Sailing the Seven Seas *Starting/Not Accepting**

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Captain:

Clare Davies whistled with her fingers, and then shouted, "Everyone to the deck! Now!"
It was time for the nightly meeting in which she would also be combining a fighting practice. Learning to fight in the dark meant they would have to have sharper reflexes. And reflexes that weren't sharp got you killed. It was something Clare had learned from her father, even though she hated to admit he had taught her anything. Her father was a different type of pirate then she was...
He had to be defeated.
Clare sighed heavily and waited for her crew to run to the deck where she'd just ordered them to come. By her side was a large wooden bucket that reached the height of Clare's waist; it was inside this bucket that all of the new swords stood, waiting to be gripped for the very first time.
The crew was soon standing in front of her, waiting.
"Good job today," Clare nodded to each one of them, minus the cook, who nibbled at her finger nails but had cold eyes for Clare. Hah, she'd better know that Clare's bad side was one of the worst places on Earth.
"I have some news this evening," Clare continued.
Everyone's faces froze.
"Chase your dreams, and remember me, speak bravery,
Because after all, those wings will take you up so high."
-- Owl City, "To the Sky"
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Quinn

We stood at attention, waiting for the news. My eyes wander to the large bucket, itching to see what's inside.

"Now in this bucket," starts Clare, "I have a brand new sword for each of you." And me? "Even you, Quinlan," Yes! "although yours is a bit smaller." Aww... "Starting tonight we will learn to fight, as we will need the knowledge for the near future."

I share a curious glance with some of the other crew members. "Now there are two men we're headed west to fight," she continues, "and also to retrieve a jewel. Come up here and I'll give you each your sword."

We all crowd around the bucket and she hands them out, one by one. As she mentioned, mine is a little smaller than the rest. Either way it's awesome to be able to hold it and know it's my own! After a few hours of learning how to handle, block and fight with it, we're dismissed. Immediately I run to the supply closet and hug Jex hard.

"Guess what guess what guess what!" I squeal, completely unlike me.

"What?" He asks with a hint of amusement.

"I have my own sword!" I tell him. I don't know why I am, in fact I only came in here to tell him. It feels like he's someone I can share my excitement with.
Ideas don't stay in heads very long because they don't like solitary confinement.




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Jack

Jack examined his new blade carefully. It was smooth, polished. A good sword. Jack could easily see the craftsmanship that went into creating the blade. Jack slid his old sword out of his hilt to compare the two. There was a clear superior.

Unexpectedly, Jack found himself consumed by anger. With a growl, Jack hurled his old sword into the sea. The dark, foamy waters swallowed the metal. Jack glared after it. He shoved the new sword into his hilt. The sword jiggled in the hilt that was slightly too large for it. Jack scowled at the sword. It should fit. A grander sword would fit.

Once, Jack had a grander sword. One befitting a captain. It shined in the sunlight, and never chipped or dented. Jack looked across the deck to the door into the captain's quarters. A pang shot through him. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and yelled.

"Have a headache?" came a snide voice from behind Jack. Jack spun around, seething. It was the prisoner, leaning against the rail of the ship. Jack gritted his teeth and grabbed the boy's arm. Jack slid his sword out of his hilt again and brandished it at the prisoner.

"You think you are clever, don't you, boy?" snarled Jack. The prisoner raised his eyebrows, but Jack noticed that he had paled considerably. Jack raised his sword. "I'll - "

"Jack," said Captain Davies sharply from across the deck. Jack froze. He looked up at the moon and the stars, glinting quietly above the sea. Jack glanced over toward the captain, and lowered his sword.

Scowling, Jack shoved his sword back in his hilt. All of the fury of a moment ago had evaporated. Jack was tired, now. Jack fixed the prisoner with a beady glare, shoved past him, and settled himself in a dark corner of the deck. Jack breathed out slowly, letting the gentle rocking of the ship calm him.

**Sorry about that, ducky. But Jack is insane, and sometimes his bitterness gets the best of him.
"The grasshopper!... Mind the grasshopper!... A grasshopper not only turns, it hops!... It hops!... And it hops jolly high!" ~Erik, The Phantom of the Opera




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JEX

I chuckled lightly, somewhat ammused. The hug had caught me slightly off-guard, but it was welcomed all the same. "That's wonderful Quinn!" My sword had been lost to the sea, but I wasn't going to bring her spirits down by telling her.

"Sorry about that by the way," she murmered, still smiling.

I arched an eyebrow. "'Bout what?"

"Squealing...hugging."

I laughed again, and just for good measure, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "Don't be. I needed it."

For some odd reason, I was actually happy for a few moments. I had never been gladder that I had jumped over the side of a ship and been stabbed in the hip. The whole thing seemed sort of like a blessing in disguise at this point in time.
Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurl.

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I sighed as I watched Quinn run into the storage closet. Ever since I was sixteen, I started to notice things like love. I found it interesting to watch two people start to like eachother. Obviously, Quinn liked Jex. Yet, somehow, I got the feeling that Jex liked someone else.

Grace hadn't been around lately. I was actually missing her. Great, now my only friend was kitchen scum. And everyone on the boat had a sword. I didn't.

When Quinn came out of the closet, she had a big smile on her face.
"So?" I said, making sure to call loudly. "What went on in there?"
Her face hardened and she came over to me and said, "Shh!"
I snickered, and commented, "You just don't know anything, do you? Your particular prefference is obvious."
Her face turned red. "Its not like yours isn't either," she mumbled.
Then Quinn walked away, becoming Quinlan once more.
My preference? What was that supposed to mean?
Writing's a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia E.L. Doctorow
I've always believed that writing advertisements is the second most profitable form of writing. The first is ransom notes Philip Dusenberry
I'm so clever that I don't understand a single word of what I'm saying Oscar Wilde




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Quinn

Jall just basically said I love Jex. Do I love Jex? I certainly like the guy a lot. Honestly though...the way Jall looks at the cook sometimes is probably a lot more sickening than the way I look at Jex. I'm going to bed...

***
First thing in the morning, I think of Jex. He probably needs food, and it's early enough that nobody's up yet. I sneak down to the kitchen to get something for him, but then see the cook. Oh, no. I slide into a cabinet, keeping the door open just a little so I can see what she's doing. She's...getting food? Does she start to cook this early? Wait, she's taking it somewhere.

Curious, I follow a few feet behind her, careful not to make any noise. Why is she going this way? This is the way to the prison, where...Jall is. No way. I back up and go to a porthole window so I can see better. My eyes widen as she slides the tray of food under the cell door. For a few minutes the two seem to be arguing, then...are they kissing?

I lean forward for a better look, pressed against the window, then it flies open and I crash through. They both look at me in shock, while I only laugh. "I told you so, Jall! Your preference is as obvious as mine! wait 'till the Cap'n finds out..." I swear if I keep laughing like I am, I'll get a seizure.

Jall narrows his eyes at me. "You tell the Cap'n, and so will I - Quinn!" That stops me midlaugh, and I frown. The cook looks between the both of us with a puzzled expression, then I turn and leave.
Ideas don't stay in heads very long because they don't like solitary confinement.




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Finally! I thought as the cook came in.
"Grace," my voice was relieved. But for some reason she looked cross.
She set down the tray that she was holding and folded her arms against her chest. "I don't need defending."
That got my attention. "What?" I said incredulously. She was talking about the way I had saved her butt when the captain found out about her sneaking me food.
"I was thinking last night," she said. "I was thinking about what happened. And I don't need protection."
"Right, because you totally wouldn't have been kicked off the boat. Its nice that you're thinking about me at night, though." I smirked.
"I don't need protection! Who cares what happens to me? I'm kitchen scum!"
Suddenly, I felt fiercely protective. "You're not scum, you're beautiful."
"Oh," she sounded just as shocked as I was. "Well that's nice. I didn't expect that. But the fact still remains that you defended me and I didn't need it. That was reckless and stupid and...."
I kissed her.
She was surprised at first, but then she kissed me back.
It would have been perfect, except for the fact that Quinn chose that moment to barge in.
She was laughing. I narrowed my eyes at her. ""I told you so, Jall! Your preference is as obvious as mine! wait 'till the Cap'n finds out..." !" she said threatingly.
Grace couldn't be hurt. "You tell the captain and so will I, Quinn."
Grace was obviously confused, but Quinn got the message.
She left in a hurry.
Writing's a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia E.L. Doctorow
I've always believed that writing advertisements is the second most profitable form of writing. The first is ransom notes Philip Dusenberry
I'm so clever that I don't understand a single word of what I'm saying Oscar Wilde




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Grace

I was confused as heck, Quinlan barged in at the perfect time, and apparently he liked someone on the ship, and for some odd reason Jall... kissed me! I scooted over, away from him.
"You mean, Quinlan, right?" I asked... he shrugged.
"Maybe i did." He said smirking. I crossed my arms, leaning back against the wall. I really didn't know what to say. Why did he defend the kitchen scum?
"I'm still kitchen scum and that was even stupider." I commented. Why did i want another kiss, he was a prisoner and i was kitchen scum, we weren't allowed to be together. It was forbidden by the captain. That's what makes it even more romantic. I mentally hissed at myself, 'shut up subconscious.'
"Even in the end --even in death-- I can't hate you." - Neri Hereford's last words.

"The Gods demand blood, for they... do not bleed." Jaska.

The Book.




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Apparently, Grace didn't enjoy the kiss as much as I did. So, here I am, writing in the journal that she gave me, with a pen that she sneaked to me, eating food that she cooked. Of course, I completely understand why she doesn't like me, but, honestly, did she really have to be rude? I wish I hadn't kissed her. I like her, but I shouldn't have done it so suddenly. It probably scared her off. She'll never like me now.

Quinn came up to me, and I quickly hid the journal. "So, do anything fun today?" she said, smirking. I glared at her.
She sat down. "Look, I wouldn't have told the captain. I really wouldn't have. I promise."
Warily, I looked up. "Really?" Gosh, why are you acting like such a baby! I berated myself.
She laughed. I blushed. "Yes, really," she responded.
"Okay."
She held out her hand. "Truce?"
I shook it. "Truce."

"Now tell me what happened after I left, Jall."
I sighed.
Writing's a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia E.L. Doctorow
I've always believed that writing advertisements is the second most profitable form of writing. The first is ransom notes Philip Dusenberry
I'm so clever that I don't understand a single word of what I'm saying Oscar Wilde




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JEX

I blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the dim light. Where was I? Obviously not in the supply closet... How the heck did I end up here?

"Jex? That you?" I jumped at the voice.
Her voice. Rosa's voice... My heart pounded visciously when she came into view. She was standing right there! How...

"You weren't supposed to be home till tomorrow," she whispered, smiling at me and making my stomach flop.

"I know, but I couldn't stay away that long." Why did I say that? Where had I gone? I cupped her chind in my hands and kissed her on the lips, suddenly not really caring where I was supposed to be or where I was right now. It didn't matter. I was here, and Rosa was here. She pulled closer and her arms snaked around my neck. My hands found her waist, wrapping aroun them. She pulled back suddenly, grinning before kissing me again.


I shot up, a cold sweat working its way down my neck. What the... the realization had hit me that it had been a dream. And by hit I mean it had slugged me in the gut-hard...repetitvely.

It felt like somebody had snaked their hands around my heart and squeezed every ounce of life from it. I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my forehead on them. Quinn wasn't here...it was the perfect time to cry. "Rosa..." I murmered her name over and over again, hoping that if I wished hard enough she would somehow be here again. In my arms, smiling. Living.

When the chanting didn't work I burst into helpless sobs, hardly caring whether Quinn-or anybody for that matter-walked in on me. Rosa deserved to be mourned.
Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurl.

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Quinn

I managed to slip some soup out of the kitchen. The cook seems to be avoiding me, and occasionally giving me curious glances. Not my problem. Only when I open the supply closet door, I find Jex on the floor, sobbing his eyes out.

"J-Jex?" I ask nervously.

"Rosa," he murmurs in a pathetically sad voice. Poor Jex...the girl he loved... I crouch down and pull him into a hug. My hands rub soothing circles into his back as he cries into my shoulder.

I'm not sure how long we stay like that, but I cherish every minute of it. Maybe Jall was right, maybe I care about him more than I should. It doesn't matter; he still loves Rosa so nothing will ever happen between us anyway.
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GRACE

I didn't know what to do, I didn't sit with Jall while he ate anymore, it was bring him food, leave and come back to get the dishes when he was done. I noticed Quinlan was still sneaking food, i wish he would just ask. I wonder why he needed so much food... cause growing boys eat a lot. I smirked at myself. That they did. I stopped for a moment. realising how often i was talking to my subconscious. Maybe kitchen life finally got to me and i went crazy. I wondered what all this hokus-pokus about going west was. But as kitchen scum, I'm very badly informed about all this. I sighed leaning against the sink. I wonder what jall is doing... GAH! just shut up subconscious. Why do you care about his so much... he's a prisoner! But yet... i still cared, in fact it made me care more. It was settled, i'd sit with him again tonight.
"Even in the end --even in death-- I can't hate you." - Neri Hereford's last words.

"The Gods demand blood, for they... do not bleed." Jaska.

The Book.




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JEX

I sniffed, suddenly embaressed that I had let Quinn see me cry like that. "Sorry," I murmered, wiping at the last of my tears.

"Why would you be sorry?" she asked, removing her hand from my back.

"I don't know. I'm just...sorry." I blinked, suddenly needing to get out off the blasted closet. "I really, really need to get out of here. If I stay in this stupid closet for another second I'm going to snap."

I pulled the ring out of my pocket, staring at it. The dream had been wonderful at first, but I woke from it and it now felt more like a nightmare. A stupid, taunting, nightmare. I looked up at Quinn, my eyes pleading. "There's got to be somewhere on this dastarly ship I can go that isn't here. Anywhere! Oh yes, that and I really need to take a whizz." It was a weak attempt at lightening the mood, but at least I was trying.
Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurl.

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**Edited out. Apologies, Raz!
Last edited by Maybe on Tue Jun 29, 2010 3:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Mela

"I'm going to do it." I regretted the words the second I said them. But, of course, I had said it to Ry, which meant now I had to.

Gah.

We were both sitting comfortably at the base of the mast, discussing (and sometimes bickering over) what was going on with the captain. Somehow, while talking about that, we managed to get on the topic of clothes. Ryker, being the absolute idiot he was, slyly pointed out that my leather pants were getting a little tight, and a few holes had been ripped in them that stretched further each time I climbed on the ropes, which was pretty often.

So he had suggested I ask the captain if she would happen to have any spare pairs that might fit better, or when we were next going to go into town.

That dirty dog.

So here I was, standing in front of the captain's cabin, fist raised. Ryker whispered, "Well? Go on then, do it!" in my ear (I shivered) and then raced away. I bit my lip, took a step back, ducked my head, and knocked.

If this ended badly, Ryker would be the first to know. And I don't mean verbally.
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