Stavanger Bay Gotta sad life, sad life; go to fuckin' hell

@Smokestep @Sandpiper :3c

She was tired. So tired. Frankie had been searching for a suitable pack for months with no luck. The one she did come across turned her away, seeing that it was winter. She couldn't blame them—she could've picked a better time to get fed up with her family's shit, but Frankie just couldn't take a second more of them.

Worn thin in both mind and body, she was at least finally here at the border of another pack. She threw her head back in a long, desperate howl, then awaited a wolf's appearance.

The call sounded and the ghostly pirate turned his skull sharply in the direction of the summons. A sense of pride swelled inside of him at the sound, for it meant that their markings on the borders of the bay were proving to be useful to passersby and one had found themselves interested in what lay beyond the edges of their claim. With that sound, the pirate pulled himself from the waves and set out at a quick saunter through the sand. It wasn't long before he found the dark female waiting for the approach of one of the crew.

Lifting his crown upward and slowing his pace, the Captain regarded her with a quirked brow and a thoughtful frown. “Ahoy, lass. What brings ye to me bay?” Smokestep inquired with a slight cant of his skull. His eyes roamed over her figure with some moderate interest before he awaited her response.

Finally, a ghastly wolf with an enchanting red eye approached. His accent was just like her own, and it brought her comfort along with the location being right on the coast. I was lookin' fer a pack ta join, an' ye seem to have a fine one here, Frankie explained with a small smile. Jus' call me Frankie. I can patch y'all up when ya need it.

A lone howl carried through the bay as Sandpiper dragged a paw through the sand. Water seeped in the gouge, slowly trickling in and repairing the gash shr had inflicted onto the shore. Sandpiper lifted her muzzle with a frown on her features - a howl meant a stranger which in turn meant the possible presence of an intruder.

She picked up a quick trot, scaling the dunes in time to see her brother rapidly apprehend the newcomer. From her distance she heard nothing of the conversation but hoped whatever he said was unkind and unwelcoming. She remained on the sandy rise for now, her gaze on the dark female as she spied on them from the slope.

The girl seemed to jump ahead of herself at the start. Smokestep chuckled – a deep sound in the back of his throat – before shaking his head a bit at the dark-coated woman who had introduced herself as Frankie. She had a knack for talking and a knack for patching people up, it seemed. The pallid corsair eyed her for a moment and then closed a single eye so as to peer at her from a crimson orb. The pirate was interested in what she might have to offer, but he thought her a little brash. She, of course, knew nothing about his crew or what they believed in, so it seemed strange to him to want to simply climb aboard and lend a hand.

“Well now, drop yer anchor a moment, lass. We could use a good set o' healin' paws, but ye haven't any idea wot we do or who we are,” the scoundrel told her with a quirked brow and a small smirk. Surely, he was still intrigued by the young miss, but he wanted to know if she would be willing to take the blood oath. To join Ironsea meant to pledge yourself for life, and none would escape such a testimony.

The man had a point—she didn't know a thing about his pack's culture or rules. But, then again, beggars couldn't be choosers. Francine just wanted somewhere to stay, somewhere safe and around others. As long as the pack didn't consist of malevolent beasts, she'd take what she could get. She hoped she hadn't crushed her chance at getting accepted because she was too desperate.

Sorry, yer right. I can get ahead of meself, She confessed with a sheepish smile. I'd love ta hear about yer pack. Francine gave a small wave of her tail.

sandpiper remained on the dune as the two below conversed. the wind was only partially in her favor - she could make out the familiar murmur of her brother's accent, but most of what the female said was unintelligible due to the distance. try as she might to strain her ears forward, it did nothing to assist her eavesdropping endeavor. she considered approaching, but quickly ruled against it. on principle, sandpiper preferred not interacting with anyone -- so she kept to her position. there was something to be said about making smokestep do all the work anyway -- that way sandpiper could sit back and devote time to what really mattered -- tormenting the natives.

Sandpiper's looming presence was not what he would have anticipated, but he preferred that she kept a good distance while he handled the formalities. The gold-cloaked sister had never been proficient with handling common folk, but he had developed a knack for it. Oftentimes, he would forget that Piper was typically impolite, but he adored her nonetheless and would have preferred her companionship over anyone else.

The dark woman seemed to catch herself, pulling back into a more comfortable conversation. Smokestep eyed her with some interest, amused that she had fumbled so swiftly into wishing that she could join his ranks. The corsair cast a long glance toward his familial support system before facing Francine again. “Oi, alright then, miss. Yer in the company o' the saltiest an' fiercest crew on the water. These here are the lands o' the Ironsea crew,” he explained to her with a dramatic flair. “An ye think ye've got wot it takes to be apart o' our crew, aye?”

A wry smirk curled his features. “Wot will ye do to prove it, lass?”

@Francine hope it is ok to PP for conclusion. permission from smokestep to pp him

sandpiper drifted closer, sand clattering down the dunes as she came within auditory range. the girl was too eager, too soft -- sandpiper gave a low woof and her ears pulled back in grim expression. they needed tough hands, coarse old salts -- a novice they could take in due time, but for now they were too fragile to accept some greenhorn.

"she is too inexperienced. come back in a month, if you are still alive." sandpiper called, her tail pricked as she regarded the darker stranger.


smokestep met her gaze and she canted her muzzle to the sea in a silent 'let's go'. the wolf was given no apology -- just a cold look before sandpiper shouldered her brother and the two turned in tandem for the beach leaving francine where she stood. should francine still be around in the months hence, perhaps she would be a welcome addition -- for now she was an unknown quantity, another mouth to feed in perilous times -- and sandpiper would not have it.