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Post by Strawberry Scream on Aug 18, 2017 7:28:22 GMT -5
Vix jerked awake at the sound of Jared's' voice, an immediate snarl of warning on her lips as her hand went to her pocket, where a set of brass knuckles used to spend their time before use. Shark barked threateningly at her sudden rush of anger, his fur bristling until his mistress calmed down. She reached out to her dog as she leaned her back against the seat, and he growled obediently as he lowered himself protectively across her lap, massive head resting on his colossal paws. She didn't reply to Jared as he spoke to her, just running her hand over her massive hounds head as Jared came to open her door.
"Go," she told Shark, and he leaped from the car and onto the ground before turning to look at her expectantly. She carefully got to her feet, standing up as the husky-mastiff mix pressed against her legs protectively, easily taller than her waist as he nipped at her wrist possessively. The blue-haired girl absently pet his head again as she glanced at Jared again cautiously, strange mint eyes glinting with curiosity. Of course, that melted into anger as a few women flounced over with bubble voices and expressions, wearing simple black dresses.
"She's pretty," she heard one whispered to another as they came closer, although they paused as Shark flatted his ears against his head and snarled. "Down boy," Vix said wryly, her hostility melting as she realized that the youngest looked no more than fifteen. She said nothing else as the women and girl ushered her inside, tuttering at her choice of clothing and hair color. The young woman was tempted to snap back, but held her tongue - these ladies had done nothing wrong. Shark padded silently by her side, ears still flat and his muscles tense even with his owners' hand on his head.
Several minutes later, Vix was being led into the massive home. She bit her tongue at her awe, feeling uneasy as she grabbed her hounds' collar again. It was more for herself this time - and he knew this, pressing closer. The women leading her split one by one, eventually leave just one with her. She knocked on a door, waited a moment before opening it open and turning to Vix curiously. "Take your hair down," she said and rolled her eyes slightly when the girl didn't listen. "It's to make a good impression."
Vix still didn't and the woman just hissed quietly before ushering the girl in with her dog. The girl stood in between two leather couches stiffly as Shark lowered himself onto the ground, panting quietly as Vix simply scanned the room carefully, holding onto her throbbing side absently as the horrible bruises throbbed and ached - her hands were no better, her knucckles beat and bruised. She didn't call out, didn't make a sound - ignored the ache in her lungs caused by iron deficiency, ignore the hurting muscles. She just waited, tense, for something to happen.
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Post by carmine. on Aug 18, 2017 9:49:58 GMT -5
Glenn, Lan, & Arlen
When the Captain regarded them, all three individuals simultaneously straightened their back just a little more from how they would normally stand (though perhaps Glenn did look a little more relaxed than the other two and Arlen looked as if he wasn’t listening. It was quite obvious to those who knew him that his ears were keenly trained on Anaya’s words, however, and only the words she commanded at the moment, given their situation). Their responses were illustrated a little differently from each other as well from their postures to their poise to their body gesture to the expression they made, which was no surprise, as they were all quite the opposites from each other. Allocate shotguns — ones that can cut through water, but leave enough remaining for future use. Prepare a plethora of bandages. Secure the life lines. Set the sails. Sail deeper into the True North seas. It was Arlen who responded first with a small “certainly,” his dark, gloved hands breezily brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear before he swept around and calmly headed straight first into the chaotic deck. Despite how unperturbed and somewhat lackadaisical he appeared to be exteriorly, his eyes gleamed sharper than any gilded armour, and the small, wolfish curl of his lips remained unmistakable. The light in his eyes, if one was looking at the man from a distance, could have been described to be bordering on a child’s fastidious excitement. The turmoil occurring beneath the roiling gray sky and the thrash of the waves seemed to parallel an ominous drizzle that soon shifted into a torrent of icy pellets, and with it came a veil that seemed to conceal most of the movement on the ship, making it soon impossible to tell who was who, including Arlen, whose dark coat seemed to melt into the cluttered crowd. The lurch of the ship seemed to catch Glenn off guard, though he was soon more than a little surprised to find that it was the master gunner who’d caught his arm, allowing him to regain his balance before he could be rolled away diagonally across the entire wooden surface of the Bleeding Corpse (which, he imagined, would not have been fun in any manner). “Steady,” she said simply, though he caught sight of her quirked eyebrow. “You were just brought on deck, you know.” It amused the medic that Lan seemed to be silently leaving a different implication hanging in the air: so don’t go and die right now in a place like this. This entire ordeal hasn’t even begun. Her dark amber eyes seemed to turn to face the siblings once, briefly, as if silently wishing for their luck and safety, before she herself quietly and stealthily stalking off towards where she’d been commanded to go, her hair whipping across her back like a robe in the midst of a windy storm. Well, he supposed that he would have to get to his work, too, seeing by the fact that he had been “appointed” (more likely threatened and branded, he supposed, but that was besides the point for the time being) as the new medic of the Bleeding Corpse. With that thought in mind, Glenn swivelled around from the rest of the dispersed crew members with an image of the supplies he’d been granted permission to utilise still lingering in his mind. Let’s see, his thought begun as he processed the idea of where to place which item and which herbs to prepare in an easy spot for him to reach, if there happened to be an emergency with the aftermath of the disquietude. He hadn’t been lying about the surplus of beneficial medicine they had in their possession, and while it sounded like a pleasant idea, if there were to be patients, it would take forever to rummage through all they had. As such, there needed to be a specific rhythm and pattern of where each things were that Glenn understood with effortless ease — that was to say, the locations of each supply needed to almost become translated to him as muscle memory. One stretch of his arm to the right, and he’d find gauze, and to the left, alcohol. Luckily, someone or rather the former medic seemed to have done a rather stellar job of organising the materials before they were — what was it again? Eaten by something in the sea? Thrown off the deck? Split in half? Shot? Taken a knife to the heart with his own hand? Glenn supposed it didn't matter too much. Hm. Perhaps the morbid way he thought, brushing off the matter of life and death as easily as breathing came for him, made Glenn more befitting of living on a pirate ship than he’d previously imagined. Though he’d served some years spending time mending the wounds of others, he hadn’t lost touch of the streets he’d come from previously, and it seemed that the thoughts that he’d carried at that time still remained with him like a trail of stubborn smoke that wouldn’t disappear. When he emerged back on the surface, he heard Haven’s voice, and to this he listened, mildly curious of what the man had discovered. “—cut it open, killing it, but the spawn came out — hundreds of them, swarming towards the bottom of the sea. I grabbed one, thinking you may have read about them.” That didn’t sound something to be jovial of. Even if Glenn had not been able to hear the exact words Haven said, the man’s dark voice was a good indication of that much. He caught sight of the tanned man indicating a bucket, and to this, the medic tipped his head to the side, his orbs smudged with a twinge of inquisitiveness behind the layer of indifference his gaze retained. It was then he heard Anaya’s command: No one leaves the ship. If the two had been watching each other so closely, almost sharing their thoughts through their expressions (it seemed like they were doing that. Were they? He’d have to ask Lan or someone later on for confirmation), he supposed that there was a good reason for why Anaya had given the order to her crew. Which was exactly why as he approached the Anaya Vange of the Bleeding Corpse, Glenn inquired almost light-heartedly: “Mind if I join you?” His smile was subtle, but it was there for sure, and he stood next to the captain (while keeping a respectful distance, of course) as he gazed out at the True North seas. “I may seem like an old worrywart who only knows how to use herbs to help wounds, but you may be surprised to find that I have some understanding of—” how to kill things “—these creatures.” He wasn’t telling an entire lie — if he thought back to the time he’d buried himself in his books, oftentimes daydreaming of the stories he’d been able to gain knowledge of, he had read about some of the peculiar creatures. Perhaps whatever was in the bucket was one of those odd things, though internally he was admittedly still trying to wrap his head around the reality that was going on around him. This was either one large nightmare, or a reality he’d never been allowed to imagine before. “Besides,” he said as he haphazardly flicked a damp locks of his hair away from his sharp, mischievous eyes, “with all due respect, I’d say that two is better than one in circumstances like these.”
She hadn’t been imaging that she’d see the utterly rare weapon so soon. The Kraken Killer was a sight to behold, indeed, far more brilliant and brighter than any jewel or piece of treasure the master gunner had ever seen, which was why it was a relief to have in their possession; there was something lurking underneath the surface of the roiling water — a monumental silhouette that seemed to slowly prowl around them like an apex predator waiting to catch their unawares. Lan narrowed her eyes, causing a small furrow to form between her eyebrows. It seemed that the True North sea was greeting them with a loud bang, right from the beginning; it wasn’t the most cordial greeting, but one that Lan wasn’t unfamiliar with. No breaks were going to come around anytime soon unless, she thought, they were prepared to drown, sinking underneath the great sea like the hundreds and thousands of other voyage ships had. Lan thought she heard her captain speak of an order, though the fierce crash of the waves made her practically deaf, and she felt her world tilt when the ship lurched once more, tipping to the side. Catching her balance with a hand against the ship’s wood, she drew in a fortifying breath. There’s…. is there something else in the water aside from what Haven saw? Her dark amber-brown eyes blinked furiously to clear her vision, which had been blurred by the stinging wind and its icy pellets of the merciless ocean spray, though when she could see her surroundings once more, it seemed that the shadow had disappeared into the muddy sea waves. At the moment, she only had her two usual silver pistols with her, which were surprisingly powerful and easy to aim (courtesy to the last isolated island they’d visited), after she’d handed out a good portion of guns to the best snipers on deck. They’d need every last bullet, and she silently prayed that no one, including herself, would miss their target. Balancing herself as best as she could, she gingerly ran the tip of her fingers over the Kraken Killer. So far, she’d never heard of anyone who had successfully landed their mark in the True North seas — some strange tales said that they’d all been eliminated with a siren’s mystical song, others said they’d been dragged underneath by the egregiously malevolent creatures. “That’s not happening to us,” she found herself muttering underneath her breath to herself as she massaged her temples, the light in her eyes steeling. Speaking of the second in command, she saw him walking over towards the post she’d been moved to, and, for the briefest moment, Lan found a small, silent sigh of relief escaping her lips. Not that she'd ever admit that out loud. The second in command of the Bleeding Corpse was vigorous and deadly — a formidable force to be reckoned with — but she was aware that even the most powerful men and women tended to bend their knee when it came to the sea’s ruthless waters. The master gunner wasn’t an exception from its grasp, either, and she was aware that anyone — anyone could lose their life anytime. She was just glad that it hadn’t been Anaya, Haven, Arlen, or Kingsley (the navigator was quite sweet in her opinion, and she considered him as valuable as anyone else here on the crew, even though he did seem to shy away from violence than indulging himself with it) hadn’t been its victim yet. Hopefully, it would stay that way.
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Aug 24, 2017 3:54:05 GMT -5
I forgot to reply >.< I will within the next few days
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