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Everything posted by Mousia

  1. (Wish I could feel the same. I'm too much of a homebody.) Abe rolled her eyes and shrugged. "'t on't be very interestin'." She thought to herself about the town. Now where would they go? Where would two horribly out-of-place pirates go in a little French town? She could show him the house, but she was sure Uncle Jean-Paul would object to such a thing. Still, it was where she'd found herself... Ooh! Perhaps the library? She didn't know how to read very well, but it was quiet. The pirates left her alone there. Who'd want to be in a room filled with musty books when there were brothels around? Good chance to catch a break from the young one's whining... Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Cullen's voice once more. Reaching out and grabbing the flask, she spun it in her hand and felt the amount of liquid that was left. Looking at Cullen for a second and giving him a face that said, "this is really gonna end poorly for me...", Abe tipped up the bottom and took a long swig until it was gone. The warmth spread through her throat and belly, but it really didn't even begin to fog up her thoughts. She'd been pretty well desensitized to alcohol as a child with the seafaring men giving her drink to slow her significantly, as well as being bred to a line of real Scottish folk. "Lacks th' subtlety o' m' whisky," the woman remarked nonchalantly as she place the flask back down on the table and slid it back over to Cullen.
  2. (I've stood at attention for a little while. Both modern and Civil War attention. /military brat) Abe shrugged, not really knowing how to respond. "I'unno. Dun really like t' d' much'a anythin'. 'aven't 'ad th' time t' figure 'at out." She looked around, embarrassed at the fact that she really didn't know herself as well as he seemed to. There was nothing to know about. "M' life's been borin' 's hell. I lived a few years in Scotland, 'en I 'as taken t' be a slave fer th' men 'board th' ship we man. An' I been aboard 'er fer all 'ese years. Ne'er left 'er. Couldn't. But... Ye dun figure much 'bout yerself bein' cooped up yer own mind like 'at." She looked around some more, struggling with herself. Trying not to make eye contact, she bit her lip anxiously.
  3. (Yeah. Pretty much.) The man nodded and looked between the two, lingering for what would likely be considered too long for a waiter. But his scrutinizing gaze suggested ulterior motives. Nevertheless, he did leave them alone and went off the the kitchen to prepare their foods. Abe, at Cullen's speech, shrugged. "I dunno. Marseille is a pretty small town. 'ere oughtta be someplace nice 'round here, but I'm not the sort to be with that crowd. I'm too different in the nice places. There are some shady boutiques around here if you want to see, but I really don't recommend it. These are the slums. Obviously, nearing the sea, it's dirty and bustling with people, so it's expected that it'd be this way. But farther toward the center of town there are probably some halls for fancy parties and expensive brothels and such." She shrugged again, looking around. Feeling strangely inadequate, the woman played with her hair to occupy herself.
  4. Sometimes they are, sometimes not. Socky and I are the most active people who approve right now. Walker is kind of active and DH is super swamped.
  5. "'at t' order? Aye. I come 'ere e'ry time I'm 'round, so I near always ge' th' same thin'." She shrugged and leaned back in her chair as she heard footsteps approaching. "Same fer m', t'day." She looked up at the seabeaten man with sunken eyes and salty hair placidly, face not betraying any emotion. Looking over at Cullen, she tipped her head slightly, as if asking him what he wanted and telling him rather forcefully to spit it out soon. It seemed that she didn't quite like the man. Not that she hated him or anything, but not such fond relations... That was sure. Yes, yes...quite sure. "Ah...okay, mademoiselle. Et pour vous, monsiuer?" The Frenchman looked at Cullen rather expectantly as well. What was this man of Abe's going to say? What cards was he going to play? What did he expect to gain from the girl...? (Translation: What to order? Yes. I come here every time I'm around, so I nearly always get the same thing. Same for me today. Ah...okay, miss. And for you, sir?)
  6. Abe giggled and looked away, blushing a little at his comment. "Aye. Sure 'ould 'ave if I wanted t'. 'at's fer sure." She bit her lip for a little while, but it didn't serve her very well. She laughed anyway. Laughed for what seemed to be no reason. It seemed that the giggles had just gotten into her. The woman couldn't even control it. Her stomach felt awful yet amazing; she felt light and airy yet also very, very scared. But wasn't that part of the fun? Aye! (Translation: Yes. I sure could have if I wanted to. That's for sure.) (Only have time for a dumb post. Sorry. )
  7. "Oh. Um... Th' snails 're okay, I guess. I've 'ad 'aggis since chi'hoo', so maybe I'm no' th' best t' ask..." She looked around shiftily. They were the only people in the restaurant and the chef (who also happened to be the owner) was in the back checking stock. "So...uh...'at 'as nice..." She didn't really know what to say. Abe wasn't used to being so...not blunt... "Ah, hell. I'll sto' playin' games wit ye. M' name's Abigail Dunn, I'm from Glasgow, Scotland, and I'd like t' kiss ye again 'cause the first was very nice. 'ere." (Translation: Oh. Um... The snails are okay, I guess. I've had haggis since childhood, so maybe I'm not the best to ask... So...uh...that was nice... Ah, hell. I'll stop playing games with you. My name is Abigail Dunn, I'm from Glasgow, Scotland, and I'd like to kiss you again because the first was very nice. There.)
  8. Abe nodded at the suggestion and turned away, hoping he wouldn't notice her unsteady breathing and unfortunately dilated pupils. "It's just...this way..." The woman cleared her throat several times as she cut through the crowd with the skill of someone who didn't know how to process the recent events. When she got to the door, she entered and waved at the man behind the counter. The man saw Cullen and grinned mischievously, walking over to Abe nimbly. Whispering in her ear, laughing was audible, but the words uttered were not. Suddenly, the she-pirate snorted and punched the man's arm playfully. "Ah, mademoiselle. I joke. But you and the monsiuer should sit right here and think about what you want. Personally, je voudrais une fille belle est stupide, mais..." With that thought trailing off, he left them alone. (Translation: Ah, miss. But you and the sir should sit right here and think about what you want. Personally, I would like a girl that's pretty and stupid, but...)
  9. (He. He. He. He. Did Duss tell you about Abe, TMD?) Abe nodded along, just trying not to start a fight. She'd rather not have a busted lip and black eye. Honestly...no. But then he asked her about her own home country. She shrugged briefly, not really knowing what to say. "It's green, I s'ppose. Mountains backing up into emerald valleys and cities in the middle. Lots'a cobblestone. And forests with little woodland animals. Chipmunks and wolves and pretty little foxes." She smiled, absentminded from thinking about the adorable critters native to her land. Though she'd spent a great deal of time on the ship against her will, her memories of Scotland were crisp and fond. As a carriage cut through the street and people got into close quarters with each other to fit, a rather large group of people shoved into her and she fell against her Gaelic companion in the fray. What was worse was that the cluster of people had brought them to a standstill. Jostled and startled by the sudden reducing of space between the two rivals, she felt her cheeks grow rosy with embarrassment. There was no saving herself, for there was nowhere else to go. Thump, thump, thump, her heart blared. Chest shoved up against his arm awkwardly, she was sure he could feel it clearly. Abe tried to look away, but that did almost nothing to diminish the oddity of the situation. (Just too lazy to do the accent this time around.)
  10. (Just not gonna say the name of it and stuffs.) Abe chuckled again, retreating into her shell again. Okay. No more messing up, eh? "Yer gon' le' the lady pay? Ne'ermin' 'at, I know a man... We can ea' 'ere fer free. 'ow's 'at fer a compromise?" She looked around and barely listened to his question. "Ah, don' ma'er. If ye knew, no one else 'ould. 's jus' a li'le tow'. Castiel grew u' 'ere, though." Passing through to the boutique-y area, she shook her head in disgust. "'is 'ere's the place where all them ladies like t' be. O'er 'ere also 'appens t' be where all the married men 'ate t' be. Ain't 'at funny?" Pausing a little to wave to people who'd been on the Sista Viska years before who were in the area, she bit her lip to keep from reliving the nightmares from before. God damn, she really hated those days. Those people. Why did she even bother? "So 'at 'as yer home like?" (Translation: You're going to let the lady pay? Nevermind that, I know a man... We can eat there for free. How's that for a compromise? Ah, don't matter. If you know, no one else would. It's just a little town. Castiel grew up here, though. This here's the place where all them ladies like to be. Over here also happens to be where all the married men hate to be. Ain't that funny? SO what was your home like?)
  11. (Don't worry about it.) Abe shrugged, doing her best to play it off. What do I do now? I don't know how to respond! AHHHH! She spent a fraction of a second panicking and then responded with the first thing that came to mind. "Na' why 'ould ye wan' t' do 'at?" Wrong response! No! What do I do now? Probably seem like a weirdo now. But it's too late to go back now. Argh! Still, she breathed slowly and quietly - forcing herself to, really - and looked around. There was really nothing to see yet. A few drunkards here or there, shops with one-eyed owners, stuff of that variety. But nothing a tourist would really find interesting or appealing. So she just waited for punishment, something she'd long grown accustomed to after saying something out of line, and found herself holding back the cringe of anticipation. Even though she didn't suffer from episodes often anymore, the effects of her past were still evident. (Translation: Now why would you want to do that?)
  12. Abe giggled a little, a rare-ish sight. Usually she chuckled a low chuckle. Only little girls and proper women giggled. "It's fo' Abigail. Ye don' 'av t' ta' m' out ei'er, ye know." It wasn't that she'd mind, but she really didn't know how to act. It didn't take much effort or class to be a slave - indeed, she'd never really been classy - so she was unsure of how to even conduct herself. "I'm we' off 'nough t' pay fo' m' own foo'." God. How hard did he plan on making it to leave? Ceto, Garrett, Tessa. Even Robb. They held her to the ship. Cutting ties one by one would be too painful. She'd have to yank them out in one go. Even if they didn't know her very well, she did know them. If Cullen was added to her list, she feared she wouldn't be able to leave. She'd be tied to something she barely even liked for the rest of her life. Sheesh. "We', 'is area 'ere's fo' th' seafarin' folk. Like us, see? It's go' ro' an' t'mble pubs an' shops wit' sh'dy cl'rks." (Translation: It's short for Abigail. You don't have to take me out either, you know. I'm well off enough to pay for my own food. Well, this area here's for the seafaring folk. Like us, see? It's got rough and tumble pubs and shops with shady clerks.)
  13. (Ha! Scotch!) Abe shrugged calmly, not really caring. It was relatively obviously how she didn't care for France, really. She was reclined in her gait, hands deep in her pockets as she looked around apathetically, not really caring what was around, though she could go for some food if she found something pleasing. "'av ye bee' t' Fr'nce 'fore?" she inquired, feeling herself switch from slight Italian slang into her harsh Glaswegian accent in English. "I 'av mo' 'an I 'ould 'av like'. I 'ould show ye 'roun' if ye like, bu' it's borin'. No'in like..." Her voice caught in her throat and she coughed in a sorry attempt to cover up the show of emotion and homesickness that was viewed as weakness among the crudest of her kinsmen. "No'in like home." (Translation: Have you been to France before? I have more than I would have liked. I could show you around if you like, but it's boring. Nothing like... Nothing like home.)
  14. Abe looked around and, upon seeing a semi-distraught - looking Cullen, approached the man nonchalantly. "Oy. Yer looking lost. Come along, eh?" She gestured for him to go along with her head as well. "I could answer yer questions and you could maybe be a little comic relief, eh? What'da'ye say?" She started walking anyway, setting a rather slow pace, but she was fully ready to speed up if Cullen's stride was faster, for she was sure it would be longer. (So tired.)
  15. (Skipskipskipskipskipskipskipskipskip...) As they pulled into the French port, Abe sighed and rolled her eyes. It seemed that they rarely plundered other ships anymore. It was like there was no need for her expertise any longer. She felt almost empty with the idleness. Almost. Of course, there was that Irishman to argue with, but it didn't fulfill the part of her that just wanted to be wild and take all the swag she could. Fire the cannons and sink all the ships who were in their way! She felt the need to do something but sit around and make herself busy with things she hated. What use was there in being on a pirate ship if she couldn't have fun? Some days the woman considered leaving. Others, mutiny. But she did like the captain. She and Abe were friends. It would be a shame to just...leave. To just overthrow her in cold blood. But the dreadlocked woman was just about at her limit. Just about ready to bite her thumb at all them "sailors" and find a ship with a crew that would appreciate her. (Swag is used to mean valuable items taken by thieves.)
  16. (Yes, you may write about their arrival if you wish. )
  17. Abe quickly shifted, nodding silently. Hurrying off, she looked around. Sailors dawdled mindlessly, chatting away as the group of four had previously been doing. "Oy! Get to work everyone! To France we go!" Her voice was loud, matter-of-fact, and without a trace of the playfulness it had been rich with just moments before. Looking around for a rag, she didn't find one. Instead, she stripped off her coat and used the outside to try and polish the cannons. They were already clean, but no matter... She wanted to look busy... Cap was already a little angry and that wasn't no joke. She had to get in gear; fast.
  18. ('Kay.) Abe nodded, satisfied after having won, in her eyes, a battle. Though the whole affair was fairly pointless, it seemed that it was an accomplishment that actually meant something. "Let's get started, shall we?" she said in Italian, looking at each of the other three players in turn. "We should first decide what game we're playing. Suggestions?" (Unsure of what else to do without some powerplaying and stuffs, so...shortie...)
  19. (A gay person, Duss. They weren't widely accepted back then.) "Na' I know. Th'ks, laddie. Ye've bee' a dear." Leaning over the table, she kissed him lightly on the cheek, refusing to be beaten. "C'mon, boy. Just let it stay a game. No need to get defensive." She put effort into dissolving her accent, speaking clearly enough to get every sound out, though she still did sound distinctively Scottish to the trained ear. "I love a good game, don't you?" Recoiling, she rejected the cards. "I memorized my hand anyway. There's no need to get nasty and cheat me. Besides, I'm treating you, remember?" (Translation: Now I know. Thanks, laddie. You've been a dear.)
  20. (What now? I can't brain today. I've got the dumb.) (And I literally can't read Abe's dialogue without the translation anymore. I've created a monster!) "All ye seen 's a bi' o' m' ches' bone. Ye ain't seen no'in." Abe retorted quite truthfully. Her jacket was usually buttoned rather high to steel herself from the chill. The high seas really were nippy, especially on the upper deck, where her cannons were. She only felt worse, though she'd never admit it, for Cullen himself, for he had to spend his days up in the crow's nest, touching the frozen clouds. Yet those thoughts were mere distractions. "Ye thi' 'm firtee'? I bee' do' 'ere 'fore." Making eye contact with him for a full second, she reached out towards the card. "If yer s're." Making a quick thing of snatching the card, she tried not to draw attention to it, as she'd inadvertently made her own self a little fluttery in the heartspace. ... (Translation: All you've seen is a bit of my chest bone. You haven't seen anything. You think I'm fourteen? I've been down there before. If you're sure.)
  21. "Ah, c'mon! Ye'll ne'er ge' yerse' man frien's 'at 'ay, 'ate. 's a pir'te's 'ay. Ye 'ight 's well ge' use' t' 't whi' ye ca', 'r ye may be ge'in co'fus'd fer a...ah, ye kn'w 'at 'm ta'in 'bou'..." Pausing briefly in her speech, she twisted a dreadlock about her finger absentmindedly, lost in thought for a quick moment. Snapping back into gear, so to speak, she cracked her knuckles out of habit. Sure, she was a tough, seafaring girl, but she'd go a long way to see a rival of her countrymen red in the cheeks. Besides, he was making it all too easy. "Ye ge'in' 'pset a' m'? Jus' let th't rage bui' up in ye, jus' let yerse' wan' to put m' in m' place. 'm try'n' t' he' ye 'ere, ye see. N' s'lf 'esp'ctin' man 'n th's boat's gon' le'cha g' 'long wi'ou' a goo' laugh 't th's. 'ike I sai', 's th' pir'te's 'ay. 'ay's well ge' use' t' 't. Yer n' gon' ge' mu' varie'y 'n th's shi'." (Translation: Ah, come on. You'll never get many friends that way, mate. It's a pirate's way. You might as well get used to it, or you may be getting confused for a...ah, you know what I'm talking about. Are you getting upset at me? Just let that rage build up in you, just let yourself want to put me in my place. I'm trying to help you here, you see.No self-respecting man on this boat is going to let you go along without a good laugh at this. Like I said, it's the pirate's way. May as well get used to it. You're not going to get much variety on this ship.)
  22. (Duncan's just gonna walk away, so yeah. Not enough for a post that's worthwhile.) Abe shrugged and dealt Castiel a hand absentmindedly. "It's just a riddle we got from the Italian shore people. Don't know what th' hell it means, but we're probably gonna figure it out sometime if we don't think about it that much. 's how it works, no?" She shifted her body a little and rolled her neck with a soft sigh. "Say, Cullen... 'r ye man 'nough t' loo' at' m' ca's?" she asked in English. Winking suggestively she mocked him. "I wo' 'ol 't 'gainst ye. Jus'...curious. Wan' see 'at kind'a man ye'are. 'aven't been to 'relan' in ages. Don' qui' 'member jus' how chaste ye'are." (Translation: Say, Cullen... Are you man enough to look at my cards? I won't hold it against you. Just...curious. I want to see what kind of man you are. Haven't been to Ireland in ages. Don't quite remember just how chaste you are.)
  23. 'Skunk', as he was often called, was a very, very rich man. Even though he lived in a rickety old shack that shook wildly at every breeze and was sparsely furnished. It stunk of human waste and tobacco smoke and Skunk's own body was horridly cared for, with a long poked-out eye, blackening teeth, and many infected open wounds that came from the harsh living on Lilac, he really was crazy for not even considering to move to an inner ring planet where doctors were top-notch and living was easy. And no one knew just why he was so rich. Some speculated that he was actually just the son of two extravagant business people and, after inheriting all their possessions. Some thought he was just stingy and didn't want to spend any of it. No matter the guess, he was who he was and he waited for Opportunity's crew to come along, take his cargo, and get it to the people who needed to get it. Maybe they would get sloppy and not ask to get paid this time...
  24. (Not, TMD. It's "break a leg". Wishing someone good luck is said to jinx it.) Duncan looked down and sighed. Silly children, always getting themselves near to death. It seemed they were fond of it, really. Pulling up the rope ladder steadily, he rolled his eyes was they ascended. "Oy! Robb! Should'a let someone else make the jump. You're the half-medic, remember? Can't afford to lose you, can we?" Pulling them up inch by inch, he steeled himself as they were almost at the railing. "Can you get off yourselves or are your joints stilled by the chill?" His question was a genuine one. While most thought him absent-minded, he really was rather compassionate. He'd do much for someone to call a bona fide friend, and even more to save a stranger for the sake of his conscience. Besides, the bodies would deform the sea! Abe looked up at Castiel and grinned up at him. "Wanna play?" she asked with gusto, truly enjoying herself. Ah, these Irishmen and their misplaced pride. It truly got her in a good mood to think about just how wrong them were. Yet, to an outsider, the Scots and Irish weren't so very different. They were both of Gaelic origin and both spoke a broken kind of dialect of English, yet they both knew Italian right fine. Both more adept at speaking it than would be necessary to just get by with the Italian captain and largely Italian correspondence. "I could deal you out quick, we haven't started yet."
  25. (Yeah, it's that kind. They should also get paid, but Skunk may or may not offer payment if not asked for it. )