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 Man Overboard, Red and Jack
Billy Bones
 Posted: Feb 25, 2016 | 10:21 pm
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William Marrow
player: Ren
19 posts

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Yellow. Murky yellowgreenbrowngoldwet, always wet. He tried to keep his eyes shut, but the effort of keeping them closed along with his mouth almost seemed like too much, too much energy. Salt water in his eyes, that stung bad, could make a man go blind was the rumor, but water in the lungs, that could make a man go dead, and that was no rumor at all. His heart thudded hard, against his ribs, in his ears, stomach cramped up tight, his entire body vibrated with the still beating organ. Soon he couldn't hold his breath anymore, not while he was awake. The blackness began crawling along the edges of his vision, he fought instinct as long as he could but eventually he couldn't help but breathe in. A flood of water filled his mouth, his lungs, each time it was more and more difficult to stop the water. It seemed like it was filling him up, that there was nothing separating him from the ocean anymore.

Blackness.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed minutes, hours, years... but he felt solid, like there was weight to him again, he was more than just the water. There was something solid under his body, it shifted when he did, even with the hot lance of pain that went through him when he tried to move, was he alive? Was this hell? Still he kept his mouth shut, chest and lungs screaming for air that wasn't there. The breeze on his face was cool and it made him forget all the water and instinctively take a deep, gasping breath in, but the air turned to coughs that tore at his throat. Each movement of his body sent lances of pain up through his ribs and as Billy tried to haul himself up out of the surf, he found he couldn't move his arms, he was almost certain he'd hurt himself more trying.

Forcing and wiggling his body up further from the icy waves that felt much more like England than the Caribbean, Billy found it harder and harder to breathe. Saltwater stung at his eyes, making him nearly blind. He remembered the storm, falling off the Walrus, Flint pushing him off the Walrus and leaving him lost at sea. There were flashes under his closed eyelids, everything was still as black as if he was under the water, every part of him numb or in pain, flashes of Flint's face covered in blood, in Mr. Gate's blood. Rain beating down on his shoulders as he yanked the ropes, trying to keep the Walrus stable, then Flint as he gave him just that little shove, just enough to knock him off balance. Then water.. then the blazing sun of the beach.. Hume.. Hume! Billy tried to sit up, tried to see if he was still bound, but pain and vertigo sent him right back down, landing in the soaking wet sand. Then, before he could look at anything else, there was nothing again.
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"Calico" Jack Rackham
 Posted: Mar 29, 2016 | 10:54 am
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Jacob Bolt
player: Jax
39 posts

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The cloud never comes from the quarter of the horizon from which we watch for it.
Well, that last week had certainly been… filled to the brim. Chaotic. Harrowing. A touch lonely at times. And all in all a terrible inconvenience that he was certainly never going to forget, no matter how much he may want to. Jack usually found himself in a position where he wished he could just climb right back into bed and pull the covers over his head, and with how often he felt that way one would think that he would be used to it. The trouble was that the universe was always finding new and exciting ways to get him there, and while the ride was half the fun, it didn’t leave a lot of room for adaptability.

For one, Jack had never died and come back from the dead, but that is exactly what had happened a week ago. Technically, it happened some 30 years ago, and Storybrooke just shipped him away from the town when it could. That made Jack feel a touch prideful, in fact. Jacob and Annie in Storybrooke were in a relationship, just in the budding stages, but it was clear that even the Curse couldn’t keep Jack and Anne apart. Of course the only option was to ship “Captain Bolt” off and have him “die at sea.” Few other couples were separated so dramatically. “True Love” he heard it be called, and he believed it.

Since his return, Jack had been reunited with his beloved Anne, became the quartermaster of the Jolly Roger, been swept into this new world by an apparent new and improved Curse, and was now the sole inhabitant of said Jolly Roger docked in some abandoned port town. The Captain had given himself some shore leave not long after they got here, and if Schmee hadn’t left of his own accord, Jack probably would have kicked him off himself rather than keep him as the only company. He had expected that, in a way, but it was Anne that was a… surprise.

Sometime between when the Captain left, and Schmee excused himself, Anne had gotten a strange look in her eyes. It was something he had seen in her before, usually in moments when her passion or blood was running hot, but it soon became apparent that this was more… permanent., or at least lingering. The first day or two, they explored the town together, but it was soon obvious that it was abandoned. The wood of the buildings was a windswept grey, and it was all as smooth as bone from exposure. Jack would have guessed that it had been barren for years, and he was suggesting as such on the deck of the Roger when the look took his Anne again.

He watched her, as she cocked her head to side as if listening to something miles away. He watched her as she took her prized hat, and tossed it off her head towards the head mast, where it fell to the deck. The rest of her clothes soon followed, as while this might not be an unusual sight to him on the deck, they were neither in battle, and she was stripping down completely in front of a man like Schmee… A man who took notice and Jack had to glare his own set of daggers at. He didn’t know how long it had been since the man had been with a woman, but Jack made it very clear that this was not a time when lechery was appreciated.

He didn’t stop her even as he watched her long red hair cover the scar upon her back, and another look to Schmee, this one more dangerous, was enough to make the man completely turn away. Jack did try calling her name experimentally, but she did not reply. Jack was a man in tune with his instincts, and his instincts had the hairs on his neck standing on edge. He felt the way he did that one time, when he had fallen into shark infested waters, with the shadows of the beasts lurking just beneath his feet. One wrong move, and even his love might devour him. He did call her name more desperately, and even try to grab at her when she stood atop the deck railing, and pitched herself gracefully over the side. She didn’t hear him, and she fell to the frigid waters. Jack looked desperately over the side. He knew she could swim. She was often the strongest among them in the water, but her behavior had him startled and worried. When she was gone too long, he started to take off his own coat, and then he saw her…

Her head, with her distinct hair, resurfaced some 30 yards away from the ship, and Jack paused in his motions. He didn’t give the call for man overboard, since she seemed to be just fine, even as the choppy waves splashed over her in a current that was stronger than even she should be able to hold. He squinted in the crimson moonlight, trying to see her better, trying to be sure she was safe. And then she turned, and looked back at him. By whatever God there was, she was beautiful! To say this was the most beautiful he had ever found her would be partially incorrect. He always found her to be a being above all others, loveliest when she was in his arms or when she was covered in the blood of their enemies. But there was an otherworldliness to her that held him transfixed, his face softening, his hands relaxing from their usual coiled readiness. It wasn’t until she had turned those brilliant aquamarine eyes away from his solid dark ones that he had realized there had been the hint of music in the air, one that he couldn’t hear but sorely missed.

When she dove beneath the waves and flipped her tail at them, Jack was only partially surprised. He leaned on his elbows against the railings as he watched her go, and heaved a deep breath out. He didn’t have long to ponder about it all, though, as Schmee attempted to pitch himself over the railing in a attempt to swim after Anne. He held the man back, even Jack being able to out-maneuver a sailors of Schmee’s considerable lacking skill. He watched the man, and just how incoherent he was about getting into the water, and it all clicked together with that one last puzzle piece. “I’m in love with a mermaid…” The word “love” seemed to spark a new tizzy in Schmee, and he kicked against Jack, and fought him, threatening to even kill him, seeing as Anne was clearly his love, and not Jack’s and he needed to defend her honor. A swift cleft against the deck was enough to knock him out, but Schmee was never the same. He left soon thereafter, probably off in search of whatever pod of mermaids that Anne was, undoubtedly, the Queen of by now. Jack let him go. Some things you couldn’t fight.

He only saw Anne once after that, but it was because of her he was even able to survive. He found clothes in the abandoned town, though they reminded him more of the simple clothing he wore during his pre-Captain years, instead of the calico fabrics he came to love. On the way back from that exact excursion into the town, he saw Anne on the shore, still half in the waves, still with her tail, and nothing but her hair to cover her. He was relieved to see her so well, since he wasn’t sure he would see her at all, and his heart swelled with love and relief at the sight of her. She left something on the shore for him, and she indicated it with her gaze, but as he approached her, she quickly turned and dove back into the ocean. As it turned out, she had left him fish… raw fish, to be certain, but it was the only food that Jack had seen in days. He ate it, raw and all. All the wood was too water logged to be usable for a fire, and all the candles had sputtered out. It was a dark life for Jack, even with the constant full red moon. He didn’t see her again, but there was often more raw fish left on the shore just by the Roger that he happily took. It wasn’t the first time he had survived on raw fish, and he trust Anne enough to bring him anything that would make him sick.

The ordeals of that week involving the realm of Nightmares are better left chronicled elsewhere, but it is safe to say they were numerous, and ranged from general frightful images to deep personal horrors. By the end of the week, Jack rose, gaunt and pale, and looking just the right side of life to not be properly dead, but barely. He tended the ship as much as he could on his own, which was not too difficult since it wasn’t sailing anywhere so it didn’t take on the toils of the rough, deep sea. He also kept as much as he could to a “daily” schedule, or as much as he could guess to one with so proper sun cycle. It was when he rose one day that he saw something different on his horizon. He had come to know what he called “The Bone Coast” very well on sight alone, and a difference was obvious to him. It was too much to hope that it was Anne. Somehow, in his marrow, he knew it wasn’t her, but it still warranted investigation. What else was he supposed to do? Wait for whatever new horror wish to haunt him that day?

The walk was a brisk one, and as he approached, he could see more and more that what he thought was just a bundle of debris was in fact a human being. He slowed his pace, the events of the week placing caution in his strides. “Oh… please don’t be a corpse…” he muttered, the “body” still well out of reach of him, probably some 25 strides. ”And if you are one, please don’t get up…” It was as he paused that he sensed that he wasn’t alone, and movement from the corner of his eyes had his turning, not out to the ocean, but inland. The red clad figure was moving with purpose towards the shore, and Jack could feel his frown deepen. “And please don’t be the lich that summoned him…” He couldn’t help but feel pessimistic about it all. This week had not been one of his best. There had been worse, of course, but not many. For now, he held his breath, cautiously looking from the approaching figure to the body on the shore, carefully moving closer to the body as he realized that there was where his path would cross with the approaching figure. A woman, he realized… Well, if this was death, at least he knew what came after that…

notes: Found you.. drowned rat…
words: 1853 | tag: Red Lucas, Billy Bones

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Red Riding Hood
 Posted: Dec 1, 2016 | 12:18 pm
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Ruby Lucas
player: Jess
158 posts

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This directly follows the events of Beautiful Disaster.


‘Stay here’, he had said. If anyone else had dared to give her a command Red would have immediately given a remedial lesson on what it meant to be a Lupa werewolf. But this command had come from her mate, the exhausting pirate captain who made it so she had turned to the Dark One to rip her heart out just to survive his rejection. Hook, because even in her mind she wasn't ready to call him 'Killian' anymore lack of heart be damned, was in love with Emma. She had walked in on the pair kissing in Neverland and no matter what she managed to do to cope or try to get the man to see her past Emma, he never did. Tonight was the first time she let herself believe he truly saw her, wanted her and not someone else. And earlier tonight she had begged Rumpelstiltskin to rip her heart out to give her some relief and save her pack from tumbling down into Harano with her. She had made the right decision, even as her chest felt hollow beneath her ribs. And once more Fate had mocked her by making today, of all days, the day Captain Hook wanted to dance with her. Even as he growled out his order for her to stay as he stormed off to do, who knew what, when he found out about her heartless state Red wasn't sure what to do or think. Guilt... it was guilt and nothing else that made him charge off to the Dark One's Castle in the cursed Blood Moon as the clock struck midnight. And now, the wolf was left behind as the Dark Masquerade turned... sour.

She knew there had to be other non-fae in the crowd. Even as the Fair Folk began to shred their mortal glamours, Red was certain that not everyone that lay inside the castle behind her was Unearthly. It was both a comfort and a curiosity but the distraction was unfortunately momentary. From the wide swung doors of the Shadow Queen's castle, Ruby Lucas was torn. The pirate was a small, swiftly moving black dot on the horizon; one she didn't care to anger or bother anymore than she already had. So against her wolf's better instincts, Red chose to stay behind as told. But the idea of dealing with the raucous crowd in the ballroom wasn't exactly high on her list either. As the last bell tolled the midnight hour, Red watched as the beautiful gown she had been magicked into changed back into her normal peasant garb and cloak.

With the illusion of being something worthwhile shattering around her as the clock struck that final peal, the werewolf bitterly smiled. This. This was all she was. The massive mirrors that flanked the doors were glittering in the candlelight and the Lucas girl drifted over to one to get a good look at herself. Gone was the belle of the ball, Rose twirling around with the handsome princeling with a hook as if the entire world melted away for just the pair of them. In her place was simple little Red. It was sobering and staring at her reflection a pale hand reached out to trace along the cool reflection before she pulled it back at the last moment. This was pointless. As she turned to leave, Red caught sight of the small necklace glinting around her neck and her heart hitched in the cherry wood box miles away. She had forgotten that she had slipped it around her neck that night she humiliated herself aboard his ship, one week ago. Glancing down at her chest, Red turned the crescent back and forth between her fingers in dilemma. There was so much connected to the tiny piece of jewelry, and it seemed unfair to still wear it. It was a disservice to herself; the Ruby of a week ago who mourned his loss wasn't here anymore. She was free, and holding onto something so intrinsic to a girl for all intents and purposes was gone.

Somehow, she couldn't take it off yet. She tried. Even resolved herself to pulling the chain from around her neck and slipping the bit of jewelry into some pocket or another to be forgotten until the next Curse that swept her to Storybrooke or who knows where else? Because another curse would happen. Another catastrophe was brewing and she would be caught up in it because that seemed to be the only purpose to her story anymore. It was nice for once to dream a little bit. Tonight had been eyeopening to say the least; she had finally been that girl at the ball to twirl around the floor to the amazement of all because her love had found her. But like everything in Red's life, it was a bittersweet wish. He didn't love her. Not really. And her heart was empty. So what started out as a romantic waltz ended in him yet again yelling at her and wanting her nowhere near him. Thankfully Red had thought ahead and had her heart removed but now that he bid her stay here, what the hell was she supposed to do? Sulking and crying somewhere was right out. Hell she couldn't feel those emotions even if she wanted to. And heading back in to the last few hours of the ball wasn't happening now that everyone could see she was a joke and a lie. So necessity drove Red Lucas outside into the gardens.

The rose labyrinth seemed like she would be playing with fire; so instead the wolf found a perch on the lip of an elaborate fountain. One whose depths could not be seen to the very bottom. And considering this was a fountain at a Fae castle, it probably didn't even have one. Instead Red gathered a bunch of the discarded flowers that covered the ground and begun plucking the petals off and into the water beside her. Barely paying attention to the few people from the ball filtering outside. Rip and toss, rip and toss; the scattering of petals atop the water was a simulacrum of blood flecked on an oil slick. The thought sent a shiver down Red’s spine before a sudden prick at her thumb had her cursing beneath her breath. Hissing, the lupa threw the offending flower into the water where dark shapes began to swirl and twist under the placid surface. Standing with a glare twisting her features, the werewolf growled lowly as the copper scent stung her oversensitive nose. ”A thorn? Subtle… but I can take a hint.”

Even the bloody flora was mocking her now.

Popping the ripped pad of her thumb in her mouth, Red grumbled before deciding perhaps staying behind wouldn’t necessarily be the best option. Ears pricked to the sounds around her, the creatures lurking along the too deep shadows curious about the lone occupant of the faerie gardens. And while she was far from any damsel in a dress, despite her earlier hopes and dreams, Red wasn’t about to get into a brawl to prove her capabilities to a bunch of slithering bottom feeders. Back straight and proud, the wolf proudly walked down the path away from the captain’s own. Taking to the woods instead of the road yet refusing to run; she knew better after all, it drew the attention of immortals.

And so the Little Red Riding Hood set mind to purpose and feet towards home. With the scent of the ocean in her nose, she began the trek towards the Den that was once her mother’s pack and now her own. But it was the chill breeze that rattled the trees that brought with it a curious scent; one of leather and pain. And with that strange variable in her territory, her pace picked up and Red’s path turned to the shore. When forest gave wave to dunes, the werewolf raised a delicate brow above blazing golden eyes at the sight before her. Again she scented the air as her feet never hesitated; two men, both of whom human who had seen significantly better days.

Coming to a halt before the collapsed sodden creature at her feet, her gaze flicked between the two of them. Voice lilting and friendly with a threading of authority before one of the pair sparked a seed of recognition. ”Jacob Bolt, would you like to explain to me why you and your friend have washed up on my beach?”






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.::| ❦ |::.

scríobhaíi was proud of a lot of the writing from an abandoned scene so cannibalizing it for this thread and trying to get myself back on track with her plot

scáthánballgown and then normal outfit url

céilíhow far i’ll go - moana soundtrack

ina dhiaidh sinjack, billy

A D e l r i o u s D e s i g n by Jess


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Billy Bones
 Posted: Dec 20, 2016 | 8:23 am
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William Marrow
player: Ren
19 posts

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Exactly how long he'd been laying here was hard to determine, either he didn't remember dragging himself away from the water or the tide had gone out, that part was still a bit fuzzy, but he knew he couldn't feel the waves covering and freezing his legs anymore. Eventually the world stopped fading in and out, soon after it slowed it's spinning. This was much better. He'd tried once so far to open his eyes, make sure he was alone or safe, but his lids felt as though they had anchors tied to them; the little bit he had managed to glimpse told him that he'd likely popped a blood vessel in his eye because all he could see was a red tint before he let them fall closed again.

Voices... Face down on what felt like a beach, it was difficult to tell whether the pain in his ribs or the sand pressing into his nose and coating the inside of his mouth that was making it hard to breathe; but whichever it was there was nothing wrong with his hearing. Billy could hear voices, a man and woman, and the man sounded surprisingly familiar. Even if he was really dead he couldn't just keep laying here; it took more effort than he was willing to admit to even find his arms to get them under him, but Billy hauled himself up on his elbows with a groan. Soaked leather creaked along with him as Billy at least managed to get up enough to sit on his knees. The world spun and swam as he did, he needed to bury his hands into the sand to keep himself steady as he took a couple breaths to keep from throwing up the organs full of sea water that had now been jostled.

"Despite someone's best efforts... not a corpse." he managed, his voice was raspy and thick, the first words forcing a cough out of his lungs, his whole torso burning like fire as he did so. The Spanish vest protested as he did his best to cough into an elbow, his range of motion limited after... how many times had it dried? Twice at least as far as he could remember. But it seemed Billy Bones had nine lives, first Flint tried to get rid of him, and he refused to tell Hume anything that he wanted to know, and of course there were two long trips in the ocean in between them both. Blinking he looked up and around him at the skeletal beach bathed in blood red light, there wasn't anything wrong with his eyes, there was something wrong with the whole world. The moon above their heads glowed a deep red and Billy felt his eyes start to fight against the color scheme, deepening shadows in the forest beyond, tricking his eyes into seeing things moving there, things that moved as the deeper ocean creatures moved. The sight was making him feel sick again, but if he loosened the hold he had on himself now he was going to throw up until there was nothing left, then start to either laugh or scream with no indication that he'd ever be able to stop again.

Better to try and avoid that for as long as possible.

"Though this looks suspiciously hell-ish. This is... where exactly?" In an attempt to ignore the delightfully macabre scenery, Billy looked up at the two people who'd stumbled across him, one's who so far seemed to have no interest in trying to kill him, which was refreshing. The woman in the red cloak wasn't someone he thought he recognized, but she seemed much less skittish about his possible reanimation than the man did. "Apologies, I didn't really have much choice in where I landed." he offered, sounding honestly apologetic. No one had ever called Billy Bones a push-over, but he'd always been taught to be polite first, there was always time to be rude later. It was usually disarming and had served him pretty well so far.

The name the woman used for the man still standing a few yards away wasn't one he knew, but that figure was, though it was definitely a little thinner than the last time he'd seen it. "Rackham? Jack Rackham? My mistake, maybe I am dead... Jesus..." If he'd considered Jack before looking at him, Billy would have said he was a pretty good man, Captain Vane's Quartermaster the last he knew; but looking at the man he seemed to be able to remember things the way they'd gone the first time, the time where everyone ended up dead at the end of their lives, that bastard Silver being one of the last ones left standing. Trying to just sit here and consider it, Billy felt his head ache from more than just the oxygen deprivation. Not wanting to stay the way he was any longer, Billy started to try to haul himself to his feet, a little shaky; 'sea legs' meant something slightly different when you were the one floating in the ocean for days without a ship between you and the water.
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"Calico" Jack Rackham
 Posted: Jan 9, 2017 | 4:45 pm
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Jacob Bolt
player: Jax
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The cloud never comes from the quarter of the horizon from which we watch for it.
There was a headache steadily growing behind Jack’s eyes. He knew what that was. Malnutrition. The fish that had appeared on the shores near where the ship “docked” had been enough to keep him alive, but he did not think that Anne could really tell the difference between what was appetizing and not… or if the seas were plagued with just as many horrors that the anglerfish and goblin sharks were the only meals to offer. He ate them out of gratitude and desperation, but they offered little in actual nourishment. What had become worse was the lack of water. It was clear that due to a lack of preparation or just sheer idiocy, Smee had not keep the ship supplied for departure. It meant that there had been few to no supplies on the ship, say for what two men might need over the course of a few days, minus whatever could be retrieved from town in an instant. That meant food, yes, but it also meant fresh water. Every day, Jack looked out at the ocean, and every day Jack told his thirst that he knew better.

As the woman approached, in her red cloak with her dark hair falling from under it and over her shoulders, his quick eye caught familiarity in her features. He knew her! Well, enemy or not, seeing another person on this beach that he recognized, even if his languid brain needed a moment to catch up with his joy, was certainly a turn for him. Good turn or bad turn, at least it was something! There was nothing worse to Jack Rackham than nothing.

“Ruby Lucas!” his voice rose the moment she was closer, in response to her calling out his own name. Yes, he knew her. She was one of the residents of Storybrooke who he remembered rather fondly: A young woman who liked to come around the Mariner Auto Shop. She flirted with the men there, and dated quite a few of them. She had dated him, and she had broken his heart. There were some things, apparently, that the Dark Curse could not rip out of a person, and for Jack that had been his apparent desire of a family. It had been too much for Ruby when he had suggested they move in after one date, and so they parted ways.

This woman on the beach now, though, was not entirely the same woman. He supposed none of them were the same from the Dark Curse. She commanded authority in the same way a captain of a vessel might, and while after their breakup she would look at him with a wry knowledge of what had passed between them, this woman seemed to operate on mostly business, though not without friendliness or companionship. He wondered if the woman in front of him would be the same playful lot that Ruby had been, or if that had been what the Curse had broken within her.

Better to act and be corrected. Still quite a distance away from the “body,” though she seemed bold enough to get closer to it than he, he still cocked a grin in her direction. “I didn’t wash up! I was marooned, and quote alone, I might add!” It was all the truth. The Captain had left. Anne had disappeared, Smee had wandered off. He was not in the business of being entirely forthcoming when he did not have all of the information in front of him. For all he knew, Ruby was actually some kind of lich on this side of the looking glass. He had a feeling he would know the truth in quick time, but until then…

This grin did not fall from his face as he knelt down in the sand, still some distance behind by next to Ruby now. He still did not like the look of the body in front of him, and he would not take chances getting closer to it. He had seen… things… in the week since he came to the Bone Coast. “I only just met the man among the flotsam.” That smile and gaze turned inquisitive, as he looked between the body and the woman. She mentioned this was her beach, and she had happened upon him by no chance. She knew he was here, and had come to find him. “He isn’t a friend of yours?” No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, the body took in a great breath and stirred, rising to its knees and bring himself up to face them.

Well… Jack just about shat out his soul! He knew that in a place like this, he needed to be ready for anything, but he had grown quite accustomed to the idea that the body was going to stay a body , and when he was showed the contrary, his mind did not like it one bit! His quick reflexes put him on his feet, though his sense could only mildly detect that the corpse was speaking. In an effort to preserve itself, his brain had him reaching for his sword rather than listen to what the body had to say for itself, but his hand wrapped around cold, empty air. No weapon… and he had not had once since his return. It was an animalistic instinct that he could not prevent, even as he was moving towards Ruby in an effort to place himself between her and the body. Another instinct. Even if she may be a lich, he still remembered her as a friend. Nothing say sudden betrayal would change that.

He now stood, angling to be a bit in front of Ruby, with his hand stretched palm outward, knees bent for what would be an assault from the undead.

When the body/not-body spoke, Jack was not sure how much he should trust it. Here he was, marooned on an island for a week without the sight of another soul, and within the period of 5 minutes, in saunter two figures from his past. He was not a fan of attributing things to coincidence, though if one of the people on the beach were false, he didn’t know which one he preferred. To Ruby, he was Jacob, a fine upstanding naval officer whom everyone thought had been lost at sea. (He wondered if they had a memorial for him when word came back that he had died.) But it was a lie. To Billy (ah, Billy Bones,) he had a reputation. He did not care that people knew him as a pirate. But Billy knew him as a mutineer, and a dead one at that. That was the truth, and though Jack felt no shame in the matter, he knew that it was hard for others to trust someone who famous betrayed someone important to them in the past.

The only thing he could do was expose the both of them. “Billy… Bones?” he said, sounding incredulous, though he recognized and knew the voice moments before already. Billy Bones: another name synonymous with mutiny, he against Captain Flint. The rivalry between the two was infamous, and far from settled when Jack took to the rope. At least he and Vane had settled things and all had been forgiven. That particular sin had not been on his soul when he went to Hell.

“I am sorry, Miss Lucas. It appears I do know this man…” Though it is hard to tell if he is a friend or not… “I don’t think we are in Hell….?” That one was a little uncertain, and he looked over at Ruby to see if maybe she was more certain. She had some kind of authority, clearly, just from her aura alone. Maybe she also had a few answers. “I’ve taken to calling it ‘The Bone Coast.’” Maybe that was a name that sounded better in his head.

words: 1317 | tag: Red Lucas, Billy Bones

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Red Riding Hood
 Posted: Jun 7, 2017 | 10:58 pm
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Ruby Lucas
player: Jess
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Men… Why was it whenever something ridiculously overcomplicated and frustrating happened, it was because of a man?

At least he recognized her. It was something at least, though to be honest of all the residents of Storybrooke to meander this close to her den, Jacob Bolt was certainly a surprise. ”Guilty. But I go by Red here.” It was hard to make her smile look normal, but she managed. Seeing him was nice; but nice was about as far as she could get in the current heartless state. Jacob was a complicated part of her illustrious past but not a bad memory. And taking one look at him, something clicked. The Curse knew that she wanted a pirate; it just sent her the wrong one. ”Of course you were. Bloody pirates….” she hissed, shaking her head. They had become the bane of her existence and it was amusing to note that exasperation was something she could still feel despite it all.

”No, but he’s my headache now.” Considering the reaction Jack had, Red at least was given a good chuckle for her troubles. If she had her heart her ribs would be in stitches but for now, lightly curled lips and a quiet giggle was the best she could manage. Though she did give in to the incredulous look as Jacob stepped in front of her unarmed to protect her. Arching one eyebrow nigh to her hairline before shaking her head in disbelief. ”Appreciate it Jack, but I’ve got this.” Gently she guided the pirate behind her before stepping closer to get a good look at the other occupant of the beach.

The man was moving at least; unconscious was inconvenient at best and problematic at worst. Especially should the nastier denizens of the Nightmare Forest decide that the flotsam pirate was on the menu. ”This won’t be pleasant.” she warned, before taking the flat of her palm firmly to his back to encourage his lungs to empty of sea and sand. Once he stopped coughing, Red quirked her head to the side curious at the leather thing that enveloped his chest and constricted his breathing. That… was an odd choice? ”Billy Bones? Of course it is…” Red rolled the name along her tongue, the story of the infamous pirate with a particular treasure he guarded dancing through her head. ”Nothing is ever easy… right then…”

”Misthaven. Cursed as she is. And once more, my beach in particular.” The werewolf was being stern thought gentle, impressing upon the pair of them how lucky it was the spit of cursed land was hers and not someone else’s a threat unspoken. ”You’ve nothing to apologize for, but you sure as hell should be grateful. My neighbors aren’t as pleasant as I am.” Red’s voice danced in timbre; trying to at least feign being an emotional person and not the heartless disconnect she felt. And of course they knew each other… of course. ”I am just shocked this is your fault!” The werewolf rolled her eyes while pausing before pressing on, ”…Not dead but close enough. That thing isn’t doing you any favors.” She gestured with her hand widely before rushing to help the stumbling man with a swear murmured under her breath.

Once billy was righted, with one arm draped over Red’s shoulders, the werewolf shook her head. ”Red… just Red. And it’s not technically Hell. Just a Curse. We get those here; every time some royal or mage gets their knickers in a twist.” Now that she was still, Red let herself truly take in the sight of her former fling before growling low in her throat. Taking that one long look at Bolt was enough for her to realize they were both bad off. ”For fucks sake Jack you look as bad as he does!” She was trying to be polite but Red couldn’t handle the scent of near death on the pair of them. It was sour, the scent of mortality, and it had her contemplating heaving up her breakfast to match. ”It’s Isolde’s Cove. At least it used to be. Right now, yeah… Bone Coast works.” Red’s thoughts drifted as her eyes gazed off into the water. How long ago had she watched The Jolly Roger sail out from this very bay? It’s why she named it after Tristan and Isolde; after all… he sailed the black and she knew his answer.

Shaking her head as the echo of sadness threatened to find her miles away, Red began moving slowly back towards the wood. ”We’re going somewhere safe. Now. No complaints. Feet to purpose, the pair of you. Savvy?”



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Billy Bones
 Posted: Dec 4, 2017 | 10:42 pm
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William Marrow
player: Ren
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"Last time I checked... yeah." Jack fucking Rackham... well this wasn't exactly the way that he'd planned his day to come about. But then, he wasn't even sure he supposed he was going to be alive this morning either, so the day was just surprises from start to finish. And joy of joys it wasn't even over yet. Exactly how far had he gotten with his own crimes when Jack had hung? He knew for a fact that he'd raged a vicious mutiny against Flint, but how much of the shit with Silver had gone down? He wasn't quite sure he'd been on the run yet, but maybe he had. There was a lot of death in those last few years and it was hard to remember where you were when you heard about who else had been taken to the rope. Blinking up at the man, Billy's head swam and he had to blink a few times to really get a good look at the very on-guard pose that Jack had adapted.

"To be fair, Jack, even if I wanted to strike, I couldn't choose between the four of you." It was a vain attempt at a joke to lighten the Lazarushian mood that permeated the air, mostly at the expense of his swimming head. The brunette came forward and Billy was able to get out a half nod of agreement before her hand came down on his back, hard, actually a touch harder than he might have been expecting, but it certainly did the job. Everything in his organs rattled and Billy felt himself head back down onto all fours, coughing hard.

"Very grateful, miss, to both of you..." Billy managed out as he alternated between filling his lungs with air and hacking out the water that had made its home there. To be honest, they could have ripped his throat out right here, been only illusions of real people and Billy didn't much care so long as he got this damn vest off of him.

Misthaven...

The name seemed very unassuming, very innocent and wholesome in comparison to the red-tinged visuals around them. Visuals that made their best attempts mimic a whirlpool as he tried to stand too quickly. His body made to pitch him right back on his face if Red hadn't been there and Billy felt his jaw clench slightly in frustration at himself, and to fight off the wave of nausea that hit him square in the gut.

"Well, Captain Hume never did gave great fashion taste..." he was pretty much aiming for bemused sarcasm at this point because it sounded just a touch less pathetic with how ragged his throat was right now. Now that his vision wasn't swimming anymore, Billy was able to get a good look at Jack and decided that Red was right. He couldn't exactly see himself right now, but if Jack looked just as bad, they were both in some trouble. As they moved, Billy wasn't too proud to accept the help, but he also wasn't going to miss a chance to slowly start being able to walk under his own power if he was able.

"Aye aye, Ms. Red."
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"Calico" Jack Rackham
 Posted: Jan 3, 2018 | 10:02 pm
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Jacob Bolt
player: Jax
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Jack was being fed a lot information at once. He could not shake the feeling that they were being watched, not from somewhere immediately nearby, but from somewhere. It was an inherent paranoia that he felt a lot of his time back in Nassau, but here it just seemed to taken to the most extreme of levels. It made him want to keep an eye out while Ruby -or rather, as he would need to train his brain, Red- helped out their little Billy. He was quite fine with anyone of any gender taking charge of a situation. Red knew more than either he a Billy combined, and she had the presence of a leader surrounding her anyway. Jack's last run as a captain did not end well. He would not argue for sole leadership again any time soon.

“I can attest to that,” he said of Red's warnings about the denizens of this place. After Schmee had abandoned him, and Anne answered the call of the sea, it was impossible to feel like he was alone. At night, he could swear that he could see eyes peering at him from the forest line. When the Jolly Roger disappeared, he was at the full mercy of their gaze. Especially at night. And when he managed to get a fire lit, it was the meager flames that made the shadows and the things that lived inside them stay back. “There was a long hair, gaunt girl who shared by tub with me the other day. This place is nothing except soul shaking madness.”

A Curse? A bloody Curse? ...Another one?! Jack used to not believe him them. He thought that a superstitious mind was a sign of weakness. Among sailors, it was often due to lack of education, and Jack himself had no problems exploiting them within every inch. Having recently been a victim of one himself, though, after literally being to the underworld and back, meant that he was a little more open minded than he once was. “I swear, I have spent more time as the victim of some heinous Curse than I have as a free man...” It was exasperating. There were few things Jack valued more to his freedom, and the fact that he could have it stripped away from him, despite there being nothing that he did to deserve it made his jaw tight.

He smiled a bit when Billy called the lady “Ms.” but it was I that “oh, you poor thing” kind of way, as he shook his head. “I think she meant the 'Just Red' part of all that, Billy,” Jack said, light but he meant every word of it. He could not imagine, in any world, and man keeping his thumbs attached to his body if anyone tried to call his darling “Ms. Anne.” Hell, the “Miss Bonny” would be enough to get a growl from her, and if they needed to be told twice, it would be lacerations for all. So many lacerations...

Jack was not one to argue against safety. The fact that Red was offering to take them in was shocking enough. Billy was a complete stranger to her, and Jack might as well be. Yes, they dated, but that was their Storybrooke years. Jack knows that he was not the same man that he was back then, and he had no reason to assume that Red was the same woman she had been. The Curse had even sent him away from the town. He literally winked out existence for a decade or so while he was “lost at sea.” Speaking of which...

Jack's gaze turned back to the ocean. Anne was still out there. And he did not know when she would return. What would happen if he left? At the end of the day, though, Anne would kill him if he got himself hurt. And he didn't want to end up dead. With the ship gone, he also needed to make sure he stayed alive for the sake of the crew, as small at it currently was. When the Captain was off doing something stupid, it was the job of the Quartermaster to do the opposite. Ultimately, that meant going with the lady. Well, that was at least exciting. Time to catch up with an old friend.

Red had already scooped Billy up and was walking him back to the treeline. He would have offered to help her, but she seemed very capable. In fact, he knew full grown men who had spent years working topside who would not be able to direct a man like Billy. There had to be more than meets the eye to her. If anything, finding out that adventure alone would be worth the trip off the beaten path. He took one last look at the ocean, before turning and taking after the woman “So, Red,” he said, fully testing her actual name, “do you make a habit of taking in all the strays?”

man overboard
 
tag: Red, Billy / word count: 833 / ---
 

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