rosaelena258 (rosaelena258) wrote in rpirates,
rosaelena258
rosaelena258
rpirates

Lemme spin yeh a yarn, it begins in Tortuga, lan' o' 'ores, booze, and pahrats. Tha infamous citeh is tha focal poin' o' tavern figh's, loose women, and scurveh knaves lookin fer another roun' o rum.




A young girl with brown hair sheared short and a bound chest and boyish clothes enters a rowdy tavern in Tortuga (Because everybody loves Tortuga.) She looks around, searching for a captain searching for more.

A tall man with painfully blue eyes and sun-washed brown hair sits near the middle of the room, recieving drinks from admiring men and buying them for delicate young women. Everyone cheers as he stands up, already a little tipsy.
"Three cheers for The Dishonor, the roughest ship in the Spanish Main!"
Cheers filled the dark and crowded tavern, as more drinks were sloshed about and new gold coins passed between hands.

Near the door perched a girl with dirty blonde locks and an even dirter face. She was lovely even through the grime, but the look of pure hatred consumed whatever beauty there may have been. She did not cheer, but instead quieted her tounge with another drink of rum.

The girl calls for a drink for herself, continuing to survey the crowd. She chugs it down and watches the man in the center of the crowd and slides a hand through hier hair distractedly with her leathered hand. She hikes up one of her well worn boots and starts for the group, elbowing somebody nearby lightly and nodding to the man. "Whoozat?" She takes another gulp of her watered down rum.

"That be Captain John Conroy, 'o the ship Dishonor. Rece'tly hap'en'd 'pon a luck o' gold, 'e did. Feelin' might'y gen'rous, 'e is. Girl like you migh' see this as a bus'ness oppurtun'ty, she might, if she didn' feel to scared 'bout goin' up 'gain Miss Azel there." He gestered to a gaudy young women in a dirty red dress and bonnet. She was sitting beside the Captain with one arm about his waist, laughing loudly. The man looked the girl up and down. "I say, are ya lookin' to make a buck o' two? I cin get ya past Miss Azel and into tha Cap'in's newly rich pok'et, I can. Tha' is, for a price 'o course. It be quite worth your time, if ya'd be willin' ta help us ou'."

She raises an eyebrow. "You tryin' ta whore me out to a cap'm? Look, ah got mah pride. Ah'm lookin for a ship, ah am. Not a night o' pleasin' a man. Do ah look lak a whore to you?" She scowls aggressively. "I ain't a pretty skirt. Hell, I hate skirts." She makes a disgusted face and moves away, taking another chug of rum, muttering "Pig."

The man rolled his eyes at the girl. "Yer lose, Missy! Coulda made a pretty penny, you could 'ave!" He reached for another pint, and began to scope out the room for another desperate looking young broad.

She pushes her way toward the captain, proping herself conspicuously nearby and drinking her rum putting up a facade of toughness.

"Anything to eat, Lass?" a blushing barmaid leans over the counter. A rough-cut man behind her slips an arm about her waist and pulls her away in a fit of giggles, leaving her question hanging in the air unanswered.

She rolls her eyes at the barmaid and scans the room again, muttering to herself about the state of the world. Her sun-stained shoulders are reveiled around her vest. She watches the captain, waiting for him to tire himself or leave.

"'Ello there, lass?" A cheeky voice popped beside her, and a willowy man sat down. "I'm lookin' for a port, if ya can take the sails. Catch me drift?" He winked, and slipped a few pieces o' eight onto the counter between them.

She frowns, picks up the money, examines it, and drops it on the ground, turning her attention back to the room. She calls for another bottle of rum.

The man rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath before turning to leave. Another barmaid hurries over and pours the girl a spot of rum into an unwashed glass.

She drains it quickly and frowns at the constant attention the Captain is getting.

The Captain raises his glass in another toast. "Long Live Dishonor!" he shouts.

Azel rolls her eyes with impatience and snaps her lacy fan shut, losing her girlish demeanor for a second. She takes the Captain gently by the hand and begins to weave her way through the crowd, taking up her laughing mask again. The Captain shrugs his shoulders to the crowd as if there's nothing he can do, and follows Azel from the room. The crowd lifts up their glasses, following more rousing cheers.

She slides the glass onto the counter and hurries after the Captain, pushing through the crowd quickly. She grabs his shoulder quickly and nods to him. "Allo Cap'm. You needa 'notha 'and the next time yeh sail out?"

The Captain glances the girl up and down contemptuously. "I take lasses to me bed, not me boat."

"Darling," Azel glanced at the girl, "the Captain already has his sails set, thank you very much." She began pulling the Captain out of the room again.

She scowls. "'Ow'd yeh like ta sail whar few have a'fore, Cap'm?" She raises an eyebrow and quirks her lips slightly.

"He wouldn't." Azel glared at the girl, and pushed the Captain into a nearby room, slamming the door.

The girl slumps, scowling, shouting after him, "Yeh let yer prostitu' speak fer yeh? No' mucha ah man ahr yeh!?" She goes back to the edge of the room and scans the room again.

"I wouldn't be making such a fuss over Miss Azel, right in front of her like that. It's not wise." The girl with dirty blonde hair looks up from her seat.

"I 'ssume this iz tha par' whar ah ask why." She grabs an empty chair, spins it on one of it's legs and plops down backwards, pulling up her breeches and crossing her arms on the back of the chair. She looks at the girl.

"Not if you'd rather not know. I'm simply trying to be nice. A rare commodity in these parts." The girl looks back down and takes another sip of rum.

"Ah could nevah turn down good infermatio'." Her interest is peaked slightly. "Would yeh lak me ta ask prop'ly? Tell meh, whay shouldn' ah maka fuss 'bou' Miss Azel in fron'a 'er?"

"I'm not so sure that you really want to hear it." The girl smirked, dangling the knowledge in front of her.

"Ah asked, dinn't ah? Thas the sign o' wantin'. Ah wouldn' as' if ah didn' wanna know." She's growing impatient, but trying to keep futilely polite to avoid conflict and to get the information she wants.

"Lots of people ask for things. It doesn't prove how much they want them." The girl looked up again. "Just how much do you know of Captain Conroy, and just how much do you want to become a member of his crew?"

"'e's ah Cap'm. 'e's go' a boa'. An' 'e's pop'lar wif 'is crewmen an' 'e's doin' pur'y well fer 'imself. Dere ain' nufin I needah know bu' tha. 'smore 'bou' 'avin uh job than seekin' ou' a Cap'm in partic'lar."

The girl raised her eyebrow inquisitively. "You've been a pirate long?"

"Three y'rs. 've been trainin' since a'fore tha' though."

"And you haven't heard of Conroy?"

"Naw...? Ah'm from up nearer ta da mainlan' mos'ly."

The girl smirked. "Obviously."

She scowls. "Yeh tryin' ta make somfin of mah lack of knowledge? One ain' nevah learned nofin nobody else wouldn' teach 'em 'less they coulda learned i' on thar own. 'nfermatio' ain't onea dose things."

The girl smirked again and took another sip of rum. "You'll learn of your own accord."

"Wuz tha' s'posed ta mean?"

Another smirk.

"Fergit yeh." She stands and goes back to the counter, getting another rum and leaning against the counter sulkily.
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