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My gallery · by **beadingbritt** » Sat May 30, 2015 2:38 pm

FINALLY caught up jeez

Can I just say I STILL (and always will) love sassy, itty bitty Scarlet?

wattpad · by **ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s** » Fri Jun 05, 2015 4:04 pm

My gallery · by **katomorakwarrior** » Sat Jun 06, 2015 5:03 am

That's probably a good idea.

wattpad · by **ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s** » Mon Jun 08, 2015 7:53 pm

one

My gallery · by **ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s** » Fri Jun 19, 2015 4:52 am

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London, England. evening of may 11, 1707.

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The city of London was bustling, even in the late evening. High class carriages with purebred horses carried the wealthy through the cobblestone streets while poverty-ridden children ran up and down the streets, either in play or with a pickpocketed watch in hand. The sky had just begun to succumb to the haze of dusk, casting the city in a smog gray light.

Scarlet hated it.

The fiery haired captain very much preferred the endless ocean and sparsely populated islands of the Caribbean, where at the very least the thieves she surrounded herself with owned up to what they were instead of hiding behind a pair of spectacles and a pompous title. Stealing from those with plenty was one thing, but conning those with little out of what they did have and still expecting respect was a different story entirely. Each time she thought of it she wonder who the real cheats were.

Vin, on the other hand, was awestruck. He’d lived on rolling hills, his family’s vast property dotted with few buildings, all of which belonging to them. He’d been into town a few times, but never anywhere quite like London, where the buildings were packed denser than the trees back home; and yet, there was not a single tree to be seen.

With the quickly fading light on their side, they were able to draw into port without hassle, the Obsidian blending with- and even occasionally dwarfed by- the local galleons. Warrants for the crew’s arrest had not yet reached England, as laws for the mainland were far different than those for the Caribbean colonies. Nevertheless, it was only certain that the majority of the population knew tales of the Obsidian’s dastardly deeds, even if most would pass it off as exaggeration. But with any luck, their disguises would fool more than a few.

Scarlet had no quarrel with heels themselves, however, the flimsy excuses of shoes she wore made walking down the rough road difficult. A continuous stream of instructions spilled from her lips, voice peaking at a yelp or growl with each stumble, though the words never ceased.

Meanwhile, Vin listened with half of his focus devoted to her, eyes hopelessly wandering. Don’t wander off. Don’t talk to anyone- God forbidding they found his accent out of place- and most important of all, do not interfere.

The building in which they were meant to be was more than obvious. Carriages neatly lined the front, taking turns becoming void of their pompous passengers. Though it had not previously been thought possible, the two foreigners suddenly felt dreadfully underdressed. That was even before realizing the looming building itself, constructed with the finest of architecture in mind and elegant pillars effortlessly supporting it’s weight. Vin stopped short of gawking though Scarlet remained uninterested. She hastily continued on her way, allowing only a short pause. Vin scrambled to follow, reminding himself to straighten his back in a dignified manner as opposed to the bristling haunch he’d cast stalking the ship, if only to keep his balance on the unsteady vessel.

“Take my arm,” Vin hissed under his breath as he caught up, keeping his gaze steadily ahead.

“Why ever would I do such a thing?” Scarlet scoffed in disgust.

“Because it is proper,” he rumbled, jaw tense. “Is the point not to blend in?”

Lips pressed into a thin line, she hastily hooked her arm through his just as the two ascended the grand staircase, where they were greeted by an armed guard at the door. Apparently something about them still did not look the part, as the guy stopped them from entering.

“Name?” He asked simply in a gruff tone.

Scarlet was able to muster up a look of offense. “Abigail Edwards,” she answered tautly, responding with the first name that came to mind. The ease of her reply caused the guard’s suspicion to falter, but not break. His narrowed eyes flickered to Vin, but Scarlet quickly continued. “And this is my… Husband,” she cleared her throat, holding back a shudder from the word’s bitter taste and gestured to Vin. “I’m afraid he lost his ability to speak years ago.” Her voice had switched from a rough growl to a refined English accent smooth as fine velvet, snagged only by the sharp hint of a sneer.

Vin abruptly halted the breath of speech he was in the middle of and snapped his jaw shut, struggling to keep annoyance clear from his expression. Instead, he simply offered the other man a rigid nod.

“Sorry,” the guard sighed casually. “Don’t recognize the name.”

Scarlet gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. I have no time for this nonsense. If this guy wouldn’t buy the act, then she would. With a swift hand, Scarlet thrust her hand into Vin’s jacket pocket and extracted a small pouch she hid in there earlier, having lacked pockets of her own. He was about to protest, but remembered that she had effectively silenced him with the last ten words she spoke.

Scarlet strode up to the guard. Despite her becoming too close for comfort, he held his ground and eyed her carefully as she drew nose-to-nose with the man. “Perhaps this is cause for persuasion,” she murmured, shoving the thing into his hand, both glancing around in order to avoid detection.

Hastile, he snatched and pocketed the pouch. “You may continue, missus Edwards,” he said with a stiff dip of his head. “Sincerest of apologies for the holdup.”

Scarlet backed away with a smug grin, Vin rushing up to her side when she continued onwards. “What was that?” He hissed in her ear.

“It’s called a bribe, love,” she responded sarcastically. “It’s what dishonest people do with money.” She paused, scanning the room before interrupting Vin’s next words. “Go over there or something,” she instructed, pointing in a wayward direction.

“But…” He began, debating whether or not to actually argue. “I was told to-”

“I can handle it,” she insisted, turning to face him and flinging a finger to the side. “Now go. If he sees us together, he will know you’re one of my men,” she snarled quietly.

She’s slipped into a habit of continuously scanning the room with an air of anticipation and Vin let out sigh. “Fine,” he agreed before slinking into the throng of well-dressed and obviously wealthy people, only a few of which were taking advantage of the gentle music played live on the humble stage.

He did his best to keep an eye on Scarlet in the crowd while simultaneously remaining inconspicuous, which proved difficult as tall men and women with taller hair blocked his view of the moderately short captain.

His focus was disrupted, however, when minor impact against his arm made him stumble slightly. Glancing over, he was met by stunning blue eyes contrasted by the pitch black hair of a square-jawed man shorter than himself.

“Oh- my apologies,” the man said in a smooth tone, touching a hand to Vin’s shoulder. “You must pardon my lack of coordination- blame it on the refreshments,” he said with a sly grin, holding up his glass of champagne.

Though the man spoke with dignity, a faint Scottish accent coated his tongue. “It is not a problem,” Vin responded with a cordial smile though he was anxious to return his focus to tracking the captain. However, his own accent seemed to pique the interest of the other man.

The Scotsman eyed him carefully. “Forgive me, but I do not believe I have seen you at such an event before.”

“Indeed you would not have,” Vin answered coolly, lending the man his attention upon realizing there was no casual escape from small talk. Axiety gripped him for a brief moment with the anticipation of knowing he’d have to lie through his teeth for however long this man decided to keep up the conversation.

“Ah, so you have recently moved then?” The dark-haired man inquired.

Vin gave a small nod. “From Italy,” he answered, for trying to pass off his own way of words as that from any other country would have bothered him endlessly. Besides, he did not know how learned this man was. For all Vin knew, he already recognized the origin.

“Ah yes, beautiful country- or so I have heard,” the man responded with a gruff laugh, not picking up on the hint in the blonde’s clipped tone. “Oh, God above where are my manners,” he said suddenly before holding out a hand. “Alistair MacDuncan.”

Tight-lipped, Vin forced a smile and shook the man’s hand, though did not return the greeting. This seemed to take Alistair off guard, but he hadn’t time to dwell on it as he turned his head sharply when something on the far side of the room caught his eye. Or perhaps he was merely searching for a way out of the conversation.

Cold metal pressing against his skin, Vin looked down and caught sight of a brilliant stone on Alistair’s finger, secured with a silver band. The depths of the gem swirled elegantly in a wide array of colors ranging from azure to indigo. Vin had no idea such shades of blue existed. Then, the distraction was quickly removed from his grip.

“Now if you would excuse me,” Alistair said quickly with a slight dip of his head before walking off.

Vin had all but cringed as the man walked away. It was against all he knew to be any less than inviting at social events, but what little patience he had under such pressure was precious and could not afford to be wasted on such trivial accounts.

He had just taken his eyes from the stranger before immediately returning his glance, noticing how the blue-eyed man nearly shoved past an older woman with a shockingly white face to get to a bundle of red curls behind her.

Vin took a few impulsive steps closer before stopping short. He watched him initiate conversation with Scarlet from a distance, curiosity steadily growing. She seemed to be acting nice enough, which was concerning in itself, but there was also the occasional flicker of something he did not recognize. Her eyes continued to flicker down, and though she would quickly regain her composure, he knew exactly why. After all, what was the reason they were there in the first place? The hallows; the ring.

He spent the next few minutes wandering in an unintentional circle around the two, prowling like a panther. At first he worried about being blatantly obvious, but both of them seemed far too engrossed in whatever they spoke about to pay any attention whatsoever to their immediate surroundings or otherwise.

Then an interesting development occurred as Alistair offered Scarlet her arm and she gladly took it, glancing over her shoulder and quickly scanning the crowd before the two disappeared down the hall. Now, she had not noticed Vin, but it was apparent to him that she’d been seeking him out. Taking it has a hint, he swiftly wove his way through the crowd and followed down the same hall.

After a turn or two the population of partygoers decreased dramatically, as did the lighting, emitted from nothing but oil sconces. The arched ceilings were impossibly high, and Vin had to take extra caution in silencing his steps as he followed those that echoed before him. After a few corners, he stopped dead with the noise.

Vin began ever so carefully to pick his way towards the wall, pausing when he caught the hushed rumble of voices. Sliding along the dreadfully patterned wallpaper, he peeked around the corner only to be greeted by the all too flattering sight of the two tangled in a heated liplock, Scarlet’s back pressed forcefully against the wall despite the resistance of her wide skirt. Hot embarrassment coursed through Vin, hastily whipping back around wide-eyed and pressing his own back to the wall. Perhaps she had not meant for him to follow after all.

Just then, a yelp left the captain, the sort of yelp that made the blonde freeze rather than flee.

“You sly fox,” came the low rumble of Alistair’s voice, his accent suddenly overpowering just as his grip on Scarlet’s wrist as he met her narrowed eyes. “And here I thought you missed me.”

In the height of distraction, Scarlet had attempted to thread her fingers through his and slip the ring into her own hand, but alas the man was not so easily fooled. Tight-lipped, Scarlet raised her free hand to push him away, but rather he snagged that one as well and pinned both of her arms to the wall behind her despite her struggles.

“Let go of me,” she demanded through clenched teeth, steadily meeting his glare with that of her own. Had her extravagant dress not prevented her from thrashing her lower half, she would have done just that. Unfortunately, this was not the case.

A cold laugh escaped him, his hot breath stirring the loose curls around her face and causing her to sharply turn her head. “Now why would I want to do that?” He asked threateningly. “Surely you cannot still be holding a grudge- how long has it been, six, seven years?”

“Four,” she spat viciously, fury flooding her chest. She continued to struggle, but his grasp simply would not falter. She could level an armada with iron and steel, but her petite figure was worth nothing against the average man, let alone a seasoned privateer.

He groaned under his breath. “Who’s counting?” With that, he crushed his lips to hers once again.

Unable to break away, Scarlet thrashed her arm until she managed to slip her hand free, taking not one moment to hesitate in lashing out and scoring his face with her sharp nails.

Staggering backwards with a cry of surprise before his icy glare burned with an intensity not previously present. Chest heaving, Scarlet stood rigid against the wall, attempting to measure up his thought process. Then, in a flash, she bent to gather up her dress in a struggle to reach the dagger strapped to her leg, but it was a futile effort as she quickly found herself pinned to the wall by her throat, pressure steadily increasing. She instinctively reached up to grasp his arm but dared not fight back in her vulnerable position. Still, she kept her expression composed.

“You should not have done that,” Alistair snarled. “Then again,” he continued, “attempting to steal a hallow can only mean you think you can get to the rest. Tell me, Scarlet,” he spat, stepping forward. “What have you got?”

“I would not dare tell the likes of you,” Scarlet rasped, looking down her nose at him in an attempt to shrink into the solid wall behind her.

With a howl of anger, his grasp drew frighteningly tight around her neck and with more power than she expected him to muster, Alistair brought her forward only to slam her head against the wall and toss the dizzied woman onto the marble stairs like a ragdoll, where she’d struck a corner face first and went immediately limp.

As it was, Vin could no longer stand by. Nevermind that he’d witnessed the redhead murder a man in cold blood and suffered himself at the hand of her threats, in that moment he did not see a homicidal pyrate, but rather a woman that had just been overpowered by a vengeful man.

And that simply would not do.

As Alistair lumbered towards Scarlet’s unconscious figure, face shrouded by loose curls, Vin stealthily swiped a. unlit handle holder off an end table and steadily approached Alistair from behind, determination shadowing his features. However, just as he pulled his arm back to swing, the dark-haired man whipped around and grabbed his forearm with a strength Vin had very much not expected. Caught off guard, the candle holder fell from his grasp and clattered metallically to the floor.

Alistair released a cynical laugh and used his free hand to brush black locks out of his face. “Did you not think I would expect you to come to her rescue?” He mocked, obviously disappointed in the lack of challenge the thinner, younger man presented.

Without realizing anything other than he was severely ticked off by this guy’s high-and-mighty attitude, Vin turned twisted his arm and grasped Alistair’s in an iron grip, pulling him towards him with a forceful jerk and driving a knee into the Scotsman’s stomach.

Adrenaline flooded Vin’s bloodstream, causing his hands to shake as he watched Alistair steadily recover from the impact. What now? He didn’t know. He didn’t even know what just happened. He’d never been in a fight in his li-

Contemplating cut short, a loud crack rang through the air as Alistair’s meaty knuckles cut into Vin’s cheekbone, sending him reeling to the side. The blonde felt blood drip down his face before recovering from the shock. No sooner had he righted himself than another fist was hurtling in his direction. Vin hastily ducked, wide-eyed as Alistair threw a side-swing in his direction, impulsively grabbing his arm as it went by and twisting it behind the privateer’s back before kicking him to the ground. Thinking quick, Vin bent to snag the candle holder he’d dropped earlier, silencing Alistair’s groan as he hesitantly threw the elegant mold at the back of his head.

Chest heaving and hair beginning to escape its bonds despite the unreasonable hours of preening, Vin kept his dark gaze locked on the figure as he quickly ran through the events in his head. Or more specifically, what on earth had just happened? Had he really just floored a guy? He looked down at his hands, blood smeared on one from examining that which now streamed down his neck.

He was jerked from his thoughts at the sound of a weak moan behind him, turning to see Scarlet attempting to push herself up on the stairs she was strewn upon. Rushing to her side, he heaved her to her feet by her forearm, only to catch the captain as she stumbled. Her shoulder between his hands, he realized that what he’d recently mistaken for her crimson hair was in fact a startling amount of blood gushing from her lips and head, her eyes fluttering to keep the stream from blinding her.

“We have to get out of here,” he voiced, mostly to himself. Judging by her delayed response consisting of a mere turn of her head, Vin figured it was safe to assume that she’d been concussed by the marble steps.

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure the offender was still limp, Vin slipped an arm around Scarlet’s waist and hauled her further down the corridor as opposed to back to the party where attention would undoubtedly be drawn. He was less worried about passers by on the street which he expected to either be vacant with the fall of night or alive with it’s own chaos.

At the end of the hall, there stood an arched window with a sill some three feet from the ground. Vin reached forward with one arm and pressed a hand to the window, attempting to shove it open. However, the iron hinges did not even budge. With growing frustration, he continued to repeatedly drive the heel of his hand into the glass until he used enough force that it went right through with a deafening crash from which he recoiled with a wince. Shards of colorful glass embedded themselves in the flesh of his left hand and arm. “Perfetto,” he cursed sarcastically, gritting his teeth as now the window somehow squeaked open with ease.

Turning towards Scarlet, he held her steady with his non-shredded hand. “Stand here,” he instructed flatly. Eyes glazed over, she merely nodded and began to sway almost immediately, blood staining the front of her bodice.

Leaping onto the edge and back down with ease, Vin tried his best to ignore the searing pain consuming his limb and offered the other to Scarlet, half pulling and half lifting her out of the window as well as he could manage, all the while glancing behind her with an air of paranoia.

Halfway out, Scarlet gave way and fell forward into his chest, nearly knocking him backwards. She was conscious, but barely. The color drained from her face at a dangerous pace and every now and then an awful gurgle would escape her split lips.

Vin would have very much preferred to sling her over his shoulder, but he got enough strange looks as it was dragging her as casually as possible towards the docks, which, thankfully, were not far.

The second they were in sight of the russet-sailed ship, whatever man was on guard ran frantic up the ramp and moments later the flimsy board tremored with the heavy steps of the rushed first mate.

“What happened?” Thorton insisted, his voice a sharp bark that Vin had not thought him capable of as he took Scarlet’s other arm and doubled the speed of the process, her head hanging limply between her shoulders at that point.

“He threw her down on the stairs,” Vin answered breathlessly, stuttering to find more words but it quickly became clear that Thorton did not need to hear more.

Together, they dragged her below deck with countless pairs of eyes following, Vin beginning to feel a bit lightheaded himself. Thorton directed him to the room in which three men had been playing cards a few days before, but now it was empty save for an aged man in the corner who immediately stood upon their arrival.

Working quickly, the white-haired man cleared the table, ignoring whatever clattered to the ground. He gestured for them to lay her there and they did so. “What happened?” He demanded, though his hands and eyes were quick to examine the woman.

“Uh- she hit the stairs,” Vin answered before letting out a heavy breath, disoriented.

The elderly man paused to look up and eye him with his blue gaze. “You oughta sit down,” he instructed in an Irish twang, sizing up the damage in Vin’s arm based on the rips in his sleeve.

Doing as he was told without hesitation, Vin pulled out a chair and sat heavily before removing his jacket with the utmost caution and proceeding to pluck the larger pieces of bloodied glass from his forearm, which was without a doubt the most unpleasant experience than any event in his life thus far.

The older man brushed the hair away from Scarlet’s face and unlaced the front of her corset, allowing whatever breaths she had left to flow freer. He took a rag and applied pressure to her head before turning it so the blood escaping her mouth ran onto the table rather than into her lungs. Carefully dabbing at her lips, he discovered they were completely split and her second upper tooth had been knocked clear out. Discovering the source of the problem, he stopped it with gauze.

“I knew this would happen,” Thorton drolled, pacing along the table and humming mostly to himself. “I should not have let her- I knew he would-”

“Finnegan!” The call was accompanied by clumsy, scurrying steps descending the stairs, making the heads of all three men turn. “What happened?” Benny demanded, skidding to a stop and looking at the captain wide-eyed. “Woah.”

“Be useful and fetch me needle, would ya?” Finnegan asked, ignoring the boy’s dumbstruck state.

Benny nodded hesitantly and began to rush to the back before pausing beside Thorton. “Maybe now’s a good time to leave,” he suggested.

Thorton let his arms drop to his eyes and met the boy’s gaze for a moment before figuring he was right. With a last glance at Scarlet and a quick glare at Vin, he quickly switched from a worried wreck to a more dignified figure and stalked up the stairs to get the ship going.

Benny proceeded to retrieve Finnegan’s curved needle and gut thread. It took the man’s learned hands all but five minutes to stitch up Scarlet’s lips before he left the bandaging of her head to Benny.

“Alright, your turn,” Finnegan muttered, remarkably calm about the situation as he sauntered lazily towards Vin before pulling up a chair in front of him.

Vin paused and stared wide-eyed at the daunting needle between his fingers, blanching despite the collection of crimson glass shards that had been carefully placed on the corner of the table on which Scarlet lay.

“What’s wrong, lad?” Finnegan asked with the faintest air of amusement. “Never gotten yerself into trouble?”

“Not unless you count the time I took a horse without permission for all but an hour,” he answered in a high voice.

“Oi, lad,” he said with a shake of his head, lifting an arm in the air to gesture to Benny, who seemed to understand just what it meant and scurried off. “How the hell did you end up here?”

The question sounded more degrading and less serious and once again Vin was left to ask it himself.

Just then, an overwhelming sting crept it’s way up Vin’s arm as Benny poured a generous flow of rum onto it, causing the man to jump and let out a pathetic yelp. With a smirk of amusement, Benny tipped it up and thrust it against Vin’s chest. “I’d drink the rest if I were ye,” he mused, raising an eyebrow at the bloodstained arm, revealed by a torn and rolled up tunic sleeve.

Hesitant by the looks of the grungy glass in his hand, Vin only dared bring the bottle to his lips after prompted by a mere needle prick; Finnegan’s way of encouragement.

Vin was immediately sent into a hacking cough as the searing liquid slithered down his throat like hot candle wax, his face twisting in discomfort. Finnegan and Benny simply stared before the latter spoke flatly.

“Yer not gonna last very long at all, mate.”

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My gallery · by **katomorakwarrior** » Fri Jun 19, 2015 2:57 pm

Ha!
And shame on you, Vin. You went all that way and did the predictably unthinkable: tut tut.
Thank you very much for the new chapter. Keep up the good work and wonderful pictures.

wattpad · by **ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s** » Fri Jun 19, 2015 3:00 pm

Ahh thank you!
I could have done better on the last pic but it was 2am and I was like lol nope
I'm going to try to do at least one sketch for every chapter from now on though
get a good... mind picture goin, ya know? yep

shame on Vin for acting out of misplaced chivalry and forgetting the purpose of them being there entirely

A03 · by **Woogwoo Wren** » Fri Jun 19, 2015 3:20 pm

Na, I love the picture.
Vin's face tho.

wattpad · by **ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s** » Fri Jun 19, 2015 3:57 pm

wattpad · by **ʞ ɔ ǝ ɹ ʍ d ı ʞ s** » Mon Jun 22, 2015 4:42 pm

the second interlude!

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Do you like this draft better than the first one so far?

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man up, man

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