above board, and beyond

@Wake / @Esmerelda - either or both, not picky! just marking it private cause joining threads can be slow if more than two people. will make more flint threads once he wears their colors!

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Storm's a coming.

Fionn wasn't surprised. With all this mucky heat for days, even weeks, no kiddin'. Even the sun'd want a bit of a break. Aye, he hadn't been here too long to know for sure - he'd wager the humidity hadn't let up so close to the turn of a new season - but it also didn't take too deep a brain to assume. Weather was the same any place, be it port or sea. It all had rules and layers and fancy thinkin' shit to recall. At least the sea remained relatively close to what he knew, regardless of where he wound up.

And the sea, she liked to get a tad uppity whenever no one paid her attention. Remind all those landlocked folk she was here. Who could blame her? Man, woman, child... Ignore 'em enough and they throw a fit. Demand your attention, even if they don't rightly deserve it. Fionn was the sea's dog at the end of the day, rain or shine. He'd follow her yankin' his leash. Didn't mean he had to like it all the time. This be one of those times cause he wanted to have a look around. Scout a bit. Find a safe place.

Sea wasn't having any of that logical bullshit.

Rain'd make smellin' things hard. Rain'd wash away any tracks. Sky crackled above him, loomin' with those dark clouds but other than grumbling and lightin' up a few times... The storm withheld dramatics. For now. Fionn managed to work his way across the sandbar before the tide swelled. His fur darkened at the edges where water drenched him. He stood at the edge, churning sea licking his heels, though refused to budge from that spot. He knew piss when he smelt it. Wild beasties pissed everywhere they thought was their own.

Maybe they knew better than pissin' in the ocean, else they'd try to claim that too.

Still, instinct bred into his very bones. He didn't take a step over. Fionn wasn't someone who liked to press his luck, nor flaunt any sort of flaws in his ego. Why the hell would he get his knickers in a twist over this? Made no sense to get pissed off someone tinkled over a spot of dirt. It wasn't his dirt. If anyone had the right to be upset, it was the dirt and it weren't talking none. Didn't change the fact the clouds darkened by the minutes he wasted, standin' here. Sandbar was too swollen to cross, he was rightly trapped. Marooned.

He lifted his eye and spied somethin' coming toward him. He squints but says nothing. Not until he saw who was skulking around in the dark.

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She prowled, keen to return to the warmth of her Mystic before the storm rained down with a strong hand. It looked angry and she had watched how it had brewed out over the seas all day. Churned the waves up into harsh spray against their shoreline.

One more lap and she'd crawl back to her lover.

Only something waited out there for her, like an ill omen. Wolf but not, conjured by the sea and brought ashore. Patchworked of sea and sky. She could not stop the instinctual way she prowled towards it like a hunter. A new face upon her shores would always be greeted with wary pointedness.

The way here was hardly an easy one and often times it was the sea that pushed them ashore.

So she stood tall and defensive. Not an ounce of her bothered to hide the way she looked over him at once. Did the sea punish her with man after man after man? Yet this was maybe the first one she did not want to instantly bite flesh upon. Instead she wanted to know why he seemed that way, what the object along his eye was.

First things first —

“Did you wake up here?” There is curious but sharp scrutiny in her voice.

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ooc; ty for the stardust! <33
 

Aye, was a wild beastie. He weren't surprised about that. No humans courted this land, much less this sea. Understanding anything deeper about different worlds made his head hurt. Fuck, he ain't had a wee drop since he woke up and already felt like he was nursin' a hangover. "Nah, lass." His voice crackled, upstaging the naturally pleasant brogue of his people. Even if it were difficult to comprehend at times, he liked to think it was pleasing to the ear drums. Though that was mighty generous when you don't know shit about someone's preferences.

Just his personal thoughts, is all. Brogue sounded like a jaunty hum or a bird's song. Maybe he was just used to the lack of personality everywhere he went, barely findin' folks who sounded funny and interestin'. Maybe he missed the emerald land a bit too much. "Jolted awake back thar." His good eye rolled as if pointing the way, back across the sandbar and further into some land he don't know the name of. Someone probably named it, someone who pissed there first, all over the very first one who pissed there and was forgotten about. Time was a cruel mistress. Least the sea gave a shit.

Sometimes.

You can't eat time. Just consumes you. Fionn'd rather eat tasty meat from fish and crab than speed up his aging. His attention went back to the stormcloud. "Sea make a habit of spittin' people up on yer land?" Judging by her choice of words, almost weary and expecting this by now... "Weren't her fault for me" He grimaced at his stupidity "Misjudged the tide. Stuck here til it bleeds out" He squints, not pissed at her but annoyed at himself "I ain't gonna tip across the line" He added, though didn't blame the lass none if she didn't believe him "Though I ain't fool enough to try swimmin' back. Storm'll hit soon. I ain't that good of a paddler." But if she forced him back, not much he could do.

He lowered his eye, at her mercy or good graces. Whatever worked. "Be gone the mo' it passes, cross me blackened heart."

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a phone post for u too bc I want him gimmegimme

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His voice came coated in something vaguely familiar, a feeling that tugged at a life left behind. Hazed enough by the new world that she could not place it. Maybe the sea haunted her with this too. To send her a man and give her even an inkling of familiarity in the drawl of his words.

She despised how it only rattled her curiosity harder.

He rattled his vague story, his promises that meant little to a woman he did not know his worth. Yet she fixed him with a look that threatened to make something of him. Like she might dig around in his mysteries and find the treasure.

She had been burned by it before.

“Sea spat out most my crew into this place. Harsh lover she is.” She leaned some in her posture, confident enough to ease slightly while they stood upon her shores.

“But you know a lot about her? How deep does that knowledge go?”
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He could not help it.

He laughed.

It'd been too long. Or, it felt like he wasted opportunity before. Bubblin' and burnin' like a cold one — best kind of drink to consume. Flat, warm ones weren't worth destroying a liver over. Could still do what needs to be done, aye, but he'd sooner dump it than taste it. Laughin' felt like a long overdue release. His tune weren't condescending, though could be hard to tell. It crackled like the beckonin' storm above their skulls. Finally, it split and settled. Fuck, he was grateful to this lass for it. Even if she weren't hoping to be funny, it tickled his bones all the same.

"Aye, that she be" Fionn steadied himself, though he was a touch lighter now. Bit more relaxed, now that he had cawed like a gull. Could also be the lass relaxed instead of snappin' her jaws at him. Wild beasties tended to do that first "thought ya needed more crew, though she don't know how to knock proper." Instead of wrappin' em up in a bow, she spat them all out. Half dead. Lungs filled with seawater. Ragged and confused. Yep, sounded like the sea on a sunny, pleasant day... His men oft found corpses in the sea, dragged em aboard.

Most of em couldn't survive even on the ship.

They went back overboard. Ship too small for rottin' corpses. Men'd complain it stank. Too long to drop em at port. Those that fought were allowed to stay, work for their debt and then be released. If you was saved from Davy Jones', you had an obligation to prove you're allowed to breathe. "I cannae say anyone knows the sea beyond a quick roll," He lifts his brows at the stormy lass "it up to her if she beds ya again" He was goddamn serious "though she weren't mind none if ya stick around, beggin'." He glances to the side, focused on the churning waves.

A keen eye saw booty below the waves.

"She allows me to groom her nicely" Fionn breathes "I take the meat she don't want. If not meat, I drag out the muck. Seaweed is useful, if ya have a brain. Shells'll fetch a nice price at port. Lasses swoon over em, ask their men to buy em" Wild beasties had no use for coin, though "Guess ya call me a hunter. Though it ain't far to say I scavenge. I ain't blind either. I see better than those with two good ones." Totally blind dogs got a pass, but they'd be put to work elsewhere. His ears twitched, one raised a bit higher as he regarded her.

"Ya inklin' to put me to work, lass?" He weren't opposed to that though "Don't care if the roof leaks none, but if I shut me eye and wake up dead - drowned - then I won't be none pleased." Which is to say, he wanted a safe place to sleep that didn't kill him if he let his guard down. If he had the ability, he'd be awake all the time. But, nah, he was mortal. Cut him. He would bleed. It was unwelcomed, but he put up with it. Not much he could do if he was destined to die. They all were, unless they bragged they had godly blood. He bet if he cut them, it'd bleed red like the rest...

He bet they died like the rest too. "If your crew have need of an old dog, I submit" He said "I'll hunt n' gather for yer mates. Though I ain't bitchin' if I gotta chase folks off" Gather enough booty, someone would come to steal it eventually. He wasn't gonna sit with his thumb up his arse, let the others do the work. He weren't a coward, no. "name's Fionn, though me old crew called me Flintlock. I don't care what ye call me, lass. Could be hey you fer all I give a shit" He shrugged "Though it ain't nice to call ya lass. Yer the captain, aye? What do I call ye, cap'n?"

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He laughed.

She found it hard to be mad with him about it. The sea had brought her worse things before. Like the fox that now had gone rogue from their island. Perhaps the beast had found a value in its life over the crew.

A man laughing wasn't much worse, she reckoned.

Not with the way he spoke either. Respected the lady sea, knew her boundaries and took only what he was offered. She was bitter and jaded enough to think that this bare minimum made him better than plenty of other men she had know throughout lives.

"Shells'll fetch a nice price at port. Lasses swoon over em, ask their men to buy em"

Her lips curled into something wicked but warm. “I might trade with you. I got a lady I'd like to give treasures to.” Esme was not a material woman, but Wake could be in some regards. Trinkets and treasures she wished to collect and share with the one she bound hearts with.

Yet she saw in him mighty fine potential, beyond another body to send off to guard sandy shores. In him was proper knowledge of the sea, a real ocean-dweller gifted to her by the waters. “Well, Flintlock,” She drawled it across her tongue, tested its roll and found she lacked wanting in it. His name seemed strong among the Saltwoods. “I'm Wake, but I'll answer to cap'n just fine.” Her teeth were shown in a warm manner before her lips dropped back down.

“I'd like you here among the Saltwoods, hunting and teaching if you're so inclined. I got some bodies for chasing, I could use more for the more day-to-day work though. The Mystic of the woods might be interested in hearing you talk about the sea as well, but that's up to her.” A nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. @Esmerelda might find something interesting in the seadog.

“Teach and do what you say, you'll have a mighty cozy place here with us.”

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Weren't more to say.

He said his piece — as bloated n' longwinded as it were. Names exchanged. Job given. Weren't no different than his past crew, minus the ship. Be strange to not feel wood below his paws. Fuckin' weird not to be rocked to sleep after dealin' with heavy nausea. He didn't know if he liked it or not, though he'd deal with it until his stomach couldn't no more. Suffice to say, he was stickin' around unless he had motivation to leave. Fionn could deal with most bullshit, even handle a woman's presence even if it were ill of omen to have one on ship... He never cared if some were smuggled on. He cared when they was blamed for bad luck by incompetent men. He squirreled em back to land, cause he knew they'd get the blunt of it.

Even maroon'ed and starvin' to death be a better fate than the crew's wrath. 

So he never cared if he was whipped for savin' a lass. It only made the captain pissed off he had to punish Fionn. Captain knew it weren't his fault, but had to be strict anyway. Else he was weak. Else he'd be dethroned. If Saltwoods' cap'n ever lost Fionn's respect, Fionn would leave. Wake could be weak if she wanted, but he wasn't gonna watch the result. He wasn't going to watch her crew turn on her, rip her to shreds and throw her out to sea. If he had to drag her 'way, kickin' and screamin' to save her skin... Her pride'd be hurt, but she'd be alive. She'd be able to claw her way back up. If she was dead, well. She'd have a mighty hard time of that, aye? He already decided on this course, weren't nothing she could do about it.

What he took away; the Mystic was Wake's woman.

Wake wanted to pretty her up, spoil her rotten.

Fine.

"Long as yer not askin' me to teach useless fuckers" Fionn replied "I ain't the time to sit and hold their 'aw, makin' sure they eat. I cannae split myself in two. I'd rather fill the cache. If they useless, they can eat from there" They'd still get food, but he'd waste his time teaching empty brains when he could provide a service instead "Speakin' of which" He glanced at the sky again, realizing the storm was deadly close. The beach'd be swollen with excess after it was done throwing a tantrum "Gonna take shelter, cap'n" If it pleased her "If yer crew wants to learn, they can seek me out. After. Be on the beach, pickin' up booty. Two sets o' paws better than one. Expect yer crew to eat by the time I'm done."

He wasn't promising a full cache. Just one that had some pickin' to it. After he scavenged the bounty, Fionn'd fish properly. He shook his fur out, bones tense from standin' so long but managing to slink past Wake with a nod. He dare not go near enough for her to bite easily, but his nod was — while curt — less rude, more 'eager' to begin. It lacked attitude, had respect though he don't know if he could nod long enough for it to be respectful without his head fallin' off. For him, it was submissive. It was best Wake'd get, no context between strangers. A swear of fealty — for now. He didn't expect her to bend over for the likes of him, a stranger, either. 

-exit-

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She liked him as much as she could.

A seadog man come to shore, come to teach her other men bodies and provide for Saltwoods. Admittedly he showed the most promise out of all of them perhaps, but that was something she held close to her heart, wedged neatly between ribs.

“I'll be waiting,” She mused as she watched him make off for cover.

She took a moment out here beneath the roiling sky and seas. Watched how the endless expanse somehow became one in their storminess. She knew she'd be rained on as she made her walk back and that a lover may fuss over putting herself in the storm.

Yet it had brought them good fortune and that had to count for something too.

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