open

[bouchonne]

WHO: Byerly & Kitty & you
WHAT: Open log! Assorted prompts!
WHEN: Months of Harvestmere & then Firstfall
WHERE: In and around Kirkwall
NOTES: If you're not into this junk tell me what junk you're into and I'll give you that junk

Prompts in comments my pretties. If none of em catch your fancy, then just throw up something that does.

Comments

[calicoy]

[Jack Rackham has very annoying laughter. It's high-pitched and loud and cuts through people's concentration. He hasn't noticed Kitty. He's noticed the other loudmouth and wants to fight for supremacy.]

Tell me more about the titles you hold, Messire, we're all absolutely fucking riveted.

[rathercommon]

[ This is slightly unexpected. Kitty had been about to move forward, to take action, when this new man had come upon the scene. She takes a step back a bit uncertainly.

The loudmouth clearly didn't expect anyone to stand up to him. He glares at Jack and puffs his chest - quite a bit broader than Jack's, it must be noted - and says, Who are you? ]

[calicoy]

[Everything is a performance. You can't let on being afraid of rippling pectorals.]

Someone incredibly fucking tired of braggarts. The only people who talk like you do just impregnated a duke's daughter. Congratulations on the impending matrimony.

[rathercommon]

[ The man snorts. Maybe I did, he jeers. Aren't many ladies who can resist me. Maybe one of them was someone's daughter, eh? ]

[calicoy]

Fantastic. Wonderful. Now will you kindly shut the fuck up? Your voice is an advertisement for deafness.

[Jack sits, and crouches, even letting hid tricorn slip down a little on his head. A posture he learned from Anne. Not a technique. The watchful will note one hand has slipped inside his jacket.]

[You know. Just in case.]

[rathercommon]

[ From a ways back, Kitty watches with dawning horror as she realizes - this guy's going to get himself hurt. Probably awfully bad. Nobles like this, they're absolutely monstrous, aren't they - they face no consequences for their actions. And this guy, he's going to bear the brunt of it.

And it's not her business. It is not even remotely her business. If he wants to get his face rearranged, then so be it. She's got nothing to do with any of it. She's...

With a noise of fury and frustration, she takes off running. And she yells - ]

Sorry! In a hurry!

[ And smashes into the nobleman, shoulder against his. As she does, she deftly slits his coinpurse - not to take with her, but so that all those gold pieces tucked in there go raining down upon the dock.

The man's attention is immediately diverted as he scrambles for his cash. ]

[calicoy]

[Well, that sure as fuck wasn't a coincidence. Hilarious, though. What about him and the trajectory of his life means he keeps running into capable young women?]

[Luck would have it, the ferry shows up just about then, and Jack scrambles on it, grabbing the girl by the shirtsleeve for a quick tug-- follow me, thank you-- before physically pushing the ferry off.]

Anchors aweigh, for the love of- [He physically throws some coin at the ferryman, coin that sure isn't his. But when it's just lying there on the ground... Look, if they're all culpable, the plan works that much better.]

[The ferryman is a bit put off by having things thrown at him, but coin is coin, and he goes a little faster as the daughter-fucker yells for them to come back.]

Important business with my uppity, rebellious cohorts. No time to waste. Ta!

[rathercommon]

[ She had, by instinct, grabbed a few coins before getting swept onto the boat. She looks at them a moment, then looks back at the man still on the dock (clearly debating whether to try jumping after the boat, and then deciding against it), and then pours a few more silver on the bench next to the ferryman. ]

Sorry. Thank you. Right. Sorry.

[ There's color in her cheeks, and she's a little breathless, but - against her will - there's a grin on her face, as well. She doesn't often do things that reckless any longer. Or things that fun. ]

You could have gotten your teeth smashed in, you know.

[calicoy]

[Jack reaches opens his overcoat a little more, revealing a dagger and a sword at his hip.]

I was preparing for a fight. What I wasn't preparing for was your little... gambit. Please tell me everyone in Kirkwall is this sick of rich tits like him. Lie to me, if necessary.

[Because he doubts it was out of genuine empathy. He's not thirteen.]

[rathercommon]

[ A grand snort in response to that. Kitty: not willing to lie under these benign circumstances, apparently. ]

More like - most people in Kirkwall are just like the ones licking that one's boots. You know how it goes. Money and power can substitute for good personality for people like that.

[calicoy]

For anyone, if you've enough of the latter. Maker, what an asshole. Still, my humble thanks-- [he imitates the man's accent--] for the assistance. Jack Rackham.

[He extends a hand. There are no marks, no tattooed 'X's, no missing fingers. A few rings above his knuckles may make one question why he talks about the wealthy with such disdain, but she just saw him steal coin, and seems something resembling clever.]

[rathercommon]

Oh. Erm -

[ He's a strange guy, that's certain. Shaking hands seems like such a weirdly old-fashioned gesture, after all that. But it sort of fits, given that he's got weird hair, weird clothes, and speaks in a really weird way. So. ]

I'm Kitty.

[ She takes his hand and shakes it, wrinkling her nose with just a bit of self-consciousness. ]

You don't fight with people like that often, do you?