❛ &. ┊ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ: ʀᴏᴀɴᴏᴋᴇ.
❛ &. ┊ The faint scent of salt lingers in the air, fingertips pressed against the bridge of her nose as her figure sits hunched over financial registers. Full-throated chatter seeps through a heavy door from outside on deck, the rising sun painting the cabin in red, in gold. Hung upon the wall are twines of dried citrus fruit, gathered in tiny bundles twigs of herbs – it is the oddly selective collection of what appears to be medicine that has given the wailing cassandra yet another name, one uttered by the crew in bold cockiness whenever entering the captain’s quarters; the witches’ cauldron. Though is it never uttered on land, never mentioned to any foreign outsiders. As big the captain’s heart is, as quick is her hand – every soul willing to go aboard the ship, to offer service, knows that it is not the ship’s beauty that brought rumours about a curse ashore, but a slender figurine sitting behind a wooden desk with eyes as black as the stormy sea.
Zhao the Cursed; a name immortalised in the minds of Port Royal’s residents – how often would new visitors come to the crew & ask, in sheer admiration, to meet the man that disciplined even the wildest, & make the utterly lumpen decision to laugh when delicate features followed slender hands wrapped around the railing. That it were no woman’s position to lead a crew was apparent on unfamiliar faces – until they, inevitably, were proven otherwise.
But it were not just herself that she required absolute & complete respect for; any crewman who spent if just as much as a penny of his loot to visit a brothel no longer was welcome aboard, any sexual misconduct against either on of her own or the harbour’s residents was punished by publish lashing aboard – even any theft, however much apologised for, was given days without food. No mercy was shown for preventable stupidity, none for a lack of restraint. Though what she expected, & it were much, was just as much given back; no comparable ship had such little incidents of scurvy or other diseases, no comparable ship could pride itself with such high literacy & productive efficiency. So crewmen followed suit, the rules were wordlessly obeyed.
A knock has eyes tear a fatigued gaze off the paper sheets that lay splattered all across a heavy desk, then, warm voice beckoning inside whomever knocked -- & with sunrays peaking through blonde locks, young Crack-eyed Jimmy comes inside. A blunt trauma had, in early childhood, caused a tear in one of his iris sphincter muscles, leaving him almost entirely blind on his left eye. Though his smile, she finds -- & many other would say the same, outweighs the bizarre appearance of his eye to this day. “ We’re almost finished getting the supplies on board. We should be ready to set sails soon enough, ” he announces with his charming British accent & loose strands of black hair curl softly round her throat as she nods.
❛ &. ┊ “ Good, ” hands push together all paperwork, a sigh coming over parted lips. Perhaps to blow away all remains of sleepiness that still linger, a little too restively, in the hollows of her bones. “ Tell Riley I’m waiting while you organise the last few preparations. If we’re done here, we can finally leave the port behind. ”
