A pirates life for me..

[Lith]

Experience was perhaps the only thing that proved a man was worthy of being captain. In essence, if you could not stay alive long enough to gain experience, you'd failed at proving your worth. It had been eighty years as captain, and many more working for the man his father had disowned. Lith had come to live as a pirate, and he found that it was quite suiting to his tastes. He was sure that his father would roll over in his grave if he knew his son had gone from a military general to Captain of a pirate ship that had created an era of blood and greed.

Even though he had gone from the drastic metamorphosis from man at arms to murderer, it would be hard to tell at first glance.

Seated at the bow of the ship, with nothing but the clear expanse of sky before him, Lith stood with the rigidness of a soldier at attention. Mind locked in thought, fingers wrapped around the chain of a compass, he contemplated. The winds had died down, the hot day leaving the air stale, and even the movement of their ship seemed sluggish. Not to mention the growing tension at the fact that the most important discovery from their last raid had been nothing more than a boy.

The slight tilt of his lip was the only indication of amusement as the Captain finally returned to reality, looking back along his ship, eyes skimming over the nefarious men that appeared hard at work. They weren't men you could trust by their words, but, Lith had come to have a...certain respect from all of them.

[Tabris]

When entering any room, most people would tend to take the normal, ‘proper’ way. Established, simple, and one risked very little. Like opening a door; a simple action very few people would even take the time to reflect on before performing. Of course, were a proper way exists, it always implies another way to do even the most mundane of simple actions. Always the opportunity for surprise. Especially for those with useful, unique skills. A contortionist by trade, Tabris had nothing but an advantage in performing the latter. Often. And if he could get any surprise out for the stoic captain Lith, it would be the most beautiful reward for his effort.

So then, as his captain’s attention was off among his ship and his men, he would never notice the dusty, dirty has of the ship crawling gypsy reaching up to grip the ledge of the ship, hoisting himself up from the unimaginable nothingness just beyond the ship’s edge. As if the very definition of a paradox, Tabris leaned over the rail, fumbling over it in a mess of limbs without hardly making a sound. Gathering himself up, the dull haired boy squirmed and slunk his way over to the captain’s desk, meters behind the helm.

It must have been in use moments before Lith stood. Markers, a compass, and old almanac, a drawing of a location, all strewn out across the table on top of a map. Climbing into the chair on his knees, feeling it shift, legs or deck it sat upon uneven, Tabris peered over the map curious as a kitten, seeing his captain’s handwritten scrawl across it. Feeling a mischievous smirk climb to his lips and lift the corners of his mouth, Tabris crouched down sideways in the chair like the cat Lith always likened him too.

Facing Lith, he watched his back as he stood, noting every movement, eyes lingering across his captain, master, lover’s frame with keen, entranced interest, waiting patiently to be noticed.