Finally Back In New Providence And It Feels Like The Mud Here Is Trying To Get Her Stuck. It Sucks At

Finally back in New Providence and it feels like the mud here is trying to get her stuck. It sucks at her heels every time she moves, like a grim metaphor for what being back on this island is doing for her health. The Republic of Pirates felt like the only safe port left in the storm of her life, but maybe she’d been wrong on that count. Anne’s been wrong an awful lot lately.

It doesn’t take a well-trained eye to pick apart the afternoon bar flies and find them wanting. It does, however, take guts to approach the meanest of them and drop on in, no warning, no greeting, no invitation. It should warrant a piss off at the nicest, but Anne says nothing, eyeing the stranger up. Sharp. Hungry. Not for food, necessarily; she shared the same spark in her eyes that Anne had sometimes felt in hers.

It’s lunacy to sit here trading stories with a stranger, especially when said stranger’s saddled with an English accent. But there’s something comforting in playing the mad bitch again.

“My husband abandoned me on a foreign coast with little more than the clothes on my back and my name t’make a living on. I don’t know if ye’d call that running away from so much as being run away from.” Half-truths suit her just fine in almost all regards. She expects far less honesty in the answer she’ll receive, even as she asks for it. “Why, what’re you running from?”

█ ▌ liked ( ... ) ↷ @neverhangd : from HELENA .

❛ ❛ there is a marked difference between running towards & running from . chasing & fleeing . ❜ ❜ it's something helena prides herself upon ; being able to tell them apart . knowing when one's own shadow is their deepest fear , or when their heart yearns for something so DESPERATELY that they would perish thricefold on the journey just to find fulfillment . ❛ ❛ what past are you running from to have ended up here ? i'll tell you mine , if it sweetens the pot . ❜ ❜ [ as much as you are willing to share , of course ( ... ) it would do you little good to go around frightening the locals with the truth . ]

The smile on Tryck’s lips is one she’s seen a few times to date, and it never ends well for the person he’s smiling at. It’s supposed to mean mischief, but in reality, it just means the blue fuck’s a-scheming again. Honestly—all this work just to get a rise out of her? There’s got to be someone more entertaining than her to fluster; certainly there are others that can at least lob back a halfway decent flirtation or two, unlike her. So why someone with Tryck’s wiles—his looks, sure, fine, but more importantly his cunning, his confidence, the bright magnetism of his personality—would be so stuck on her is a mystery, at least to her.

Rough waters make for rough crews, and rough crews for rough living. Anne hadn’t led a life that wasn’t rough in almost a decade, experiencing her softest time to date with a fucking parasite lodged behind her eye. Time spent at the hands of smaller, crueler men and made a small, cruel crumple of the woman sitting beside Tryck now.

Lord Almighty, but he likes to dance about, don’t he? He eats his food and shrugs as he talks—honest, she isn’t a prude. She’s fucked before! Plenty of times! Maybe what they say about bards is true, though, and he’s looking to make a notch of her yet.

He’ll be sorely disappointed if so.

“‘Friad ye’ll need more’n a blanket and a bottle of the swill we keep here t’get me in your bunk. I en’t the camp whore anymore’n I were the captain’s whore. It’ll be you and yer hand tonight, I fear, ‘less ye ply that pretty tongue of yers to someone else’s ear.”

For the briefest of moments, it looks like the discomfort’s done with, like she can cajole him into debating the relative merit of making eyes at a few party members like they’re still among the city crowds—and then Tryck opens his mouth again and Anne actually groans out loud. She was going to pick on the wizard or the elf next, but noooo, she’s trapped in a hell of her own creation. Damn her idiot tongue!

She wouldn’t mind Tryck’s teasing if it didn’t feel so…pointed. He gave it out to everyone, sure, but somehow when it turned on her it made her an idiot. It sometimes seemed more intentional than playful, but toward what intention, Anne couldn’t even begin to guess.

“—Fuck’s sake. Ye’re exhausting, ye know that? Ye asked me t’move over, I moved over! What more of an answer are ye looking for?” As if she didn’t know. Although there is reason to doubt that she knew the answer regardless.

"Meanness can be found in the least of creatures, but when God made man the Devil was at his elbow. A creature capable of anything."

20 moody writing prompts compiled from William Shakespeare's M*cbeth

Unearned lectures annoy her even as impromptu lessons inspire her; right now, she’s feeling annoyed. (She tamps down on the emotion but it still flickers across her face.) Rakatak may feel this lesson on the evils of man is an earned or even necessary one, but it’s a one Anne already knows by heart.

“Next ye’ll be telling me that the cruelty of man is as wondrous as the mountains of Peru. If there’s a point to this speech, get to it. I only tolerate grandstanding from my commanding officers.”

Fuck, Marry, Kill: Alfira, Wyll, Shadowheart :)

FMK! Send me three names.

…well. That’s quite the fucking list, isn’t it? A stranger, the Blade of the Frontiers, and the Sharran cleric—none of whom have expressed an interest in her, making this game a mite harder than she’s found it in the past.

“Ah…kill Allfire. Allferal. Allfeara. Whate’er her name is. En’t nothing personal, just don’t know her.” Now…which fate’s worse, married to the secretive Sharran or married to the insufferable folk hero? It’s a hard decision. Truly. “…fuck Shadowheart. Haven’t had many nice things in my life—may’s well give myself one halfway-decent shag afore shacking up with Wyll.”

Send 🫂 to just hug my muse. No reason. Hug them.

more intense vibes (or smth idk they’re just vibes)

emotional? angsty? fighty? yep. check, check, and check again. bon appetit!

“ go. ”

“ stop this. ”

“ let go of me. ”

“ you’re gonna have to make me. ”

“ please don’t do this. ”

“ don’t make me do this. ”

“ you have no idea what i’m capable of. ”

“ don’t you dare. ”

“ i wouldn’t do that if i were you. ”

“ i can’t do this. ”

“ i won’t let you do this. ”

“ i’m not gonna let that happen. ”

“ go! get out of here! run! ”

“ i’m not what you think i am. ”

“ don’t get in my way. ”

“ revenge won’t bring peace for you. ”

“ you always knew this would happen, didn’t you? ”

“ what’s going on in that head of yours? ”

“ you do not turn against your family. ”

“ i will kill you if i have to. ”

“ we need you. ”

“ it’s okay. i got this. ”

“ you were chosen for a reason. ”

“ get up. ”

“ it’s too late. ”

“ you can’t do this. ”

“ i thought i might find you here. ”

“ you’ve never had to fight me. ”

“ it’s over. ”

“ it’s over. we won/lost. ”

“ it’s over. you lost. ”

“ enough! ”

“ you can’t protect any of them. ”

“ stay here! ”

“ give me your hand. ”

“ i can’t help you. ”

“ you can’t help me! ”

“ i can’t do this anymore… ”