• pirate au

@• yoo taeyang No matter how much his eyebrow twitched in annoyance after hearing every condescending nickname the pirate came up with, Tristian willed himself not to express his displeasure. Not verbally at least, since there was no controlling his emotions while dealing with a sea thief who seemed to feed off his fury, much like strong currents always leading him off course. Every word, every phrase was carefully crafted to hit a nerve within him. If he wasn't dealing with an uneducated peasant, Tristian would even consider giving him credit for this irksome skill of his.

Perhaps Tristian wasn't good at interrogation but at least he didn't fail to make some valid arguments, unlike Alistair who dared to question a matter of dignity without bothering to properly explain himself. Rolling his eyes, he averted his gaze from the voluble pirate, instead focusing on the land right before them. He had to come up with a plan so he would be ready as soon as they reached shore.

"How are you feeling Rowan? I believe I owe you an apology for my inappropriate behavior. As tempted-" He emphasized the word along with his accent, his eyes slipping momentarily towards the working pirate and back to his sibling. "-as I was, a man of my upbringing wouldn't ever willingly dishonor a woman. I must admit, I'm not particularly fond of witchcraft due to my religious beliefs but this is no excuse for my ill manners. I sincerely hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me." he stated, his tone smooth and genuine even though his mind trailed elsewhere as he caressed Rowan's hand between his. Hopefully both the pirate and his sister would fall for his act or at least be distracted by his words as they approached land. He'd have to hold both of their attention as he slowly slipped closer to Rowan, using his speech of redemption as an excuse. Close enough so he could face the pirate's direction with his peripheral vision, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch his sword and leave the boat now that both of Alistair's hands were busy.

@• hwang hyunjin Alistair snorted. "Oh, I disagree, Commodore's brat. I've seen plenty of men from your royal navy /beg/," he lilted. There was an amused smirk playing across his lips. Usually those men had been begging for their lives—a mercy Alistair never gave them. After all, a sailor spared was one more sailor that might cross his path again. He'd only let Tristian live for years because of the sheer amusement Alistair got from slipping out of his grasp at just the right moment and crushing any hopes he had of catching the pirate he so loathed.

"Dignity?" Alistair's brows furrowed as though he was confused, and then he snorted. "Don't make me laugh. As though you have any! Dignity, indeed. I've seen pirates that have more dignity than you—not that that's hard to accomplish, anyway."

It was interesting, to Alistair, that Tristian seemed to treat the entire situation as though he was not a man easy to read. Or perhaps he underestimated the pirate's ability to see through people—whatever the case, Alistair let him walk away as though he had conquered the situation. Smiling to himself, a tiny, amused thing, he swept after Tristian with the sort of self-assured grace that the sailor would never have—he carried himself with a nobleman's stuffy bearing, but Alistair was a true prince of the sea, raised on her waters and a leader by election rather than birthright.

He sprang down from the ship to the longboat, landing like a cat in the smaller vessel. Naturally, the sailor brat motioned for him to row, but Alistair only grinned at him, showing him his teeth. Ahhhh, if the little brat didn't want to be bullied and mocked, he shouldn't give the pirate such fine openings to do so. Settling himself, Alistair took hold of the oars and began to pull, rowing with the rhythm of a man practiced with labor. "Since the /dignified/ sailor is of too /delicate/ a constitution to do it himself," he began, words dripping with mockery, "of course the task would fall to the only person capable."

@• yoo taeyang "I'm afraid you've misread my intentions. It was nothing more but an act of self defense as we both understand it will do us no good to kill each other just yet. I merely presumed a pirate would be...ignorant enough to make such a foul move." Tristian explained, pausing for a moment to think of a proper word to use to describe a pirate without directly insulting him, only because he was currently the one lacking a weapon. Otherwise he most certainly wouldn't be so careful with his choice of words. He could use some courtesy around Alistair if it meant getting his precious belonging back. Now that he thought about it, he was as good as without an armor or a sword. Being in the mercy of a pirate was doing terrible things to his already deeply wounded pride that it took all of his willpower to stay calm as he listened to Alistair's belittling words. However, he wasn't planning to let the pirate think he could get away with making such absurd requests.

"A man of the royal navy does not beg." he stated as a matter of fact as soon as Alistair walked out of the cabins, acting like he just happened to be there, resting against the foremast instead of intentionally following the pirate to make himself clear. "Additionally, it's not a matter of pride as you so-" He coughed, finding it physically impossible to force the next word out of his mouth but somehow forcing himself to do so. "-kindly phrased it. It's more about dignity, if you wish." He added smoothly, as he picked off any dirt trapped beneath his fingernails, in a carefree manner to hide the fact that the pirate's filthy mouth never failed to strike a nerve within him.

"Fine then. You and your sibling may borrow my weapon for the time being." With a forced smile, he patted Alistair's back as if he was the one giving him permission to use his weapon. Ironic courtesy surely was a way for Tristian to treat the whole situation and make it seem like he was the one in charge instead. Flicking his wrist in a dismissive manner, he walked to the longboat, waiting to give a helping hand to Rowan before he climbed in it too, expecting the pirate to pull as they enjoyed the scenery. Crossing one leg over the other, he stared at the pirate and then to the oar as if to say there was no way he would indulge himself with such an unfit chore for a man of his position.

@• hwang hyunjin "You expect me to give you a weapon after you tried to stab me in the back not so long ago?" Alistair asked, his words dripping with scorn. He glanced at the sailor, amused to see that he had put his uniform back on, as though it would protect him. Or perhaps because he was ashamed of his undressed state. Either way, laughable, though Alistair didn't bother to say as much and damage his fragile pride. He shrugged, taking a step back from the side of the ship. With the sailor's sarcastic tongue and his sharp choice of words, well, Alistair felt like he was trying to be insufferable—and the pirate could be just as insufferable. A lazy grin spreading across his features, Alistair raised the sword in question and turned it between his fingers, his tone mocking when he suggested, "I'd sooner trust a woman with a weapon than you—she's probably more useful with one, anyway—but perhaps you should consider begging me to give it back."

The pirate tilted his head, his eyes trailing up and down the length of the blade, and then he looked back at the sailor. "Of course, that would require you swallowing that fatal pride of yours and you're incapable of doing /that/, aren't you."

Not waiting for an answer, Alistair his heel and stalked toward the cabin, whistling the same cheerful tune as he stopped outside the door and rapped a few times to alert Rowan to his presence. "Ro," he called through the door, "we've reached an island." He'd let her come out when she was ready, but he couldn't leave the ship without telling her. It might, however, be for the best that he left her aboard... but then, if the royal navy found the ship and tried to sink it and she was aboard... ah, there were no good options.

@• yoo taeyang Tristian chose to ignore the pirate's distasteful mocking, even though the annoying sound of his laughter didn't fail to ring in his ears, his hold tightening around the wooden surface of the wheel. There was nothing he detested more than being looked down on but currently he wasn't even armed properly to defend his honor. So he focused all of his attention to the deserted land they were heading to, already trying to come up with a plan regarding his survival there. As a gentleman he would have to care for the lady of their unlikely company too, even though his temper watching the pirate laugh at him, highly tempted him to harm her since she was an easier target. As relieving as it would initially feel to rid the earth of a pirate and a witch, long term it wouldn't satisfy him to know that he backstabbed his life nemesis instead of having a fair fight with him, man to man.

The way he helped Alistair dealing with the ship was almost automatic, his mind too busy wandering on matters regarding his self defense instead. One thought that crossed his mind was snatching back his sword and swimming to sore...which could lead to him getting attacked by sharks or even worse, the filthy pirate himself. He certainly preferred the first option. If he opted to play it safe without risking his life, there was nothing he could do than negotiate...with a pirate. A miserable plan for an even more miserable situation. How low he would have to fall in order to outlive Alistair?

"Perhaps you should consider handing me my weapon...as I suspect we will have to look for supplies soon. We shall be highly prepared for the night to come. Or perhaps you find it wiser to be the only armed person around in a company of 3, with 1 being a woman you are related by blood with? " He raised an eyebrow, trying his luck with the pirate as he helped him with the anchor, making sure his tone sounded both sarcastic and polite at the same time.

@• hwang hyunjin The laughter that bubbled out of Alistair's throat after Tristian's bold declaration—/"you won't live to see it"/—was not sarcastic or mean-spirited. The pirate's laughter was full of mirth, amused by his enemy's boldness even after he'd just been caught unarmed and threatened with his own sword while he was in his underclothes, of all things. He hopped down the stairs to the main deck, shaking his head as he went. "Next time I won't live to see it," he laughed, half to himself. "So you might hope."

"I'm aware," he called back to the sailor, not without an eyeroll—he had expressed that earlier, /before/ the sailor had the wise idea to try and stab him (when he didn't even have his sword with him, like a fool). During their conversation, the ship had drifted ever closer to the island, and now they were nearing dangerous waters—they would need to drop anchor before the ship scraped up on the bottom. He headed for the anchor to unhook it—they were fortunate in that they still had one working longboat, so when they left the ship, they wouldn't have to swim to shore and back again.

Once he determined that they were close enough to the shore but still had ample space for turning the ship when it was time for them to leave the island behind, Alistair set to work to drop the anchor, whistling a jaunty tune to himself as he worked.

It was unfortunate that they seemed to have sailed to an uninhabited island. Alistair wouldn't kill Tristian for the time being, but it would have been nice to have found a place where the pirate captain could rebuild his crew of undesirables—and it would have been rewarding to see the look of disgust on Tristian's face as he did so. He knew the sailor detested pirates, and that hatred amused Alistair. Especially now that Tristian was forced to rely on a pirate for survival.

If anything, that was one more reason to allow Tristian to live until he had worn out his usefulness, or he tried to kill Alistair again: Alistair wanted to watch him as he suffered through the indignity of having to cooperate with the pirate that he deplored the most.

Tristian had always been too fixated on capturing or killing Alistair. The obsession was kind of flattering, really.

@• yoo taeyang The fact that the majority of the naval officers disrespected him as soon as his father was gone never failed to make Tristian's blood boil in anger. It was a whole other kind of dispute dealing with backstabbing intellectuals, using fancy vocabulary and a French accent to nag him than his encounters with Alistair, a mere lowlife who faced him properly without the need to hide behind false politeness. There were even sometimes he himself wondered whether he vented out all his pent up frustration to the pirate when in fact the true source of his fury were the ones supposed to be on his side. So, knowing that even his mortal enemy was aware of his highly inconvenient quite frankly-pitiful- situation, almost had Tristian biting the insides of his cheeks off in an attempt to hold back his emotions.

As the weapon was finally away from any vital body parts, Tristian was able to exhale freely, relief washing over him in an instant. At the mention of the infamous captain he expected Alistair to show some kind of reaction, either one of astonishment or of disbelief but it seemed like he overestimated the scum's respect for his superiors. At least his lie was enough to have his nemesis retrieve. By the time Alistair wasn't facing him, Tristian rushed to put on his partly dried navy uniform, somehow gaining back most of his confidence inside his royal clothing. The expensive fabric wasn't to shield him in case of an attack but at least he wouldn't die in his undergarments. That would be a shame. As if he wasn't already humiliated enough with his own slip of attention, leading him to almost getting killed by no other than the pirate he had been hunting down for so many years.

His lips formed a thin line as he bit onto the lower one, trying to hide his annoyance at the pirate's mocking words, reminding him of his own foolish mistake. "Next time, you won't live to see it." The words left his mouth before he could think twice about it, but somehow he felt safe enough to do so, as if they were on some kind of truce until they didn't need each other to survive. But it seemed like that wouldn't be any time soon, since the island in front of them was striving with wild flora, a clear sign that it was uninhabitable.

"We're approaching land!" He announced, nevertheless, as he fixed the last buttons of his collar to the very top despite the hot climate, glad to have his royal attire back at last. Walking to the wheel, he spun it accordingly, as his eyes were fixed on their surroundings. He would have to craft a weapon soon, just so he could gain back some dominance over the sea thief. Then he could look for food, he thought, due to his stomach's protest.

@• hwang hyunjin The rapid breathing gave away Tristian's panic, though Alistair could almost admire his determination to hide it. The sailor wasn't as much of a sop as one might have expected—Alistair didn't respect him, but perhaps he could have had circumstances been different. He tilted his head, watching the sailor as he swallowed, another telltale sign of the unsettlement Alistair had caused him.

Perhaps now Tristian would be wise enough to remember that he was trapped on the sea with a man who wasn't afraid to kill him, even if it would mean dying himself.

"You?" Alistair snorted. "Somehow I don't think anyone in the navy would have respected you enough to ask /you/ to inspect it... though I suppose your father's name could have taken you far." He shrugged, as though it didn't really matter to him either way. Perhaps the brat had stolen it—wouldn't that be an interesting turn? Of course, Alistair hardly thought Tristian was /interesting/ enough to have stolen the paper. Maybe he truly had been given it to look over. Maybe not.

"Blackbeard," the pirate repeated. He raised a brow. That was an unexpected tale. He didn't quite believe it, either—but he would let Tristian think to the contrary, and watch the sailor like a hawk for any sign of treachery. Tristian would be more likely to slip up—a second time—if he thought Alistair was ignorant to his devices. Truthfully, Alistair smelled weakness. There was blood in the water now.

Still, he lowered Tristian's sword, and took a step back. "Alright, then," he said, venomous, "I'll allow you to live for now. However..." he bounced the hilt of the sword in his palm, gaze dropping to the blade for only a moment, and then he looked up and grinned at the sailor. It wasn't a friendly grin, a smile that didn't reach his eyes and was sharp as the weapon he held. "Next time you try to draw a weapon on someone, you should make sure you have a weapon to draw."

So saying, Alistair turned and stalked away, keeping Tristian's sword as he went. It was a nice weapon—he thought he might as well keep it, since the sailor was so eager to /use it/ on him. A fitting price for an attempted backstabbing, indeed.

@• yoo taeyang For a moment Tristian thought he had finally outsmarted the pirate for once, he truly believed he did. If Alistair chose to kill him he would most likely join him in the underworld soon, along with his sister who apparently was just a dead weight on both their shoulders. It wasn't like Alistair would admit defeat so easily so he was supposed to expect the pirate putting on an act to both intimidate and interrogate him. But watching his very own weapon being pointed at him, clouded Tristian's senses, his chest rising and falling repeatedly as he tried to appear calm even though he was on the verge of having such a dishonorable ending. Keeping his chin up in an almost stubborn manner he swallowed down the forming lump in his throat as he stared at the tip of his sword and then back to Alistair.

"In a shipwreck...off the coast of Spain." He stated, trying his best to sound believable, staring at the sea as if he recalled the memory of his precious possession's whereabouts. Tristian was told he wasn't particularly good in lying or negotiating but he hoped for the shake of his honor and title that he sounded convincing enough so the pirate would keep him around for a little longer. They would fight to death, that was bound to happen but at least he could buy some time for himself until he was properly armed and they faced each other fairly.

"The map..." He gulped once again, taking his time to form a believable excuse since there was no way to mask his discomfort, he could use his anxiety as an excuse for his slow explanation. "It..it seemed of high importance...since it lead to a whole crew's death...so I was requested to inspect it." There were many holes to his story, along with the fact that he was hesitant which could cause the pirate to question the honesty of his words. He had to come up with something that would intrigue Alistair enough to let him live. A reason, powerful enough, to earn the pirate's attention. Pique his interest.

"It was Queen Anne's Revenge after all...captured by Blackbeard himself." The thought struck him all of a sudden. A fellow pirate's belonging would surely be of worth, to Alistair. Taking advantage of the rumors going around about the known captain's ill fate, perhaps Alistair was amazed enough to be blinded by his convenient lie.

@• hwang hyunjin Alistair didn't get to see much of the map before the Commodore's son snatched it away and stuffed it into his mouth. For a moment, the pirate was stunned into silence—had—the Commodore's son had just /swallowed/ the map! Clearly, Tristian was desperate to keep himself alive, but there was still a glaring hole in the fabric of his scheme—his credibility. Alistair wouldn't put it past him to lie to save his own skin, certainly not to a pirate. How was Alistair supposed to know that the map was real? Accurate? And, for that matter, was he supposed to believe that Tristian had been able to memorize it in order to preserve his own life?

Unexpectedly, the pirate began to laugh. He stepped closer to the capstan, intent on moving Tristian away before he made the decision to reach for a weapon, and shook his head. "You must be a right fool," Alistair tsked. With his empty hand, he lifted Tristian's own sword—there was a moment's temptation to run Tristian through, or to toss the weapon overboard and watch it sink—but Alistair could think of a few better uses for the weapon. Not that there was anything he would value more than getting to run Tristian through, of course.

He rotated his wrist, testing the weight of the cutlass, before he pointed the tip at the sailor's bare chest. He smiled, but it was cold, and didn't reach his eyes; taking a step forward, Alistair uttered lowly, "Tell me. This supposed map to El Dorado of yours—where did you get it? Why did you memorize it?"

It was mostly an intimidation tactic, as he stepped forward, letting the tip of the sword press against Tristian's skin. Alistair's face, however, didn't give away that he was anything but dead serious, dark eyes cold as stone as he continued his line of questioning. He wanted Tristian to be afraid for his life—if anything, so if he let the sailor live, he wouldn't think to try and 'outwit' him again. Alistair hadn't survived on the sea for as long as he had by fumbling his way through being a pirate. He'd learned to remind those who would try to doublecross or mislead him that there would be consequences for their actions, if he even spared their lives. "And why shouldn't I just gut you like a fish to get it?"

Tristian moved and spoke with smug confidence, but Alistair wanted to call his bluff. Or, at the very least, he wanted the Commodore's son to remember that it wasn't any mere pirate he was dealing with. Alistair had been on the sea for most of his life. He was ruthless, and he was merciless.

"If you've lied to me," he said after a long pause, after his threat hung in the air with the blade poised to drive home, "you won't live to regret it."

@• yoo taeyang Were they under different kind of circumstances, Tristian would find himself being extremely annoyed by the victorious look on the pirate's filthy face. However his survival instinct overwhelmed him as he desperately tried to analyze the situation while appearing calm and selected at the same time. Alistair had to believe him and who would do so if he didn't show any confidence for his precious one of a kind belonging?

Thinking back to how he got to claim it, he would have never thought that a useless piece of paper would ever get to save his life. As a young sailor he was highly entertained with various tales and myths regarding the sea and precious treasures but as a naval officer he knew better than to believe a word of the stories involving overly wealthy cities and inhuman creatures. One might wonder how this map ended up in the hands of the royal navy and frankly Tristian couldn't really recall how the exact event took place. All he remembered was singing some kind of shanty with absurd lyrics -totally unfit for a man of his title and position- with an equally intoxicated harlot on top of his lap in the middle of a shady tavern, filled with sailors looking to release their frustrations after a long journey. When the rum nearly replaced the flow of his blood and he could no longer physically tend to his female company, he tried buttoning his vest only to find the parchment of paper laying on the filthy floor. Nearly tripping due to his lowered pants, he reached down to inspect it and in his nearly unconscious state decided it was wise enough to keep it, sticking it inside his breeches for future reference.

Who would have thought that such an immodest experience would offer him a chance of surviving. All he had to do was convince the pirate that he had bought this precious belonging from a reputable man which would be more believable than the truth anyways, since no one really suspected Tristian of such foul behavior. Or perhaps providing him with physical evidence could work too.

Eye lit up with hope as soon as he saw Alistair taking a step back and he slowly reached for the paper with one hand, keeping the other one raised in the air. Thankfully it was still drenched. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself he let the pirate take a brief look at it before swiftly stuffing it in his mouth and swallowing the map down with an audible gulp. At least now there was definitely no chance of Alistair outsmarting him by stealing it and then shooting him after. "I've studied every little detail, every route, every destination. All safe-" He pointed at his own head with his index finger, as a smug smirk curled his lips upwards. "-in here. Looks like I'm truly irreplaceable now." Well, it wasn't like Alistair would cut him open to retrieve it...or would he?

@• hwang hyunjin Alistair savored the moment of victory—Tristian's realization that he had reached the end of the line, that this was the end for him. He'd miscalculated, just as he'd done many times before, only this time, Alistair wasn't amused enough with their game of pursuit to allow him to live. The sailor was reduced to nothing, hope slipping out of his grasp and the despair easy to read. Alistair would have been lying if he tried to say it wasn't satisfying—that there wasn't something beautiful about seeing the fight drain out of him.

"Are those what you want your last words to be?" sneered Alistair, though he paused at the mention of a map. No, that was ridiculous. Did the Commodore's son expect him to believe that? It had to be a ploy—an attempt at saving his own . There was no way that someone who was as shoddy at being a sailor as Tristian had a map to the legendary city of gold. Shaking his head, Alistair laughed, far from kind. "Nice try," he scoffed. "You expected me to just, what, /believe/ you?"

And even if that was the case... Alistair tilted his head. It would be easy to kill Tristian and take this map he claimed to have, if he had it. Was this supposed to encourage the pirate to keep him alive, or kill him faster? Did he understand how pirates worked? He hated them for their brutality and their lack of morality, didn't they? Why would he try to /bargain/ with one?

Although... if he did have the map to El Dorado, of course Alistair would want it. He was, again, a pirate. The longing for adventure, the quest for treasure, was a bone-deep desire.

Alistair took a step back, but he kept the pistol trained on Tristian in case the Commodore's son decided he wanted to try grabbing for his sword again. "I'll humor you," he decided. "Show me this map of yours—but if you so much as reach for a weapon, I will shoot you."

@• yoo taeyang Deep down, Tristian knew from the very beginning that he was most probably not going to make it through this journey for various reasons. First being the storm and second being involving himself with pirates. He would be a fool to think that there was any chance of going back to his previous lifestyle when he was no longer a naval officer but an escapee. Still, he hoped luck would be on his side for once. After all, it was a matter of good fortune that Alistair was still alive so perhaps there would come a time that the tables would turn in his favor. It appeared as if this time wan nowhere near though. The pirate slipped past him like the sneaky scum that he was, used to running for his life as a wanted criminal constantly chased wherever he went.

Shutting his eyes close, his chest rose as he took a deep breath, waiting for the strike to come. He would take it like a man, determined not to show any kind of fear and just accept his fate. Dying in the hands of a pirate was the worst punishment one could get but it wasn't like he didn't deserve it after killing one of his people. With his hands partly raised in the air, there was nothing else he could do other than hope that Alistair would spare him the humiliation of a slow death. A highly unlikely scenario, to think that a ruthless thief of the sea would show mercy on a sailor who had nearly caused his own death every once in a while. His lips formed a thin line as any kind of hope slowly left him and the realization of his own defeat hit him. For a matter of a few seconds he was unable to reach his clothes, his freedom laying inches away from him. Now he was doomed to die while the pirate lived to tell the tale.

Refusing to look straight at the pirate, he turned to stare elsewhere and that was when he noticed the map peaking underneath his vest. "El dorado." He blurted out, fixing his gaze to the pirate once again. There was nothing to lose if he tried bargaining for his life. The pirate could choose not to believe him and shoot him or give him a chance to show him, blinded by greed at the promise of a precious treasure. "The city of gold. I have a map."

@• hwang hyunjin Alistair's eyes sharpened when he realized what the motion was—Tristian had reached for a sword that wasn't there, taken off when he had disrobed. The pirate could have laughed. How much of an idiot did he have to be, to remove his weapon when he was still on the same ship as the man he had proclaimed his mortal enemy? It seemed that the extent of Tristian's idiocy could still almost surprise him. He watched, amused, as the blood drained from Tristian's face, and a drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face. Alistair hadn't been going to attack—not yet—but the sailor had forced his hand.

Tristian moved, breaking into a run toward the capstan where he had left his belongings. There wasn't even a moment's hesitation before Alistair followed him. The pirate had the advantage; where Tristian had removed his weapons and now had to go and retrieve them, Alistair still had those that he had stolen from the guard the Commodore's son had killed. Not only that, Alistair was used to sprinting for his life—funny how being chased by the arm of the law in every port he sailed to had that effect.

And thus Alistair was a swift runner, a few steps all that brought him astride with Tristian. A few more put him between the sailor and the capstan, drawing the gun he had relieved the guard's corpse of as he turned toward the Commodore's son. His hand was steady when he leveled the weapon at Tristian's chest, his flinty gaze unwavering and daring Tristian to take another step.

"Trying to catch me off guard, were you?" Alistair lilted. The amusement in his voice didn't reach his expression, a mask of deadly intent. "And here I wasn't even going to kill you." Well, not yet, anyway. That had been the plan... but only once Tristian outlived his usefulness. Either way, it wasn't a /lie/.

But the Commodore's son had to go and be reckless, and now Alistair might just have to put him out of his misery sooner than he had intended.

@• yoo taeyang Tristian was in the process of thinking a snarky comeback to rile the pirate up some more before he followed his gaze towards the seagull. It took him a couple of seconds to realize they were indeed that lucky to be approaching land after less than a day of sailing without even the use of a map. The first thing that rushed to his mind was defense and he quickly made to get his sword only to realize he was nearly right in front of an armed enemy, his hands resting on his hips awkwardly. Perhaps up until then they both needed each other to survive since it could take days until they found land and that would mean having to put on storm sails and several other chores practically impossible to complete with just two man hands. But now that it was certain they weren't to be doomed sailing in the middle of the sea, that would be the greatest timing to attack. Especially due to his foolish mistake to get rid of his clothing. Now he was to die a shameful death, wearing as little garments as a e in a tavern. That mere thought had his whole muscles tensing in pure horror.

With eyes wide open and lifted brows in shock, his fingers laid still as they curled around an imaginary hilt of his sword. A silver hilted weapon, beautifully decorated with naval emblems and tiny fouled anchors set into the arms of the handle proclaiming his title in the most restrained and tasteful manner. And most importantly with a pointed edge to pierce a certain pirate's chest and claim his victory once and for all. Not only was he missing the sword but he just had to reach out so obviously to it, making his intentions crystal clear and ruining any chance he had of catching the pirate off guard. Most probably reassuring his own dishonorable death as well. The thought of his own embarrassing ending made his face even paler, if possible, but as a droplet of sweat run down his temple, he was finally able to move.

Without wasting any more time he made a run for it, marching towards the capstan where he had previously put his uniform along with his sword determined to reach for either of his belongings before Alistair got him.

@• hwang hyunjin Alistair had to laugh at the sailor's bold proclamation. "After all the years you spent chasing me here and there, do you /really/ think I wouldn't have found a way to escape?" he asked. Surely Tristian knew better than that—the game between the two of them would only have truly ended once one of them was dead, and if the Commodore's son was counting his chickens before they hatched, that was on him. "You should know better than that. It wouldn't have been the first time I've escaped the gallows—and it certainly wouldn't have been the first time I escaped /you/." Or others who had tried to capture him or kill him. One might chalk his survival up to luck, but Alistair was resourceful, and he was clever. He would have found a way to escape, if only to die on his own terms instead of at the hands of a royal executioner.

There was barely any space between them, but as in anything else, Alistair didn't want to be the first to withdraw and cede even the smallest perceived victory to Tristian. He lingered, staring the Commodore's son in the eye, his hands still propped on his hips. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, a savage joy that came from the potential of conflict, the tension in the air that was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Besides," Alistair murmured, "you would have been lost without me."

Overhead, a seagull screeched. Alistair held Tristian's gaze for a few moments longer, and then he finally drew back, looking up to find that there were gulls circling above the ship—a sure sign that they were even closer to land. Turning away from the sailor—who could have stabbed him, but if he did that, Tristian would likely doom himself to his own death—the pirate scanned the horizon. In the distance, he could just barely make out a shoreline.

"We're approaching land," the pirate said as he turned back toward the wheel—the Commodore's son had seaweed for brains or maybe not even that. Alistair may as well take pity on him and state the obvious so he knew what was going on. He was nice like that (he wanted to grate on Tristian's nerves and injure his fragile pride). He swept his gaze over Tristian, appraising; there was a high possibility that the Commodore's son would decide to turn on him once they were on land. Alistair would have to beat him to the draw, so to speak, but not just yet. He couldn't be too hasty to eliminate the sailor—not while there was any sliver of a chance that he might need to make use of him.

@• yoo taeyang Tristian wasn't about to make any false excuses for his incompetence but that didn't really mean that he was going to admit it out loud, especially not to the sole and only reason of his deeply wounded ego. His failure wasn't enough to humble him, though. Being raised as a Commodore's son had its positive aspects that came with any family carrying a royal title. This didn't mean that it wasn't a heavy burden to carry as well since everyone's expectations of Tristian were too high to meet most of the time and that included catching a wanted criminal who was being pursued in several other ports too, as much as he knew. He wasn't the only enemy of Alistair yet he had gotten close to catching him various times. It was a matter of pure luck that the pirate was still alive.

Oh what a temptation it was to be trapped in the middle of the sea with his mortal enemy right in front of him, his pretty neck waiting to be sliced. It would only take a swift move to retrieve his sword and press it against the filthy skin, killing two birds with one stone, since he was no longer enticed by the witch. Several other murderous scenarios haunted his mind as he heard the pirate's crude words, his sarcastic tone never failing to hit Tristian's nerves. The way the criminal carried himself as if his whole existence was worth more than a bottle of rum had Tristian snorting in disbelief.

Watching Alistair nearing the wheel was a challenge he didn't think twice before accepting as he made his own way to the same direction, mimicking the pirate's stature with confidence, not really minding his own lack of proper clothing. He even dared to lean closer to the filthy man just to prove that he had nothing to be afraid of by invading his personal space, his fingers wrapping slowly around the handles of the wheel that stood between them. As long as they were in the ship, he was indeed irreplaceable.

"Oh but I did catch a pirate. Allow me to refresh your memory. The only reason your head isn't currently detached from your body is a curse and my extremely honorable intentions to your sister." He stated in the same ironic manner as the other spoke, lifting both of his eyebrows to feign innocence as he kept his chin up, brushing against the pirate's nose with every breath he took. "In other words, nothing but my gentlemanly nature saved your pitiful arse from the gallows." His hands tightened slightly around the wooden surface of the handles, not sure whether he was thankful of them being there or not.

@• hwang hyunjin Alistair raised a brow. He'd expected more of a retort from the sailor, but it seemed the Commodore's son was finally going to try and resist letting the pirate continue to win at his game. Unfortunately for Tristian, Alistair was stubborn and he was determined not to let his opponent get much of a foothold. After all, the pirate already had the advantage of years of antagonizing Tristian and causing him to make a fool out of himself by chasing prey he just wasn't smart or fast enough to catch. A little bit of non-reaction wouldn't make Alistair lose all of that. Tristian's temper would get the best of him eventually, he just had to wait for it.

Listening to the Commodore's son speak, Alistair raised an eyebrow. Oh, that would never do; damned he'd be, before he let this twit tell him what he should do aboard his ship.

"Don't make me laugh," Alistair said cheerfully, his tone giving away just how hilarious he found the prospect of Tristian manning the wheel—meant to humiliate, with the twinkle in his eye and the grin that showed his teeth. "The thing you're not qualified for doing would be manning the helm. That's the place for a /captain/, not a cabin boy... and I think swabbing the deck would suit you very well."

He sauntered toward the wheel, his hands propped on his hips, and tilted his head to the side as he stopped a short distance away. He leaned forward, the grin falling from his lips, his eyes growing serious and widening in an expression that he knew was menacing. It made him look like a madman, his crew used to say. Well, that was fitting. Alistair had to be half-mad to sail in some of the conditions he had. "This isn't your father's ship. No one here will defer to you because of who your father was, or what you /think/ you're worth. You can't even catch a pirate. What makes you think you can handle his ship?"

He straightened and stalked forward so that only the wheel stood between them, adding in a low tone, "Don't presume that /you/ can give /me/ orders. We aren't far from land, and you're not irreplaceable."

@• yoo taeyang Staring at the horizon never failed to amaze Tristian, the view being among the few things that could calm him down even on his worst days. The never ending sea never scared him, perhaps due to following strictly a map before but even now that they were completely lost, he was still not intimidated by the depths of it. He rarely got to enjoy the peace and quiet his journeys had to offer due to following his lieutenants orders most of the time. Now, he was making up for the time spent tidying the cabins instead of taking a break to admire the beauty of the crystal clear water. Sliding his palm over the railing, he walked around the ship only to have his moment ruined by the irritating sound of the pirate's sardonic tone.

Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to calm down, not bothering to turn around and witness Alistair's grin, that would only infuriate him more. Apparently the pirate was toying with his nerves, much like before. And Tristian always fell on his trap, unable to contain his anger when it came to that particular pirate. This time, he would be the one testing the other's nerves though. He wouldn't let his words get to him. For once, he would stir the filthy pirate up and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of reacting to his foolish statements. Even when he meant no ill towards his sister and acted as a proper gentleman should, the uneducated savage didn't seem to care enough to protect his own blood's purity.

The more he thought about it the more his blood boiled in resentment, as he gripped the railings with one hand to contain his annoyance before turning around to face the pirate with a smirk plastered on his face. "Then how about indulging yourself with the broom? Your ship looks like it certainly needs some cleaning. I'm afraid I'm not qualified enough for such kind of pirate work. Furthermore I wouldn't wish to meddle with your field of expertise. I'll be far more useful here." He stated as he took the wheel into his hands, feeling the handles as if caressing a lover to emphasize his point.

@• hwang hyunjin Tristian's head bobbing as he resisted the pull of his exhaustion did not go unnoticed by Alistair, but the pirate was in no better state—he had to blink furiously every so often to clear the fog in front of his eyes. It was clear—to him, at least—that they were both going to be stubborn until the bitter end. Neither wanted to fall asleep first. It was, to Alistair, a battle of wills.

It was a battle of wills that led to a stalemate. As the sky was washed with bright light, Alistair dragged his weary and aching body away from the ship's rail. There was much to do. He would need to take stock of just how damaged the ship was, so he knew what repairs needed to be made. He would also need to check on his sister, and see how she fared after the rough night.

Then he'd worry about where they were and where they were sailing.

Movement from the Commodore's son caught Alistair's eye. He turned long enough to see that the sailor was removing his drenched layers, and snorted to himself as he turned away to resume staring out across the horizon. His own torn shirt and loose breeches would dry in the sun; they were far more convenient than the uniforms that sailors like Tristian so prided themselves on, symbols of their status and their folly in pledging themselves to the service of the crown. Look where that uniform had gotten Tristian; if he'd never joined the royal navy, well, the Commodore's son wouldn't be at sea with a pirate and a pirate's sister.

"'Be so good'?" Alistair repeated, the laughter audible in his voice. " A filthy pirate like me? I daresay I wouldn't know how." He was grinning from ear to ear as he turned, leaning back and resting his forearms on the rail. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, one crossed over the other, and shook his head. He knew Rowan would stay in the cabin—she wasn't an idiot, even if she had /terrible/ taste in men—so he felt no need to go and tell her to do so. It was more fun to mess with the sailor, anyway, since clearly he didn't think there was anything but air between Rowan's ears. And... well, Alistair didn't like /many/ things, but one of those things was being told what to do when he was on his own ship. Especially by this brat. Sooner or later, Tristian was going to realize that he was not in a situation to antagonize Alistair.

So there Alistair stayed, leaning back against the railing and watching as Tristian seemed to war with himself over whether or not to take his final layer off. Amused when Tristian finally moved off to familiarize himself with the Scarlet Skull, Alistair at last straightened up and stretched, his spine popping when he raised his arms over his head. A sigh of relief left him, and he sauntered away from the rail with a spring in his step despite his exhaustion. The first order of business was to see the damage that had been done to the ship—if Rowan was resting, he didn't want to disturb her. She, at least, should sleep while she had the chance. Alistair would see how she was faring later.

@• yoo taeyang As time passed and the wind and rain had toned down, Tristian had gradually slid down the mast, elbows resting on bent knees. His eyes betrayed him every once in a while as he leaned back to the post but right before exhaustion overtook him he straightened his posture, forcing himself to stay aware until he made sure Alistair wasn't toying with him. A sane man with a basic survival instinct would keep an experienced sailor alive. Except that he was dealing with a trickster who currently had an advantage on him. Which reminded him that he would have to make use of his tool soon. As long as he kept it on him, he risked the pirate finding it out and once Alistair set his mind on something, Tristian knew better than to bait him.

Occasionally his eyes would take a sneak peek of the pirate, cursing inwardly every time he realized the lowlife was still awake. They were both suspicious of each other but there was little they could do while in the middle of the sea and the presence of a woman in a ship which was never a good sign. At the thought of Rowan he grimaced. While he sought her on shore, women weren't meant to sail in a ship, the fact that some pirates accepted them in their crews had Tristian rolling his eyes, not even wanting to think how they made use of them.

The light momentarily blinding him woke him up from his thoughts. The sun was already rising which normally meant he was supposed to be up already and busy running various errands for the lieutenant. And now that he had the luxury of having a whole ship for himself, there was no crew to order around. Not until they were to discuss and split the chores accordingly, at least.

It would do them no good if one of them got sick though, so Tristian took the liberty of freeing himself from his constricting soaked uniform, using the capstan as a hanger for his personal attire. Carefully he removed the drenched paper along with his vest, making sure it wasn't visible as he laid the wet piece of cloth over the wheel. His hands paused momentarily around the waistband of his trousers as he turned to look at the cabin, just in case Rowan appeared and witnessed his state of undress. With her being a member of a pirate crew, he highly doubted she hadn't already seen men in such an indecent state or even worse. On the contrary he would be particularly surprised if he found out the sea thieves bothered to wear underwear at all. "Be so good as to inform your sister to remain in the cabin." He stated dryly, in a polite yet ironic manner lurking to an order as he peaked over his shoulder at Alistair before he proceeded to get rid off his trousers, unable to wait for a minute longer trapped in the heavy fabric. After placing it aside along with the other parts of his navy uniform, his hands rested on the waistband of his white linen breeches. They were already soaked and hardly served their purpose, leaving nothing to the imagination with their current state as they stuck on every inch of his skin and yet they still offered some kind of closure. Taking no hierarchical titles into consideration, they were both men. Despite acknowledging that, he was strangely not keen on the idea of being in a more vulnerable state around an armed enemy so he decided to keep them on and flaunt the expensive fabric to the sea slug instead. It wasn't as if Tristian had anything to be embarrassed of, physically wise. He was most certainly blessed when it came to specific parts of his body necessary to please a woman so he carried himself with the same confidence, if not more, as he got himself familiar with the ship now that he wasn't struggling to stay on board.

@• hwang hyunjin The Commodore's son could be as suspicious of Alistair as he wanted. It didn't matter to the pirate, so long as Tristain shut up and secured himself to the ship. It would be a nuisance if the sailor died. Rowan wasn't exactly an experienced sailor, and she didn't have the physical strength that Alistair could admit Tristian had—strength he would need until he had a crew. This was no underhanded trick—there were better lies that Alistair could tell than asking the sailor to /tie himself to the ship/—but he could care less if it was regarded as such. The pirate had followed his instruction, that was all that mattered.

It was a long, bitter storm. The ship was battered back and forth, Alistair gritting his teeth as he stumbled about the deck. The sea played with the Scarlet Skull like a cat toying with a mouse through the long night, the gales and the waves pulling them this way and that. Alistair knew that, come morning, the ship would be far from the port it had left—but there was no prediciting where the ship would /be/. If she survived the raging storms, rather than sinking to the bottom of the sea, the Scarlet Skull would surely be far off course.

So long as they were far, far from the royal navy, Alistair did not care.

By the time the winds died down and the sea began to settle, the rain receding to a gentle downpour, Alistair was exhausted and chilled to the bone by the rain that had soaked him. Despite the exhaustion, however, he did not collapse as he may have wanted to; the reminder of his mortal enemy lurking nearby kept him alert. He almost laughed at the sailor's declaration, but he lacked the energy to do even that; mutely, he shook his head and dragged himself up to the quarter deck, where he leaned against the ship's rail and gazed out across the water. The sun was beginning to rise, the first vestiges of light sneaking into the sky and preparing to wash the blue canvas with an array of colors.

They had survived the night, but that was only the beginning. Alistair needed to plan his next move—first, he needed to figure out where, exactly, they were. Sea stretched out around them in all directions for as far as the eye could see; however, there were birds in the sky in the distance, and that meant that they were near land. If they were fortunate, the Scarlet Skull was not sailing back to the same port she had escaped from, or one in the royal lands. If they were unfortunate, well—that would be the end for the brave trio.

Land was something they would just have to risk, however. Alistair needed to get his bearings—and decide where next to travel—so that he could chart a course. Beyond that, he needed to repair at least some of the damage to his ship—easier said than done and not a job for one man, but Tristian would help him if he wanted to survive.

At some point, he would have to sleep—but Alistair would not be the first to drop his guard.

@• yoo taeyang Were they under different circumstances, Tristian would actually laugh at the thought of a pirate giving him instructions that would keep him alive. The irony of the situation was evident by the time he agreed to get on board with Alistair but it still felt difficult to comprehend that they actually had to co operate with each other in order to survive. Thankfully his father was nowhere near to see how low his son fell and Tristian hoped that they wouldn't be able to link his departure with the murder and the ship missing, even though that was highly unlikely. Better to be considered dead or even a hostage of a pirate than a willing participant to their scheme of escape.

Catching the rope with one hand, he used the other one to support himself against the fore mast as he stared at the pirate with a suspicious raised eyebrow. Tying himself to avoid going overbroad seemed like a wise idea but he thought twice about it when his mortal nemesis was around. He had to remind himself that they were in this together before he hesitantly tied himself to the upright post, making sure to keep the pirate in his peripheral vision at all times. Just in case he decided to opt for mutiny and have his sister replace him. Which wouldn't really be a well thought decision to make and even though he hated to admit it, the pirate was smarter than that and he proved that with every single encounter they had to far, slipping through his fingers even when it seemed impossible. However the situation would change as soon as they found land and therefore didn't need each other to manage a ship. Tristian had a plan in mind for that, otherwise he wouldn't bother following a pirate and a witch to his doom. He wasn't there just to assist them to their journey after all. Soon he would have to bargain for both his freedom and his life since it wouldn't seem completely out of character if the pirate attempted to sell him off to one of his own kind as a slave with the first chance he got. Such fate wouldn't be unheard of for a naval officer who one way or another got himself involved with pirate scams. Fortunately, he had the key that could lead to his freedom secured within his vest.

Glancing to see if the pirate was watching, he briefly slid a hand underneath his waistcoat carefully, making sure the piece of paper was tucked safely in there. It was drenched just like his clothes but at least it hadn't slipped off him during the storm. After doing some buttons around his stomach, he let a sigh of relief and for the rest of the night he kept an arm wrapped around himself both to protect his precious belonging and his vital organs. "I'll keep watch." He announced once they seemed to have escaped from the storm, the intensity of the turbulences decreasing steadily along with wind and the rain. Tristian wasn't about to let himself fall asleep in the presence of a pirate and he nearly dared Alistair to do so with his command even though they both knew as long as they were on the same ship no foul play was expected from either sides.

@• hwang hyunjin Had the naval officer never heard that he should be careful what he wished for, lest he might get it? Tristian tempted fate, shouting into a storm on the raging sea. Alistair grimaced; he did not wish to spend /his/ last moments regretting not slitting the man's throat and leaving him to bleed out on the shore or the docks when he had the chance. The sea was a funny thing; she had a personality of her own, and she was not a beast to be trifled with. Alistair loved her, and he respected her, but beyond that he feared her; the sea and her storms swallowed many a good ship and experienced crew, and here Tristian was shouting into the wind like a madman.

If Alistair didn't need the help—loathe as he was to admit it—he imagined he would have thrown Tristian over the side right then and there.

Hmmm. As soon as Alistair had a crew to maintain the ship, perhaps he would keelhaul the sailor. There would be something oddly fitting about it, he thought; turning a navy punishment on someone who had once tottered about attempting to earn the respect of his peers and his Commodore father. That being said, it /was/ rather brutal; he'd have to make sure Rowan didn't see. For whatever reason, his sister was fond of this pathetic stuffed shirt—well, there was no accounting for taste.

...Ah, yes, and there was the matter of Rowan. As he unwound a length of rope, Alistair pondered on what to do about his sister. The fool girl had gone and bound them together with a curse—as though Alistair was incapable of breaking free of prisons on his own—and /now/ the pirate would have to worry about his own wellbeing. A pity, that. He rather liked being reckless; he'd survived this long without caring about the consequences of his actions. With Rowan's fate linked to his own...

He would have to be /careful/, a thing that did not come naturally to him.

Hefting a second length of rope, Alistair tossed it at the Commodore's son. "Stop screaming at the sky and lash yourself to the rail," he shouted over the wind. "If you get knocked overboard, it's all over in the waves below." Sure, if the ship sank, they would go down with her; but if one of them fell overboard, he wasn't going to survive. The waves churned around them, violent and hungry, and once a sailor was in their jaws, he would not be seen again.

The pirate didn't wait to see if Tristian had followed his instruction. He tied his own rope around his waist, leaving enough length free that he could still move around the deck, and secured the other end around the railing. The rope was wet and hard to tie, but Alistair had sailed through enough storms and dealt with enough water-soaked ropes to manage.

@• yoo taeyang Tristian didn't even have the time to mind taking orders by a pirate as he ran to Alistair, fingers wrapping around the wooden bar. Fishing up the anchor, that he could do. Taking a deep breath, he applied most of his strength as they walked around the capstan, a task that would normally need more than two well trained sailors to be done. Even though Tristian was the slimmer one among the crew due to his willowy figure, his lean body and dominant height intimidated even the more muscled ones among the navy who initially underestimated his effort. With his life now at stake, he had an additional motive, along with the fact that he just had to overshadow his nemesis to somehow boost his own ego. Dripples of sweat formed on his forehead, mixing with the rain and a few dark locks that peaked out of his queue, as he pushed the bar, a few groans of frustration escaping from his mouth towards the end of the task. He could feel the muscles of his arms straining the fabric of his blue lapelled coat and for once he cursed whoever had to come up with such unpractical attire, the buttons of his red waistcoat barely holding on. By the time the anchor was up and secured, the sole reason his trembling legs didn't give up was the presence of his mortal enemy. Instead he leaned his elbows on bent knees, chest heaving up and down in an attempt to catch up his breath. Having enough with the restraining uniform, he ed the top few buttons of his stand up collar, the thought of the clothes being the only sign of his royal title and prestigious pedigree, stopping him from undoing the rest.

The loud sound of a lightning reminded him that there was no time to feel tired and he forced himself to stand straight, gaining some motivation at the possibility of finally getting to hold a wheel. While in the navy or even during his training as a midshipman, he never had the chance to do so which only fueled his newly found determination to manage the ship, even if it was a pirate, damaged one. Not even the adrenaline of their current situation was enough to stop him from feeling the handles before he got to it and they were finally ready to move, the view of the port getting smaller and smaller as they sailed away from home. A heavy feeling settled on his chest, now that he knew there was probably no returning to his previous life and momentarily the urge to turn the wheel and head back to hand the pirate to the guards almost overtook him but somehow he wasn't strong willed enough to do so. Nevertheless, as the events of the past hours slowly sank in, the need to direct his anger somewhere prevailed once the relief of their escape toned down. "This is all your fault! May the heavens show mercy and we find land soon or let the depths take us so I don't have to live my last moments trapped with a pirate and a witch!" The loud sound of his voice antagonized the intensity of the thunders lighting up the sky, his lungs struggling with every word he shouted and yet doing nothing to relieve the frustration he was feeling.

@• hwang hyunjin One of the topsails was down. Alistair looked up at the masts, checking each to see where the mast was missing from, and found that it was the main topsail; a breath of relief left him. Certainly, this sail being down would prove to be a problem later, but before they could worry about it, they had to survive through the storm. In such weather, it was too dangerous to sail with full sails; Alistair would have to stow most of the sails, to reduce the strain on the masts and the risk of damage in the storms. He wondered if the Commodore's son had ever sailed in a storm, or if he was as useless when it came to storm-sailing as he was at executing pirates.

It was no matter. Fortunately for the sailor, Alistair was well-experienced with surviving storms. The pirate tugged off his boots and tossed them to the side—he could find them later, when they survived the storm—and started for the mizzen mast. The aft sails were the first that would need to come down.

The pouring rain and howling wind did not make Alistair's task easy, from the climbing of the masts to the unlacing of the bonnets and then the furling of the sails. The wood was slippery with the cold water, and he had low visibility from the downpour—it was hard to see anything that wasn't directly in front of his face. By the time he climbed down from the mizzen-mast, the pirate had realized that he would have to move much, much quicker for the next two masts. The storm was growing stronger, and he had no desire to cost them their head start.

Up the main mast he went. There was no topsail on this mast to furl, so the work was quicker. Not as quick as it might have been with a few more sturdy hands, of course, but Alistair was working alone. No one, at least, would be looking for them in the storm—not at the port, at least, for who would be insane enough to steal a ship in such foul weather?

Finally, Alistair clambered up the foremast to complete his stowing of the sails. He left the topsail, and he left a jib; the other sails he furled, lacing the ropes down tight despite the rain and the numbness growing in his fingers. Loose ties could lead to problems; Alistair was not keen on any more complications arising in their daring escape. He scrambled back down the mast, and looked about the deck for Tristian.

He found the Commodore's son at the wheel. "Come on," he barked, "it will take both of us to get the anchor up." It would be nigh impossible for Alistair to turn the capstan by himself, and raise the anchor; the pirate would need Tristian to assist him. Without waiting for Tristian to respond, Alistair started toward the capstan. He slid behind one of the capstan bars and pressed his hands against it, ready to put his body weight against it and start walking once Tristian joined him. This would drag the anchor up, and then would come the fun part: catting the anchor.

@• yoo taeyang Time felt like an eternity as they made their way to the port through the storm. The wind had gotten so strong, with plants and leaves spiraling everywhere, the sand blinding his occasionally. The royal navy never traveled under such conditions, the waste of resources a risk the king wasn't willing to take. Now that he thought about it, it was rather unfortunate that he hadn't experienced an enraged sea before and therefore he didn't really know what to expect. Unlike uncivilized pirates, the navy always had a plan in mind, an organized deck, a detailed map and most importantly a dutiful crew. With God's help and some scientists' predictions they had managed to avoid bad weather in general which was both a blessing and a curse since no matter how trained and skillful Tristian was, nothing could prepare him for those huge waves.

By the time he set foot on the deck, times seemed to fly past them as the adrenaline finally hit him. First he escorted Rowan to the cabin, taking a brief look at the little room, nose wrinkling at the humid smell and the messy sheets. Who knew what kind of diseases the unhygienic living environment of a pirate ship could carry. He didn't dwell on that any further, deciding he could do that later if they managed to escape the port and find land. Instead he busied himself with basic chores, checking the sails and the rest parts of the ship hoping the damaged ones wouldn't affect their journey to freedom. Frankly, he didn't know what he was going, too lost within the unfamiliar surroundings of a pirate ship. Tristian usually followed any orders he was given but when it came to him taking decisions, he just wasn't qualified enough to make them. It wasn't like he was ever given any major leadership to the few quests he had taken part in, without his father being directly involved.

Was he really in the verge of panicking? This couldn't be happening, he was supposed to be able to handle a ship almost naturally. Unlike uneducated pirates he knew every single terminology and even some crafting tips he had picked here and there. He even knew some medical procedures he himself had to endure on board and by watching or escorting another crew member. They always had a surgeon accompanying them to every trip, along with qualified cooks sometimes. The king was truly generous.

His sight was suddenly restricted as he was hit with a heavy fabric engulfing him whole and sending him to the wooden floor with a loud thud. After managing to slip under it, he realized to his horror that it was the topsail. Such loss could really cost for their speed so if they were to escape the navy they had to come up with directions that they wouldn't predict.

Once the shock subsided, he ran to the other side of the deck after putting the topsail aside, slippery fingers wrapping around the wheel and waiting for a signal to weigh anchor.

@• hwang hyunjin Never one to be taken off guard, as soon as Tristian rose, Alistair was also on his feet. The Commodore's son made no move to attack, however, instead turning and starting off with only a couple words muttered into the pouring rain. Putting an arm around Rowan's shoulders, Alistair guided her after the sailor. It wasn't that he trusted Tristian, but they both knew that anything the sailor tried to pull from this point would only backfire on him. After all, he would soon be known as a wanted man, reduced to little more than a backstabbing, conniving scoundrel. Alistair could only imagine how the rumors would circulate of what he had been reduced to; there was no turning back, now that he'd committed a heinous crime /and/ released one of the most wanted pirates to ever roam the seas.

Oh, how far the mighty fell.

As they walked, Alistair planned. To be sure, there weren't enough of them to man the ship, but once they rode out the storm and had put a safe distance between them and the castle, Alistair could worry about that. To be sure, the storm was a daunting prospect—he'd sailed through storms before, though. Such things were unavoidable when one lived at sea, as Alistair had for the greater part of his life.

Watching Tristian don his hat, Alistair's jaw tightened in annoyance. He knew he was being goaded, that Tristian had put it on so that he could feel secure in his victory, and heal some of his wounded pride, and so for the time being, he would let it go—rather than giving Tristian the satisfaction of realizing he was getting underneath his skin, which he was sure was all he wanted—but once they were alone on the sea, he was going to show the Commodore's son whose mercy he was at.

In the end, the sailor had gotten what he had wanted most... and then it had led to his downfall. He sought to his wounds by poking at Alistair with a proverbial stick, trying to rouse a visceral reaction from him; it wouldn't happen. Not right now. Now, Alistair was more focused on their survival. He didn't very much relish the idea of being hung or beheaded or any other manner of execution the Crown might decide on.

It wasn't long before the port rose ahead of them, and with it, Alistair's ship, as much of a home as he had. The pirate winced to see the damage that had been done to her hull, but he at least had the consolation that the ship would still /sail/; the damages were just another thing he would have to worry about after they had made their escape. He scoured the port for guards, but his eyes found none; in such weather, the pirate doubted anyone who wasn't insane or on the run from the gallows would do what he was doing. His footfalls as he crossed the dock were muffled by the pouring rain and rumbling thunder, until he reached the Scarlet Skull and started up the gangplank.

They were not safe. Not yet. But Alistair could feel some of the tension leave his shoulders—now, they had a shot at surviving the night.

@• yoo taeyang Tristian was expecting to either be attacked by the minute he didn't face the pirate or even worse mocked now that the tables turned and he would be the one celebrating his victory. All because of a whimpering woman. He had just sacrificed his dignity along with his title only to be betrayed by her within the very next seconds. Oh how his comrades would love to see him at a moment of such disgrace. He would once again become the laughing stock of the whole crew, drinking away his sorrows- IF- he had the chance to do that before the guards took him. That thought hit him harder. He could live with the fact that he courted a woman after so long for nothing but a life without booze? That was even worse than a death sentence.

It probably wasn't the right time to think about alcohol but his mind spiraled towards that direction once again after hearing the pirate's question. A pirate ship. Full of rum. Awaiting them, unguarded because who would even think of stealing it with such weather? Only someone who had nothing to lose, just like the unlikely trio they had just formed. At least they were given a change to survive among the raging waves of the sea unlike the fate they would be doomed with if they ended up in the gallows. And there was no escaping that sentence if they didn't act fast.

With newly found determination he stood up abruptly. For the time being he knew the pirate wasn't likely to attack him. Unless he wanted to manage the whole ship alone while tending to his cursed sister at the meanwhile. Alistair needed him. Just like he needed the pirate to keep himself off the rotten dungeons.
"Not far." He muttered as he paced towards the direction of the port where the huge ship laid, expecting the siblings to follow him. It certainly needed some reconstruction after the attack but as long as it floated, that was all that mattered. 2 people were nowhere near enough to handle it but he wasn't risking getting himself involved with more of their kind. After all, not even pirates were reckless enough to sail with such storm.

As they were getting closer to their destination, Tristian decided to wear the pirate's hat now that any lice were washed away due to the downpour. It wasn't just for practical reasons, perhaps a part within him needed to celebrate any kind of triumph he had over his long time nemesis now that there was no going back to his old life.

@• hwang hyunjin /Lead the way./

Alistair nodded and started off through the dungeons, Rowan at his heels and both of them expecting Tristian to follow. When Alistair finally glanced back long enough to see if the sailor was following them, he scowled to see that he was lagging behind, keeping a distance between them—he had to have a death wish. Alistair had half a mind to scruff him like a kitten and drag him along, but the last thing they needed was to fight while they were supposed to be making their escape. He shouldered a door open with more force than necessary and led them down a dark flight of stairs into a small, dark room. He swept his hands along the wall until he found the secret door he was looking for and pushed at it until it gave, swinging open into a tunnel. It was a grim walk, not knowing what lay ahead, but it was their best chance at escaping the castle.

On the other side of the tunnel, they emerged into the downpour, before the raging sea. Alistair turned to look up at the castle high above them. It would not be long before their escape was noticed, if it hadn't been yet. He turned to look at Rowan, who had wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill and the rain as best she could, and deeming her as unharmed as she could be, Alistair then turned to the Commodore's son. Finding him on his knees, scrubbing at his hands, the pirate almost wanted to shake some sense into him. They had no time to linger. There would be time to wash their hands when they had left the kingdom far behind them.

Crouching down beside the disgraced—or soon to be disgraced, anyway—Alistair called over the sound of the rain and the rumbles of thunder, "Where is my ship?"

Whether Tristian liked it or not, the Scarlet Skull was their best bet at getting away from the royal navy. If they traveled by land, they were sure to be captured again, or even killed on the road. On the sea, however, Alistair was king and he would die by no man's hand... and there were islands where the Crown's influence did not stretch, where they might find safe harbor until...

Well, until the sailor caused trouble, Alistair supposed. It would have been easy for Alistair to kill him and leave his body there on the shore, but he was more honorable than that—or perhaps more sadistic, forcing Tristian to live with the knowledge that he had murdered one of his own, and become no better than those who he had sworn to hunt to the ends of the Earth. Whichever anyone chose to believe, really. To Alistair, it did not matter. He didn't feel like killing the Commodore's son, and it was only partially influenced by the way Rowan swayed, exhausted and cold, beside them.