So It Would Seem She Hasn't Lost Her Allure Completely. Although Now It Easily Could Be Chalked Up To

So it would seem she hasn't lost her allure completely. Although now it easily could be chalked up to her...condition. Her shadows stretched curiously at the creature, the last rays of sun and the lit oil lamp causing his to overlap with hers as he reached her lone table.

It wasn't often Karma got the chance to try this trick with supernatural entities; eyes averted as he spoke, hidden under the brim of her hat, well aware how her eyes will shift even more.

Churning sea soon to be colored crimson. A merciless father leading to extraordinary career heights. A pirate, mischievous, unfairly handsome with glinting dark eyes and messy hair filled with softly clinking trinkets. Trickster, thief and crafty, but not a cold blooded murderer. A young woman of high status, beautiful, a damsel at first then...a snarling pirate. But she never lost that air of haughty superiority that came with her birth. Brown doe eyes that seemed kind at the first look, yet such deception lurked underneath. And an another woman at last; a pirate just like the man but she was...vicious; like storm was forced into a human shape. Emerald eyes so bright, flashing like steel, insanity and intellect shining equally prominently. A greedy Brit dwarf thinking himself to be the king of the seas while according to myths it already had its Goddess and Devil. Creatures, more than fish than human led by the one resembling to an octopus.

His memories sharp and crystal clear like reflection on lagoon surface. Aching for telling, understanding and absolution. How...strange the contrast.

“It was an observation, vampire.”

Said so confidently yet casually as she raised her poison eyes to meet his again at last with a small smirk of ink lips.

“Worry not, vampire hunting isn't my work. Too many crosses facing the right direction and too many encounters with priests.” for further strengthening her point, she raised her jacket high enough for the metal fringes to be seen; the crosses at the ends were inverted.

“Sit” perhaps a bit too long fingers gestured to the unoccupied chair a bit further from her right, porcelain skin rivaling with her hair regarding color

“For the first time, I have a question.” it may have been a little rude to look into his memories without asking, at least she was courteous enough to not stay for his death

“You may not talk, but your shadow does. Surprisingly talkative in fact. It showed me three people who were very important to you, they must have been if you still remember them this sharply.” Karma mused out loud; the pattern was the same. Parent then loved one. She had seen two occasionally, but never three. She decided to gloss over the fact that the last woman, the swordfighter, the killer had the same eyes she once had.

“Which one did you truly love?” came the piercing question laced with genuine curiosity

“The black eyed pirate, no-” an another detail fluttering across her mind, causing a softer smile “The black eyed sparrow, the deceitful doe or the wild jaguar? Only one of them would've returned your affections with undying loyalty.”

(Yes you reblogged memes but...sort of wanted an official meeting ask before the dynamite coffin🤣)

Springrose became a ghost town after the Orphan returned to take revenge on the superstitious townfolk encouraged by their preacher to murder her family. They long forgotten her name, her face; nobody knew Death was riding into the town on an oil slick black horse. Most tales focus on the spreading fire; just like how her house burned. Others lay the weight on the act of hanging the preacher. Some mention both. What remains the same in each version is the endorsed murder, the arrival of the gunfighter more than a decade ago to settle a long overdue debt and her disappearance after.

Springcreek was established around 50 miles away, survivors afraid of her possible return even though it has been over a hundred years. Many swore they saw a ghost, a wraith with the same horse as the orphan turned gunslinger in the abandoned town. A few, extremely brave people has left flowers, small trinkets near the once beautiful burned down house as condolences.

“I have seen men almost driven mad by lust.” the voice mused from a shadowy corner of the saloon after observation, one loud clank of steel heels as the other foot was set down

“Also familiar with the phrase ‘good enough to eat’, but.” there was always a but whenever she intervened “You seem to take that saying quite literally from what I see in your gaze.” and the woman leaned forward, pure ivory strands of hair falling from her hat, her eyes perhaps too bright emerald that almost seemed to glow in the setting dusk.

“It couldn't be that long time, stranger.” it could be said the newcomer can be considered a fine man appearance vise, surely working girls would even fight for his attention in any establishment. “And this area has an already bloody history, sure the locals already told their ghost stories. No need to add an another one.” soft spoken yet firm, not a threat, barely skirting a warning. Only her stare was akin to being caught in the crosshair, quite literally with the scarring around her right eye.

Inhuman green eyes people watched as if he were looking over feast instead of human beings. Yet, a voice managed to reach him through the noise of the ruckus. He sat with no drink infront of him, but full glass of water untouched. ( Un touched water.. in the desert??? )

Tortuga or Tombstone, Norrington saw these rowdy folk the same as pirates. They were the same rogues and ne'er-do-wells, just with a different accent.

Yet someone had noticed the vampire, her voice was exotic and cut through the minutia.

He listened to her words, each one a precise observation that struck at the heart of his condition. The mention of men driven mad by lust and the unsettling glint in her eyes spoke volumes about her experience and the battles she had fought.

Approaching her table, with a deliberate grace, the floorboards creaked under his boots. His gaze met hers—bright emerald eyes that seemed to pierce through the dusk matching the neon of his own, brought out by her very presence, the vampiric nature of him .

"I appreciate the poetry, Miss, but I'm not in the market for a lecture on my appetites, literal or otherwise."

He crosses his arms leaning back, hat tipped back. His voice-- accent too posh and English to be a cowpoke.

"Your insight is sharp," he admitted, steady and measured. " I've no doubt this town has seen its share of darkness, but I assure you, I am not here to add to its legends." Although the lost Dutchman mine in the superstitions did pique the pirate he was once and he would be adding to the blood spilled. There was no getting away from that.

“She didn’t like who she was, so she became an idea, a concept. And after all that time of drifting, morphing into the image of whoever she wanted to be, she realised it was going to take her a lifetime of searching in order to rediscover who she truly was.”

— Sue Zhao // Identities 

what soft romance cliché are you?

/oh./

the italicized oh. often seen in romance novels and fanfics. when a character looks at someone, wondering why their chest tightens when they're near, why their heart beats quicken at the slightest touches, why they lose their breathe at the sight of them and suddenly realization dawns on them— oh. they've been in love for a long time now. you are soft and quiet, probably the most overlooked. though when you love, you fall deeply. i'm sure you have a lot of anxieties when it comes to love, and you're more inclined to fall in love with a longtime friend than a stranger. though, your love is pure. and maybe if you have someone in mind, this is your sign to tell them.

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“Anyway.”