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Post by Lothy on Mar 1, 2011 16:54:19 GMT -5
RP Info: Private or Open?: Private. Fast, Casual or Slow?: Casual. Involved: PD & Lothy. Characters: Hunter, Henry & Aleks. Slight Kayla. Summary: Set during the Dionysus' voyage to Tortuga in KAWEOTH.
The sun sank beneath the horizon as The Dionysus left Port Royal, leaving behind it a hue of orange in the clear blue sky. If the wind was in their favour, the vessel and her crew hoped to arrive in Tortuga by morning the next day. Hunter sat at a small, dressed table on deck, his young and fiery niece Kayla beside him. She wore a midnight blue dress that accentuated her deep emerald eyes, which in turn were framed by light blonde ringlets. He smiled at her kindly, trying to win back her favour, she scowled in return and turned up her nose. She had a temper just like he and her mother, yet at least for her sake she had learnt when to hold her tongue, for the most part anyway. He knew it would take a while for him to bring her around to his way of thinking, for her to understand the reasons why Hunter had arrested her great-uncle and guardian. She was still so young after all, barely sixteen, yet had known more hurt than a woman twice her age. He certainly regretted hurting her that little bit more. Was it an overreaction; having Caleb arrested and sentenced to death just to achieve revenge for something that had happened twenty-two years ago? Was his uncle really to blame for the unfortunate circumstances of those weeks after Hunter's parents had died? He didn't like to think about it, this was his chance, he had made something of himself. This was how he would climb even higher and prove himself to Beckett.
He sighed and took a sip of wine. There were flaws in this plan, so many gaping holes and morally grey areas, but he had to go through with it, for reasons he couldn't even explain to himself. It helped to have Aleksandra spurring him on. Her feisty, devil may care attitude was something that inspired him in this voyage. She was his little hell cat, his pet. In fact she was like chess; a game to be played with when in want of a bit of fun but a powerful, logical and skilled tool to be had. She brought out a dark side in him however, or so Kayla often commented. She and the older woman seldom got along and it made for a constant headache. The woman in question was observing the crew of sailors and naval men with sharp, distrusting eyes, siting beside him, opposite Kayla. The lack of conversation was deafening.
Hunter leant back in his chair and stretched his joints out with a satisfying click. Personally he felt quite contented and at home, after all he had made sure his magnificent ship was stocked with all the creature comforts a man could desire at sea. He had his fine wines, a comfortable bed covered with the most luxurious of fabrics and quilts and other such things of finery. Yes, things in his life had certainly taken an upturn. The ship itself was a gift from his wealthy, business-driven great-uncle, to congratulate Hunter on his some what recent promotion within the East India Trading Company. In fact it was his great-uncle's business, ships. No detail had been over looked, no penny wasted. The Dionysus was certainly a thing of beauty, a deadly thing of beauty at that; across her decks she held no less than seventy four canons, manned only by the best of His Majesty's Royal Navy. It was for this reason that she was the perfect ship – nay one of the only ships – for the job that Hunter had been entrusted with; he was to help bring about the end of piracy.
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Post by PD on Mar 2, 2011 16:02:40 GMT -5
The night was still fresh and young; the sun was just beginning to lower on the horizon line, causing fantastic colors to cavort on and around the water surrounding their isolated vessel. Henry Summers, standing at the bow of the Dionysus, was watching as she cut through the picturesque Caribbean sea.
The wind whipped his short locks, cooling his face, and the salty air stung at his gray-blue eyes. It was rare, quiet moments like this that he reveled in. After all, the constant din and stress encompassing Port Royal and Lord Beckett did not always make for a good environment to relax in. Slowly taking his eyes away from the multicolored horizon, Henry reached into his breeches pocket and withdrew a torn, crinkled piece of paper. It was the wanted paper he had picked up shortly before leaving Port Royal. As he straightened out the creases and folds, the name “Eve Summers” jumped out, staring him down.
“Good evening, Mr. Summers,” a subdued, droning voice startled Henry, causing him to quickly shove the paper away and look up. Standing before him, piercing him with his beady eyes, was Mr. Mercer, Lord Beckett’s right hand man. Even though they were closely affiliated, the man still gave Henry a feeling of unease; there was just something not properly right about him. He merely watched as Mercer came up to stand beside him; his fist clenched around the paper in his pocket. The man’s critical eye missed nothing which caused Henry to crunch the wrinkled paper so hard that it might just vanish from existence.
“If all goes well we shall be there early tomorrow,” Mercer’s eyes sparked fire and obvious lust for control.
Henry remained quiet, not exactly sure what was expected of him to say. He watched as Mercer’s eyes traveled away from him and landed fiendishly upon Aleksandra. With obvious distaste Mercer’s face distorted into a look of detest. He disapproved of Hunter’s pet, it was well known. Then again, he didn’t exactly approve of Hunter himself.
“That girl,” he turned to Henry again, his eyes penetrating, reading everything that could possibly come into Henry’s face. “Hunter’s doxy. What do you know of her?”
Henry let his eyes rest on her slender form for a moment, choking the life out of the paper in his pocket. Her dark hair glistened in the fading sunlight and, very briefly, he caught her blue eyes. He ripped them away quickly and redirected his gaze back to Mercer who was still expecting something from him. “Nothing,” he lied. Mercer squinted hard, peeling away the falsehood in his words. What was he trying to do? Pit Henry against Aleks and Hunter? Divide and conquer? The two men stood in awkward silence for a short time, all the while, Henry’s dislike of Mercer grew, devouring him inside out, causing him to wish for the man to vanish from the earth.
“Good evening,” Henry nodded curtly, ending their rendezvous, and slipped away from Mercer's grasp.
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Post by Lothy on Mar 4, 2011 19:15:03 GMT -5
Unknown to Henry, Aleksandra had been watching him for quite a while, her mind lingering still on his earlier comments. What was her business to him? He was nothing! She stared at him, her eyes like blades; sharp and piercing. Hunter either didn’t notice where her attentions lay, or didn't care, away in his own prim world where he was master and all revolved around him. He and Henry disliked each other and could even be called rivals, each vying for the attentions of Lord Cutler Beckett. Aleks had no to even be near the man, let alone kiss the ground he walked on. To her he was like all men, perhaps worse; power hungry, proud and belittling. His right-hand-man Mercer was no different, he was a conniving, imposing and scheming rat, obviously disliking of both she and Hunter. As for Hunter himself, well he was no better than the two put together, but there was something about it that made her look twice, almost like a vulnerability that she recognised as also being within her, not that she'd ever admit it of course. Hunter treated her differently from other men and it was because of this that she could forgive the way he used her.
Which brought her back to why she was thinking of Henry. Were the things he'd said true? Could she really reach any higher? Was she wrong in thinking she had found her best? Was she wrong in thinking so highly of Hunter?
She saw him move away from Mercer and before she knew what she was doing she had jumped up from her seat into Henry's path.
“You were looking at me.” She sneered, her russian accent mild. “What was Mercer saying? He was disrespecting me, no?”
[[EDIT: Okay forget the over the top Russian accent. It's annoying me already.]]
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Post by PD on Mar 19, 2011 11:48:55 GMT -5
Henry breathed a secret and quite relieved sigh as he hurried out of Mercer’s snare. Even from here, though, he could still sense the man’s beady eyes fastened on his back, eying him like a vulture waiting to make the kill. Henry kept his eyes downward, watching as his dark boots smacked dully against the planks of the ship. How had he ended up here stuck on this awful vessel with Mercer and Costello?
Lost in his thoughts, he almost collided right into Aleks as she moved to confront him.
“I was? I mean, no? yes.” He sounded like a complete fool and mentally kicked himself. Closing his eyes hard he breathed a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “He was as Mercer always is, Jenko.” His voice was hushed, feeling that Mercer could perhaps still hear them even from this distance. He opened his eyes, feeling somewhat more soothed and relaxed now. “Really was it necessary for you to ask such a foolish question?” His voice sounded dry and cold, as if talking to her made his head ache even more than it already did. Why was he so concerned with the way he acted around her anyway? Was it perhaps only that Mercer was still watching? Or... something more? She was only Hunter’s little pet… she meant nothing to him. In fact, life would probably be easier if she and Hunter disappeared. There’s a thought. Probably the same thought Mercer had about all three of them. It was kill or be killed out here.
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Post by Lothy on Mar 21, 2011 19:16:29 GMT -5
Aleks found herself taken aback by Henry's stuttering, he almost seemed to be intimidated. Usually she would take pleasure in this, of course people should have been intimidated by her, but now? Now it seemed he was intimidated for completely different reasons. She crossed her brows and tried not to let it phase her. She had no interest in romance, she had never let herself. It only complicated things, made it difficult to do her job, to survive in the only way she knew how. She had to be cold, ice and she had sworn to herself that she would never let a man, or anyone for that matter, melt her. No matter how lonely she may end up, all she needed to do was survive. A sudden thought struck her however, what was the point in surviving in that case? There had to be a reason for it, surely? A reason as to why she craved all that she did? She shook herself thoroughly, what nonsense was this that was spilling into her mind? Ridiculous.
“My question was not foolish Summers, I like to keep track of those who wish to destroy me. It helps to know who your enemies are.” She glared at him and set her jaw straight. “You should consider yourself lucky that Costello even tolerates you. I may enjoy it too much if you are added to my list of... duties.” She smiled around the word cruelly, but inside something twinged. As much as she hated to admit it and as annoying as he could be, this man did his best for Beckett and the company, it wasn't right the way he was treated sometimes... just as it wasn't right the way she was treated. No. She chided herself at the thought. I am lucky, I will not let him cause me to doubt this. I won't. She couldn't afford for cracks of doubt to set in. Hunter Costello-Nightingale was her security, her saviour... her captor.
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Post by PD on Mar 26, 2011 14:08:46 GMT -5
“I think you should already know who your enemies are,” his reply was curt as he was attempting disinterest. After all, no one was a friend here anyway. This ship was filled to bursting with sworn and secret enemies and it did not take careful questioning and track keeping to know that. It was just a commonly known and accepted fact. The sailors knew it, Mercer knew it, Costello knew it, he knew it, everyone. They were just preforming good business, using one another to climb to the top. And what was at the top, he quizzed himself? Life, love, happiness? No. Not any of those. Money. Power. That was all that awaited.
He snorted at Aleks’ reply. “Really? Perhaps Costello should consider himself lucky that Mercer even tolerates him.” He eyed Aleks knowingly, “then again, it takes a special person to be able to tolerate him. Obviously you are that special person.” his words came out laced with poison and he scowled, his hatred for Hunter growing as he knew Hunter’s popularity with Lord Beckett was growing. Beckett liked up and coming, devil-may-care men who were willing to do whatever it took and use whoever it took to get their way… perhaps that was what was wrong with him. He was not willing to do some things, including use women, the way Costello did - Aleks being the best example of this.
He caught himself at that thought. Chiding himself, saying he did not care. If she was stupid enough to allow herself to be used then she deserved it, of course. He held his head higher for a moment, as if showing that he was better than her and Costello combined. But it only lasted for a moment before everything closed in around him yet again, drowning him, showing him he was no better.
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Post by Lothy on Mar 29, 2011 14:25:13 GMT -5
Aleks rolled her eyes at his comment before cutting across him, her voice snapping like a whip.
“Of course I know who my enemies are already, I just like to keep track of any new ones appearing!” She snarled, her patience fast fading. She watched him, exasperated. He spoke his words like poison and they sank in, hitting their mark like arrows through her chest. She fumed, her dealings with Hunter were no one's business but her's, Henry had no right to comment, no right to worm his way in. Neither of them may not have deserved the way they were treated, but at least Aleks was not delusional about her place in the play of things. She ground her teeth together as she spoke, his words and attitude grinding on her.
It happened in moments and before she even realised what she was doing the back of her hand made contact with the side of his face, hard and fast. She swore in her native tongue, cursing him, before turning away in a storm, Hunter finding her gaze briefly with a raised, quizzical eyebrow. She practically flew down the stairs and didn't stop until she found herself in the lower decks and spun around mid step starting to pace.
Why had his words affected her so? All he had said was that she was the only person able to tolerate Hunter. He had even called her special, perhaps not in the nicest way but still. Perhaps she simply didn't want to be seen as Hunter's anymore, to be associated only as his, or has his at all. It felt as if the seeds Henry had planted that morning were growing within her and growing fast. She sighed and leant back against the cool wood of the ship, closing her eyes. She probably shouldn't have hit him. It was more a frustration at the confusion he instilled within her, than at the man himself. She wouldn't apologise however, she may have been confused but she certainly hadn't lost her mind...
Had she?
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Post by PD on Apr 24, 2011 20:32:51 GMT -5
Henry said nothing in reply to her. Instead his eyes met and locked with hers and he set his jaw tight as he knew she was referring to him. Before he knew it, however, he was staggering back in shock as her hand smacked across his face, leaving his cheek stinking and his brain whirling into confusion. He attempted to make sense of what had just occurred and as he did so, sharp Russian words hit his ear, digging in and tormenting him. He turned slowly, a hand on the cheek hers had just made contact with and he gaped at her form as she vanished below deck.
His mouth snapped shut quickly as he spotted Hunter who had, apparently, been watching them at least long enough to view Aleks’ slap. He gave the man a deadly scowl before spinning away on his heel and stalking off, fuming at himself and feeling the curious gaze of several of the sailors on him.
What exactly had she hit him for? Had he indeed hit some chords with her? Had his words sunk in? Why had he even said them to her in the first place? His mind tormented him with these questions, going over and over them. He attempted to figure out why he felt the need to point out her flaws. Perhaps, perhaps he saw the same flaws in himself and he hated them within himself? Perhaps it was simply jealousy? Even though Hunter treated her terribly, she still had someone in this world who at least desired to be around her on occasion. She had someone who cared… she wasn’t entirely alone. He took a deep breath and held onto the railing of the Dionysus, closing his eyes as he attempted to make sense of everything pounding through his brain as well as his heart.
While debating with himself, he was also tormented with the thought of her distress. He wasn’t really one for causing women pain. He respected them, even the ones who frustrated him and he didn’t want to see her wounded by his words. Guilt immediately wormed its way through him, causing him to swear under his breath.
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