-The Mythics RP-

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-Shade- said:
Ember sidestepped away from the boarding plank and leaned against the railing of the black ship, casting a lazy gaze down at the rest of the port as Vhanya continued talking.
If I'd known she'd be this chatty, I might have turned down the deal.
"Hm. Pray tell, how did your 'unfortunately' late crew all die again?"
Ember brushed several strands of hair out of her face, slightly pushing the stifling hood back to give her a better view of the busy docks.

@RDchicken99
Click to expand...

Vhanya paused, and began slowly, “one of the crew went berserk when he found that a few of us were Mythic - slit their throats as they slept, he didn’t stop there either - until everyone else was dead. I tagged him with my tail, but before the poison claimed him he threw himself into the ocean… From what I’ve gathered he was apart of some group intent on the deaths of Mythics. Rather unsavory lot, really.”

She turned away from the railing to the sea, watching the varying vessels come to and fro. “We’d best stay on the lookout for potential crew mates. I try and ask anyone who looks capable. Usually they’ll agree to work for food and pay.“

@-Shade-
 
Gecko walked up the hill away from Pirates Cove. His mind was were it usually was, thinking about the vacationer that he once met. He shook his head at himself. He needed to find something better. Tesla would probably never return, and as it was, he had a dream that the vacationer was putting together a band of identical vacationers to be his loyal bodyguards.

Gecko sat down on a fallen log and stared down at Pirate Cove. His eyes lead away from the blocks of buildings to the still image of hundreds of sails in the port. The sight looked as though it was painted. Not a sail moved and not a human could be seen walking. He sighed at the peaceful sight as his gaze fixed itself on the open sea. What would it be like, he wondered, to be out there? The open waters where the only life you'd see is that of your own crew? There'd be no time for silly obsessions of people that you'd never see again. You'd have to run the rat lines and man the poop deck. There would be nets to climb and crows nests to watch from.

The more Gecko thought of the ships, the more he got excited. Perhaps he'd join a King's ship! No, way too classy for him. A pirate's ship. It'd suit him and suit him well. After all, he did like to fight a good fight if he got the chance. Maybe he could even chase Tesla out there- Gecko stopped himself in half thought. There would be no time to concern himself with Tesla, he reminded himself. He pulled out his rusty blade and hoped it still had some use to it. I'll find myself a ship, and I'll make a name for myself, he thought. I will not be known as someone who wastes time watching for his prey but as someone who finds his prey and takes him down before anyone can ask for names!

Gecko put his blade back in its sheath and rushed down the hill. He planned to cut off most of the town's crowd by sticking to the alleyways. By his estimation, he should reach the docks by early noon. If he was lucky, maybe he could have a ship and have set sail by this very evening!
 
(12 hours later this happens. If you only saw the drafts this stupid 800 words went through. Also don't fell obligated to read. It advanced Tay's story if anything, and added a bit to our antagonist predicament. The next snippet she'll be in the Cove, so... Ember and Vhanya pirate cool ship team them recruitmentttt?? 🤘🤘🤘)

The tavern bustled with hoards of dying livers and other brainless folk, and it smelled of rain. Water sloshed in and it rested in dirty puddles along the liquor-stained floor.
She paced across the room carrying drinks she hadn't cared to identify due to their obscure contents.
A fattened, pudgy creature hailed her with an impatient wave, and after distributing the drinks she approached him, wiping her hands on the front of her coarse dress.
“What?”
He spoke again and she leaned closer.
“Speak up, pal,”
She didn't flinch when his dry lips brushed her ear. “Time, I say, have you got the time?”
“6:32,” she answered, and the man gave a satisfactory nod, though 6:32 had passed seven hours ago. Hurrying back to the kitchen, she wiped her hands on her dress again before taking more drinks and orders from Lanec. The nights were long and dull. She didn't dress to please and she didn't play.

The time was 3:56.
Somehow she had gotten herself trapped in the bench seat, and she knew well that Lanec wouldn't want her moving around and causing the men to get flighty on him. The five remaining patrons played cards and bought drinks. She was tired, and as counting sheep worked for some, she found counting cards worked even better.

Someone touched her arm, and she recognized Lanec’s calloused fingers. They were alone and the lights had been turned down.
“The baby’s crying, mate.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting up. Her eyelids dragged. She wondered if the child had crawled into the fire, and for a while she sat in an awkward, gory fantasy.
Bah, innocence. Stupidity, more like.
She shifted out of the bench seat, looking haggard.
Lanec ran his rag over tables and collected bottles.
She slipped through the kitchen and found the toddler out of the soda-crate, crying near the exposed fire. Her eyes glanced round before she crossed the room toward the child. She checked his hands for burns, but found none.
“Lanec,” she called, lifting the child to her hip, “maybe it's hungry.”
“Then you feed it, girl.”
“What food?”
He said something, but she didn't hear him.
“Lanec,” she entered the kitchen with the child strung round her hip.
“I'll get you something. You know your poster’s up?” He grunted, pulling a slip of paper out from beneath the sink. He looked at it, then shook his head.
“Someone here turned in the information yesterday.” She said, wincing as the child's fist tugged at her dress.
“Moss, probably.”
“No, it was Gian.”
“Ah. Half off drinks didn't cut it, then.”
“They get hot,” she said. “Nervous and hot, and then they just start saying things.”
Lanec nodded and pulled a loaf of cornbread from the pantry. “See if it will eat that.”
She sat at the bar stool and unwrapped the faded packaging, rolling chunks of bread off the loaf with her fingers. “I can't take the kid.”
“Aye. Well, I can't either.” He flicked the poster towards her and she pinned it to the countertop. “You should cut your hair.”
“Think they'd kill the kid?”
“Maybe. They'd take it, I think.”
“Which is worse,” she muttered. The toddler took bread from her palm with cold, wet fingers.
Lanec set his rag down on the countertop. “Aye.” He walked around and began taking her hair out. “Leave it at a church, or something.”
She gave a rueful smile.
He let her hair down and ran his fingers through the damp brown strands. “Aye, the laws are changing, and the declaration may stay the same, but the fools who wrote it weren't half as specific as they could have been.” His words mumbled together and he grew quiet. “All the words get all twisted up, real horrible like, and they start meaning things they aren't supposed to mean.” He took a gentle fist full of hair.
“But coexisting with mythics seems behind us, no?”
“One day we did.”
“Yes, but those days seem gone.”
“It's different for you, Tay.” The dull scissor blades crunched through her hair. “You've got a fighting chance at survival here, and if you win you won't die, and if you lose you probably won't die either. You got use someway or another, till you're old I guess. Folks like me aren't like that. We die first.”
The toddler hiccuped, and she ran a hand over its soft, blonde hair, then wiped it off on her dress.
“We make bread and drink for the big guys. If they're happy, we're happy. You don't have to be like that, Tay. Be the ones being made happy, and be gracious while you're at it. If communism is where we're at, then be on top.”
She sat still for a long moment. “You live with lots of regrets?”
“Sure.” He said, and his rough fingers grazed her neck. “I'll take the kid. You get out of here.”
“Blessings, Lanec.” She stood and passed the child off to the wide man. “Do you want to know where I'm going?”
“No.”
The toddler reached for her. “I am the furthest thing from a mother.” She said to the child. “Stop lying to yourself.”
Lanec waved her out of the kitchen. “Don't
take the money bag.”
She didn't seem to hear him.
 
_-Captain BRM-_ said:
The next snippet she'll be in the Cove, so... Ember and Vhanya pirate cool ship team them recruitmentttt?? 🤘🤘🤘)
Click to expand...
(Yess, I’m excited!)
_-Captain BRM-_ said:
The tavern bustled with hoards of dying livers and other brainless folk, and it smelled of rain. Water sloshed in and it rested in dirty puddles along the liquor-stained floor.
She paced across the room carrying drinks she hadn't cared to identify due to their obscure contents.
A fattened, pudgy creature hailed her with an impatient wave, and after distributing the drinks she approached him, wiping her hands on the front of her coarse dress.
“What?”
He spoke again and she leaned closer.
“Speak up, pal,”
She didn't flinch when his dry lips brushed her ear. “Time, I say, have you got the time?”
“6:32,” she answered, and the man gave a satisfactory nod, though 6:32 had passed seven hours ago. Hurrying back to the kitchen, she wiped her hands on her dress again before taking more drinks and orders from Lanec. The nights were long and dull. She didn't dress to please and she didn't play.

The time was 3:56.
Somehow she had gotten herself trapped in the bench seat, and she knew well that Lanec wouldn't want her moving around and causing the men to get flighty on him. The five remaining patrons played cards and bought drinks. She was tired, and as counting sheep worked for some, she found counting cards worked even better.

Someone touched her arm, and she recognized Lanec’s calloused fingers. They were alone and the lights had been turned down.
“The baby’s crying, mate.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting up. Her eyelids dragged. She wondered if the child had crawled into the fire, and for a while she sat in an awkward, gory fantasy.
Bah, innocence. Stupidity, more like.
She shifted out of the bench seat, looking haggard.
Lanec ran his rag over tables and collected bottles.
She slipped through the kitchen and found the toddler out of the soda-crate, crying near the exposed fire. Her eyes glanced round before she crossed the room toward the child. She checked his hands for burns, but found none.
“Lanec,” she called, lifting the child to her hip, “maybe it's hungry.”
“Then you feed it, girl.”
“What food?”
He said something, but she didn't hear him.
“Lanec,” she entered the kitchen with the child strung round her hip.
“I'll get you something. You know your poster’s up?” He grunted, pulling a slip of paper out from beneath the sink. He looked at it, then shook his head.
“Someone here turned in the information yesterday.” She said, wincing as the child's fist tugged at her dress.
“Moss, probably.”
“No, it was Gian.”
“Ah. Half off drinks didn't cut it, then.”
“They get hot,” she said. “Nervous and hot, and then they just start saying things.”
Lanec nodded and pulled a loaf of cornbread from the pantry. “See if it will eat that.”
She sat at the bar stool and unwrapped the faded packaging, rolling chunks of bread off the loaf with her fingers. “I can't take the kid.”
“Aye. Well, I can't either.” He flicked the poster towards her and she pinned it to the countertop. “You should cut your hair.”
“Think they'd kill the kid?”
“Maybe. They'd take it, I think.”
“Which is worse,” she muttered. The toddler took bread from her palm with cold, wet fingers.
Lanec set his rag down on the countertop. “Aye.” He walked around and began taking her hair out. “Leave it at a church, or something.”
She gave a rueful smile.
He let her hair down and ran his fingers through the damp brown strands. “Aye, the laws are changing, and the declaration may stay the same, but the fools who wrote it weren't half as specific as they could have been.” His words mumbled together and he grew quiet. “All the words get all twisted up, real horrible like, and they start meaning things they aren't supposed to mean.” He took a gentle fist full of hair.
“But coexisting with mythics seems behind us, no?”
“One day we did.”
“Yes, but those days seem gone.”
“It's different for you, Tay.” The dull scissor blades crunched through her hair. “You've got a fighting chance at survival here, and if you win you won't die, and if you lose you probably won't die either. You got use someway or another, till you're old I guess. Folks like me aren't like that. We die first.”
The toddler hiccuped, and she ran a hand over its soft, blonde hair, then wiped it off on her dress.
“We make bread and drink for the big guys. If they're happy, we're happy. You don't have to be like that, Tay. Be the ones being made happy, and be gracious while you're at it. If communism is where we're at, then be on top.”
She sat still for a long moment. “You live with lots of regrets?”
“Sure.” He said, and his rough fingers grazed her neck. “I'll take the kid. You get out of here.”
“Blessings, Lanec.” She stood and passed the child off to the wide man. “Do you want to know where I'm going?”
“No.”
The toddler reached for her. “I am the furthest thing from a mother.” She said to the child. “Stop lying to yourself.”
Lanec waved her out of the kitchen. “Don't
take the money bag.”
She didn't seem to hear him.
Click to expand...
(Your dialogue is *chef’s kiss* always on point.)
 
_-Captain BRM-_ said:
(12 hours later this happens. If you only saw the drafts this stupid 800 words went through. Also don't fell obligated to read. It advanced Tay's story if anything, and added a bit to our antagonist predicament. The next snippet she'll be in the Cove, so... Ember and Vhanya pirate cool ship team them recruitmentttt?? 🤘🤘🤘)
Click to expand...
(Aw, man. My character that I *secretly* wanted to meet up with her would be avoiding the Cove like the plague. Now they'll never meet... )
_-Captain BRM-_ said:
The tavern bustled with hoards of dying livers and other brainless folk, and it smelled of rain. Water sloshed in and it rested in dirty puddles along the liquor-stained floor.
She paced across the room carrying drinks she hadn't cared to identify due to their obscure contents.
A fattened, pudgy creature hailed her with an impatient wave, and after distributing the drinks she approached him, wiping her hands on the front of her coarse dress.
“What?”
He spoke again and she leaned closer.
“Speak up, pal,”
She didn't flinch when his dry lips brushed her ear. “Time, I say, have you got the time?”
“6:32,” she answered, and the man gave a satisfactory nod, though 6:32 had passed seven hours ago. Hurrying back to the kitchen, she wiped her hands on her dress again before taking more drinks and orders from Lanec. The nights were long and dull. She didn't dress to please and she didn't play.

The time was 3:56.
Somehow she had gotten herself trapped in the bench seat, and she knew well that Lanec wouldn't want her moving around and causing the men to get flighty on him. The five remaining patrons played cards and bought drinks. She was tired, and as counting sheep worked for some, she found counting cards worked even better.

Someone touched her arm, and she recognized Lanec’s calloused fingers. They were alone and the lights had been turned down.
“The baby’s crying, mate.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting up. Her eyelids dragged. She wondered if the child had crawled into the fire, and for a while she sat in an awkward, gory fantasy.
Bah, innocence. Stupidity, more like.
She shifted out of the bench seat, looking haggard.
Lanec ran his rag over tables and collected bottles.
She slipped through the kitchen and found the toddler out of the soda-crate, crying near the exposed fire. Her eyes glanced round before she crossed the room toward the child. She checked his hands for burns, but found none.
“Lanec,” she called, lifting the child to her hip, “maybe it's hungry.”
“Then you feed it, girl.”
“What food?”
He said something, but she didn't hear him.
“Lanec,” she entered the kitchen with the child strung round her hip.
“I'll get you something. You know your poster’s up?” He grunted, pulling a slip of paper out from beneath the sink. He looked at it, then shook his head.
“Someone here turned in the information yesterday.” She said, wincing as the child's fist tugged at her dress.
“Moss, probably.”
“No, it was Gian.”
“Ah. Half off drinks didn't cut it, then.”
“They get hot,” she said. “Nervous and hot, and then they just start saying things.”
Lanec nodded and pulled a loaf of cornbread from the pantry. “See if it will eat that.”
She sat at the bar stool and unwrapped the faded packaging, rolling chunks of bread off the loaf with her fingers. “I can't take the kid.”
“Aye. Well, I can't either.” He flicked the poster towards her and she pinned it to the countertop. “You should cut your hair.”
“Think they'd kill the kid?”
“Maybe. They'd take it, I think.”
“Which is worse,” she muttered. The toddler took bread from her palm with cold, wet fingers.
Lanec set his rag down on the countertop. “Aye.” He walked around and began taking her hair out. “Leave it at a church, or something.”
She gave a rueful smile.
He let her hair down and ran his fingers through the damp brown strands. “Aye, the laws are changing, and the declaration may stay the same, but the fools who wrote it weren't half as specific as they could have been.” His words mumbled together and he grew quiet. “All the words get all twisted up, real horrible like, and they start meaning things they aren't supposed to mean.” He took a gentle fist full of hair.
“But coexisting with mythics seems behind us, no?”
“One day we did.”
“Yes, but those days seem gone.”
“It's different for you, Tay.” The dull scissor blades crunched through her hair. “You've got a fighting chance at survival here, and if you win you won't die, and if you lose you probably won't die either. You got use someway or another, till you're old I guess. Folks like me aren't like that. We die first.”
The toddler hiccuped, and she ran a hand over its soft, blonde hair, then wiped it off on her dress.
“We make bread and drink for the big guys. If they're happy, we're happy. You don't have to be like that, Tay. Be the ones being made happy, and be gracious while you're at it. If communism is where we're at, then be on top.”
She sat still for a long moment. “You live with lots of regrets?”
“Sure.” He said, and his rough fingers grazed her neck. “I'll take the kid. You get out of here.”
“Blessings, Lanec.” She stood and passed the child off to the wide man. “Do you want to know where I'm going?”
“No.”
The toddler reached for her. “I am the furthest thing from a mother.” She said to the child. “Stop lying to yourself.”
Lanec waved her out of the kitchen. “Don't
take the money bag.”
She didn't seem to hear him.
Click to expand...
(You write so good! I'm jealous! )
 
Lacy Duckwing said:
(Aw, man. My character that I *secretly* wanted to meet up with her would be avoiding the Cove like the plague. Now they'll never meet... )
Click to expand...
(*She should secretly meet up with this care character on her way to the cooovvveee because technically I never said where she wassss so she could be anyyyywhhheerrreee-)
Lacy Duckwing said:
(You write so good! I'm jealous! )
Click to expand...
Aw, that's very kind ❤️✨
 
_-Captain BRM-_ said:
(*She should secretly meet up with this care character on her way to the cooovvveee because technically I never said where she wassss so she could be anyyyywhhheerrreee-)

Aw, that's very kind ❤️✨
Click to expand...
(Give me a scene for him to cross paths with her please! It doesn't need to be a long scene, just something for me to start quoting. Or, if you like, I can start a scene. :D )
 

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