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<span style="font-family:georgia; font-size:11px; text-transform:uppercase; color:grey;">avatar by <b>karmencita</b>; table by <b>java</b></span>
43 Posts
Ooc — Tokio
Offline
I couldn't resist. Also I will have a reply for the spar and mini-meeting up today as well. :-)
Cutthroat had been on his way to his frequent haunt — the Creek for the Pirate favored the water more than he did most company — when he caught Bazi’s scent. He paused in his steps for a moment, remembering their last encounter (not including the meeting since that had not been so one on one) and the words he had yearned to tell her, words of her beauty that the Captive had not forgotten but rather kept close to his chest like the lovers’ locket of Davy Jones. Cutthroat had done his very best to avoid anyone that he could (unless he was called for personally) from the meeting where he had been called into the spotlight, albeit unfairly in his general opinion since it had nothing to do with him, but he could not forget. It had been an obvious mistake coming to these wolves, wanting to atone for what he hadn’t
even done. He might have arrived with the raiding party but he had not took part in it and the Pirate itched now, more so ever, to wish that he could turn back the clock and just
wander on. He hadn’t, though. He had been led, by whatever shred of morality he possessed to come and make up for the wrongs only to have the past flung back at him when he had been nothing but an obedient and complacent prisoner.
Alas, the inky Pirate shook his head, reminding himself that he was paying his dues. He got what he deserved. No less, no more; and he deserved every harsh and nasty word slung his way.
It was what kept his vagabond spirit bound and chained, what kept the fires of his fight dimmed and smoldering in ashes.
Without having consciously decided what he was doing he found himself following Bazi’s scent trail slowing and pausing when he came upon her, eyes the color of golden doubloons taking her in, noticing as if it were a tangible and living thing that she was angry. Her ire emitted from her body in violent waves, seen in the way she held herself. It was probably a mistake but then again, he had a mile long list of mistakes. What was one more? “Your fury would rival the kraken’s lass.” He commented in a way of something of a compliment even if it hadn’t been intended to sound that way. Whatever Cutthroat could say about her beauty he found her impressive period, not just her anger.
