Gisele
First Matex|x#bd2c2c
First Matex|x#bd2c2c
It was dark within the hold of the Jolly Roger. The only light was a few dangling lanterns with their flickering light that swayed with the ship’s movements. The sound of creaking wood filled the air, mingling with the crashing of ocean waves across the bow. Flickering of the lantern light cast a dance of shadows and light across the teak walls. Soft trails of smoke drifted up from the smoldering end of a lit cigarette that hung between Gisele’s fore and middle fingers. One side of the hold had crates strapped down, filled with various bits of cargo and supplies that were on board. The other side had a series of iron cells on either side. Most of them were empty, save one. It was this one that Gisele was focused on, leaning a shoulder against one of the iron bars.
Within the cell she leaned against were three small figures huddled within, tied and blindfolded. The thrice-damned siblings that their crew was cursed to kidnap over and over. She drew in a deep drag from her cigarette, feeling the tobacco burning down her throat in that familiar way. Leaning forward, pressing her forehead against the metal, she blew out the smoke towards the children. Malice was in her eyes as she leered at them, not that they could see it, nor would she touch them. Yet. Not until the Captain gave the word. She’d long come to loathe these children. Not as much as she hated Pan or Aisling, not by a long shot. But the hatred was intense.
“Mai! Gisele!” Speaking of the Captain. At the sound of the woman’s voice, the First Mate of the Jolly Roger strode quickly towards the hatch to better hear the orders. “Don’t bring up the girl or the others ‘til we know the coast be clear.”
A wicked grin pulled across Gisele’s face, “Aye Cap’n!” She shouted back, making her way back towards the guard position over the captives. After one last drag, the remains of the cigarette caught fire in her hand. There was no surprise or shock, even when the fire licked across her fingers. There was a moment where she just the cigarette burn to ashes and the fire trying to consume her hand. But it didn’t happen, the fire licked, but her skin remained unharmed. Since coming to this island, the woman had come to love fire. She could still feel the sting of the burning, but it was a part of her now.
“Ya ready, Mai?” Gisele’s eyes lifted up towards the other woman who was tasked with guarding their prisoners. The firelight reflected an orange-red glow in her hazel eyes.
Lilian Galbraith
Mermaidx|x#005975
Mermaidx|x#005975
A soft whistling noise drifted from the rocky reef that was just off the island of Neverland. It mixed with the gentle crashing of the ocean against the rocks. The sound wasn’t the most interesting musically; it was more rhythmic, brief, and soft. It came from a simple conch shell that had part of its spiral point removed. The shell was in the hands of what appeared to be a young woman; very long blonde hair fell about her in straight damp layers. The only clothing she wore was a tunic of netting and strung with various bits of shells to veil her upper body. It was the lower body that would make one pause and realize she was not human... At least... Anymore. Where two legs should be, was instead a long fishtail. Iridescent scales covered it, and white frills were down the sides.
A particular rock breached the water's surface, allowing her to sit on the edge and keep her tail submerged. Occasionally, she would stretch it up and out while curling the fin upwards. Pulling the conch down and setting it in her lap, her gaze turned upwards to the sky. This night, there was little light, only the tiny sliver of a crescent moon and the faint starlight. The mermaid known as Lily knew what this night meant; she could remember a long, long time ago a similar night. It sent chills down her spine, but she also knew how important it was. This moment was so critical that she had to bear witness to it. She moved to set the conch against a crevice in the rock where it wouldn't get washed away. With a slight push, she slid off the rock and beneath the water. With a vigorous swish of her fin, she took off in the direction towards the rocky beach where the Jolly Roger would anchor itself time and again. There was no attempt to get close; she wasn't a fool. But at least she got close enough to make out whatever was going on. Her head was just barely above the surface, ready to flee if the chaos from the encounter got big enough.