((This post takes place after the events of this thread.))
The captain sat on the deck just larboard of the mizzenmast; with a flick of His wrist, He sent the knife downward again.
Thunk.
Wrenched it out...
Thunk.
Floorboard was full of holes, now...
Thunk.
He reached for the hilt again, took it and eased the blade back and forth out of the wood. He glared at His opposite the entire time. Same brown bandana. Same brown shirt. Same brown gloves, pants, boots... insulting, was what it was. Disgusting. Revolting. He glared at the man for a moment more.
"Don't recall invitin’ you aboard."
The man smiled where he stood, white teeth immaculate as he leaned lazily to one side, shoulder against a stack of crates that hadn’t been offloaded yet, legs crossed, arms folded.
“But of course you didn’t, dear.â€
The man stood up straight, came sauntering His way, one hand on his hip, the other resting on his cheek as he shook his head and smiled mournfully at the captain.
“Oh, Osric, Osric, Osric… you poor thing… poor, darlin’ thing… I’ll explain, shall I? Yes….â€
The man walked around Him, dropped into a crouch behind Him, draped his arms over His shoulders and around Him, and whispered into His ear…
"I was here all along. You were me once, remember? Then you hid me away, put me to sleep for six long, cold years… and then," a hand slipped inside His shirt, “that night with Teryn… with Rose,†palm slid down along his chest, his belly, headed for… “well, that woke me up--"
The captain’s free hand shot up and seized the man’s arm, squeezing hard as the knife in His right hand came around to rest the blade’s point over his left shoulder onto the man’s throat.
“Not in the mood. Hands off.â€
A laugh, sunny, graceful, the kind of laugh that was cherished for its flattery. “But of course.â€
He let go, and the hand receded as the man stood, stood over Him, casting a shadow over the captain, who asked…
“You say that woke you up… but that was a week ago, more...â€
“I didn’t have a voice.†Footsteps sounded out against the wood as the man circled Him. “You wouldn’t let me have one… not until…â€
The captain closed his eyes. “Sedalyne.â€
“…a silvery tongue.†The footsteps stopped in front of him; He opened His eyes and looked up. “She taught you, and that time, you didn’t just enjoy it… you learned. So here I am, here, now, the lovechild.†The man bowed with a flourish, arms out to either side, hands open, palms up, wrists bent back.
“…I don’t want you.â€
“You have no choice,†the man replied as he straightened again and met his captain’s eyes, green on green. “Not only am I required for your new… mmm… profession… I am your needs, your wants, your desires, given form and voice and grace. You can’t be rid of me.â€
The man pirouetted in place, then bowed again.
“After all, are we not all a part of you? Is this not how your mind,†a brief wave of the hand to take in the ship, “works?â€
The captain frowned as the man straightened again.
"One vast vessel, crewed by a wealth of experience that you have chosen to divvy up by era and utility. Is that not what we are, the lot of us? Little Ossy, the child; Rings, the thief; Dirk, the killer; Melkire--"
“I was done makin’ more of you. Am done makin’ more. You’re the last. Ossy!â€
Another pair of footsteps sounded as a third man walked forward out of nowhere, neatly and cleanly materializing before them. The same face, but this one dressed in a fashionable blue doublet with grey pants and jackboots. The deck creaked loudly beneath his weight, though he appeared no larger nor any heavier than his twins. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he beamed at them.
The companion turned to the newcomer and smiled. “Ah. It’s you.â€
“Been a while.â€
“…it has, hasn’t it? Why are you still following His orders, helmsman? You, strongest of us all; you who, alone among us, could subdue his own master?"
The newcomer drew one hand out to point down at Osric.
“He has the Writ; His is the Right.â€
The escort pouted mockingly. “You were always such a stickler for rules.â€
Osric scowled as he turned his head to look up at the man in blue. “Ossy, this one has his uses, but I’d rather not give’m the run of the ship. He’s to be held in the brig ‘til called for. That understood?â€
“Yes, cap’n.â€
He turned to look once more at the man he despised. “And just what am I t’call you?â€
The whore smiled and bowed again.
“Call me Oz.â€
The captain sat on the deck just larboard of the mizzenmast; with a flick of His wrist, He sent the knife downward again.
Thunk.
Wrenched it out...
Thunk.
Floorboard was full of holes, now...
Thunk.
He reached for the hilt again, took it and eased the blade back and forth out of the wood. He glared at His opposite the entire time. Same brown bandana. Same brown shirt. Same brown gloves, pants, boots... insulting, was what it was. Disgusting. Revolting. He glared at the man for a moment more.
"Don't recall invitin’ you aboard."
The man smiled where he stood, white teeth immaculate as he leaned lazily to one side, shoulder against a stack of crates that hadn’t been offloaded yet, legs crossed, arms folded.
“But of course you didn’t, dear.â€
The man stood up straight, came sauntering His way, one hand on his hip, the other resting on his cheek as he shook his head and smiled mournfully at the captain.
“Oh, Osric, Osric, Osric… you poor thing… poor, darlin’ thing… I’ll explain, shall I? Yes….â€
The man walked around Him, dropped into a crouch behind Him, draped his arms over His shoulders and around Him, and whispered into His ear…
"I was here all along. You were me once, remember? Then you hid me away, put me to sleep for six long, cold years… and then," a hand slipped inside His shirt, “that night with Teryn… with Rose,†palm slid down along his chest, his belly, headed for… “well, that woke me up--"
The captain’s free hand shot up and seized the man’s arm, squeezing hard as the knife in His right hand came around to rest the blade’s point over his left shoulder onto the man’s throat.
“Not in the mood. Hands off.â€
A laugh, sunny, graceful, the kind of laugh that was cherished for its flattery. “But of course.â€
He let go, and the hand receded as the man stood, stood over Him, casting a shadow over the captain, who asked…
“You say that woke you up… but that was a week ago, more...â€
“I didn’t have a voice.†Footsteps sounded out against the wood as the man circled Him. “You wouldn’t let me have one… not until…â€
The captain closed his eyes. “Sedalyne.â€
“…a silvery tongue.†The footsteps stopped in front of him; He opened His eyes and looked up. “She taught you, and that time, you didn’t just enjoy it… you learned. So here I am, here, now, the lovechild.†The man bowed with a flourish, arms out to either side, hands open, palms up, wrists bent back.
“…I don’t want you.â€
“You have no choice,†the man replied as he straightened again and met his captain’s eyes, green on green. “Not only am I required for your new… mmm… profession… I am your needs, your wants, your desires, given form and voice and grace. You can’t be rid of me.â€
The man pirouetted in place, then bowed again.
“After all, are we not all a part of you? Is this not how your mind,†a brief wave of the hand to take in the ship, “works?â€
The captain frowned as the man straightened again.
"One vast vessel, crewed by a wealth of experience that you have chosen to divvy up by era and utility. Is that not what we are, the lot of us? Little Ossy, the child; Rings, the thief; Dirk, the killer; Melkire--"
“I was done makin’ more of you. Am done makin’ more. You’re the last. Ossy!â€
Another pair of footsteps sounded as a third man walked forward out of nowhere, neatly and cleanly materializing before them. The same face, but this one dressed in a fashionable blue doublet with grey pants and jackboots. The deck creaked loudly beneath his weight, though he appeared no larger nor any heavier than his twins. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he beamed at them.
The companion turned to the newcomer and smiled. “Ah. It’s you.â€
“Been a while.â€
“…it has, hasn’t it? Why are you still following His orders, helmsman? You, strongest of us all; you who, alone among us, could subdue his own master?"
The newcomer drew one hand out to point down at Osric.
“He has the Writ; His is the Right.â€
The escort pouted mockingly. “You were always such a stickler for rules.â€
Osric scowled as he turned his head to look up at the man in blue. “Ossy, this one has his uses, but I’d rather not give’m the run of the ship. He’s to be held in the brig ‘til called for. That understood?â€
“Yes, cap’n.â€
He turned to look once more at the man he despised. “And just what am I t’call you?â€
The whore smiled and bowed again.
“Call me Oz.â€
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
