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Post by barbossa on May 25, 2011 11:53:07 GMT -8
Trudging up the slight hill from the docks toward Tortuga, Barbossa looked forward to a fresh bottle of rum. Jack the monkey sat perched on one shoulder, his tail curled around his master’s neck for a bit of stability, little squeaks of excitement coming from the small beast.
Barbossa and Sparrow had arrived in the notorious port just as the sun had begun to set. But the sun had completely disappeared beneath the horizon by the time their crew had been given orders and dismissed. Or rather: the orders had been argued over incessantly between the two captains, given to the crew, revised a few times further as if they were two demented lawyers going at it and then finalized.
And now with duties taken care of and Sparrow off who knew where, Hector was in desperate need of a drink. Dealing with Jack was always a trial to him and more often than not left him in a foul, cranky mood. It was in those dark moods when the urge to divest himself of his co-captain became almost unbearable. But the goal of avoiding their common enemy, Blackbeard, for now stayed his hand in any outright underhandedness. Although the idea of hiding from any pirate was abhorrent to Barbossa he was willing, for now anyway, to go along with Jack’s plan…until he came up with a plan of his own.
His steps automatically led him to the Faithful Bride and he stood outside a moment listening to the clicking of glasses and boisterous laughter. It seemed the tavern never changed, no matter when he returned. Although during those cursed years there were far more screams to be had than laughter. At that thought a little shiver of the past ran down his spine…a remembrance of both evil and good all wrapped up inexplicably together.
Consciously pushing the past back into the far reaches of his mind, he thrust open the door and joined the unruly throng on the inside. Barbossa shouldered his way to the bar and caught the eye of the barkeep. After tossing a few coins onto the bar he turned, rum in hand, and headed for an unoccupied table at the edge of the room. Dropping into a chair, back to the wall, he propped his feet up onto the seat of another.
Barbossa made a slight movement with his hand and gave a small sound at the back of his throat. Jack perked up and squeaked in response. He swiftly scrambled from his master’s shoulder and began darting across the floor, obviously in search of something. There were a few cries of surprise from the patrons as the furry bundle of energy came very close to being trampled upon as well as nearly tripping a few who were already staggering from overindulgence.
Satisfied that Jack’s talents would prove profitable, Hector settled back in his chair and took a healthy swig from the bottle. He carefully surveyed the room as he drank, all the while Jack’s nimble little fingers quickly explored unguarded pockets nearby.
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Post by Cpt. Helena Worthington on May 25, 2011 15:52:58 GMT -8
Helena had never been one to enjoy Tortuga. She enjoyed the freedom her life as a pirate offered; the freedom to do what she pleased whenever she pleased. She enjoyed being able to wear pants, to tell people exactly what she thought of them, and drink to her heart's content. However, there were a few downsides to the lifestyle, and one of them was places like Tortuga.
Tortuga, as much as it was the "island of pirates", was not somewhere the little Spaniard chose to venture. Being a female in Tortuga meant you could be sure to get groped constantly, undressed by the eyes of strangers, and would have to travel with a man watching your back. Helena had her first mate for that, at least until they reached the bar, then they each went to their own devices.
She pushed her way through the crowd, around and over people lining the walls and the floor. After rolling her eyes at a few offers from men and women alike, she reached the bar and ordered a whiskey. She had never been much of a rum drinker. Her tastes were still to refined for that so far. Helena had forgotten a lot of the traditions of her former life, but her way of speaking and her taste for good liquor had not been included.
She moved away from the bar after paying the barkeep and made her way to the back where she usually sat in taverns. That way her back was to a wall and she could observe the rest of the room. However, she found her usual seat in this particular tavern occupied by a man that sparked something in the recesses of her memory, though she was not sure what. There was something familiar about his face, about his eyes, but she could not figure what.
So instead she gestured to the seat next to him. "Is that seat taken?" Her voice was a natural purr, accepted on the edges with the Spanish accent of her birth. At least in that seat she would still have her back to a wall, and pleasant company to her side.
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Post by barbossa on May 29, 2011 5:14:05 GMT -8
From his table along the back wall, Barbossa continued to survey the tavern scene before him. As with most Tortuga establishments, this one was rowdy and full of energy with plenty of opportunity for drama to unfold. Having had his fill of recent drama with one Co-Captain Jack Sparrow, he was content for now to just be an observer of potential drama.
As a serving girl passed close by his table, he suddenly became aware of a most pleasing aroma coming from the direction of the kitchen. He watched as she deposited a platter of meat, cheese and bread at a nearby table. When the buxom young woman once again passed by where he sat Barbossa reached out a hand to her waist and pulled her in close. Used to such behavior, and worse, from the patrons, she grinned down at him, "Wha' can I do fo' ya, love?"
Dragging his attention from her ample bosom he looked up at her and then nodded in the direction of the food she’d just delivered. “More o’ th’ same.” He held up his near empty bottle and gave it a jiggle before adding, “And another rum.” He released his hold on her as she turned to leave, his hand dropping to her rear when she started to move away. He took another drink of rum and watched her, appreciating the view as she moved across the floor.
It wasn’t long after the serving girl left that another woman approached from across the room, clearly making his table her destination. He openly appraised her as she drew closer, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe as he drained the last bit of rum from the bottle. Young, pretty and dressed like a man.
At her question he set the bottle back on the table and regarded her with a slightly amused expression. But any delight that may have been visible on his face was then tinged with sarcasm and mockery as he replied.
“And here I be thinkin’ ye fancy yerself t’ be quite th’ pirate.” His eyes swept over her once again before his gaze landed back on hers and he continued, “But haven’t ye heard? Pirates take they don’t ask.”
Barbossa ignored the chair next to him that she had indicated. Instead, with a sharp push of his boot, he shoved the chair he had been using as a footrest, sending it scooting across the floor toward her.
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Post by Cpt. Helena Worthington on May 29, 2011 6:33:33 GMT -8
In her past life, Helena had blushed every time she had been looked at like that. It had bothered her, to have the curves she had been blessed with observed with anything but honorable intentions. Nowadays, she had become used to it and had, to a point, even come to enjoy it. The naturally flirtatious side of the little Spaniard liked it, liked to playfully show men what they would never come close to touching. So as his eyes raked over her, she shifted her height to one leg, causing one hip to swing out slightly, a natural movement that seemed innocent enough, but also highlighted the natural hourglass shape of her figure.
She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, biting back with some of her own. "Forgive me if I know that we are a dying breed. Taking from another pirate seems superfluous." She snapped back. However, she was not granted the chair that had been sitting empty next to him, instead the one he had been using as a footrest. Her own foot darted out, hooking in one of the bars across the bottom, forcing it to stop and turn so the back was to her. She then unwrapped her foot, pulling it backwards against the wall at an angle to him.
Whiskey in hand, she lowered herself into the seat with the grace of the lady she had grown up as, stretching long, lean legs out to rest her feet on the table. As she did, all the muscles in them flexed, pressing against the close fitting fabric of her pants even more. She leaned back in her seat, taking a sip of the amber liquid in her glass and observing the crowd pulsing and surging ahead of she and her new company.
As she looked ahead of her, she gazed at him as inconspicuously as possible out of the corner of her eye, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. Everything about him sparked something deep in her memory, but what it was she could not figure out. Something from times long passed, from a time that seemed like nothing more than a story that she had been told as a child. She finally looked away and back to the crowd.
"You look familiar." She began, Spanish accented voice dictated and crisp. She took a sip of her drink before continuing. "Have I threatened you before?" She then turned towards him, gray blue eyes observing his face over the rim of her glass.
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Post by barbossa on Jun 2, 2011 18:33:36 GMT -8
At her reasoning for not simply taking whatever chair she pleased, Barbossa stifled a low chuckle and then, as if she had just revealed something surprising, he answered her in a light mocking voice, “Ahhhh…ye be a pirate wit’ some scruples. I’ll have t’ keep tha’ in mind if we e’er cross paths again. While ye be respectin’ m’ property I’ll be schemein’ m’ way inta relievin’ ye o’ yer own.”
Barbossa had always been fairly good at reading other people. Blatant body language, like the way she reacted to his open assessment, was not much of a challenge. She had preened like a peacock, apparently trying to show herself off to her greatest advantage. She was attractive enough but a willing female form was not all that difficult to find in Tortuga – if one was looking for that sort of thing.
But beauty in itself was not all that important to him. Not like it was to other men who only gravitated to the pretty faces. Barbossa had always been far more interested in what lay behind the coy smile and alluring eyes. Wit, brains and cunning were far better features, from his point of view, than a shapely body or an attractive face.
So the effort she made in positioning her body for optimum display was wasted on him. Rather, he was watching for other, more unconscious, signals from her. For he had set a test out before her – he was watching to see how she would handle the chairs.
When she took the chair he had shoved toward her (the chair he had basically ordered her to take) a slow secret smile spread across his face. She was a pirate with scruples and took orders from strangers. New to piracy perhaps? But, clearly a member of someone’s crew, he thought. The idea that she could be a fellow captain simply did not cross his mind.
Barbossa could sense her own curiosity and although she attempted to hide her scrutiny he caught the flick of her gaze toward him out of the corner of his eyes. Her statement that she thought he looked familiar was a normal “get to know you” type comment and he turned toward her with a smile, already prepared to reply with a witty response.
But her follow-up question caused an instant change in his demeanor, his jaws once more bunching with irritation as he clenched his teeth. Had Jack put her up to this? He had heard Sparrow ask that tired question more times than he cared to recall. It would be just like Jack to try and be the cause of annoyance even when he was not even in Barbossa’s immediate company.
Hector’s eyes quickly flicked over the crowd, searching for those tell-tale dreads and trinkets. Not finding that familiar face, Barbossa’s gaze returned to the woman beside him, his expression not quite as open as it was previously, even though his tone seemed friendly enough.
“So, how long did ye sail wit’ Sparrow? Tha’ question used t’ be witty…” he couldn’t help the sarcasm that crept into his voice, “th’ first time he used it anyway.”
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Post by Cpt. Helena Worthington on Jun 17, 2011 6:05:17 GMT -8
Helena shifted more comfortably in her seat, pulling her feet off the table and tucking one long, toned leg up beneath her, crossing the other over it and allowing it to hang free so the tip of her toes barely touched the floor. She sipped her whiskey, observing the crowd swirling and whirling around them, perfectly content not to fight over a chair and who sat where.
His response to her question caused her brow to wiggle slowly upwards in surprise. Sparrow? Who? "Pardon?" She asked, truly surprised, unable to keep that off of her face. She honestly had no idea who what he was talking about, but apparently he thought she was in on some sort of a joke with someone else. Suddenly it made since. Jack Sparrow! "Jack Sparrow?" She asked, truly surprised.
"Oh no no, I may be young but I pride myself on being smarter than the average insect and I know better than to tangle with Jack Sparrow." She took a sip of her whiskey, looking back across the crowd of people fighting and dancing before speaking again, her eyes still not on him. "I actually do find you familiar, like you're in the recesses of a memory somewhere." She finally did turn back to look at him, extending one long fingered hand, catlike reflexes ready to pull it back when needed.
"Captain Helena Worthington." She introduced herself, waiting to see if he would take her hand. The part of her that was still a lady demanded she at least introduce herself. Whether or not he returned the favor hardly mattered, but perhaps it would give her a clue as to why he was so familiar. Maybe she did know him, from a long time ago, or maybe it was simply her mind playing tricks on her again.
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((ooc: sorry it took SO long )) |
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Post by barbossa on Jun 27, 2011 16:52:33 GMT -8
Barbossa thought her reaction over the mention of Jack's name a bit strange. Sparrow was infamous among the pirate ports. And here they were in the most infamous port of them all – Tortuga. Her supposed confusion over who Barbossa meant was too quickly replaced with that sudden name recognition. To him it came across as a bit fake or too thought out. And even though she claimed Jack was not the type for her, it seemed to Barbossa that she was exactly the type that was drawn to Sparrow.
"Well, women such as yerself seem t' always gravitate t' Jaaack. Whether it be fer beddin' or for slappin'." He took a drink from the bottle and peered at her from the corner of his eye. Smiling he set the bottle back down and continued, "Or maybe a bit o' both."
Barbossa cocked one eyebrow in surprise when she made her introduction and offered her hand, his mouth quirked in a wry grin. She fancied herself a captain after all. He took her hand in his and with a gracious nod said, "Captain Barbossa," that sly smile still on his face.
At her further insistence that he looked familiar he shook his head. "I ne'er forget a face," he took another swig and thought a moment. "Although...there be a good ten years tha' I wasna quite m'self. If tha' be when ye remember me...well I guarantee one thing. Ye wouldna be sittin' so calmly next t' me but would have a broken bottle pressed t' m' throat instead."
Suddenly spotting the serving wench making her way across the floor toward him, Barbossa pulled a couple coins out of his pocket. Arriving at his table, the woman transferred a few dishes of meat, various cheeses and some bread to the table as well as a fresh bottle. Barbossa tossed the coins onto her tray and then gave her a leering wink. She laughed flirtatiously but skillfully moved away before his hands could get in on the act.
The serving wench immediately turned to the young woman seated next to Barbossa. "An' wha' kin I get fer th' pretty young miss, eh?" She cocked a hip and waited, gaze flicking over the woman expectantly.
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