Dragoncrest Cliffs make sure you tell em both

for @Rosalyn <3

when he thought of pirates he, of course, thought of his ma. both of them really but he really thought of his ma.

which meant he had the best way to becoming a pirate before him in the form of his mother. so in the cold mist of the morning, he roused from where he often slept now to find her. figuring she might be busy with maman or even aminthe.

but whenever he found her, he greeted her in typical quen fashion.

loud sounds, but good natured.

<33

Her nap had refreshed her and time with Etienne had put Rosalyn in a more cheerful mood than previously. Time with her grandchildren always seemed to.

He would find her on the shore with a cracked oyster, freshly dug, between her paws. She'd cleaned out a few of them for lunch.

Rosalyn rose to her paws when Quennel greeted her in his usual, rowdy fashion. This boy! She laughed, then moved to greet him with her tail lifted and waving. Sometimes it was a bit much but, more often than not, she appreciated how easily he came to her. Others treated her like glass nowadays - and not without reason.

he greeted her with plenty of kisses to her chin and a lower waving of his tail. not that his energy subsided much!

ma! he beamed as he took a step back from her. you been oyster huntin' without quen? this teased with a wide smile, as he went to sniff along some of the remaining shells. clattering them against each other. not in the slightest but disappointed with emptiness.

ah! you can make it up to me wit' some story sharin'!

She laughed at his pretend outrage. You can blame your other maman for it! She replied, smiling easily. Erzulie had been here only a short time ago but they'd parted ways momentarily to attend other things. Doubtless she would be back soon.

Stories, however. Rosalyn appraised him and felt her first feelings of trepidation. She hid them but sought to clarify. Is that right? What kind of story'd you be wantin'? They didn't ask her for such things very often. She did not have many left, but perhaps a clue would bring something to mind.

he had been the one to ask for stories, but he felt his own hesitation. wondering how this maman might take the news he had been gently sprinkling about.

well, i be hopin' you share tales o' piratin'. i be t'inkin' 'bout it...

and he left it open now, for his maman to say what she may.

Pirating. She recalled some things vaguely, but nothing with any detail. The good and the bad mixed and blended in a way that had her confusing what was real, what was not, what was then and what was later. She could pick out a storyline but it wasn't a line that was true. On some level she knew, but she would give it regardless. Did it matter, so long as it was made up of truths?

What about it draws you? There's good, but it's a hard life. Not all pirates are worthy crew. Best to start with the warnings. There was a glint in her eye, recalling vague shapes whose names had long since departed her. Some would rather attack your back than call you family, and wouldn't choose loyalty even if it came free on the tide. Real pirates know that your crew is all you have.

She paused then, letting that sink in and still curious what about pirates had caught him so. Sapphique was built on the bones of prior crews but they were not such a band themselves. Pirates owned nothing - all that they held they stole, and everything they claimed they knew could be lost any moment. She hadn't captained such a crew since... the monster. Raleska? No, before. Raleska was buried on these very cliffs.

The witch. Betrayal. It was all jumbled.

de adventurin', de tales. meetin' faces i wouldn' see ot'erwise.

he admitted with a cautious wave of his tail. knowing that it may have sounded whimsical or like a glamorization of the things in the past.

i dun need a big crew — or even one at all. i could be doin' it alone too, i 'pose.

oh, but that was a sad thought, wasn't it?

Alone, you wouldn’t be much of a pirate. Rosalyn replied with a small lift of her brow. She was jokingly skeptical for a moment. If all you have is your crew, then you’d be a pirate with nothing.

Then she shook her head and relented. He was young, didn’t understand the harsh world of the sea. She’d been the same once, she thought - but perhaps not. It felt she’d always known the lessons now.

Finding a crew you can trust is the most important thing. Piratin’ is a dangerous life, and if your crew isn’t there, it’s usually a short one. Sapphique is safe because we have numbers. If you go looking for trouble alone, you’ll face it alone. She might not remember specific crews and detailed scenes, but she knew the life of a pirate was kicking nests and seeing what came out.

his ears smoothed back at her words. knowing she was saying only the truth that he must hear. mentally he composed a list of those he might be able to call crew.

before he realized it was kind of poaching from sapphique a little. he had no want to sabotage his home when he eventually flew the nest. whenever that day would come. soon, he felt.

do y't'ink sapphique be mad if i had a crew close one day? i be lovin' de sea, but i dun want sapphique to be t'inkin' i'm tryna to do somethin'. sapphique always be comin' first to me.

Rosalyn wasn’t sure she could answer that. She knew how she would feel, but not how the others would take it. It was hard to imagine, and harder still with the way thoughts seemed to slip past sometimes before she could catch hold.

That’d be a question for your sisters. Or Sobo. Though she doubted their son would know much better, if he wasn’t kept close enough to Chacal and Mireille to assume.

I don’t think it would be a bad thing. Sapphique is strong, but it has its Captains. Your maman and I have always wanted you to find something you wanted, and we’ll always hope that it can be found closer than further away. Rosalyn gave him an affectionate, reassuring nip.

You might even find some willing to help. A crew would grow, in time, but you should start with some you trust. He was close to Meerkat’s children, and they would likely find no future here in a pack driven by her own, and now Chacal and Mireille’s, blood. Whatever Quennel created would be less than what was here, she imagined, but that would not make it worse. She remembered the ghost of her own Captaincy, the rough and small crew they had been. None of their faces nor names came to her but they had been her family, and she would be pleased if her son found a part of that fulfillment.