiosity would bleed away. Being pinned brought out anxious animalistic feelings of being trapped though, and she dug her teeth into his shoulder almost hard enough to draw blood so she could slip out from under him.Ā āDidnāt you attend some sort of finishing school? It wrings out your personality, but at least it leaves you with manners. Most of the time,ā she conceded, speaking from experience.
Clean up on the island had gone so smoothly that in many ways, the storm felt like a distant memory. With very little work left to do, Cassandra had found herself trying to occupy herself once again. There was only so much she could bake, and only so much she could read of the options given to her. For the first time since she arrived on the island, the woman decided to take the opportunity to go to the beach and just sit. The silence was comforting, her focus only on the crashing waves. For a short period of time, it was as though her mind was clear and devoid of thought, there was only emptiness. When a book was shoved into her hands, a look of confusion came over her features.Ā āYou want me to read the book?ā she asked, a slight frown on her face as she looked from the cover of the book to the face of the woman.Ā āĪĪµĪ½ ĪŗĪ±ĻĪ±Ī»Ī±Ī²Ī±ĪÆĪ½Ļ.ā she managed.Ā
Willette had busied herself digging holes in the sand so her glass and bottle werenāt in danger of spilling, no matter how uncoordinated she currently was. The few words of Greek were like the lyrics to an old song she had half forgotten, a soothing balm for her frayed nerves.Ā āWhatās to understand? I told you to read. Thatās as simple as I can make it.ā In a weird way, this was as clinical and detached as a one night stand. It was taking the small bits of intimacy she need to survive, and forgetting about the person the next day. After she polished off the last few sips of her glass, she settled her head in the girlās lap, splaying out in the sand and letting her eyes flutter shut.Ā āGo on. A punishment from a drunk pirate really isnāt something youād like.ā
The other pirate was spritely, that was definitely an advantage that Willette would need to learn to embrace. She was able to bounce back from blows with relative ease, but had yet to land a blow. It was all about practice.Training. Trial and error.Ā As the low blow came, the Captain blocked again giving Willette a small shove. āYou need to fight smarter, you go for the kill but leave yourself open, sacrificing a blow is only worth it if you land a blow in return. Itās brute force, but it can be sloppy. Think of having your guard up, not as protection for you, but time, time to assess your opponent for their weaknesses. Just like I can tell with you, you want to land that hit more than you want to block, so I wait until you go to strike and then I strike. Does that make sense?ā
Willette always felt like she took up more space than her tiny frame really did, especially during the adrenaline rush of a confrontation. Yet every time she threw her full weight into a hit or an attempted tackle, it never had the impact she expected. No, her skill lay in being slippery, not in being bulky. And she never stayed on the ground for very long, that was a plus. The one strategy she had in her back pocket was to slowly tire out Belle with her persistence.Ā āWhat if your opponent has no discernible weaknesses?ā There was a flirtatious lilt to her tone, but she was just buying herself time with flattery and distraction. She tried her best to take the Captainās advice, bouncing back on her heels while she forced herself to be patient.Ā āIt makes perfect sense. Bruise me all you want, as long as I get the final hit.ā Willette focused one circling, one hand to protect her face while she watched Belle like hawk.
The Canteen was near empty at this time of night, exactly how Willa liked it. Only the night owls and the truly antisocial came out this late, or the people who had drank too much on an empty stomach and realized they didnāt have a happy ending in store. Willa was one of those. She had torn into a hunk of bread and a slab of cheese like an animal, the bitter tang of all the wine earlier still on her tongue. Her quiet yet voracious spectacle didnāt go unnoticed. She felt eyes on her, heavy and uncomfortable, and she looked up and held that gaze for a few long seconds. Thens he was up and moving, sliding into the booth opposite them. From her bag she produced a deck of hand painted tarot cards she had picked up years ago in Rennes. In lieu of the usual flashy pictures, each card was painted with a different constellation, a bunch of deep navy blue with white dots. She shuffled silently, then set the deck down in front of the other person with a thump.Ā āCut.ā
āYour guard is too low.ā The Captain complained as she managed to get a grip on the otherās arm and throat as they made to swing at her. it was too easy and she pushed back to cause them to stumble. A small crowd had gathered around the sparring session on the beach. Pirates jeering, royals, well she wasnāt sure why they were watching. The Captainās daughter, one of the most vicious andĀ proficient fighters on the island.
What had started as a playful hip bump on the beach had turned into a playful sparring match, and Willa didnāt mind the change in the slightest. Belle had been training her entire life and Willette conceded that easily that she was no match for her. But perhaps she could tire her out by being utterly relentless. She stumbled back but found her footing in the sand again with a quick grin. Of course her guard was low. She didnāt care much about protecting herself, but more about harming her opponent. What a lopsided strategy. This time instead of striking high she struck low at Belleās torso, but was blocked yet again. āWhat do you suggest, Capitaine?ā She asked, a wicked lilt to her voice.
Being back on the island after so much time away was surreal, like stepping into a mirror version of her childhood home. The royals might have been captives, but they felt more like invaders, crowding into every space and souring her mood. With a bottle of red wine (half full) in one hand, a glass in the other, and a book shoved under her arm, she wandered around until she spotted the girl she had seen in passing earlier sitting on the beach. It had only been for a brief second, but she caught her muttering a single word under her breath in Greek. She hadnāt spoken the language in months, and she missed the edges of it. Without any explanation, she shoved the book of Greek poetry at the girl and sat down next to her, pouring herself a generous slog of wine into her single glass and balancing it in the sand.Ā āGo on, then. Read. Out loud.ā @cassandragalatas
Aimee was laying on her stomach in just her bikini bottoms, the front of it was laying under her untied so she didnāt have a weird line across her back. Aimee was comfortable as hell, and had even dug little holes so her chest wasnāt squished up to her neck. Out of nowhere, a strong gust of wind came off of the ocean and picked up her sundress, tossing it down the beach and toward another person.Ā āShit!ā Aimeeās head shot up, but upon seeing the other person she froze.Ā āWell, there are two ways this could go down: You could give that back to me, or you could get a little show.ā
Much like a cat, Willa had curled up in the sun near a human she knew, waiting in sun soaked contentment for her presence to be noticed. It didnāt happen until Aimeeās sundress landed at her feet, and she stared at it passively, waiting patiently for another gust of wind to blow it away.Ā āI choose show.ā
Cayden had lucked out. While he had been working on the Tulach house, he had found a notebook. Not one of the spiral kinds but a leather bound blank notebook. A few of the pages had been water damage but the rest were perfect. It didnāt take him long before he found a pen. So he made his way to the Coveā¦at least that where he thought they were. Situating himself under a tree near the mouth the cave Cayden started to write. Writing had always seemed to sooth him when he was worried about anything. A couple of hours passed; Cayden now slept underneath his tree, book over his chest. It wasnāt until he felt the weight of his notebook being lifted off his chest that his arm shot out around the persons wrist, his eyes closed.Ā ā Do you make it a habit of taking things that donāt being to you.ā
The day was scorching, and Willa had slunk into the cool darkness of the coves to shield her skin and eyes from the unbearable sun. She loved the way her own voice echoed back to her whenever she hummed, high and melodic. It was also the only place on the island that wasnāt crawling with people now except for the jungle, and she hadnāt brought a weapon out on what was supposed to be an innocent walk. When the sun stared to to set, she slid clothes and boots back on and emerged from the mouth of her cave. Her eyes lit up when they fell upon Caydenās sleeping form, and though she lifted the notebook as gently as possible, it was enough to rouse him. She snarled as fingers closed around her wrist, planting her knee sharply against his chest to keep him pinned down as she wrenched herself free.Ā āDoesnāt belong to you either. Prisonniers donāt have possessions.ā The notebook was wedged firmly under her armpit and she intended to leave with. Handwritten words were lovely and her curiosity had been piqued - whatever he thought was worth writing, she wanted to know too.
āThereās always a siren singing you to shipwreck.ā
(Astrid Berges Frisbey, homoflexible, cisfemale) look who has returned home; itās Willette "Willa" Jourdain, a 27 year old gunner on The Raging Tsunami. She has been described as wiley and acerbic. She has been tasked with watching over Stephen Colston (Dacre Montgomery fc). Filling Celestine's wanted ex girlfriend connection.
Alright, this is my little French monster Willa.
She grew up on a vineyard in Southern France with a single father and her older brother. They were wild and untethered, and she was insatiably curious. Her dream from fourteen on was to go to college in Paris, and she managed just that. She got her undergrad degree in the classics, further delving into Greek, Latin,Ā history, art, archaeology, women's studies, and Classical literature, all with the goal of working in one of the high end art museums in Paris.
A few years into devouring the city whole, she met a princess and fell madly in love. Those four years were the happiest of her life. She tried her best to be perfect, to truly deserve the hand of her beloved. The royal family had other ideas and when she was passed over in favor of a prince, something inside of her broke.
It felt like the city she had loved for so long had rejected her along with the girl of her dreams, and it became impossible to stay. After a few too many long nights of blowing her savings on expensive wines in a port in Sydney, she kept running into the same group of four pirates. They fascinated her. They were impulsive and unpolished and real in a way that nothing in her life of painted smiles and French courts ever was.
Sheās been sailing for two years, and all of her studying landed her a gig as gunner on the youngest Tulachās ship. Most of the time sheās an angry little spitfire, but whenās sheās burned off all that energy she's fiercely loyal and always adventure seeking. Willa is the nerd who happily sends cannonballs to destroy a ship and then lets everyone else go for the gold on board while she finds the one piece of art and skips off with it. She has a million trinkets from her travels and her room is beginning to resemble a museum itself. Sheās a slow healer and is still pissed off and feels betrayed by both her country and the girl she was once considered her soulmate.
Dumb quick facts:
Ravenclaw heart with Slytherin tendencies.
Bisexual, homoromantic, but generally down for fucking and doesnāt feel like defrosting her heart enough for a romantic encounter.
She occasionally likes a good dose of pain with her sex, either giving or receiving. Same for bondage.
She is honest 100% of the time. Donāt ask her opinion if you donāt want it, and she might shove it down your throat anyway.
Is a little enamored with destruction at the moment: not just as a gunner, but just sort of breaks open metaphorical hornets nests to see what will happen.
I would like approximately 1000 pirate connections with her, please and thanks. Barring extenuating circumstances, she wonāt know any of the royals and wonāt be very fond of any of them. Like this and Iāll come to you and start throwing ideas at your face. Iāll try and get up a WC page later when my thoughts are less jumbled.
