The pressure to the junction between his shoulders was applied even more forcibly, heavy and leaving Cutthroat with the impression that he was suffocating beneath Njal’s weight -- perhaps it was because with each gasp for what was not saccharine and
precious oxygen the Pirate
was suffocating each breath a struggle, a dead man’s last attempts to cling to his life before it was snatched away by what ever unforgiving thing had grasped ahold of it. Abruptly, Njal’s weight was gone, his shoulders allowed to move, his lungs feeling with a greedy, deep gasp of breath, filling his lungs with the scent of damp earth and crisp water until it felt as if they might burst from holding so much air. He spared a glimpse at Njal that was barely a concealed glare; black, leathery nostrils flaring viciously. He could still feel the echo of Njal’s weight, of the feel of the other man’s claws touching skin like a ghost lingering upon his skin. Cutthroat watched with a stoniness as Njal lingered over him demanding questions in much the same way Ferdie had. Although, unlike Ferdie, Njal had began to actually
threaten Cutthroat’s life until for the briefest of moments he thought Njal might push too far and kill him right then and there on the spot. If Njal had succeeded, if he would not have stepped back when he did, Cutthroat wondered briefly if he would have been in trouble, being their only lead back to Crossbones. Then again, maybe no one would have
cared. They would have nursed their wounds over losing Crossbones and that would have been it.
“Her mother,” Cutthroat spat out, breathing still labored though now it was mostly to satisfy what his lungs had temporarily been craving -- or maybe to prove that he was, actually, still alive. “It was her mother.” Cutlass had been wrong, all wrong, to go about it as she had …but in a way could she be blamed for wanting her daughter back? Cutthroat wondered, as he glimpsed up at Njal, to what lengths he would walk the earth, what he would do if he had been in Cutlass’ position. His daughter was suddenly gone (at least this was the story Cutthroat got). Would he not take on the entire earth to get her back? Sacrifice the lives of his crewmates to see her returned? Cutthroat had no misconceptions on what kind of mother Cutlass was but she was a mother, nevertheless. Calypso probably would have done the same for him; but that was all Cutthroat was willing to say for the moment, deciding to let Njal soak that small, but critical tidbit of information in.
It wasn’t much - because Cutthroat wished to extend his life even if Njal threatened it by stating if he didn’t talk he would endure punishment.
