[[⚔]] molotov & alphaess

[alphanea]

a tale of the high seas | one on one roleplay for molotov and alphaess | no posting

[winx]

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jacquelyn 'silverclaw' grey
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female.
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bisexual.
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twenty-eight.
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captain of she-devil.
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natural black, shoulder
length, wavy hair with
silver beads on small
strands of hair.
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left arm is replaced with
a silver talon.
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silver-ish blue-grey eyes.
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slender build.
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suntanned skin.
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5'10" feet tall.
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a few pirate tattoos on
body and arm.
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always covers her face
and arm at ports.
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accompanied by Phoenix;
a purple-blue parrot.
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left-handed.
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rarely uses her first name,
known as 'jack' to friends,
'silverclaw' to enemies.
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flaws:
cannot swim,
deeply traumatized/ptsd
due to kraken attack.
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strengths:
the prosthetic claw acts
as a weapon,
great swordsmanship,
cunning.
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ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｏｕｔｓｉｄｅ
xxxThe captain of the She-devil is known as 'Silverclaw' to most, due to the silvery prosthetic that replaces her left arm with sharpened metal talons in place of fingers. She could be considered as an alluring young woman, pretty young to be a pirate captain, yet to reach her thirties, with raven black hair that curls due to humid climate, a sunkissed skin with feint freckles and two 'beauty marks' beneath her stormy silver eyes. The very same eyes that the grand and prestigous Grey family passed down from one generation to another.
xxxThe clothing she wears is nothing fancy; a black pair of pants, a white, ruffled shirt, a pair of dark brown leather boots and a thick, dark navy colored, long coat along with a large dark navy hat with feathers sticking on top, black leather gloves, silver rings and hair beads and oftentimes a choker. Her weapon of choice is a cutlass with a silver and black handle as well as two flintlock pistols.
xxxJacquelyn's prosthetic arm starts just beneath her left shoulder. It is made from an unknown metal with inscriptions of an ancient language and always appear to be unnaturally cold to the touch. Though not of flesh and bone, Jacquelyn is able to move it freely and without the limitations of an ordinary prosthetic - almost as if it could do anything a normal arm could - and more. Having no nerves and being seemingly indestructible, it is capable of withstanding direct contact with fire or block incoming blows like a shield. Also unlike a normal prosthetic, Jacquelyn is unable to remove it.

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ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｉｎｓｉｄｅ
P e r s o n a l i t y
xxxJacquelyn was always on the line between sanity and insanity, unpredictable and sometimes downright mentally unstable - but ever since her 'accident' she has been pushed well over the edge. Despite that, she considers herself one of the rare pirates; one with brains. Been born to a wealthy family such as hers, she was tutored at a young age, thus later on becoming a very literate pirate. As a chronic liar she may be (a professional hazard) Jacquelyn is not completely ruthless. If one were ever be able to get to know her, they would learn that she -often- keeps her promises and that she is but an adventurous soul that has walled herself off to avoid being hurt. Always the one coming up with the plans, the clever pirate never acts without thinking - though these plans mostly put her own survival at the utmost importance. Should disaster befall her, Jacquelyn always keeps a calm head, only displaying her stubborn side once in a while. She have a strong bond with her ship, the She-Devil. With an intense fear and hatred towards the creature that took her arm, her revenge upon the beast and those that caused the accident always seem to be within her mind like a troublesome cloud. Very slow to show affection and interest in others as she is secretly afraid of getting attached to someone - and losing them. A thing Jacquelyn loves is to show-off and increase her infamy as a pirate captain. Her stories always have a bit of extra flair added to them and boy does she love telling them.

F e a r s
xxxDeep water, drowning and the beasts that lurk below. Getting connected to someone emotionally.

D i s l i k e s
xxxMasculine men, rival pirates, hangovers.

L i k e s
xxxTelling about her achievements and boasting, watching fire burn, witchcraft, a pretty lass or lad to keep her company when docked.

H i s t o r y
xxxJacquelyn says that she have been at the seas since her childhood, at the age of ten, she had disguised herself as a cabin boy named 'Jack', jumping ship should her identity get discovered. Years later did she find a permanent home aboard 'the Phoenix'. Her good fortune had lasted her a few years, in the meantime she has managed to be promoted to first mate. But on that faithful day they never knew what hit them, and when they did - it was much too late. Chased into dangerous waters by another crew, they found themselves in the prowling grounds of the Kraken. The attack ended up killing half the crew and the captain, her mentor as well as claiming the ship. Silverclaw lost much that day - but the next, when she woke up in a mysterious witch's hut, she gained her namesake. Years later, she came in possession of her own ship 'the She-Devil' and began roaming the seas as pirate captain.

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[molotov]

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first name. lenore (meaning “merciful”) xxx height. five foot seven
family name. sauveterre (meaning “safe land”) xxx eyes. doe-eyed, blue
gender. female xxx skin. pale skin, soft features, freckles
age. 26 years old xxx hair. wavy, strawberry blonde hair, often tied back
strengths. empathetic, furtive, excellent swimmer, skilled negotiator.
weaknesses. faints at the sight of blood, zero upper body strength
little to no street-smarts, trusts easily, curse can be inconvenient.

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the lady of the drowning isles, lenore has lived most of her life behind the
sturdy walls of house sauveterre. descendants of great generals and sea
captains who served the king in times of war, sauveterre has always prided
itself on strength and fierce loyalty—or so they would like most to believe.
though noble in disposition, the sauveterre family isn’t without it’s demons.
their unsavory practices to climb up the political latter have come back to
haunt them in more ways than one. though perhaps. the biggest indicator
would be that of the terrible curse placed on their bloodline. so desperate
to spread their power, and yet restrained by a vile spell that could ruin
them in a heartbeat. bound to reside near sea, and cursed to transform
into a sea monster whenever they are submerged in its waters. such a
burden is bound to end in disaster when the wrong person finds out.

lenore is a woman of many eccentricities; upon first glance, she gives off a
rather gentle, regal disposition. well-mannered and altogether living up to
her requirements of elegance and beauty, without stepping on the toes of
her father and older brothers. awaiting the simple purpose of a proper
suitor to wed, and strengthen the political alliances established by her
family. she isn’t particularly interested in the path paved for her, but she
knows what must be done to keep her family in power. look a little deeper,
and you’ll find she has a fiery spirit, with a sharp tongue, and a mischievous
glint in her eye that could combat that of an imp. she is not easily swayed,
and won’t tolerate being mistreated by anyone. despite her propensity
towards being naive and fairly oblivious to the lives of others, she has
broadened her knowledge in books, carrying a particular fondness for nature,
and an intrigue to the beasties that lie beneath the waters.

lenore has a sensitive nature, holding the strong desire
to understand and connect with those around her. she
has an observant eye, and the goal learn all she can about
a world she’s been deprived of since birth.
lenore isn’t as bothered by her curse as some may think,
though she knows to keep it hidden. to lenore, the only
hindrance of her curse is the trouble it’s bound to bring.
a sea serpent with a mane of tentacles, and teeth sharp
as daggers is certainly not the most pleasing sight.

[alphanea]

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────────────────── [[ ｊａｃｑｕｅｌｙｎ x ｇｒｅｙ ]] ──────────────────

xxxx Like every interesting story, this one had its beginnings set at a dingy tavern at some unmarked settlement far away from the government's ever watchful eye. At a not-very-well lit corner of the said tavern was our heroine - which to say, wasn't all that much of the heroic breed but rather an individual that just happened to find herself in rather interesting situations. Such as this one, where she was silently sipping on her watered down ale away at one corner, much far away passersby, waiting for a rather mysterious employer-to-be. Their correspondence had been brief, as it often was with such shady dealings - she couldn't really post openings in her schedule to the public or advertise her services all that much thanks to the ever roaming threat of lawmen catching wind of her activities in their region and dogging her relentlessly until she had an appointment with the hangman. However, this one had an extra layer of mystery - someone really didn't want their good name tainted by dealings with a filthy pirate.
xxxxWhatever the reason, the man of honor arrived before there could be more speculations to their identity could be made: a cloaked figure, veiled in shadows like a thief in the night, their garments obviously of higher quality but bearing no hints as to where they may hail from. They paused by the open doors of the cheap countryside tavern and seemingly scanned the space until they found the individual that fit their search. With unsteady steps they arrived by the table where the pirate was seated, crossed legs thrown out on a chair opposite from hers, in her usual landside outfit: a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat with an electric blue plumage, just for an added pzazz. While the hat aided in keeping her face to a degree of anonymity, the long sleeved coat worked similarly for much obvious reasons. As the figure took a seat, the pirate did anything but flinch as they stealthily pushed across the table a rugged peace of paper, a poster, one that she didn't bother to give a second look whatsoever - it bore an ink caricature with a great resemblance to one and only Silverclaw, a mantle that she boastfully claimed oh so long ago.
xxxx"Is it... for the job?" the stranger asked in a tone that implied he was out of breath, perhaps due to adrenaline or perhaps he was very out of shape underneath the cloak he wore. Silverclaw shifted from her east, leaned forward and put her arms over the table lazily, a flash of silver appeared beneath her sleeve, mechanical fingers clanked against the polished wooden surface of the table as if a response to undeniably confirm her identity. The man dove into a satchel that was barely visible under the cloth layer he wore, only to produce an envelope, waxed shut. The paper he put on the table and pushed in Silverclaw's direction, the pirate took her sweet time before reaching out and ripping it it with a single metal digit, similar to how one would use a letter opener. A handwritten note as well as a very small pendant slipped onto the table, after taking a short look at the note, the pirate focused on the pendant, a simple yet elegant, silvery thing, opened by a small click.
xxxx Inside was a small drawing of a woman - an innocent-looking, rather elegant woman. Poor thing, she thought with a frown crossing her face, not because of her impending fate, but rather the fact that she was born imprisoned in a golden cage, probably never to be set free of it, only to be traded like a crate of trade goods for some stupid allegiance. Or at least, she would be, if someone didn't want her out of the picture. I guess in a way, I'm doing her a favour. "And my... fee?" she asked after prying her steely gaze from the picture. A sack of clinking coins were soon handed over, she weighted it with her hand and frowned. "This is just the 'alf of it." A bitter voice grumbled as she pocketed the amount regardless.
xxxx "You'll get your remaining payment when the job is done, pirate," the stranger spoke with endless contempt - he surely must be someone of a good linage, having never worked an honest day's work, taught to hate her kind. "Remember, she's to stay alive until my say so." And with that, he left the tavern, leaving the pirate to draw a long sigh. It's almost dawn. Tomorrow is going to be a long day and i'm not looking forward to get reacquainted with silk and laces... alas, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

[molotov]

xxxx「 𓆙 」「 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐄 」

it was a special day for the lady of the drowning isles—or perhaps more accurately—a special day for her family. like a pawn in a game of chess, her single purpose would soon be fulfilled; set to be wed to a man she had never met to strengthen the ties of two families. by all accounts this should’ve been the most joyous moment of her life, and yet a feeling of melancholy lingered in the background of it all. a deep emptiness that she could not explain. even before arrival lenore had a pit in her stomach, not helped by a corset that prevented her from breathing properly, and hair braided so tight her head hurt. the gathering comprised of the two families, sauveterre and beaufort alike accompanied by their handmaidens and servants. some of which looked worse for wear. she couldn’t help but find quiet amusement in seeing big burly men in powdered wigs. their faces world weary and much too rough to play the part. nevertheless she could only assume house beaufort wasn’t as concerned with the aesthetic of their staff as her family was.

as she exchanged her greetings with grace and poise, she found herself dulled by it all. her smile did not reach her eyes, nor did her voice carry the energy it should have. using her glass of wine as guidance to muster through the first half of the betrothal party. eventually she found herself alone amid the sea of people, lenore took a moment to observe her husband-to-be from afar. examining him carefully as he mingled with relatives and the like. easy on the eye in appearance, though the way he held himself pertained a hubris quality that was quick to subtract any charm he may have had. still, she couldn’t very well judge him quite yet - for all she knew he was kinder than his arrogant disposition might have suggested. lenore took a long sip of wine with the thought, unbeknownst to her she was being watched. “get any paler and i might mistake you for a ghost, lenore.” came her eldest brother’s voice, startling her out of her thoughts. a soft chuckle escaped her older sibling as he stopped beside her. “what’s the matter?” lenore shot him a swift glare, a small huff escaping her as she let her eyes drift elsewhere. “i don’t have the faintest idea what your talking about, ronen.” she responded coolly, swirling her glass of red wine uncomfortably. “it’s alright to be nervous.” he assured with a gentle tone, glancing over at beaufort and the group. “you’re going to be a splendid wife.” lenore softened, glancing up at ronen with a forced smile. “it’s awfully stuffy in here is all, wouldn’t you agree? i just need some fresh air and i’ll be as right as rain.” she reasoned. he let out a soft sigh, taking a moment to look over the gathering before he turned back to his sister. “alright, just be quick about it. you know how father gets when you go wandering off.” ronen murmured, shifting his feet as he aimlessly searched for the next person to mingle with. “i’ll be back before you know it.” she assured, the hint of a mischievous smirk creeping across her delicate features as she scampered off.

lenore slipped out into the balcony, her movements noiseless as she shut the door behind her. humming along to the sweet melody playing - now distant and muffled amongst the garble of pleasantries and gossip. nevertheless, she knew the tune well enough to hum to it without guidance. lenore leaned on the railing, setting her glass atop the cool stone and peering out at the glittering water. the sun dipped below the horizon like a sinking ship, outlining the line where the sky met the sea in magnificent golds and oranges. the scent of the ocean traced the cold breeze as it swept through her hair. this isn’t so bad, at least i can look forward to the view. she reasoned to herself, a frown tracing her lips with the thought. “lady beaufort, lenore beaufort, lord beaufort’s wife.” she tested the name on her tongue. it had a not-so-pleasant ring to it. she couldn’t tell if it was because she truly disliked the name, or perhaps what it represented for her future. “i suppose it could be worse.” she chuckled to herself, a hint of sadness tracing her voice as the noble raised her glass to the sky “to my last night of freedom.” lenore toasted to herself in jest. perhaps even freedom was a little far fetched, had she ever truly had any to begin with? she had barely left the walls of her home up until this point. so close to the sea yet incapable of getting any nearer to its waters. “if only...” she muttered under her breath, staring out at the horizon. the noble took a generous swig, finishing off the remnants of the dark red liquid and placing the empty glass back atop the railing. she leaned back on the stone, turning her gaze to the sky. finding any excuse she could to avoid the fate that would inevitably befall her. she made a game out of spotting the first star to reveal itself with the coming night, perhaps then she would find it in herself to rejoin the gathering and formally meet her suitor.

[alphanea]

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────────────────── [[ ｊａｃｑｕｅｌｙｎ x ｇｒｅｙ ]] ──────────────────

xxxx The drowning isles - what a bleak name it was. Whoever resided in that great mansion should have had no idea what it was to face the true wrath of the ocean, mocking it from where its waves couldn't reach, its salty breath couldn't penetrate. Disregarding the charmless name, while the bourgeoisie folk were busy powdering their wigs and their faces, they were quite blind to the rats and snakes that slithered past their skirts. The guards at the gates were lenient to new faces - as there was a whole caravan of servants and butlers from the opposing family. The spectacle was much like two young roosters showing off their might with nothing but puffed up feathers. The families were in a battle of who had the most servants and who would be wearing more expensive jewellery on their necks. In a way, they were much more cutthroat than the pirate folk were, always fighting over this land and that... As hilarious and alarming as a sight it was to see some six-feet tall man that was as wide as he was tall bumble his way with a large barrel of god-knows what, all dressed up in the attire of a butler, nobody seemed to notice in all the commotion. Or the nanny with a scar across her left eye and a crooked smile, the servant with many stitches on his face and lacking in quite a few teeth and most important oddity of the evening, the handmaid that seemed to hide her hand at all cost.
xxxxAt least the latter of the bunch knew how to act within the presence of nobility a tad better - even if she hated it ever so. Hated the posh and loud men, hated the women all prepped to look pretty and never to speak unless it was to be an object to behold, hated the linen pinafore with its restrictiveness that she wore to fit in with the other serving girls. True, the apron provided just enough space to fit in a flintlock pistol and a dagger somewhere beneath its lappets, while its sleeves were just comfortably long enough to fall over her prosthetic but it was the helplessness that it symbolized disturbed Jacquelyn the most. A certain lack of say over her fate that was all too familiar and personal for her. Just a quick job. Get in, locate the girl, nab her and then drink as much booze you want to wash away the memories of this place. Too caught up on her own discomfort, she barely noticed the booming voice of one boisterous gentleman: "You, fetch me another glass, will you." The man barked out an absolute order with such authority. Like a silly little rooster. Jacquelyn sighed and refused to stop in her track, hoping to duck out of sight without any further commotion, before again the man was grumbling: "Are you deaf girl? Or do you not respond when spoken to?" To this, she halted in her tracks, considered briefly how it would feel to stick the barrel of her pistol into his face (the answer was: absolutely thrilling) and abandoned the thought as fast as it arrived, instead resorting to turn around and giving a little bow, making sure that the bonnet she wore angled just right that her face wasn't visible. Not that she was any bit concerned any of those so high and mighty noblemen would recognize a petty criminal's face.
xxxx A smirk of the wicked kind played across her features, absolutely hidden beneath her bowed face. "Oh, many apologies sire! I shall fetch you the sweetest of wines." she played out the role as best as she can and scurrying away before another comment (or complaint) could be made, the man, as expected, scoffed in response to the suddenness of her actions, complained something about the help to his peers without even waiting for her to depart from earshot. It was going to be such a joy to watch their faces as her little 'barrel of fun' went off and she wished that it were possible to fit even more gunpowder within the constrains of the barrel, which should, by now, sitting somewhere in the storerooms, ready to be set off. With a little detour into the kitchens, where many a servant laboured, she grabbed the fanciest bottle of wine that was in display and slunk back where it seemed to be the calmest, popping open the cork in a silent corner with the tip of her claw. It popped in a most pleasing way, releasing a sweet aroma. Damn, that's some good stuff. Jacquelyn was intrigued, so much so that she took a peek left and right, then broke character for just a moment, bringing the bottle's neck up and taking a hearty swig. That's real good. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she kept wandering through the halls - it didn't take too long, her hiding place wasn't so far away from the hiding place of another.
xxxx Although her back was to the balcony doors, she could tell it was her target, the pale skin, reddish blonde hair that was done very carefully - she looked like a present, all wrapped in the finest clothes and latest fashion, constrained by it, really. She approached the bride-to-be with a careful step, holding the bottle of wine up properly in her hands, once more slipping into her role of a handmaiden. "Madame," she muttered in a deceptively sweet voice, her head bowed so her stormy grey eyes were not in direct sight. "This may be a bit bold of me, but it seems that you require this more than any other this evening." she located the fancy little glass abandoned on the railing, took it carefully with her good hand and poured with the left - which might seem a little off as etiquette dictated the wine be poured with the dominant hand, usually the right. Instead Jacquelyn chose to distract the lady with a bit of a banter as she offered the glass so that she wouldn't pay too much mind to her actions as well as any possible glint of her mechanical hand.
xxxx"Your suitor seems a man of power, many a young maiden would love to bring such honor to their family." she said dryly, with a touch of pity, breaking her supposed character a bit as she was looking away onto the horizon as well and avoiding eye contact at all costs. The stars were slowly showing their faces, one of the first being the evening star, one of the brightest there was, then a few others, her trained eyes went over a few constellations that she recognized instantly.

[molotov]

xxxx「 𓆙 」「 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐄 」

the soft tune from inside lulled lenore into a sense of ease, however brief she appreciated the moment alone. she had begun to mentally prepare herself for the next round. though, before she could even make an effort to move, a voice cut through her thoughts. lenore flinched, half expecting to be in some form of trouble for daring to avoid the show of peacocking going on inside. to her surprise, the noble was instead greeted by a handmaiden of the beaufort family. one cradling the single thing she was relying upon to get her through the night. unfortunately, that desperation seemed far more apparent to everyone than she realized. lenore blinked, taken aback by the daring claim that came from the servant’s mouth. she mentally scolded herself for allowing her true feelings over the occasion to show. the noblewoman feigned a gentle smile, a sheepish chuckle escaping her. “i would’ve hoped that wasn’t so apparent.” she answered in a soft tone, somewhat jokingly. lenore took that moment to observe the handmaiden as she refilled her glass.
tanned skin implied a decent amount of time in the sun, contrasted by jet black hair, like the feathers of a raven—a bird of bad omens. though what stood out to her more was her avoidance to meet her gaze, not helped by the use of her left hand. lenore’s own eye’s curiously trailed down to her right, which was obscured under cloth. for a moment her eyes caught sight of what looked like metal catching in the suns fleeting light. though before she could examine it further, the woman once again spoke. out of etiquette she pulled her gaze away from the hidden appendage and back up to meet the woman’s face. even still, the servant’s eyes remained averted. at this rate, i suppose being disrespected is going to be the running theme of the night - by suitor and servant alike. she thought, a pang of irritation creeping up her chest. alas, the disrespect from the other woman only grew more apparent. catching the dryness in her tone, lenore shifted her stance uncomfortably. “i’m sure he’s got his hidden charms..” she reasoned half-heartedly, trying to take a graceful approach despite her rising vexation. she took the glass with a thankful nod of her head, eyes growing pensive as she took a sip.

a part of her worried that her clear discomfort had been noticed by her suitor—was that why he had yet to approach? or perhaps her appearance wasn’t to his liking. was he stalling on purpose? this arrangement was her livelihood, if things fell apart than what did that mean for her? questions buzzed in her mind like a swarm of agitated wasps, her dread only growing with the thought of something going awry. a tremble ran through her hands, and she placed the glass of wine back atop the stone railing. out of habit she took a moment to smooth down the imperfections in her gown, and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face in an effort to preen. without thinking she spoke once more. “to be frank, i don’t believe he has spared me a single glance all evening.” she admitted with a soft sigh, trying to mask the bitterness that clung to the edges of her words with humor. the combination of wine and frustration was taking it’s toll, as lenore grew more daring by the second. “i could disappear and he’d be none the wiser. i get the impression we’d make better strangers.” she mumbled under her breath, as she snuck a glance behind her shoulder to scan the doors before she swiveled back to the peaceful backdrop of sky and ocean. the continuous lack of eye contact from the servant was getting old fast. not only for it being a blatant sign of disrespect, but an indication of deception—or so she had been taught. the way of which the stranger spoke only fueled the fires of her desire to snap back—albeit, under the guise of politeness. lenore cleared her throat, letting an innocent look cross her expression as she followed the strange woman’s gaze to the stars. “then again, stumbling across a noble family so nonjudgmental is a rare breed.” she continued, eyes trailing back to the dark-haired woman’s hidden arm. “off the basis of their choice in staff, that is…” lenore added, the hint of an impish smirk playing on her lips. “their many eccentricities are hard to miss.” gazing out at the stars that began to dot the sky. the appearance of each one she gave herself another excuse not to step foot back inside. one more, maybe two or three. “-and the view speaks for itself, impressive enough to make one forget their manners - it seems.” lenore continued in a gentle tone, more so teasing than truly bothered.

[alphanea]

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────────────────── [[ ｊａｃｑｕｅｌｙｎ x ｇｒｅｙ ]] ──────────────────

xxxx It was almost entertaining for a passing moment, amusing the target of an abduction with some senseless banter. It was, of course, more of a ruse, to have a reason to be nearby the noblewoman when it all went down without it seeming weird otherwise: as a singular handmaiden sneaking around in the background, stalking her boss' bride-to-be. That simply won't do. There was still time, for the preparations, for Jean Pierre to set up the explosives, for Kat to secure their exit and for Harker to... do just whatever he does, Silverclaw mused, still mildly entertained in her own thoughts. Then she snapped back into the current reality with the response from lady Lenore. "Oh no, I wouldn't dare say that you were wearing your emotions on your sleeve - it was more of an intuition, madame." she offered another smile, watching like a hawk as the lady's hands moved in an effort to tidy herself up. As if any amount of preparation could magically make everything just right. Some things were always meant to be awkward and hard, forced marriages, telling a rowdy lot that alcohol stocks were out and of course, abductions.
xxxx Is that so? Lady, be careful what you wish for, for your wishes may come true before this night comes to an end. The captain-under-disguise listened, ever so carefully, ever so politely, there was just one thing she wouldn't do, which was to turn to look at the noble. She simply didn't want to risk it, a prolonged moment and she might just recall a wanted poster she's seen, then eventually discover their plot prematurely. "Oh, so madame noticed... the staff. That's a surprise." she muttered, the last part more to herself, her tune was flat and betrayed little emotion. "I'd dare say that you were one of the very first to comment on such oddities, with the chaos that is planning an engagement, I wouldn't be surprised a gang of ruffians managed to sneak into the party under the guise of staff or guests to steal the most valuable of treasures from the family coffers." She made a comment in passing, with a smile that she tried awfully hard to constrain. So the lady had some wit to her, but as many of her kind, chose not to directly comment on it, a sort of game she was painfully familiar with. In contrast, pirate politics were much easier than this, if two pirates disagreed, the one that shot first would come victorious out of the discussion. Her loss for not cutting to the chase, I'll be as dense as a brick wall. Avoiding the sly comment about disrespect entirely, she smiled a boastful smile, still not meeting her eye. "I suppose it is more of a refined taste. The sea air is here but the cruel mistress can never penetrate this fortress. All bark no bite and I'd personally prefer the bite than this," she grew ever so bold in her words as the time beckoned near, her eyes constantly darting across the horizon, then to the area where the storerooms were just down below. This was actually a perfect spot to give the signal, all things considered. She poured another glass, this time letting it lie where it was and not offering it to the lady, not yet, watching the dark scarlet liquid swirl and settle for a long moment or two.
xxxx Still nothing? They should have been across the courtyard waiting for her signal already. Did something happen? Did she need to get out of there? Why can't these things be easy? Just this once? "Another glass, madame? Long night ahead. It'll pass quicker." Collecting her thoughts and worries, she bottled them down and she smiled as she spoke, with another quick glance, just briefly, took in the woman's facial structure, her youthful appearance, she must have been around her age, if not a little younger, her blue eyes, a different hue from her silvery blue, her freckles that were much lighter than her own that stood out upon her much darker skin. She was such a pretty thing, but in the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't have mattered if she had a hunched back and crooked teeth or paper skin and glass bones. A job is a job. With her good right hand, she offered the glass, holding it very gently and elegantly with a cupped hand.

[molotov]

xxxx「 𓆙 」「 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐄 」

lenore was reminded that this arrangement was no more comfortable to her than any other lady in her position, in a way it was a comfort. at least she knew it wasn’t as blatant as it felt, more so a prediction on the handmaiden’s part. if only she had the ability to approach him herself, she would’ve had to wait this long—worry about every little imperfection. perhaps, he too was nervous, it would make sense—he was merely compensating by acting haughtily in front of the crowd. even that felt far-fetched, but trying to empathize with him helped her feel more of a connection. this needed to work, there were no excuses for why it should fail.
lenore tilted her head slightly, craning her neck as the stranger’s voice quieted. to say she was surprised with what was uttered next was an understatement. “ruffians?” she repeated, raising a hand over her mouth with the thought. she sheepishly glanced to the warm gathering inside, scouring the figures for any signs of the odd staff amongst them. “i… hadn’t considered such a thing.” lenore murmured, suddenly a new fear was unearthed with the notion, as if she needed anymore worries for the night. the woman’s words couldn’t help but instill a sudden wariness within her. it would make sense, the unrefined way they moved about, the scars, the frightening features. for a moment a look of fear overtook lenore’s eyes, and she nonchalantly inched closer to the taller woman.

it seemed her wording had backfired some, the woman completely disregarding her mention of manners. irksome—but not enough to speak out about it. the boastful look that overtook the stranger’s features only continued to puzzle lenore, furthered by a preference that didn’t seem befitting for such a profession. the display of pride from a lady would’ve deemed disastrous in the presence of a man, it overstepped the lines of what was expected of a woman. for that reason, the behavior stood out like a flame in darkness. in a way, she admired the gall. there was an odd charm to it—on the other hand, it continued to push the idea that something was off. regardless, the highborn did not take outward offense, instead she let out a soft chuckle. “you speak as though you are well acquainted.” lenore cast her gaze down to the waters below, voice ending on an almost wistful note. she knew very little of what lied beyond lavish decor and stone walls. if the circumstances were different maybe she would’ve inquired more into what the stranger meant. what stories lied behind that prideful glint in those stormy blue eyes? it was hard to imagine a servant doing anything of note. the disposition of this lady was far from what she expected from a lowborn meant to serve nobility. she was intrigued, but like most occasions she held her tongue.
as she offered her another glass, lenore caught a odd scent on her breath for only a moment, but it was unmistakable. it seemed as though this lady had helped herself to some of the wine. lenore froze in place a moment, though promptly shook herself out of the daze. “i suppose.” she took the cup with reluctance, the glass stopping just shy of her lips before she slowly lowered it. eyes narrowing in thought, she instead swirled it a few times in the glass, watching the crimson liquid spin with the movement. the fragrant aroma gentle on her senses. “—you don’t actually suspect something nefarious is afoot, do you?” she asked aloud, letting her eyes drift back to the raven haired servant. she was regretting her choice of proximity, and in that moment she took a steady step back from her, and another away from the railing. “your not an exclusion to what would deem peculiar. i hope you know. surely, you’re not daft enough to overlook that fact.”

[alphanea]

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xxxx It was absolutely entertaining to go back and forth with the lady, especially since Silverclaw had sensed the fear, like a prey-driven animal senses a small movement within the tall grass. Now that the fear of the unknown was planted within the highborn, it was easy to toy with her fears. Her smile could barely be contained when she was actually questioned on the possibility of some nefarious deeds in progress. This could make things easier - maybe she would play along with it, lure her somewhere 'safe', closer to the water, maybe even get her on a carriage make her willingly come to them if she could manage to convince her that the house was completely infiltrated. It's going to be too easy. Hiding her smile and putting on another thoughtful face, the knowing stormy grey eyes scoured the area for a second before her deceitful voice started to put lies together: "Well, Madame, now that you mention it, there was some talk-"
xxxx Then, boom! The stone of the mansion shook with the intensity, sending Silverclaw backwards, crashing into the railings - and thankfully not sending her tumbling over it.
xxxx But heck did her lower back hurt from the collision. "Oh for the love of -" in a sudden bout of anger she snarled, her voice booming and full of rage, a stark contrast to the more docile persona that she was assuming, knowing just as well what had happened without looking back and over the railing - the storerooms were on fire and many a men and women from the serving folk were screaming. It would take just a few minutes for the house owners to realize what happened and send their own guards to find the culprits - or even worse, the lawmen. Silverclaw was not looking forward to an encounter with the Queen's navy, not this early in the day, at least. The seasoned pirate ran the scenario in her head in the span of a second and with a quick hand, stuffed the prized bottle she had been looking after for so long into the belt underneath her serving folk dress (now, it would be such a shame to let it go to waste) and replaced it with her trusty flintlock pistol, which she had already loaded with a cast lead ball and gunpowder.
xxxx "I suppose we could hoist the colors a bit early." she muttered with grin, as she, swift as a wildcat, utilized the absolute shock of her target to close the already small gap between them and put her arm around her neck from behind her. Cold, unwelcoming metal against Lenore's dainty flesh, digits each sharpened like little knives nesting just against her warm throat. The pirate's grip was inhumanly strong on the arm that was clearly not human, so no matter how harsh her target struggled, she could not escape. Once the hostage was secure, she leaned in, putting her face directly to the right of the noblewoman's, clearly no longer caring if there was any recognition on her end. The mask was off anyways, even if it was done so a bit prematurely. "Again, I apologize, my lady, the spectacle was meant to be much better organized but you know: pirates, can't trust 'em to get it right the first time." She said in a low, throaty voice, almost a whisper but in their close proximity, it was impossible not to hear. "Now, move, if you so please. And do know that you'd probably not want to get on your captor's bad side." for the added effect, Silverclaw gave her a little poke in the side with the barrel of her pistol.
xxxx Before she managed to drag Lenore away, however, someone bewildered walked through the doors - just one of the guests. Silverclaw turned the muzzle on them and barked: "Oi! Move not a limb or lady gets it!" Her perfectly clear words now had a drawl to them as one would except a pirate to have, her eyes looked much more bewildered and a snarl was on her suntanned features - it was, of course, the scare tactics and the theatricals of being a pirate. If she could intimidate her opponent, then she didn't need to fight whatsoever. Besides, she preferred not to shoot - with just a single hand empty, it would be an impossible hassle to refill the blasted pistol, the thing was good for just the one shot and she would preserve it for the moment she'd need it the most. It was why she preferred to duel with steel rather than with flint and powder.
xxxx At least it seemed to work, the man, in a clear state of panic put his hands up and backed away from the doors, allowing Silverclaw plenty of space to drag the lady away from the balcony and into the chaos. Fighting had already started - and by that, it meant her crew were dispatching whoever in the room that could pose a threat using the element of surprise. The dress she bore did put her in a disadvantage but removing it would take too long - and her hostage was in a similar lack of mobility anyways, they couldn't go any faster than what the feminine attire would allow. It was going to be messy and slow - but damn it was she, Silverclaw, captain of the She-Devil was going to get the job done.