Sleepy Fox Hollow Pirates are landlocked

Something within Étienne that laid dormant stirred to life. Emmerich would have been proud how deep his brother’s probing blade had thrust, but Anselm only felt vilified as he saw something he perceived as ugly within Étienne wedge its way to the surface. A hardness took to the salt-limned boy’s lyrical voice, a cold bite to his gaze not unlike the cheerless deep of dark ocean water. 

Anselm had never experienced the deep, and thus had no fear of it. 

Cruelty vould be to kill you for how little use you are. Anselm countered, finding it was not beautiful to be compared to something ugly. An asp had snaked its way from Etienne’s heart, and now it sat poised to strike.  Anselm possessed none of the flowering command of muse which flowed from Etienne’s acerbic tongue, but he knew where to stick a fang to silence it. You let your own emotions control you. His lip curled back in a grimace, so very similar to Wylla’s worn expressions then. You are not owed my kindness or grace. Not vhile you sit and snivel like a little boy, then throw insults like teeth. 

Étienne had stepped forward, a language of confrontation threaded through every muscle in his cinnamon pelt. Anselm answered it with a flag of his tail and a snarl. Vhat will you do, strike me?