Phoenixduelist - Tumblr Posts
Seviathan
Striker @strikers-saloon
Sparrow
Karma is the exception.
The Véghvárys are fucking moronsexuals
“Depends on what ye’re givin,” Anne replies, eyes narrowing as she shifts her weight onto the other foot. She knows she should keep her idiot mouth shut, but she can’t help distrusting the woman in front of her. Few are the women of the high seas, and fewer still are the ones who stay on it. Anne knows who she’s speaking to, who she had admittedly come to take back from the fucking French emissaries herself, and only a fucking idiot could know who she is and still trust her immediately.
Anne Bonny is a lot of things, but a fucking idiot isn’t one of them.
“En’t time enough for niceties without us both gettin stranded in the process, an’ I don’t fancy my chances in court, never mind yours.”
oh shit, who the fuck did I kill?
To say that the Captain was surprised when the blacksmith landed with a thud on the floor before her blade had ran him through, was an understatement. Thin eyebrows arched, the saber still ready to strike until she heard an another voice.
“The scumbag who sold me out to the French.” Rozália replied quite calmly despite the situation, briefly turning her arm towards light to show where the rope had bit into wrist
Revenge was snatched away, a pity yes, but not something she would hurt the woman for.
“He has a son. Barely five. His father's sins aren't his and I'm also here to leave the boy something. Since I, well you did kill the old man, not like he was good as a father either.” just an another turncoat because he was promised a little more
“If you don't harm the boy or take what I'm about to give, I wish no harm upon you.”
@phoenixduelist is being a fucking fucker.
Anne didn’t shake the man’s hand off for several seconds; why would she? Her own hand was buried deep in his trouser pocket and his grip was frail and waning with each beat of his heart, the blood spilling out of his neck in time with the fatal rhythm. He was hardly a bother and she wanted this over besides. She only shook him away when she’d grasped the cold metal in his pocket, standing with a dispassionate sniff as he gurgled in dismay beside her boot.
A compass. Plain thing, but well cared for, smooth and reflective in the midday sun as Anne turns it in her hand and admires the way the light plays off it. Ultimately useless in the grand scheme of things. She pockets it and turns back towards the Captain, picking her way over the bodies between them.
“No luck. Wherever the key is, he hid it better than we gave him credit for. Almost a shame he weren’t so good at hidin himself.”
Original Post (link later, it’s not liking me rn)
The thrown knife buries itself deeply in the wood beside Rozália’s head and level with her throat.
“Watch out,” Anne calls belatedly. Her voice is flat: she may be a shit shot with a pistol, but she knows her way around a blade much more comfortably; the only way she’d hit someone is on purpose or through their own idiot fault. She sniffs and seems to almost roll to her feet, all 6’2” of her, before crossing to her knife and pulling it out of the painted target stabbed into the wood. The blade rests in the middle of the target, and tears the paper nearly in half when it’s wrenched out.
“Dangerous work, interruptin target practice.”