Post by Marlui the Drunken Theif on Aug 9, 2005 17:31:25 GMT -5
A soaked, gloved hand shot up from the water and grabbed onto the dock, a weak form soon to follow. The huffing, sogged form tugged itself onto the dock, and rolled over coughing, appearing as pallid as one would if they held their breath for too long. Her green eyes shot open as the dock master leaned over her, his little servant at his side. "Are you alright, miss?" he said in a pure accent, his wig almost toppling off his round head, spectacles sliding to the tip of his nose. The woman only coughed in response, rolling back onto her chest, trying to lift herself. The boy could plainly see the scabbard and sword pressed against her, and most definately the buckler that might have weighed her down considerably.
The servant pointed it out to the dockmaster. The elder man looked at her, up and down. "You seem the sea-faring type... where'd you come from?" The woman staggered for a moment, her coat wearing her down. She pressed a hand to his shoulder and looked down, breathing. "Oh, a few mates o'mine decided it'd be a quirk if dey tried to teach meh to fly..." she lied, her left leg coming up as she bared her teeth in pain. The dockmaster seemed disgusted, but stayed there, for she was a woman, of course... and they were fragile, yes...
"Your 'mates'?" The elder asked gently, blinking. She raised her head, eyes narrowed.
"Yes, me friends..." She staggered away from him, limping horribly, but glad she was soaked: because she had stared to sob, the pain in her leg unbearable. He called after her, but she kept on walking, pretending she didn't hear him. A few red-coated fort soldiers came to the dockmaster, and the elder pointed to the woman, who hadn't gotten too far.
They rushed after her, even though there were only two of them, she turned her head and reached to pull out her sword, but found it stuck. The redcoats neared her, blinking. "Miss, the dockman says you're hurt-"
The woman frowned. "Aye, he sayd this, but does he know this?" She blinked. "He might as well say I'm a pirate," she said slowly, and limped away. The guards exchanged looks, then whistled an alert. A few more of these navymen appeared, an in the midst of it all, a blue-coated Commadore appeared, eyes narrowed. They came around her, surrounding her. She looked back and forth, between all of them, feeling like she weighed a ton. The rifles were pointed at her from most directions, and she sighed miserably.
"Well, pirate..." the blue-coated man said arrogantly. "What say you fend yourself?" The lady looked at him for a moment and thought for a moment, then rolled up her damp sleeves. Her arms were unbranded.
"I ain't a pirate, you blumberin' fool... jest in need of a rest..." she walked forward, and the man pushed their rifles at her, crying out. The commadore narrowed his eyes, leaning over to look into her face.
"Fine. Men, back to your posts. Miss, the tavern is down the way." He turned on a heel and walked away, and the girl looked back at him, smirk crossing her face. Her gloved hand came up to her eyes as she looked at the brooch she had snagged from his coat when he had leaned forward. Worth a few few bits of gold... she hobbled off, not meeting any eyes.
The servant pointed it out to the dockmaster. The elder man looked at her, up and down. "You seem the sea-faring type... where'd you come from?" The woman staggered for a moment, her coat wearing her down. She pressed a hand to his shoulder and looked down, breathing. "Oh, a few mates o'mine decided it'd be a quirk if dey tried to teach meh to fly..." she lied, her left leg coming up as she bared her teeth in pain. The dockmaster seemed disgusted, but stayed there, for she was a woman, of course... and they were fragile, yes...
"Your 'mates'?" The elder asked gently, blinking. She raised her head, eyes narrowed.
"Yes, me friends..." She staggered away from him, limping horribly, but glad she was soaked: because she had stared to sob, the pain in her leg unbearable. He called after her, but she kept on walking, pretending she didn't hear him. A few red-coated fort soldiers came to the dockmaster, and the elder pointed to the woman, who hadn't gotten too far.
They rushed after her, even though there were only two of them, she turned her head and reached to pull out her sword, but found it stuck. The redcoats neared her, blinking. "Miss, the dockman says you're hurt-"
The woman frowned. "Aye, he sayd this, but does he know this?" She blinked. "He might as well say I'm a pirate," she said slowly, and limped away. The guards exchanged looks, then whistled an alert. A few more of these navymen appeared, an in the midst of it all, a blue-coated Commadore appeared, eyes narrowed. They came around her, surrounding her. She looked back and forth, between all of them, feeling like she weighed a ton. The rifles were pointed at her from most directions, and she sighed miserably.
"Well, pirate..." the blue-coated man said arrogantly. "What say you fend yourself?" The lady looked at him for a moment and thought for a moment, then rolled up her damp sleeves. Her arms were unbranded.
"I ain't a pirate, you blumberin' fool... jest in need of a rest..." she walked forward, and the man pushed their rifles at her, crying out. The commadore narrowed his eyes, leaning over to look into her face.
"Fine. Men, back to your posts. Miss, the tavern is down the way." He turned on a heel and walked away, and the girl looked back at him, smirk crossing her face. Her gloved hand came up to her eyes as she looked at the brooch she had snagged from his coat when he had leaned forward. Worth a few few bits of gold... she hobbled off, not meeting any eyes.