#ofjustinian

[ghostlyhunterarchived]

From (X)

@ofjustinian

“Good to know.” They had been tasked with doing much the same along with taking care of any pirates in the area. “We are doing much the same with the added task of taking care of any pirates in the area that we find.” 

He did not say any more on the matter. Salazar just gave the other man a small smile. “I will not be giving you any trouble and neither will my crew.” The Captain had no problem with this other ship being there or any other. He just wanted to get his job done. 

[theserpentunder-t-blog]

00:00:00 (ofjustinian)

@ofjustinian

It certainly was different than what she was used to, though the smell of the sea was forever welcome to the brunette as she wandered around the harbor. Though as time seemed to pass, so did the radius in which the woman began to roam in attempt to gain her bearings and develop an adaptation to the environment.  The smell of the city never would change, the stench that she quietly made note to ignore as Rebecca made silent note to eventually settle in the country or a village. Something small with cleaner air and less sickness. 

It was that moment did she seem to notice the count down on her wrist. 

Five 

She continued to walk down the street, absently looking into different shops. 

Four 

There was a moment of dread when she realized there were only a few seconds left. 

Three. Two. 

The countdown came to zero when she found herself rounding a corner, coming face to face with a tall blonde man. He appeared to be around her age, give or take a few years. But it was his eyes that seemed to become the most distracting as the numbers faded from her wrist.

She tugged the cuff of her sleeve down over her wrist as she offered a light smile in greeting.

“Hello.” 

[theduchessofwharfedale]

@hhornblower what have you been feeding these people? Broth?! @tiredofhardtack is skinny as a rake. Not to mention @oceansode. And don't think you're getting away with anything @ofjustinian . W h y did you not tell me you had a paramour?

[faceofamonster]

Vicious Cycles ~ Archie & Typhon

@ofjustinian

Typhon Ilios was a merchant...and a smuggler...and he was very good at both.  But as good as he was, there were some things even Ty couldn’t plan for...like witches, for example.  Three of them...all blind.  They were only able to see via a large, faceted diamond...and the smuggler had been promised good money...very good money...to get that gemstone.  Fooling the old crones was easy enough...but what his client had failed to tell the sly red-head was that they didn’t need the damned ‘eye’ to do their magic.  The curse they placed on him was...creative.  If it had been on anyone else, he would’ve been impressed.  Horrified...but impressed.

That evening, as Typhon sat by the fire, wolfhounds at his side, his sister singing softly in the kitchen nearby, a door appeared.  He blinked as the dogs began to growl...but the door remained.  Standing, the red-head strode to the door and flung it open to reveal a flight of stairs that traveled down into darkness.  Never one to shy away from the unknown, the smuggler descended.  At the bottom he found the three witches...and the curse was placed.  His sister was the first victim...and her death nearly broke him.  But he couldn't stop.  The curse wouldn’t let him.  And so, after each victim, he’d leave a new ad in the local tavern.  No one seemed to question it...perhaps the curse saw to that.  He didn’t know or care.  Typhon simply tried to live his life...his smuggling efforts, although they didn’t cease, become more mundane.  The man had had his fill of magic.  The curse had seen to that.

So he went on with his life...and quietly began to search for a way to break it.  The red-head knew there had to be a way.  All magic had a counter, he’d learned that much in his travels.  The trick was to find it.  And so he went about his business down at the docks, and prayed each time that he brought someone new into his home - be it a wife, or a servant, or a groundskeeper - that they would someone be different...they would somehow have the one thing he needed to end the curse once and for all.

[eaterofnightmares]

Stopping of Time Itself ~ Thomas & Alejandro

“To stop the flow of music would be like the stopping of time itself, incredible and inconceivable.” ~ Aaron Copeland

@ofjustinian

At night, Alejandro dreamed of the life he’d once had.  A beautiful wife and child, a career that others would've killed to possess.  Who wouldn’t love traveling the world with their families - performing for diplomats and presidents and kings - being the talk of both Europe and North America?  But no one could stay on top for ever.  The violinist’s downfall came with the deaths of Helena and Nicole, taken from him during a cholera outbreak.  Without his wife and child he was...nothing.  A mere shadow.  His music meant nothing.

So he stopped traveling, sold everything but a small house in London, and faded into the shadows of virtual anonyminity.  But he couldn’t abandon his music...not entirely.  And so, after over a year of seclusion, the man emerged from his home, walked to a nearby street corner with his violin, and began to play.

Alejandro did things this way for days...and then weeks...and then months.  People would sometimes throw money into his case...which he didn’t discourage.  He had no other real income now.  Things continued this way...day in and day out.  The only time he didn’t play was when the weather made it impossible.  But otherwise, he became a staple of that corner...so much so that people would often walk by just to hear him play.  And so what if occasionally beneath his beard and threadbare clothes some thought they recognized a great violinist from days past.  It made no difference to him.

Then one day everything changed.  In the dying light of the day, the violinist was knelt beside his case, gathering up the coins and bills to put in his coat, when something struck him hard on the side of the face.  With a gasp he rolled onto the ground...and before he could even attempt to get up more blows began to fall.  What was happening?!  What had he done?!  “Please!” the man cried out.  “Please stop!  Whatever you want...you can have it!  Please!”  He was afraid...for the first time in years.  Afraid for his hands...and for his violin.  Without those things...he truly would be nothing.  Alejandro would have no use in this world...no purpose.

[humblestudentofbeauty]

Every Imperfection ~ Thomas & Basil

@ofjustinian

The artist was in shock, his mind still trying to process what has just happened.  Fingers occasionally reached up to brush over his lips, recalling the memories of Dorian’s party.  He’d never expected...not that he hadn’t wanted...

Oh, god...how he’d wanted!

But not like that.  Not as a conquest...not as some trifle to make him forget about the painting.  That DAMNED painting!  Why was the other being so stubborn about the whole thing?!  He couldn’t think straight...needed a good drink and a friendly ear.  So Basil headed to the place where he was at least certain of the friend...if not the drink.

As he strode up to the apothecary’s store, the dark-haired man knew how out of place he must look in his party finery, but he didn’t care.  Reaching for the door, it opened, and he stared for a moment in surprise at Thomas Clayton - the friend he’d come to see...and the owner of the shop in question.

“T-thomas...my apologies for appearing on your doorstep so late.  Something’s h-happened and I...well, I suppose I needed someone to talk to...to help me make sense of...”  He shook his head.  “I’m not entirely certain I’m thinking clearly.  Do you have time tonight to t-talk with me tonight...?”

[theserpentunder-t-blog]

@ofjustinian (cont.)

It was a force of habit really, having to keep her hands busy as all times. And there were very limited options when she did not have any paper to tear or a ring to fiddle with on her fingers. There was the additional temptation of the blond’s shiny locks that seemed almost close enough in a way, and it had started simple enough with a few loose hairs. Though, it had given way into fiddling with the golden strands that were bound by the ribbon. 

But it was his teasing that caused for the action to cease, her hand immediately dropping to her lap and the woman resumed her classic stoicism. 

“Deepest apologies,” she muttered while casting her gaze towards her hands.