My Captain
(Third Person: Narrative) “My favorite stories ever told of those of the unthanked. Those who sought to do right, without atrophied reason or motive. Heroes of the Infamous. For, I grew to grow. In freedom of happiness, from the unchained and unsuppressed; abuse wasn’t my destiny, I was given but a key to be brave from that of such a being.” ----------------------- Tiny feet that ran dirty and murky through a bustle rancid City-State. Drew to a settled corner of a pier, a ship of painted Crimson Vessel freshly coated. Panic were laced behind each scurry, breathless panting lungs, fear, worries, tears, ESCAPE were of thoughts in a youth. A clashed collision as the smaller figure drew to a built sturdy black leather worn leg. The girl seeking for mysterious reprieve landed hard on a tush. The strong-figure of the blunt, drew to the side, “Oi. Ye alrite, little scrapper?” An oversized hat worn over a tattoo, scarred, Miqo’te. Drew to frail. Atypical, that description of appearance only had the girl sunken more in petrification and terror. But a certain sound, hit her sensitive ears of a crude, shouting barbaric voice of a slimy slave-handler, searching for its golden ticket to gil. It brought further shivering. The gentler concerned seemed far better than the approaching abuser. Who knelt down, “Ahoy, there lil lass, It’ll be alright. Loss yer mam? I’m guessing ol’ th pork-belly red-coats are stuffing n’ their shart than doin’ a job. One day those mantles will crush those shoulders they boast, as those they pride acclaim they protect, will come to their senses and no longer need them. You hungry?” A famished stomach churned in noise from the heightened hearing of the Seeker Pirate. As his one gleam, saw but trails of where chains used to be on the girl’s wrists. Before he could instigate or investigate further, that loud ‘owner of body’ drew to the pair. “Casta! Get over here. Now.” A command hit the bellowing mouth of slobber and spit, disgusting like the ground of the state of the city that spoke in filth. The girl looked between but saw this new man to be kind, and didn’t wish to bring him pain. So prepared to stand, weakly, beaten, bruised legs. Before she could advance to beckon, the brave soul. Stepped before her. Walking boldly in a swagger strut. “Casta? Is that yer name?” He tilted his head to the girl clearly shaking and frightened, “Stay there.” The bile of a ‘man’ that stood, fest in a gruff and violent threat. “Listen, don’t play a hero. Stay out of it. She’s not yer concern. What gives you the nerve to be of reason? Look at you.” The prideful and unpredictable rebellious didn’t give a single fleeting shit about the warning cast by this disgraceful. “Somethings tells me, ye’ve got no right either to this one. Ye twitch in nerves lad, angered. Well, I ain’t no hero, I am just a simple foil. When glancing at me and you, I don’t need to prey on our future, I don’t need to chain wings that can’t flutter. There’s always the freedom of option, some need directed guidance, instead you choose to go as a predator. To benefit yer own. I don’t care if she’s yer blood, she isn’t defined by that. As who I am, well I’m, just a better, badder, bastard.” He’d without shame kick the bloke in the jewels with a lightning kick, tipping his head and body in nature reaction and response from the menacing blow. Than deliver a headbutt busting them both open with strong force. But the smaller man, would herald a thicker skull. He’d take the wheezer and toss him towards the seas with an incredible unshakable determination pissed-off fury, adrenaline rush pumped, as he shoved the piece of lesser to the cold waters below the pier. With the surprise and shake of the docks, so did the events happen. As suddenly her inner-spirit, was brought out of hiding, silently internally, rooting on and cry cheering in excitement for the savior, the victor. For her prayers to be answered. It was potentially more wrought of sorrow that it came from the unexpected but the Ages were often riddled in the decay of unknown. “It’s over now. You’re gonna learn overtime, you’ll be the one in power and the Captain of yer own fate. But first, we’ll build up your strength and get you some grub, eh? Come, afterwards, I can get you far out of reach, and we’ll talk about settling you where you can experience solace and without loneliness, ideally even love. All I want payment is a bold, gold smile when you’re can muster.” He’d begin to walk off letting her decide to either follow, or run off. Which eventually with no other place to grow accepted the situation and as processed, she was fed and shared stories with the retired pirate Captain, taught to fish on their voyage and brought to a contact of his that took in stowaways and slave children and gave them a roof and a familial experience among land. Years passed, but here the writing of this story was being processed in a diary. [Years Later] Until; her name was called. “Casta! Dinner!” Said in a homey environment. With the ending caption to the title of her chapter ~ Your story shall not be forgotten even if you perish, wither, or may think to be drowned - My Captain. From: who you saved ~ Casta.