Ringed fingers clench tightly against his ship’s railing - what was once smooth and gleaming is now dark and splintered, slivers of wood that embed themselves in their captain’s palm. Such pain goes unnoticed - what is a simple prick when one’s kind is haunted by horrors that no pain can mimic or create? - and the pirate sighs, blue eyes studying the water beneath them, studying the dark waves that lap at swaying hull as if they were hounds licking at the blood from a man’s throat. The night is darker than usual - sun and mood hidden by the absence of their master, stars all but half veiled in the shadows that spawn them. Neverland is a tiring thing, an irksome prison - but never do the chains chafe as much as when the island lacks the boy’s presence.
A mermaid tail slaps against the water, breaking the pirate captain from his thoughts as blue eyes hold a steady graze over the lingering expanse of sea. Captain Hook is what the boy had named him, a moniker meant to twist and jest, a title which he instead has twisted and warped, wrapping it in violence until the very presence of it on a man’s tongue invokes vile threads of hatred. The creature that had so easily made herself known swims ever closer, voice rising in song along with her siren sisters - begging in their seductive way for the captain and his crew to join them, offering them an end to insurmountable torment. Most of those who are left have grown impervious to such charms, but still some stop and listen - hands stilling at whatever task that occupies him as if for a moment their owner is lost in a dream, lost in the memory of freedom and what the promise of it may yet mean.
“Captain - “ Starkey’s voice breaks into his mind, the ebb and flow of his first mate’s voice unwavering, loyalty as steady as the coming of the tide. He has whipped his men into dogs, but Starkey is the best of them, the one that he trusts - but even the most loyal of dogs can turn on the man who feeds it. “ - there’s no sign of him. It’s been - “ The man breaks off with a shake of his head, blue eyes so much like his own holding his captain’s gaze. Hook know what he’s referring to, aye - time is an impossible thing when Peter Pan has left his nest. Day fades into night, night fades into day - a dry, dead, useless thing that leaves a man to wonder if he is caught in the throes of death, fighting an end that he has no remembrance of.
Teeth rake over a bottom lip, tongue tasting the hint of rum as if by memory. How long has it been since he’s tasted the sweet burn sliding down his throat, since he’s felt the warmth of a real sun baring down on his shoulders. Weight shifts, black boots stepping over one another as he turns, ignoring the man beside him. There has be something he has missed, some lair laid out in front of him like a bloody obvious confrontation - so thoughts turn to the chart he has laid across his desk, each minute detail about the island drawn in a careful hand. His cabin is dark, quiet, a fortress of solitude in an otherwise impenetrable nightmare .. and Hook finds solace in the flickering flames of the candles throwing shadows across the wall. A figure catches him off guard, a form not unlike his own standing in the corner.
For a moment he imagines Pan, imagines a new form that has come to taunt him - but a breath leaves him in an exhale. The boy would not show himself in such a way on his return, not as a man - and the island easily gives up her secrets. Fingers stay resting on the hilt of his sword, words gruff with a tone that speaks of many things - determination, courage, fear of death. “I don’t suppose you’ve come on some errand of that mistress of yours...?” A growl leaves a torn and scarred throat, leaving no doubt as to what the infamous Captain Hook thinks of such a deal. “ Aye, she already made her point abundantly clear. If she seeks my help in something now, she must think me bloody daft.” Or worse, a coward.
Faeries are a species that the captain has quickly grown tired of - twists and turns in their line of thinking even more dangerous than the heart of a pirate, Too often he’s fallen into their traps, into their callous unthinking... desperate for help, desperate for revenge - but he refuses to be painted the fool once more. “Be gone, demon. I have no use of you here.”
@twistedwit (!!)