Return to Roost - An absence explained
“You !@#$ pieces of shite! Where do you get off throwing a bag over my head and dragging me about! Let me go! I told you who I bloody am! Come on, you bastards! How would Ryot be able to confirm my identity if he’s always bloody asleep? Of course I walked right in! Let me go! Asashi! ASASHI! ASASHI!”
A slammed door and a growl and the unmistakable smell of leather, dried blood, and something…incapable of being placed. Heavy footsteps accompanied by the jingling of chain mail.
“Caught them trying to take one of the old spears outta the armory, Lord Sunfire. Prisoner looks to be a twelve-year-old boy, but they’ve got enough spirit to be one helluva !@#$, sir.”
“I’ll show you a !@#$--”
“SILENCE!” barked one of the two male voices, and the hands around the prisoner’s arms grasped tighter. The prisoner squirmed, muttering angrily about how they were being treated. “What gives you the right to speak my name, fool?” A hand reached out, gauntlet wrapping around the fabric and yanking it roughly from the prisoner’s head.
An exasperated (but very relieved) sigh exhaled from the prisoner’s mouth. Asashi waved his hand at the captors and the prisoner fought against their grip, before the two men realized the figure was meant to be released. The sack fell to the floorboards.
The prisoner’s captors had been correct about their assessment---she certainly looked to be a twelve-year-old boy. Her leather armor, whipstitched and battered, was pulled tight in a masculine way, hiding the appearance of any curves that doubtfully existed otherwise. Her dark hair had once been long and pulled back but was now cropped short and tousled, eyes ringed with a lack of sleep and lips chapped. A scarf was wrapped around her neck, tucked carefully into her armor.
“Serraphym.” Asashi stated matter-of-factly, waving off the two guards who hulked back to whatever they had been doing beforehand. Serah hadn’t recognized either, new faces already.
“My old friend,” replied the Cirion with a hint of sarcasm, crossing her arms over her chest and readjusting the neckscarf. “Quite the welcoming you readied me.”
“Your absence was noted.” The repairs on the Albatross had been finished and the boat left abruptly and overnight. The Cirion had given no indication of planned absence, disappearing without a trace. Her hand fidgeted with the scarf again.
“Is that the Sunfire way of saying “I missed you, my dear”?” There was more than a hint of sarcasm there, the pikeman smirked, defiant.
“Explain yourself.” Asashi growled, before his hand shot out once more, this time grabbing the scarf from around the pirate’s neck. The purple-hued, foreign silk tore away, revealing a fresh, angry scar settling in across Serraphym’s jugular. It prickled across pale skin, pink hues mixing across fading bruises and stubborn scabs.
The unmistakable bite and burn of a noose.
“I learned a lesson.” Serraphym said, eyebrows raising as a bitter smile crossed her lips.
-----------------
To have ships, you need money. Jewels. Treasure. Something of value to trade for something of value.
A good pirate doesn’t get caught. But when a great pirate gets caught, they always escape.
A slammed door and a growl and the unmistakable smell of leather, dried blood, and something…incapable of being placed. Heavy footsteps accompanied by the jingling of chain mail.
“Caught them trying to take one of the old spears outta the armory, Lord Sunfire. Prisoner looks to be a twelve-year-old boy, but they’ve got enough spirit to be one helluva !@#$, sir.”
“I’ll show you a !@#$--”
“SILENCE!” barked one of the two male voices, and the hands around the prisoner’s arms grasped tighter. The prisoner squirmed, muttering angrily about how they were being treated. “What gives you the right to speak my name, fool?” A hand reached out, gauntlet wrapping around the fabric and yanking it roughly from the prisoner’s head.
An exasperated (but very relieved) sigh exhaled from the prisoner’s mouth. Asashi waved his hand at the captors and the prisoner fought against their grip, before the two men realized the figure was meant to be released. The sack fell to the floorboards.
The prisoner’s captors had been correct about their assessment---she certainly looked to be a twelve-year-old boy. Her leather armor, whipstitched and battered, was pulled tight in a masculine way, hiding the appearance of any curves that doubtfully existed otherwise. Her dark hair had once been long and pulled back but was now cropped short and tousled, eyes ringed with a lack of sleep and lips chapped. A scarf was wrapped around her neck, tucked carefully into her armor.
“Serraphym.” Asashi stated matter-of-factly, waving off the two guards who hulked back to whatever they had been doing beforehand. Serah hadn’t recognized either, new faces already.
“My old friend,” replied the Cirion with a hint of sarcasm, crossing her arms over her chest and readjusting the neckscarf. “Quite the welcoming you readied me.”
“Your absence was noted.” The repairs on the Albatross had been finished and the boat left abruptly and overnight. The Cirion had given no indication of planned absence, disappearing without a trace. Her hand fidgeted with the scarf again.
“Is that the Sunfire way of saying “I missed you, my dear”?” There was more than a hint of sarcasm there, the pikeman smirked, defiant.
“Explain yourself.” Asashi growled, before his hand shot out once more, this time grabbing the scarf from around the pirate’s neck. The purple-hued, foreign silk tore away, revealing a fresh, angry scar settling in across Serraphym’s jugular. It prickled across pale skin, pink hues mixing across fading bruises and stubborn scabs.
The unmistakable bite and burn of a noose.
“I learned a lesson.” Serraphym said, eyebrows raising as a bitter smile crossed her lips.
-----------------
To have ships, you need money. Jewels. Treasure. Something of value to trade for something of value.
A good pirate doesn’t get caught. But when a great pirate gets caught, they always escape.