<span style="font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; text-transform:uppercase; color:grey;">avatar by <b>karmencita</b>; table by <b>java</b></span>
There was a moment when the inky teenager of a Pirate wondered if this wasn’t absolute suicide. It had been a couple days since the stand off had went down and Bones had ran off - similar, as Cutlass told it, to the way she had sprang from Tortuga the first time - with Cutlass and Corsair. The three others were dead at the paws of these wolves and though Cutthroat himself had only been trying to help Crossbones, having somehow managed to avoid the fighting in the mass chaos that had ensued. Still. There was nothing to say that they weren’t going to kill him, too. No matter what he had been apart of it. Apart of the carnage and the wrongness and now he sought them out at their borders seeking acceptance. He had to be mad. Mad and …guilty. Cutthroat felt guilty for coming with them to bring Crossbones back as if she were a small child in need of reprimanding but she hadn’t been. She’d been an adult, fully capable of making her own decisions. It was not fear that had kept him from going back with Cutlass and Corsair though, instead only disgust. The right of parley was always granted, always and both of the women had acted as if it didn’t exist outside their lands.
A black brute soon approached on the other side of the borders and just as Jace recognized him, Cutthroat recognized Jace as one of the first wolves from the Creek’s side to attack. No questions, no parley. Just violence. “Aye,” Cutthroat drew in a deep breath, figuring honesty was the best policy here though he was not so sure he trusted Jace any more than he trusted Cutlass or Corsair. His trust in everyone had rightfully sort of been depleted given the twist of events until he was left trusting no one but himself. “Look, I know I was with them but …but I didn’t realize they weren’t going to give Crossbones parley. I didn’t…,” He drew in a breath as he hurried to defend himself realizing that for all his bravado he was afraid to die and having seen what these Creek wolves were capable of he had no doubt that they would do it if they wanted the last loose end (aka him) gone. “I tried to stand up for her, to defend her.” The dark Pirate finished, not sure even if this male cared. Cutthroat realized what he looked like and darkly glanced at the ground for a few seconds, head hung in what was sincere regret. Granted, Cutthroat hadn‘t attacked for her but he had tried to speak up not that it did him any good or got anyone anywhere. “Cutlass and Corsair are lyin’ wenches. It’s why …why I didn’t go back with them.” Of course, he wouldn’t be there to continue to stick up for Crossbones but then again the two women would have probably just killed him anyway and he wasn’t any use to her dead, either.
In truth, Cutthroat wasn't really sure why he was here, why he did not seek refuge somewhere else. Somewhere safer for him, disconnected from the incident.