#spervier

[syreena]

              The   scent   of   saltwater   is   too   impregnated   on   this   man   (   if   there   is   any   other   scent,   she   would   not   know   to   recognize   it,   but   a   smell   as   familiar   as   ocean   and   its   seaweed   is   impossible   to   mistaken   ),   and   perhaps   that   is   the   reason   why   she   feels   not   fear   around   him   –   mermaids   predate   the   waters,   but   they   are   as   wary   of   humans   as   they   are   of   them.

                  “   some   of   my   sisters,   they   would   talk   about   you,”   it   is   not   difficult   to   catch   glimpse   of   the   captain   and   his   vessel   roaming   the   seas   of   the   Caribbean   and   beyond,   and   tales   of   him   have   spread   around   –   the   mermaids   who   have   had   the   chance   to   see   him   up   close   will   recall   a   certain   something   about   the   pirate   that   reminded   them   of   their   home.   None   of   them   wanted   to   attack   him   –   none   of   them   felt   as   if   they   could.   Perhaps,   because   of   what   she   experiences   right   now,   the   notion   that   Jack   Sparrow   is   much   too   like   the   ocean,   and   thus,   deserves   to   be   treated   with   certain   respect   by   its   inhabitants.

                         “   they   said   you   smelled   like   the   sea   …   they   weren’t   wrong,”   she   burrows   herself   smaller   with   the   blanket   that   has   been   provided   to   cover   her   nude   body,   wrapped   up   in   the   ragged   fabric   as   if   it   were   the   water   protecting   her   again,   “   maybe   that   is   why   you   are   the   only   one   i   feel   at   ease   around   in   this   ship.   ”   @spervier​ 

[archivedazmenka]

prompt.   //   @spervier​       SO BUSY WAS THE BUSTLING IN AND OUT OF THE HARBOUR, THAT FEW HAD NOTICED GOLDEN KRAKENS AMONGST THE NUMEROUS PIRATE VESSELS. outside the shallows, hidden in the misty dark, ships and crews alike had turned invisible in the busy port just a little to the west of Volantis          far removed from Ironman’s Bay and the waters the Ironborn usually prowled. a king had died, his heir chased away from his homeland, and it had been here, in the far east, that Maron hoped for a chance to recuperate. count his losses, lick his wounds ( plot revenge ) ; have a drink at a tavern visited by sailors of all kinds.        unfortunately, not all of them believed in peaceful co-existence with the Ironborn.        a brief fight had ended with a man dead in a ditch a little down the road from the tavern, along with a cut just below Maron’s right ear. shallow and small, the blood already dried, it barely was worth any attention          and yet drew some, still. he couldn’t recall the number of times he had met Jack. three? perhaps four? briefly, always, with little sustenance to each conversation they’d had, but they had always been amusing. amicable, in a way ; with the pirate lord showing whatever amount of respect he was able to show, and the Ironborn reciprocating it in return.

       the touch to the cut was unexpected ; palpable enough for him to briefly tilt his head to the side to make room for it, before he eventually offered a side-eyed glance at the pirate         but made no move to get Jack’s curious fingers off of the wound. there was nothing to it. no pain, no grand story, simply a small red gash in contrast to the blacks and blues of the tavern and Maron’s attire. it was Jack after all ; a man known for the occasional oddity. “ curious today, eh? don’t tell me you’re worried about me, Jack. ” the corners of his lips ticked upwards against the brim of a cup of dark ale.

[moltolavoro]

@spervier | “put the gun down, dearest. i have news!” | liz & jack

❛ i should kill you where you stand you slimy, pathetic little man, ❜ it might seem impossible, for those words to carry affection and yet, somehow, elizabeth manages it. she uncocks the gun, tosses it aside. hardly a treasured one anyway - elizabeth has always preferred a sword. she turns away, pours herself - and only herself - a glass of wine, and then turns back to jack, eyebrows raised.

❛ well, go on then. your dramatics can’t be for nothing. ❜

[emcads]

@spervier​

SHE RECLINES,   bared to him with a trust  hard-earned ;   the pirate queen’s sun-darkened skin is clad only in loose chemise and her  SOUL  in even less.  if you asked her,  Esmeralda would  swear  that she had  NO FAITH TO SPEAK OF  in the sparrow-souled man,  for her heart knows better  than to shed its iron plate for another  PIRATE,   but there is nothing distrusting  in the way she offers him the  sanctity  of her flesh.  she parts her legs for him ––  an invitation she has given  SO MANY TIMES BEFORE  ––  and playful fingers  lift up the hem of ivory shirt to expose the soft, soft  skin beneath.

❝     here.    ❞

she points :  there,  on the tender  inside of her thigh,   a spot that was seemingly made to kiss, and she speaks as a captain  drawn to the  X  on a map. [  NOT ALL TREASURE IS SILVER AND GOLD,  so they say  ]   perhaps it is  WRONG,  to scribble upon this place  most sacred,   for between such thighs beat that which is both so holy  and  HUMAN :  blood,  and lust,  and life.  but it is all the  RICHER  for the defiling,   like lovers  and their letters  carved into a giving,  growing tree.   (  is that not what she does now ?  yearning for a chance to be marked,  to remember  something and someone so  FLEETING ?  )

❝     can you do that ?    ❞

[izzyhnds]

❥      NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE .

[ instruct ] your muse giving mine instructions / telling them what to do .

Very little of this evenings events were within Israel’s comfort zone. Jack was too loud, too poor on his sense of personal space and too hands on when he spoke. The alcohol was very likely to blame and it was also probably the only reason why Izzy was tolerating it since he himself had a nice buzz on as well. He didn’t often enjoy these places when the lads would come in for their shore time but tonight wasn’t so bad.

There were a good number of obvious pirates at the tavern that evening. Something which could only end in trouble at some point in his experience. Meshing of crews and tempers, alcohol and gambling, nothing good could come from it. Then again maybe that was some of the fun for most of these men. 

For now Izzy was half enjoying being taught a new game by a new acquaintance that evening. He was trying very hard to follow along with the man’s explanation of the rules, the history of the game, where he’d learnt it from, yadda yadda. It seemed like any other simple bar game that some bored bloke had come up with with very little creativity and needed parts. So, most bar games. In fact, he was half certain Jack had just come up with it on the spot. Still, it was working to get Izzy to have some fun by stoking at his competitive nature. 

Sparrow had set up a handful of glasses and mugs with different spirits that the tavern offered a table. Izzy had been moved into position, boots lightly kicked to shift him into a dueling stance (at least it was something he knew well) and a coin placed into his hand. “Watch it,” he warned half-heartedly as regained his balance from being moved before just sighing. Relax. Give it a go. 

Hands rolled his eyes to himself before pulling the coin back, aiming and tossing it towards one of the glasses. It clinked off the rim and landed somewhere in between the cups. He huffed in light frustration but stepped aside so Jack could take a turn. “I want to see that this actually can be done,” he muttered, watching Jack take his spot with a coin of his own. He watched the other pirate sink the coin into a cup of rum with some ease and he rolled his eyes a bit. 

“Show off,” said Iz as he stepped forward to pick up the glass with the coin in it. He couldn’t see it in the darker liquid. Bottoms up. He brought the cup to his lips and tipped it back. Some spilled past his lips but he drank up quickly, taking care not to swallow the coin in the process. After wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, Izzy produced the coin, pushing it forward with his tongue and pinning it between his teeth. Alright. Maybe this was a halfway fun way to drink. He picked up his coin from the table as well which he flipped over to Jack with his thumb.

Letting out a breath, he repositioned himself to take a turn again. This time, Izzy watched his coin bounce off one cup but fall into another. He jolted a bit excitedly, cracking a small grin for a moment. “Drink up.”

@spervier​

[aleximedicus]

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.  /  @spervier​ asked: [ refill ]  your muse refilling mine’s glass for them 

lewis had always considered himself the sort of man who could hold a drink well. he was good at keeping a sound head on his shoulders after a few drinks, and he knew his own limits; once he drew near to the threshold of drunkenness, he always took care to pull back. that, however, was a little easier to achieve when a pirate was not pouring his drinks for him. he had thought that the sailors and naval officers who came through caernarfon drank enough to put the devil to shame, but pirates outdid them tenfold. just as he was swearing to himself that this drink would be the last, the captain had already taken it upon himself to refresh the glass. with a groan, lewis shoved the tankard away and shook his head. 

“ god’s sake, man, enough. i’ll not have another drop. ”

[moltolavoro]

@spervier | casper & jack

he’s been working for three days. at least he thinks he has. it’s hard to tell, below deck. he’s seen crew-members, moving in and out as they attend to various duties - some of them even brought him food, which was very kind of them. it’s not as though casper’s being made to work, by any means. it’s only that when inspiration strikes, he tends to work until that inspiration is fulfilled. 

and it has been, now. he emerges onto the deck a little pale, dark circles under his eyes, but smiling, and finds jack as quickly as he can. ❛ here, ❜ there’s little ceremony to it, as casper interrupts what might be a very important conversation to hand over the sword. it’s ordinary enough to look at, the handle simple, the blade folded metal - nothing special. but it’s got a weight to it ( balanced perfectly, mind ) that another sword might not have. ❛ i’ve made you something. ❜

[casseandra]

@spervier​ asked : [ hair & lean ]  –  for the sender to brush a strand of hair out of the face, and lean in slowly for a kiss.  the  intimacy  of  hands. // accepting 

her hair still clung to her face, still dripping with the salted water of the ocean they climbed out of not too long ago after some time exploring all that was below the surface and far deeper than what normal men would be able to handle. these were advantages to a lover like her and it was not even the most grand of her abilities. still giddy from the whole thing, filled with the immense feeling of being truly alive ( such was the ocean’s power over her ) , a soft laugh rolled off her lips as she turned to look at him before quickly approaching and eliminating the little distance between them.  

staying still as he reached to brush aside the strand of hair still sitting across her face, she could not help but smile a little as he started to lean in, her patience impressively lasting for a good moment before leaning in herself, closing the gap between them with a gentle yet passionate kiss. “ aren’t you being quite greedy? did i not just grant you a kiss below? ” teasing words spoken with playful grin upon breaking of their embrace, though only just so as she kept her face close to his. she was rather the greedy one, more than ready to resume what they’d just stopped. “ or am i just that irrestistable? ”