The Avenger

#matthias #headstrong #para

There was reluctance in his Matthias’ eyes as they met his own, calm and collected a stark contrast against the whirlpool of emotions swirling behind those deep brown eyes. At Matthias’ question Capo paused, gathering his words before spoke. Firmly. The boy seemed to respond well to direction, or well enough that it caused him to stop hurting himself for the time being.

“It may be hard for you to imagine, but I had a mother, once. I know what it is like to meet her killers. And I know what it is like to want them dead.” This part at least, was no lie. He’d personally executed each and every one of the officials that had brought nothing but blood in his family, had done nothing except sever the tendons that held together his mother’s neck. He simply returned the favour two fold.

It was the soldier in him. The Navy, the one the conscience that told him that death was bearable only under command. But death lost its significance under orders, for then the man wouldn’t be atoning for his sins but suffering for the whims of another. He shook his head at the boy, softness in his eyes. “I won’t tell you to do that. He is yours, not mine, to do with however you wish.” He longed to run the blade through Luciana’s killer, but Matthias deserved the honour more.

He was her son after all.

What the Water Showed Me - Matthias and Open

Behind the comforting darkness, there was fear, and the sound of screams and the crackle of fire against wood, before darkness deepened again, destroyed any possibility of dreams. He didn’t mind this darkness. It was nice to have no concept of time, or pain, or anything, but a light tugging in the back of his mind telling him to lose all concepts of what time or pain or anything was. To lose all conceptions of reality, and to slip further, deeper. There was nothing holding him there except a vague, tenuous, misgiving. If he woke further, he could have a nightmare again, see that figure illuminated against a fiery sky, face always concealed, but meaningless anyway in front of that bright sky, the red of dead and dying soldiers. He didn’t want a nightmare. He let himself slip further.

For a long time, he didn’t react, except a vague, deep-down understanding that something was happening. He didn’t know what. Didn’t know where he was, or who he was, until the latter of that flooded back, faintly. His chest hurt, and he didn’t like that. He didn’t know there was such thing as pain before. It was like learning for the first time there was pain in the world. The darkness was nicer. He let his consciousness fade.

Matthias.

That voice was wrong. Why was the voice so loud? Who did it belong to? Confusing fantasies spilled over, all the times when he was a little boy, skinned knees and a scavenged stick as a sword, playing quietly so his mother wouldn’t get into trouble. If he was asked who he was playing, he’d inevitably say ‘f-father’. Vague stories of his father, who was blond, beautiful, and just, who was a navy man and who would be back some day, were once his favorite stories.

He wanted to be like him, wanted to be just as strong and just as brave. “W-where is P-papa,” he’d asked at the end of each story, until he grew old enough to stop because his mother told him that made her sad. “Papa’s on a grand adventure,” his mother would tell him in the earliest days. “He’s off fighting pirates and making the world safer for all of us. He’s very brave, and he has to be gone a while.”

But he’ll come back.

He used to sit by the window in the brothel when he wasn’t allowed in his mother’s room, which suited him well enough because he didn’t like her visitors. They were strangers, and none of them were his fathers. He thought that his mother must be very popular to have so many friends, when he didn’t have many at all yet. Still, he’d sit by the window when no one was around to tell him not to, and he’d watch the passerby, thinking that when his father came back, he didn’t want to miss it. Not for a second.

He’d come back, and he’d smile, and he’d tell him how sorry he was to be away, but he was off fighting ferocious pirates and sea monsters and mermaids and couldn’t make his way home, but he was here to stay. He’d say he had a present for him, and give him a dog, a dog that was bright-eyed and didn’t mind being hugged. Matthias always wanted a dog, but could never have one. He was sure that his father would bring him a dog, and take them away from the place that was kind of a scary place, and they’d go on his ship, and they’d never be apart ever again. And when he grew up, he’d kill pirates.

As a little boy, he’d fall asleep at that window, night after night, carried back to his mother’s room late by one of his mother’s working friends. “Why were you at the window” they’d inevitably ask, and he’d crack a sleepy dark eye open, and yawn, content in their arms. “W-waiting for P-papa,” he’d always reply.

“But it’s not just Papa,” his mother would tell him in their Italian lesson, trying to get him to focus on her, but how could he when there was so much else to think about? “Do you remember your word for Mama?”

“Madre,” he’d say obediently, still looking around the room.

“And your word for Papa – Matteo, look at me, and pay attention – what’s the word for —“

Male voice. Loud. His name. But it wasn’t his name. His name was Matteo, wasn’t it?

“P-padre,” he whispered, in the midst of coughing up the rest of the water in his lungs, his heartbeat racing. He reached for him instinctively, letting thin fingers curl gently around his wrist. His chest felt like it was on fire.

You…you came back?

An absurd hope rose in him, desperate, before sinking like a tide. This wasn’t home. There was no home. He had no father. He wasn’t Matteo. Not any more.

Finally, he opened his eyes.

#wtwse #matthias #para #dO YOU LIKE MAKING ME CRY

“Matthias, wake up,” he pleaded, digging the heel of his hand further into the centre of the boy’s chest.

Thirty, thirty-one...

The rest of the water in his lungs was expelled in a sudden gasp, the boy jerking forward and into life suddenly and without warning. The coughing was loud, and he was so relieved that he nearly missed it, but the words that were ripped from his chest were unmistakeable.

“P-padre...”

Father. His shock was evident on his face, even as long fingers curled weakly around his wrist, an unconscious desire for him to stay. For him not to leave. A child wishing, wanting, hoping beyond hope for a father that was his only in name.

A flash of anger coursed through his veins. What father would abandon his son, would leave him to yearn for him so desperately. To not at least kill the hope in his child, but to let it fester and grow until it consumed him. Matthias’ sire should not have been called his father at all, should never have been given the privilege of Matthias’ desire, Matthias’ hope, been allowed to bear the title of padre.

For a moment, a split second that he wouldn’t admit, even to himself, Capo would perhaps even say he revelled in being called such a thing. It was a life he never thought he’d have, even a false one such as this. And he was Luciana’s son, the son that he thought would be his, yet at the same time, never could be.

Get up boy,” he encouraged him gruffly, pulling him upright and patting his back roughly, removing any excess debris from his windpipe. “You okay? What the hell happened? Surely you’re smart enough not to wander off the docks drunk.” Anger derived from fear coloured his voice.

His hand was still clasped around the other boy’s wrist.

Headstrong - Matthias and Capo

He just curled up tighter into the shadows, trying to pull his long, inconveniently lanky body out of the light, shivering. Go away, he wanted to snap, but he knew that that was childish for even a moment such as this. Instead, he drew a deep breath to stem the panic, visibly putting himself together, his face shifting back, tear-streaked, into as expressionless a mask as he could make it. “It w-won’t b-bring h-her b-back,” he said softly, his voice rough as he tried to stop shaking. “It w-won’t…it won’t b-bring h-her b-back, so w-why—w-why s-should I?” There was no order to this, no way to know if this was right. He felt that this was wrong.

“I don’t w-want h-him,” he said, not looking at him, obviously in pain and obviously hiding it. “He can’t g-give me w-what I w-want.” He had wiped off some of the blood from his hands as he spoke, only to find that it was his own hands that were bleeding. With a clench of his jaw, he punched those already bruised and battered knuckles directly into brick hearing only white noise in the intensity of that pain. “H-he—can’t b-bring h-her b-back.”

Another punch direct into brick. “If… if it w-wasn’t f-for me, t-this w-wouldn’t h-have h-happened.” Another punch. “S-she’d h-have b-been s-safe and h-home. Never h-had to be a w-whore.” Another punch. “N-never h-had to h-have a b-bastard. S-she—s-she’d be alive right now, if I h-hadn’t r-ruined everything.” This last punch into the brick crossed the threshold for pain, overtaking his anger, and he slumped back, holding his wounded hand to his chest.

“I w-wish I w-was dead,” he said very quietly, head bowed, not looking at him. “No, t-that…t-that w-wouldn’t do anything. I w-wish I never was b-born. I s-should h-have never existed.”

“If…if killing t-that man t-turns b-back t-time, I’d kill a t-thousand men.” He wouldn’t have, but for a moment, he wished that he would. The pit of sadness in his chest opened up and drowned him deep.

“I…I’m the one t-that destroyed h-her. T-they j-just h-held the s-sword.”

#headstrong #matthias #para #capo is just idk #doing what a pirate would do

He could only watch as the boy punched the wall, as if the harder the force, the more emotions could simply go away. Capo found himself determined to bring back that man, so that Matthias could release his anger onto his face again. Alas, the wall would have to do, and he hoped the boy would quieten down once he’d worn himself out.

Apparently this was not the case. This situation was one that was well and truly out of his element, left him floundering, unsure of what to do, like a novice sailor on his face day on deck. Even the youngest of his brothers had never acted in this manner, never had reason to, and Capo could hardly find it in himself to care for anyone else now, could he?

Yet, somehow, and perhaps care was too strong a word, but perhaps he felt a certain fondness for the boy. A fondness that extended to wishing the boy did not feel as if he had no other choice but to suffer. Armed with the knowledge but not the skills however, he could do little more than hover uselessly at the mouth of the alley, watching the boy’s shoulders heave with all too obvious sobs.

As he listened to his words however, their meaning became all the more clear and Capo felt that anger stirring in his gut the way Matthias did. The woman in question was not a mere lady but Matthias’ mother.

Luciana.

That thought hurt more than the whips that had lashed upon his back, the hot irons that had scalded his skin, and the bitter bite of steel combined.

“He can give you revenge,” he settled on finally, moving closer to the boy but still maintaining his distance. “Troubled souls wander the earth until they are avenged and she deserves that, if nothing else.”

“You can wish you were never born. But wishing is useless in the face of reality. And the nature of the situation is that you are very. Much. Alive.” It was something he knew all too well. How many days had he wished he were dead? Cursed his nature to survive when his family did not? The number would be too many, regardless of what they were. “Look at me, Matthias,” he commanded, using a voice that demanded no argument, positioning himself so that they boy would have to face his figure, if not his gaze. “Swords can be reshaped. Reforged. Men cannot. And such men should be destroyed, shouldn’t they?”

Destroyed. Pummelled. Ripped into a thousand pieces for the sea to lay claim over, a tribute into her cold depths. Whoever this man was, death was far too great a privilege but it was the most that they could offer.

What the Water Showed Me - Matthias and Open

He had clung to the dock post, half submerged, as long as he could, shivering violently and glancing up at the form of the man who he had saved, still unconscious and out of reach. No help was coming and he didn’t have the strength to call out more than softly.

“H-help—”

Any attempts to pull himself onto the docks were useless, his arms shuddering, sending him back, slipping into the water, so he wrapped his arms around the dock support in a desperate hug and tried to hold on until morning, cheek pressed against wood.

“S-somebody—”

Hours passed. Hours upon hours, and he could feel his arms giving out, a soft sob echoing from his throat, trying to hold on a little longer. Streaks of daylight would be on the horizon soon, and he’d be found. He tried to tighten his grip, but numbed by the water and his muscles shaking uselessly, he couldn’t get his arms to respond, and after some time, despite his terror, they gave out.

And he fell.

The water carried him to the small, rough-edged beach, depositing him almost gently against the sand, where he stilled. His chest was still in the emerging daylight, hands curled loosely, dark hair plastered to his skull. His eyes were tightly closed, water running from his lips in a ceaseless stream. His body was a palette of white skin and deep, under arching shadows beneath his eyes, the lilac shades of a man who thought of sleep as a distant dream. He looked innocent and peaceful despite his stillness, like a prince waiting in a castle for a reviving kiss that might not come.

#wtwsm #matthias #para #im literally so excited for this oh my god

Bodies. Capo had seen a hundred an one of these wash up on the beach, and his time on Polaris would’ve made him numb to the sight, if death hadn’t affected him so little already. It was an inevitable part of life, the eternal stillness of a body whose soul had fled in the search for greener pastures, of a plane where their physical manifestations had suffered too much for them to bear.

Now corpses were less common upon Tortuga’s borders, relative peace and harmony meant less mutinies and fewer wars waged upon her shores. But it wasn’t an unusual sight by any means. It was instinct that drove Capo to identify the curious lump that had washed up, morbid curiosity having long been quelled. Even after so long, knowing that bodies held the possibly of having items or even being used as fuel that meant the difference between life or freezing to death caused him to approach anyway.

He did not expect to see anyone he recognised. And certainly not a face of one so familiar. It was pale, haggard, a man walking the tightrope between life and death, but distinct none the less. He wasn’t sure, but it felt as if the boy’s name rushed out of his chest in a gasp as he darted forward, pulling the wet cloth that clung to his skin apart and wrapping him as best he could in his cloak.

“Matthias!” he hissed, watching with wide eyes as the boy’s lips appeared to be turning from a cold purple to blue. “Don’t be a fool! You know better than to die on this island!” He shook the boy carelessly, before logic took over and he carefully pulled the boy to drier sand, under a warmer sun. Hands pressed roughly into his chest, a force that would surely bruise or break his ribs, but that was of little concern as long as the boy would live.

One, two, three, four... he counted numbly as each compression expelled dribbles of water from the side of his mouth. Only time would tell if it would expel the liquid from his lungs, however. Well time better tell me real damn soon.

Headstrong - Matthias and Capo

Anger was something he wasn’t unused to. He remembered the impotent rage of his childhood, facing down bigger, angrier boys with nothing but his thin fists, helpless. He remembered when he grew taller than him, warier than them, more strategic, how he had challenged that blind fury into cold, organized passion. Even when he faced pirates, degenerates, he faced them with that cold, empty anger, that inherent disgust that twisted in his gut, understanding without complaint that these were his orders, and this was his function. Cleanse the seas, do his best to make the world a little safer. He’d never succeed at it, but it was something he could be proud to attempt, take what tiny victories he could.

This man made him feel like a little boy again, taunted and scorned and bleeding, and he felt that hot, mindless fury wash over him again, barely contained. His hands, still in fists, were shaking, and he didn’t know what the plan was, or if there was any plan. A sword seemed too simple when he wanted to rip out his throat with his teeth. He was too angry to think of any fear, too angry to think of what this meant, how this wasn’t like him, but if this wasn’t like him, then why did this feel so natural? Why was it so easy, to make these big, swaggering bullies fall?

The boy’s body tensed as though compressed by strings as the gunshot went off, reeling back a little although his fingers stayed firmly wrapped into the man’s shirt, the sword still directed towards his throat. His heartbeat was pounding, and he expected to look down, see a dead enemy or see blood spreading over his own narrow chest. Nothing but wood shattered, the howling of the man he was holding, and apart from that, a curious, dead silence. Matthias looked up at the dark-haired man who had been kind to him – Capo – his eyes still brightly burning, still hot with rage. And then, all at once, an edge of that brightness faded. He was shaking, and the damage down to his body in return began to hurt.

That’s enough, Matthias.

He felt like a chastised puppy and perhaps something in him bristled further at that, but he was tired and there was a growing, reeling sickness in him, looking down at the blood on his hands, the man sprawled out upon the table. His breath felt like ice shredding into his lungs. “I don’t know it,” the man whimpered, and Matthias felt that last remnant of hatred, of fury, rise up in him, let the sword dig in a little further—

And then let him go. He sheathed his sword.

Horrified, he left him, and he ran. He ran fast and he ran far, until he couldn’t run anymore, until exhaustion took over and he just found a place out of sight. He didn’t wipe off the blood – both his own and the other man’s – staining him, didn’t do anything but find a corner in an alleyway and let the sobs finally wash over him, silent, endless, sickened.

He never wanted to feel that kind of anger again. Never. Never wanted to feel that kind of joy again at suffering. Never. That…satisfaction at pain. Raw, red, furious. Deserved it. And likewise, never wanted to feel this kind of failure at letting his mother’s killer walk free with only bruises to show for it. He wept silently, unable to stop trembling, hoping beyond hope that he would never be found, never look one of his witnesses in the face again. He was the King’s Lion, the man in uniform, controlled, organized, cool. Doing what he must. What he did —- what he felt.

“That wasn’t you, you’re not the Righteous Man,” he whispered, barely audible to himself.

No, no, no.

That’s not you.

It can’t be.

It won’t ever be you.

#matthias #headstrong #para #capo is actually an awkward duck what is comfort #I'm sorry i stepped in you can kill him instead #in what world is that reconcilliation #tw: violence

I don’t know it.

For a moment Capo feared that Matthias would plunge his sword, let fear and rage overtake him when there was so much more damaged he could do before the other man talked. Men had surprisingly accurate memories when given pain without the promise of death.

Instead the boy pulled away, running from the tavern, escaping, the fight gone from his shoulders as quickly as it’d appeared, the avenger leaving his spirit, revealing only a boy, angry, upset, afraid.

He watched as he escaped out the door, powerless to stop him, not sure if he really should. He was Capo, one of the Pirate Lords of the Seven Seas. It was not his role, his duty to look after a boy who should by al rights be capable of defending himself. Yet perhaps it was Luciana, her spirit who now resided in this boy of her flesh and blood that gave him only slight pause before deciding to go after him.

Turning to the man on the table, still shellshocked at his sudden reprieve to make any sudden movements, and grabbed in the exact spot Matthias’ had, the fabric still warm from the firm grip of his hand. “It should be noted that I don’t give second chances,” he whispered calmly, slowly, enunciating every word with perfect precision, letting each syllable cut straight through his soul. “So you should consider this a boon. The mercy you so pathetically pleaded for.” He threw the man back on the desk, fixing him with a hard look. “I want her name. I want every name of every person on that ship and I don’t care how you find it but you better start thinking fast.” His fingers brushed lightly on his own sword, hanging by his hips. “I can be very persuasive good sir, but I think you’ll find you won’t care much for my methods.”

With that he left the tavern, eyes darting frantically for the boy. Where would he run? Where would he hide? Looking as he did, somewhere without a lot of people, yet also somewhere not too hard to find. He didn’t know all the ins and outs of Tortuga yet after all. The residential alleyways then.

It was luck that he stumbled upon the boy. He’d nearly walked past, before doubling back at the lump that lay barely moving in the shadows. “Matthias?” he asked cautiously, carefully, the way one would treated a frightened pup, or a spooked horse. “The man was, is still yours, if you’re willing to have him.” If Capo was a lesser man, he would even say that he sounded almost unsure of himself, offering the boy only what all those in his own life had ever wanted. “There was no need to ru- leave.”

Stitches || Cora + Capo

coramonae-blog

Cora immediately narrowed her eyes at he sight of Capo. Such visits were rarely pleasant things, verging into the territory of needing something. Their entire relationship could be traced back to the other holding a skill or tool that was a necessity to the other. She continued onward with her organization of the different medications, as if he was no greater than a fly who had decided to land on her shoulder.

“Manners, mon chéri, remain among your more impressive traits.” The barest hint of a smile tugged at her features. Despite her personal feeling for the man or the crew she had been apart of, they had been her world for several years. It was not a connection as easily lost as everyone liked to believe. “What is it you want then? You may find I charge you triple if you aren’t careful.”

lieutenant-commanderelizabe-blog

“I’m touched love, that you choose to see me in such a positive light. You always were a shining beacon in this dark, damp hell.” Useless of course, agaisnt a woman well aware of his guiles and charm, serving at his side once upon a time. Nevertheless, it was an easy skin to slip into, a method of conversation that Capo found all too easy to adopt.

He watched as she busied herself with her wares. Perhaps he should rush her- no doubt the boy was in pain, doubly so with the lack of alcohol to numb the senses, yet he doubted he would get anything out of her with desperation, and the boy should’ve been glad he didn’t decide to simply put another bullet through his head instead.

“Alas, it isn’t something I need per se,” he continued, watching her with veiled disinterest. “Rather one of the lovely inhabitants of this town. A little boy, can’t be older than nine or ten, had a little accident round my parts. Ever the good samaritan, I decided to find the best surgeon I knew, which of course, would be you love.” He finished his meandering tale with a flourish and a friendly smile upon his face.

#cora #para #stitches

She was not in the mood to deal with this, she tries to stand but her head spins so she quickly sits down again, putting her hand on her head. “How can I thank you if I don’t know what the hell you did? “ She snapped, glaring at him

He raised her eyebrow at her temper, clearly so quickly to lose it. “Well for starters you’re in a clean bed, relatively safe and, oh look at that! You don’t even have any limbs missing! I’d say that calls for a round of thank you’s, wouldn’t you agree? Who knows what you might’ve done last night if it weren’t for my altruistic presence?”

#elizabeth #convo #syb

wolf-boy-stiles-deactivated2015

Unexpected Business || Capo + Avery

A laugh slipped past her lips as she raked a hand through her hair, allowing her gaze to travel the length of the man who held her. “I am sure you and many others would much prefer that,” she smirked, pushing herself away from him. “But these piles of fabric do tend to grant me things just bare skin would not.” The grin she gave him was nearly genteel in appearance though there was something hidden beneath, something that alluded to the fact that not everything was exactly as it seemed, not that she cared much anyways.

A flippant wave was all she offered at his question, her curiosity still on him and his business. In all her travelings in the back alleys his was not a face she could easily recall. “I had no idea this was not the beach,” she gasped in face shock, rolling her eyes. “Tell you why I’m here if you tell me why you’re here.”

He raised her eyes at her words. She was no ordinary gentlewoman then, trained in the arts of needlepoint, homemaking and little else. The smile, for one, would not have been found on a proper lady, no matter how fitting it might otherwise seem. “I can’t imagine what else, besides warmth which one could easily acquire furs for,” he deadpanned, keeping his face deliberately neutral.

“Alas, I live around these parts,” he replied mournfully. It wasn’t completely hard to believe and certainly not all lie- he’d traversed the area often and on a frequent enough basis that the more permanent residents certainly knew him by his figure of nothing else. “Not all of us can be proper ladies I’m afraid, able to lose ourselves in fine clothes and an intimate lack of geography.” He smiled, playing oblivious to her heavy sarcasm earlier.

#avery #ub #convo

julietofthesecret

Juliet let out a laugh at the words, shaking her head. “Oh how you flatter me so.” She commented, before sobering up.

She watched as the other touched the weapons, listening to him talk to himself. As she was addressed she moved closer to the table, almost trying to protect her wares from her captain. “I do admit that I am frustrated by my lack of knowledge over these weapons, though I am close to getting it done.” she explained, picking up one of the new, unknown weapons.”Well, that’s something you don’t need to know, I need to keep some secrets.”

“I imagine you would be,” he murmured, his attention returning to the weapons at hand. “It must irk you so, although I imagine if you don’t know, then no one else on this island will.” Doses of flattery, he found, would get a man far in life, especially when they were directed at women, pirate or not.

Another weapon, this time with a curved blade with intricate detailing upon the handle, oriental perhaps, in make. he traced a finger along the side before moving back quickly as a latch sprung upon, revealing a fine number of blades, millimetres from missing the soft flesh of his fingers.

“Have you considered testing these out?” He asked, stepping away from the table. “Perhaps with some orphan or the such in case of accidents such as,” he gestured at the blade, “that.”

#juliet #convo #guns

Headstrong - Matthias and Capo

Everything had boiled away in his mind except the fact of his target. He had never quite experienced this to this level, military training honing a natural hot temper into something he could wield like a blade. His rage was not like a forest fire, it did not flare up impotently, nor did it cloud his mind. Contrary to that, he felt exquisitely calm. It was almost soothing and definitely distancing, and Matthias felt, for a moment, as if he was standing outside his body watching the altercation take place. In other instances, he might have been intimidated by the numbers of the men, or the fact that all five outweighed him, leaving his frame in contrast looking like a willowy ballerina. Perhaps then, he might have reasoned, or at least battled to keep his temper under control, but this was not temper. His thoughts and all contingencies stretched out predictably like pieces on a chessboard that he could alter, shift, discard, and the other men felt so small.

None of the men seemed to notice Capo’s implicit threat, focused still on the boy, who was still adjusting the collar of his coat, looking at them intermittedly with still eyes. Luciana, he thought, but the name was not so much thought as tumbled through his blood and lingered metallic upon his tongue like the taste of blood. His gaze burned, but not with warmth, the usual soft brown eyes cold as a drift of Taiga forest snow. The warmth of Italia was strong in the boy but something else as well, the chill of an English winter, and the reminder of what it felt like to run full bore before the pack. His rage bloomed in his chest like magnolias and fury was an every deepening pit within his chest, his heartbeat pounding like a war drum.

Most of the men saw the look on his face, although his back was to Capo, and a few stepped back. There was no goodness, no light, no hope in his eyes, merely the dead, hungry gaze of a bull shark, unforgiving, unyielding. The small men were silent, all except one, and his gaze slowly, deliberately shifted to the man as he spoke.

He didn’t hesitate.

In a flash of movement, he was shifting forward, using the other man’s unbalanced momentum and a quick side swipe to upset his balance further to shove him back again, hard, backwards, over the table. There was a hard, sickening crack of head on wood. Blood began to flow, and the boy ignored the feeling of hands gripping into him, pulling him off him, the feeling of blows raining down. Everything felt disassociated, inconsequential. There was pain. There was a feeling like pressure on his body over and over again. It was hard to see. It was inconvenient. Lips peeled back from teeth, halfway between a grimace and a snarl, an animal’s threat.

Strategy drove him forward. He fought with a ferocious elegance, all fluid movements and fists. He did not know how he broke free of the blows, but he did, and again, there was a hesitation and he faced them, his face bloody, his eyes afire. There was the quick scrape of metal against fabric and the elegant sabre was drawn, and he was moving forward and the small men were trying to stop him but he felt in that blinding moment neither hesitation nor pain. Point found throat, careful, insistingly pressing against skin. Hand wrapped into cloth. Pushed him down over table again.

Heart beating, beating.

The men had stopped. The one in his grip, the first one who had spoke, said something about it being only a woman. He slammed him down hard again.

“Say her name.”

The sentence came out with such vicious force, he didn’t stutter at all, but the man said he didn’t know it.

Grip tightened, he was so fragile, so useless, so small.

“Say her name.”

Fear now, he didn’t know. None of them ever really knew. She died afraid and without a friend and only he and one man seemed to care or to remember.

He slammed him down again, and the man stopped being angry.

He sounded scared.

That was right, that was proper.

He should kill him now, because he didn’t know his name, and he was already wearing smeared blood like warpaint.

“Mercy.”

It was a small word. A small word for a small man. He knew the answer. He knew it more than he knew anything in his entire life.

“No.”

#matthias #para #headstrong

The room descended into chaos at Matthias’ attack. Sudden movement that seemed to spring from nowhere, like a coiled viper hidden in the grass. The power behind his legs and the sheer intensity and ferocity of his movements caught the attention of even the most numb of the patrons, all watching with thinly veiled interest at the scuffle that ensued. Capo’s own pistol still remained steadily trained on the man in question, however he was reluctant to participate. Perhaps in hindsight, he should have. Against those overwhelming odds Matthias’ should’ve been down for all counts, leaving Capo to clear up the mess that the boy had foolishly entered into.

Instead, this. Blood trickling down the table’s leg. The man squirming like a sorry worm, tears welling in his eyes and snot running down his nose, intermingled with the iron taste of blood that welled against his lips. Matthias’ looking like Michael himself, archangel and avenger, ready to rain blood upon the sinners. And my was this man a sinner indeed. His head bounced against wood another time. Another loud thud.

Capo stood, inching his way toward the scene. throwing aside any of the henchmen that stood in his path. A bunch of cowardly fools; if any of them had strength in their veins they would defend their captain; yet here they were, hiding like children, fear poisoning their blood. He watched as he questioned the man.

“Say her name.” Once.

Twice.

He knew there would not be a third.

Before the boy could do anything rash Capo lifted the pistol and aimed, looking straight down the barrel, eye trained straight at the offending man’s head. Finger on the trigger, pushing down as a loud bang reverberated around the room. The bulled went straight down the line of people, destroying its target on impact.

The wood beside the other man’s head splintered into a hundred pieces, flying in all directions, some of which cut into his face, digging dead and causing him to scream. The crowd seemed to simultaneously take a step back as they turned to face Capo’s cold, impassioned gaze.

“That’s enough, Matthias.” He walked up to the boy, the boy who seemed more Valkyrie than anything else, blood from his victim staining his hands. “You cannot get what you want by simply gutting him like a fish.” Turning to look at the snivelling man on the table, he gave him a friendly smile, but one which did not reach his eyes. The one that drove fear into people’s hearts, the one that made him more than just a pirate, but a Pirate Lord. "You will tell him what he wants, or else you will find yourself wishing you were hung up on the rafters for the vultures for all that it will feel better my friend.”

wolf-boy-stiles-deactivated2015

Unexpected Business || Capo + Avery

If she had been any other woman, she would have perhaps swooned as the man caught her or fainted. But she was first a pirate and second a woman. There was curiosity and purpose to drive her actions and those outweighed any girlish impulses she might have once had. “And what should I wear in place of them? Nothing?” She raised an eyebrow as he righted her, smoothing down her skirt. There were plenty of options for her to wear, and in fact she normally wore them. But these parts were not a place to be seen as what she was. At least, it more often than not benefited her to look the part of wholesome lady.

#no gifs atm sorry!!#avery #ub #convo

“In a place like this I’d wager the skin you were born in would be more fitting than the piles of fabric you’ve heaped on,” he grumbled, annoyed. Most proper ladies would simply had squeaked a little, then perhaps run off. To have a man’s hands around her in the way he was holding her, innocent as it was, would have set off all of her delicate sensibilities.

He eyed her up, suspicious now that the moment had passed, for despite everything, the most begging question seemed to be, what exactly was she doing here? “An’ why exactly might you be around here?” He asked, eyebrows raised, almost daring her not to answer. “Lost were you? Or did you not notice that all this damned dirt means we’re not quite at the beach anymore?”

ships in the night || cade + capo

Find your way around a lot, do ya? Cade considered the question for a moment. “I’m adaptable.” Was her only answer. Which was not a complete lie. Cade was adaptable, she wouldn’t be the captain of a pirate ship, let alone one of the Pirate Lords if she wasn’t. That, however, was all she gave him. To ask her the question itself was already suspicious enough on its own, and she did not want him to know more than he needed to.

Cade answered the man with a shrug, “if the Captain wants to be found.” That was usually how things worked. The perks of her anonymity. Everyone knew of the Captain of the Harpy, but few can say that they’ve actually seen him. To know the face the captain wore until it is revealed to him by the Captain herself. And she liked to keep it that way. Cade had already begun walking away from the man when he asked for her name. She considered it for a moment before turning around and said, “Edward.” It was the name of her father, one she often favoured when asked such question when she did not want to reveal her true self too soon.

She turned around and kept walking down the pier, turned behind a couple of crates and disappeared into the night. Or so it would seem, she remained in range of the ship, keeping a close eye on the Harpy, to see whether the man would be as brave as he seemed. Whether he would take himself up on his own word and snoop around the ship. All the while she contemplated whether she would reveal her true identity as the Captain of said frigate. When made certain that he would not come away from the ship anytime soon, sticking to the shadows, hidden from view, she too boarded her ship. Climbing up the mask, nimbly and silently as to have a full view of the deck. Masked by the night and well away from the lamps that might betray her location, she watched his every movement, searching for signs of hostility should she need to interfere at the last moment. Cade was never one for caution, but the safety of her crew was of her utmost concern.

Time clocked away with the night and her eyes never left him. All the while, she was reminded by her own words, if the Captain wants to be found. Perhaps the Captain did want to greet the man after all, but for now she remained one with the night, her eyes following his every movement.

#sitn #cade #para #I hope this is alright! :)

If the captain wants to be found.

The phrase was ominous, even if the words themselves, and the way in which they were delivered, weren’t. The Captain indeed, Capo thought numbly, filing the knowledge away for future use. It was a tease, almost, the way he was tangled in front of him, so close and yet out of reach. The Captain must’ve been an illusive one for sure, considering that for all his interferences he’d yet to meet the man or woman in charge of the illustrious Harpy.

When the boy left his he made his way straight across the deck, a confidence that, should anyone have seen him on the dark night, they would’ve have no reason to question his existence. Appearance was everything he reminded himself, even as he took to examine the outer visible artillery- weapons, defences, just how well the ship was built and what exactly where its offensive and defensive capabilities. Speed, the way it would catch in the wind, everything he noted in an attempt to build his own profile of who this Captain actually was. Ghost more like it, he thought sourly, but not even a ghost can hide the imprints he leaves on his own ship.

He avoided any large patches of light, for though he may seem confident to the average passer by, he would rather not be noticed by a member of the crew. He had no doubt they were below, which, unfortunately, was where he needed to go. Stealth it was then, even as he gave a small kiss to the cross around his neck. Several possibilities on entering ran through his mind, and he filtered through them, searching for the best option of entering unnoticed.

It was during all of this that Capo had the strangest feeling of being watched. A man constantly under the scrutiny for others for most of his life, he was well versed to the feeling of eyes staring at the back of his neck. And as a pirate, he knew never to disregard his instincts, to never turn his back on what had kept him alive all these years.

A hidden enemy was the worst kind of one; he never knew what to expect and Capo hated being unprepared. But how to draw them out? He suspected one of the crew- it was unlikely a navyman or one of those in town with a grudge would come to this particular spot to attack him. Provocation perhaps, that could work, certainly. With a quiet sigh he reached behind his back for the small, almost child sized pistol pinned to his back. Keeping his senses alert he pushed one of the doors open, a door leading into the heart of the ship.

julietofthesecret

Juliet straightened up slightly as Capo approached, nodding. “It’s been too long, Capo.” She commented, moving around the table. “That I do. I’ve been exploring, and I’ve collected these weapons, though I don’t know how they work.” She explained, gesturing to the items on the table. “That sound interesting enough for you?”

#juliet #convo #guns #no gifs atm sorry!

He laughed, the woman to the point as always. “Every moment apart from you is a strain upon my heart,” he laughs, well aware of the irony of his words.

He cast a prospective eye upon her wares, keeping his face neutrally blank as he examined the variety of rifles and other such equipment that lay spread upon the table. “Very interesting,” he murmured, even as he ran a finger along a shiny, silver barrel. There were other things too, weapons of strange shapes and sizes that despite their peculiar nature, seemed, deadly enough. “Weapons that you don’t know how to work?” He raised an eyebrow at her comment. “Well that’s something you don’t see everyday. How did you acquire these? Inquiring minds would like to know.”

lieutenant-commanderelizabe-blog

Elizabeth glared at him before she felt it, a sharp feeling behind her eyes and she groaned under her breath. She sat up from where she was laying which she hoped was not her bed, she did not want him anywhere near there. “Where did you find me? I want to know.” She hardly remembered what happened.

#no gifs atm sorry!#elizabeth #convo #syb

“Uh, uh uh,” he tutted, wagging his finger at her as if she were some petulant child demanding for something that wasn’t hers. “Please and thank yous’ hun, or did your parents forget to instill any manners in your poor soul.” The woman was clearly not in the best of states to be in right now, but Capo found only amusement in her current predicament.

Headstrong - Matthias and Capo

A tavern.

Why was it always a tavern?

Apart from the dozens of voices converging and making it hard to concentrate, he didn’t belong there. Matthias felt intensely out of place as he stepped over the threshold, his heart thudding hard in his chest, certain that someone would take one look at him and call him out as pretending to be something that he was not.

The boy was in plainclothes as no one was fool enough to wear a spanking bright uniform in a town filled with pirates, but even his plainclothes marked him as different. They were simple enough, an open-throated white shirt with wide sleeves concealed over a long black coat with a high collar, complementing dark grey trousers. His boots, like the rest of his clothing, was slightly ill-fitting - it was hard to find anything that matched his long, slender frame - and slightly worn, but well cared for. The baldric across his shoulder was not Navy, but the blade was unmistakable, a simple hanger cutlass, standard military issue, but obviously honed to a killer edge. Despite his sweet face, that sword had been the instrument of judgement for more pirates than he had counted under the orders of his King. He was not lieutenant for one of the most powerful ships in the fleet for no reason.

The boy was striking in the middle of the raucous, graceful and silent, with the still, powerful intensity of a priest. There was a slight wariness in the large dark eyes, but he stepped forward as he was told, taking a seat lightly at the same table as Capo, ignoring the comment that equated him to a child. Another small, genuine smile touched his lips as Capo spoke, shaking his head and eyeing the tankard warily. He’d never drank that much but he wanted to be a good sport, tasting the rum and trying not to wince. “T-thanks,” he said quietly, looking up at him through his long lashes, thoughtful. Something about what the man said made him look at him a bit more carefully. “Do you k-know a lot of my f-family’s s-servants,” he teased, but the boy’s eyes were on the man’s, watchful and sharply intelligent.

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud voice of a man, and he hated loud voices. Instinctively, even without the content, the young man tensed, his hand pulsing once, gripping hard to the tankard. This was despicable, what he then heard, his lips forming a thin line, and his shoulders tensing. Eyes averted, the pure hatred in his eyes was concealed, the disgust, and behind that a building rage. There were many injustices in the world. That didn’t mean he wanted to sit through hearing about them. He continued to listen, his hand gripping so hard into the tankard that his knuckles were bone white. Information filtered, leaching his face of color.

Italian.

Woman.

Dark haired.

Three years ago.

Bristol.

Ship. The Orpheus.

“Cap’n said she was his, because he was a right bastard, see, but she wouldn’t go with the Cap’n. Wimmin, right? Give ‘em a chance, and they don’t appreciate nothing. Another voice piped up, interested and horrified, like a child hearing a scary story.

“So what did you do to her?”

“She wouldn’t stop screaming, right? All ‘I have a son, I have a son, don’t kill me.” The man’s voice was heavy with drink and distain, but it took on a mocking high pitch. “Right. So we cut her head off. Eventually.” There was a lazy smirk evident in every word.

A tankard slammed, hard, against wood.

The look that the boy had on his face was indescribable and would send back an army with nightmares. It was beyond hatred. It crossed into something that should not exist upon a human face. It was more terrible than the look of judgement from an angel, as angels are drawn to look like humans.

Nothing in this expression looked human.

After the tankard slammed, the boy stood up, very calm. Very purposeful, very neat.

He walked over slowly, didn’t shift from his path when the man and his friends stood up at his approach.

“Hey, little girl, ought to run back to your mamma. This is a bar for men.” A squint, coarse laugh. “A pretty little boy, then. Go home, boy, I’m sure she’s out looking for—-“

Dark eyes narrowed in, focused.

Light lean to the left, leg injury, likely muscular, counterbalance weak side right arm, kick out to left tibia and wretch right arm back, dodge any blows, send backwards.

The movement was fluid and casual, sending the other man crashing hard into the table and to the floor. An impressive array of cutlery was pointed at Matthias, who was adjusting his shirt. The man looked up at him, dazed. “What—-who—-“

“S-shut up.”

The tone of his voice was worse than the look on his face. Barely a whisper.

“You don’t deserve to s-speak t-to me.”

#i hope this is okay!#headstrong #para #matthias

He supposed of all the things that could’ve happened, it could’ve been worse. In fact, considering the words that had left the other man’s mouth, Capo was surprised to find for once in his life he held more restraint than someone else. But no one got to speak of her that way, no one.

It started with the tenseness seeping back into Matthias’ shoulders, his hands gripping the tankard as if his sanity depended on it. At first he’d thought nothing of the loud gossip, had laughed at the thought of the boy getting so worked up over it. They’re a bunch of pirates lad, he wanted to say. Men’ll be boasting when they got nothing else to do but drink. Not him of course, but then again he’d never had to embellish the stories he held under his own belt, horrid enough as they were.

But the information kept flowing in, and it took longer for Capo to process it then perhaps Matthias, but the pieces seemed to fit far too much for bloody coincidence to be at work. He wanted to laugh it off as he usually did, to smile at Matthias’ naivete, wondering how he ever managed to join the lady when his constitution was so very offended by such vulgar talk. But even his trademark smirk slid off his lips into a frown at the mention of the ship name. The Orpheus. He remembered the name, heard briefly about its attack, having been somewhat indirectly involved. Capo had forgotten about it, but hearing its name now...

He could see the moment something snapped within the boy, something feral, something animalistic in its approach and single minded drive. Not that Matthias was messy by any means, each move was calculated and there was a pure calmness and focus that reminded Capo too much of a lion stalking his prey. “Matthias, leave it, he’s just an idi-” His eyes narrowed as the other man went crashing into the ground, clearly underestimating his opponent. To be honest even he was surprised, the move had come swiftly and out of nowhere, nothing of the boy who had intervened so boldly earlier was present now. Even so, Capo drew his gun slowly, the muzzle out of sight, aimed directly at the ringleader should he decide to win the confrontation through sheer numbers. Dangerous they might be, a couple of forks and knives really had nothing against the devastating effect of his pistol.

It was the tone of Matthias’ voice that brought the first inklings of that smirk back onto Capo’s face. There was a real seriousness in his voice that held no place for bargains or anything of the like. Anger swirled just beneath the surface and Capo leaned back into his seat, content to sit back and watch the show. He was vigilant, for sure, but he’d let the boy steal the show. It was always the son’s responsibility to avenge his mother after all.

In front the man began to stir, taking in Matthias’ words he’d deemed to be disrespectful. “ I said, who d’ya fucking thing you are kiddo,” he gestured wildly, puffing his chest out in an assertion of his dominance.

julietofthesecret

Juliet was standing over her table, the door open behind her, allowing the cool breeze to drift in as she looked over the weapons spread in front of her. Hearing footsteps, she lifted her head, looking at the newcomer, smiling slightly as she recognised the person approaching. “Hello.”

#no no its lovely hun!! xx #juliet #guns #convo

“Juliet.” Capo smiled at the lady that stood before him, a familiar face he’d gone far too long without seeing. She looked as if she hadn’t aged a day but then again, neither of them really had. “So,” he said, bringing his hands together one with a soft clap, “I heard you have something of interest to me.”

ships in the night || cade + capo

Cade’s eyes zeroed on the usual places where she would kept her own weapons. Surely if the man was to go so far as to think like a pirate he would keep his weapons hidden in places a pirate would keep his also. Which only begged the question of how an average man came across such fine weaponry?

Although never one for paranoia, but an addict to risks, she allowed the man to keep the rest of his little trinkets and feigned satisfactory in the more sizeable weapons that he rested at his feet. Protection, he said. That’s a laugh. What did he take her for? Nevertheless, she decided to play along. “Consider it a sign of good faith then. Chances are, if they don’t see you as a threat they won’t attack.” She told him, clambering down from the stake of crates.

Like everyone else she’s met, he too had the height and the weight over her. And just like everyone else she’s met, Cade was not intimidated but intrigued.

She eyed the silver cross he had around his neck. It looked harmless enough, and although hardly a person of any religious means herself she saw minded very little of anyone else’s. She shrugged, “you’ll have to take that up with the Cap’n.” She said simply, turning her back on the man as she started toward the pier where the Harpy dropped anchor. By that time the sun had already bid its adieu and the moon had taken its place. She could see the dim light of crew’s quarters, and the oil lamps burning on the masks. The deck was emptied of any of her boys she noticed, as she and the other man came nearer to the frigate with the harpy figurehead. All was quiet saved for the dull voices of the crew, singing softly to the tune of the ocean as the waves washed up against the body of the ship. They always had something to celebrate they did.

“They’re probably all down there havin’ their supper,” she noted. A few metres short of the ship she stopped, “this is as far as I go, told ya she ain’t my ship. If you still wanna have a snoop I’m gonna give it a good guess and say you probably have about an hour.” She turned to the other man, one brow raised. Curious to see whether he was as brave as she made him out to be. “So, you still game?”