a//w o r l d//of(DARKNESS)``jimmy_

[Cap'n Sankari V.]

Truly what was night without nightmares? Without the constriction of memories finally let loose on your body? She revolted against anything soft, hating even the faintest glimmer of the human compassion she had left behind with her, twitching in the mud. They had killed everything human about her, and she had let them do it; so why, when the moon sat back contentedly in the sky like some fat dream, she could not close her eyes for fear of the nightmares that comes to mock her? She imagines demons crawling in the corners of her chambers, as dark as shadow -- no, no, part of the shadow, their existence as real as the darkness that smothers all of the light. Her eyes flicked to the side, knowing that time passed, but unable to break the slow, arduous trudge of the clock; it moved like old oxen, without pause, perhaps, but slow, so slow.

Her breath sounded harsh in the silence; her weight pressing down into the bed was like a giant manacle she could not rid herself of -- it chaffed and rubbed her raw, but she could only conceive of taking the limb off to free herself. The binding, like sleep, would never let her find peace. Was the only way to survive to swallow all of that darkness and hold it captive inside of herself? So Sankari drowns out the sight of Luann, of all that heavenly innocence she had left behind. The life she had let be smothered by fear; instead she feasted on hate, feeling strength and anger burn her raw inside. Yet it was better than fear. Anything was better than being afraid and helpless.

Without a change of expression, she rolls over to the side, her hips casting a sharp silhouette, all bone, left to waste away without sustenance -- even hunger had faded to negligent little twitches she barely acknowledged. The Captain was fading fast, but all she could concern herself with was memories and nostalgia, with the taste of blood that still found it's way in her mouth, like rotted iron. She bled, somewhere, inside; a wound, unhealed, that she could not afford to ignore.

Yet the darkness was more oppressive than the taste of blood rolling around her tongue; she sits up, unable to remain still as the long hours stretch out before her. Sankari rises, her bones groaning like her ship, straining under the weight of her limp left arm -- the metal that had yet to be fixed, the wounds that still pulsed like nothing pleasant. She leaves the chains curled at the foot of her bed like a nest of vipers, and walks out, forcing her feet to move in a pleasant manner, forcing her back to straighten though she ached to simply crash to the floor. Gravity was winning, as it always won.

Sankari ghosted through the levels of the ship, the night watch warily watching her steps, hoping those dulled, grey eyes never turned to look at them with any sort of emotion -- the moment they flared, turned vibrantly blue in light, it was as if fire beckoned, hungering to devour; the captain has no words for them, only silence offered in the tense atmosphere building up before she moves through it all, unaffected. Injured, broken, but even the crippled tiger had a fang or two it could sink deep into your neck, and it begged, so boldly, to be bitten.

In silence, she had risen to the decks, and in silence, she descended into the lower realm of wood and metal, feeling herself part of the ship in ways that no human could understand; in the creaking, motion, the trembling vibrations, she felt herself on the verge of splitting at the seams. "Fuck, old girl, we're g'nnah need some h'lp, hm?" she murmurs, losing all of that stoicism once she was alone again; losing the mask as she goes into the empty kitchen, her fingers clutching painfully at the counter and sliding to the floor. Her metal arm thunked loudly against the wood, jostling the open-faced wound on her shoulder, hidden by the jacket she wore. Sankari hissed, but didn't curse, turning her head away from the foul, self-mutilated injury, toward the darkness that followed no matter where she was. Even here, the shades came, their fingers pulling their cheeks apart in impish delight.

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word count;; 731
tags;; Jimmy!
OOC;; I did NOT proof read. I'm sorry T_T

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[Jimmy Terranova]

Have you ever woken up for no reason? Just randomly opened your eyes and stared into the dark. You might wonder what made you wake, listen out for some hidden assailant or distressed comrade, anything that could have interrupted your sleep. You might think for a while, try to cling to the fading memories of the dream you were having, maybe that was the cause? Then, when you find nothing you might sigh and accept it, turn over and try to slip back down into sleep. Slowly you’ll forget any worries you might have had, and your body will begin to shut down. Your mind will disconnect, and you’ll stop listening and watching for things around you. You won’t stop hearing though. Your brain is still there, listening out, ready to wake you if you’re needed. Even when you’re peacefully drifting off, it will be there.

Jimmy did such a thing, seemingly for no reason. He started to sit up, realized that there was no-one there, and let himself fall. He listened, his eyes stayed wide for a moment. He saw nothing, and heard nothing out of the ordinary; just the background noises of a ship flying through the night, it’s crew sleeping. He thought back to his dream. Nothing out if the ordinary. It had made no sense to him, but most dreams were like that. It was going now anyway. As was Jimmy himself. Drifting back into sleep, shutting down yet again. He didn’t even have to turn over. Heavy breathing, the sleeping crew. A light voice, not unheard of. A dull thud somewhere off in the ship. Not usual. That woke him straight back up.

It took him a few moments to piece together what he had heard with what he knew about the layout of the ship. He hadn’t been here long, but it wasn’t exactly difficult to figure out. It had come from off in the rough direction of… the Galley. His domain. Midnight snacker maybe? Whoever it was they had better not be rifling through his supplies. When he had arrived the galley had been in quite a state. There had been no-one to do things properly. He had kicked out the guy who was acting as the ship’s cook and asserted his will over the neglected space; made it his own. He wasn’t exactly intimidating, but he thought he’d made it clear to a good number of the crew that if they messed with anything they might be leaving minus a finger or two. It seems someone hadn’t heeded his warning.

Jimmy stumbled to his feet. He was several things shortly after waking, but graceful was not one of them. He gained his feet quickly though. It was rather dark, but he managed to locate a pair of pants and slip them on. He kept on his feet while doing this, barely. The last thing he grabbed was his belt, which held his Kukri, hidden in the small of his back, usually concealed by his jacket. As it was he was in a loose shirt and whatever pants he had picked up, so it would still be visible. No matter, it was meant to be seen in this situation. Gaining his bearings, Jimmy made his way to the galley. It wasn’t far, but just far enough to make him wonder what if he’d been wrong? Of course it wouldn’t matter, bursting in to an empty room in the dead of night to accuse someone who wasn’t there was only embarrassing to yourself. Jimmy didn’t really care about that, what he did care about was people raiding his kitchen. He took a lantern from the wall and lit it, shielding it’s light as best he could with his other hand. There was nothing wrong with the darkness, Jimmy was comfortable in it, he’d gotten over his fear when he was a child. It was just bloody difficult to see where you were going in it.

Reaching the doorway, Jimmy saw it was slightly ajar, though it was dark inside. If there was someone in there they were eating in the dark. And being very quiet about it, come to think of it. There had been no sounds since the one that first alerted him. Still, he was here now, may as well check. Un-shielding the lantern, Jimmy took a moment to push his hair back from his eyes a little. His headband was still lying with his other clothes, and his hair was an untidy mess. Pushing the door open decisively, Jimmy was prepared to berate whoever he found with their hand in his pantry. There was no-one though. No crewman sat on the counter eating a sandwich as he’d thought there may be. It took him a moment to notice the figure on the floor, her face pale in the lamp light Jimmy had brought in with him.

Though Jimmy hadn’t been on the crew for long, he had already heard enough stories about it’s captain to last a lifetime. Some said she wasn’t quite human, the most extreme claimed that she was a machine of some sort. He didn’t put much faith in these stories himself, though he had to admit she unnerved him slightly. The detached way she operated, the deliberate, purposeful movements. She always appeared strong, unrelenting. He would say she held herself with pride but for the lack of emotion she exhibited. There was strength there though, no-one could deny that. She was different now. She was sitting, looking weaker than he’d ever seen her. It was the closest she had ever come to appearing vulnerable, at least in his limited experience.

It threw him slightly, seeing her like this. He was still cautious though. She was still a formidable woman, despite this. So young, yet she struck fear even into the hearts of her crew. He couldn’t help the puzzled expression which appeared on his face though. ”Captain? Is everything… alright?” He was unsure how to phrase it, unsure whether she would be insulted by him insinuating weakness. His eyes, blue like the sea, still slightly clouded with sleep, looked down at her. He felt he would have to tread carefully, but something told him he shouldn’t just ignore this new side of her.

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Tagged: Sankari/C1rce
Words: 1049
Note: Not the best I’ve done, I am not getting my endings looking good recently. Don’t worry about the proof reading, it was fine.

[Cap'n Sankari V.]

She was seeing faces again, hearing that lullaby again -- always again, this horrible cycle that eroded the rest of her will, and broke her down just a little more each time. Would she be able to stand up again? Would she be able to wash out the taste of rust in her mouth? Food was foul -- the only sustenance she craved was the blood of her enemies, but even that was growing old, her body wasting away from all this neglect. Once, there would have been someone to tell her she was pushing herself too hard, but that person is dead. That person, with that dear face, left her this horrible gift before dying in a puddle of red. Red like the spots that danced across her vision, teasing her with their impish faces, as cruel as the shades that woke from the dead to hover near her. Was she truly going to go this time?

It is the first time she has smiled for no reason at all: her lips lift up, crooked, unable to tame that thread of hilarity that kept her going. "Bastards think you're going to get me this easy?" she spits out, her voice hoarse and rubbed raw -- the fall into the river, the consequential battle before, and after had left her in bad shape. Even her throat hurt, now. What else could she add to her list? Kari scoffs, hearing Death's lullaby in the suffocative silence around her, in the slow thrumming of the ship, the steps that walked ever so quietly above her. Circles, everything was a circle and Sankari was tired of seeing the same dirt on her toes, the same grime imbedded in her fingernails; was there a time when she had been clean?

Her eyelids flutter closed, exhaustion shuddering through her spine as everything twinged and cramped up; the heavy pressure of His presence was enough to make her feel at ease. Death was something she was used to, after all. Death, with his sticky, cold fingers, icy palms, thin, thin wrist -- it was all she ever saw, all she ever dreamed of; his voice murmured that delicious lullaby, luring her toward calmness -- she tilted her head back, feeling a pulse of coolness around her neck and reached out blindly with her right hand. She grasped onto the cabinet, rummaging through it without sight, without caring what it was that she pulled out; anything of alcohol would suffice to snuff out this delirium, this cold sweat that made her heavier and heavier -- so she pulled the cork out, and put the bottle to her lips, drinking as if she had never had anything to drink in days. Perhaps she hadn't -- it all blurred by, monotonous moments specifically driving toward quick climaxes. She only remembered boredom, and death, and it all went well with brandy; the liquid dripped down her chin, mixing with dirt and sweat and the salty spray she had never washed off.

Yes -- she called silently toward those demons that danced and leered, that itched to touch her, to bring her back from the line of this life; she called to them because if she had had the chance, she would spit in their faces, but as she stared, they changed. Their faces were not strangers, or men and women she had killed. No, no, this was the face she feared to dream of, this the face she had locked so deep in her heart she pretended it no longer existed. If it weren't for her, yes, this awful woman smiling so gently at her now, reaching out, Sankari wouldn't be in the mess. She wouldn't be crumpled on the floor, a bad mixture of everything heroic and evil in the world. "Luann, damn you." she hisses, grief in her voice as she mentally reaches out for that girl, imagining the weight of her body, trying to conjure up the smell that she had adored. Anything. Everything. Everything that made up Luann -- all the things she hated, and now loved, all the expressions, the sarcasm, the bite of that sharp, clever mind. Minutes passed as she grew deliriously drunk off of brandy and her heady imagination, hours passed? Days passed? She didn't care, lulled and calmed, her eyelashes almost kissing her cheek, only a sliver of her grey-blue eyes glimpsed under the heavy row of black. Still, she could not smile.

But it all ended, as it always ended - with motion, and violence.

Sankari didn't know what came first: the sound, or her reaction. Her eyes snap open, the dulled grey look sparking fire as she reached for her scourge, that deadly knout, her mouth pinched, teeth ground. There was no time for thinking, no time for failing; it didn't matter that her left arm was barely usable, if she needed it, she would force it to work. And it grabbed the long handle, throwing all of that considerable weight to the side and whipping it in the direction of sound, or reaction: she didn't require precision, only the crack of threat as the copper weight flung itself out into the darkness and slammed heavily into the floor boards; the jolt woke her from her dreams, from her waking dream. Bones creaked as she used the momentum of the great knout to lift her up, knees protesting as if she were ninety years old and not nineteen: but her mouth was set in grim lines, detrimental lines -- lethality. Sankari may be broken, but she still had bite left.

A step, two -- when reality fully settled around her; "mmph" breath whistled out from between her clenched teeth. The kitchen boy, and belatedly, she recognized what had set her off, Captain? Is everything… alright?

[/i] If he had been an enemy, she would have been dead twice over. The spark died, and all of that dulled greyness returned as sleep deprived exhaustion settled on that mildly skeletal facial expression. Heavy-lidded, and suddenly shockingly drunk she stumbles back, losing her already weak grip on the counter, legs giving out. This thud was more forceful than the one that had stirred the boy from his sleep, but she could only chuckle. And chuckle. And chuckle.
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word count;; 1044
tags;; Jimmy <3
OOC;; Ah man, she's insane T^T

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[Jimmy Terranova]

The silence was broken by sudden movement. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it had been bloody close to him. He naturally took half a step back. Not that it would have helped him. The whatever-it-was had already hit the floor, making a good deal of noise. Jimmy had felt the air it displaced as it shot past him. He had the feeling that death has just brushed against him. Even when she was in this state, whatever it was, the captain was still dangerous. Or perhaps it was because of that. Cornered animals are more dangerous, wounded animals are perhaps worse. Captain Sankari could well be both. She had risen quickly, reacting to the sudden intrusion defensively, striking out blindly. It was clear she wasn’t expecting to be disturbed. Still, it shocked the cook to see that she would attack without looking even when on her own ship. The most likely outcome would be a bifurcated crewman. Not that she would care much. She didn’t seem to care deeply about anything. She was cold and distant every time he had seen her.

She was stood now. Trying to move towards him? She didn’t get far. She seemed for a moment possessed by something vicious, something inhuman. It faded quickly though, he could see it in her eyes. And then she was as she had been. She looked tired, weaker. It was unheard of. She was always strong, unfeeling, unyielding. Jimmy wasn’t sure what this meant. He couldn’t decide whether he was worried or relieved about her situation. On the plus side it showed that she was human, she wasn’t a perfect, unfeeling machine. But if she was in a state like this, how long would she last? Did this happen often? If she got herself into this state how could she lead? How could she recover and fight? She looked tired, and… well, fragile. As Jimmy looked on she fell back, faltering for a few steps before dropping unceremoniously to the wooden floor. He could only stare. She hit the floor hard, too hard. Such a small frame, yet she fell like a ton of bricks. He was too shocked at seeing her in this state for the weight to register at first.

There was a bottle next to her on the floor. It smelled of alcohol. Jimmy wasn’t much of a drinker himself, but he kept a selection, just in case. It looked like she’d drained the bottle. That would explain the sudden change of mood, and lack of balance. But it was more than that. She seemed…. Defeated. Beaten down by the weight of responsibility. He had only seen her a few times. Thinking about it, that was unusual. Yes, he was a newer addition to the crew, but he was still the ship’s cook. He saw the crew on a regular basis. Yet not always her. How often did she eat? Her features did appear sunken, Lack of food can weaken a person from the inside, and it would explain why she was here. His look of confusion turned to concern. Had she been starving herself? She was laughing now, chortling away to herself, as though remembering a fond joke. Drinking that much on an empty stomach was unhealthy to say the least. It could account for her sudden drunkenness. It was unnerving; the sudden change. After growing used to the emotionless, purposeful Captain Sankari that was on display in public seeing her in anything different was shocking. And these sudden changes in mood were worrying.

It took a moment for Jimmy to process everything. Assess the situation and figure out what to do. If she hadn’t been eating he would have to fix that. If she was drunk… sleep might help that. But, like many people, Jimmy had his own ‘sure cure’ for sobering someone up and preventing hangovers. It’s effectiveness was debatable but he still swore by it. First things first though, see if the Captain was at least responsive enough to talk to. Moving carefully, Jimmy moved around her fallen form, pulling a chair out from the corner of the room. Something still told him that he would have to tread carefully. She had shown that she was unpredictable in this state. ”Captain, you alright?” He dropped to one knee beside her. He found himself not wanting to get too close, just in case. With any luck she could get herself into the chair herself. ”Can you get up? There’s a chair ‘ere. Can you get yourself into it? Listen, you’re not looking too great. Might be a good idea to slow down on the drinking, get some substance into you. When did you last eat?” He had no idea how much of a response he was likely to get. He’d chatted to drunks before, with mixed results. None of them were anything like the Captain, though. She seemed weak, drunk and yet still dangerous all at once.

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Tagged: Sankari/C1rce
Words: 827
Note: Mrr, sorry if it’s terrible. Tell me if I need to re-write it.

[Cap'n Sankari V.]

There would never be light, not in her heart, not in her soul -- only the fire of hate in her eyes as it burned up the last of her strength; the last of her endurance. And the moment those blazing fires turned to smothered embers she would simply fall off of her feet and never rise again -- it was moment she wished to dream of, that moment of utter peace as she finally let go, finally let all the pain consume her; to be free, at last. Of these chains that held her body together, of this arm that didn't belong to her, of this filthy flesh that had been used and abused, sharpened and forged for the sake of the Gods, for Luann. To finally cut free from all of it and fall headlong into death's cold, sinking embrace. If she could sleep, she would sleep for years and never emerge into the real world -- not this one, full of corruption and greed, full of horrors and cruelty. It wasn't worth anything. Never had been, and no matter how hard she fought, it never would be -- so she had become the sword the Gods, knowing that the effort was futile, knowing that each person she killed only gnawed open the edges of the void in her belly, and it grew with each death. She was insatiable, she was eternally hungry for a vengeance that never felt harsh enough, bad enough, right enough.

Nothing in the world could fill the void, but it didn't stop her from trying -- didn't stop her from fleeing the company of others, from isolating herself to consolidate her strength, and keeping it all under lock and key; her eyes closed, full black lashes kissing her high cheekbones. Was she going to cry? Sankari had shed her last tear years ago when they had taken her arm; when they had taken Luann.

Everything was fading fast, darkness encroaching around the edges of her vision, biting it slowly, deliciously close to the final score where she could pass out and feel nothing for a few more hours. She welcomed this sleep, this dreamless, dead sleep that would carry her through until sunrise. It was the only way to rest, the only way to smother all of those feelings she had thought she had carved from herself.

Yet how can you truly erase your weakness? It is impossible to overcome the dead, their haunting memory sweetens with each month that passes -- until even their faults are glorified as perfection. No human, no companion could ever compare to a precious memory, and the woman never tried to fill the void that had been left. Better to remain as she was, determined to pull through, angry enough, hateful enough, powerful enough to destroy whatever needed to be destroyed. A few hapless victims here and there? It meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. She would destroy the entire encampment if it meant destroying all of those creepy crawlies that hid under the rock of the Governmental headquarters.

Where was all her compassion for life? Hah! She wasn't the hero that they all thought they had, wasn't the strong heroine come to slay the bad guys and save the innocent. If it served her purpose, it was meant to be saved. If it didn't, let the Gods decide -- if they could ever find it in their hearts to untie their hands and do the job themselves. Her head rocked back, hitting the cabinet as her eyelids trembled, visions of childhood clashing with the vibrant streaks of red on white snow. Ah, ah -- she always remembered the snow, always the cold that kissed her skin blue. It was the time she craved the most, for it was always the easiest to kill when everyone was too cold to move. Even her arm locked up and froze, but she had learned, as she had always learned, that killing didn't need two hands. The jostle woke her, eyelashes flickering as dull grey-blue eyes peered out in small slits. Her gaze roved to the side, eying the boy, no, no, he is a man. Eying the man as he came closer. Kitchen boy. Man? How old was he? How old will he be when she leads him to death? Sankari smiles the tiniest bit, the corner of her mouth twitching upward as she watches his mouth move, speaking to her -- but her ears are full of her slow, languorous heart. Even pain had eroded it's pulsing beat. It could no more race, than she could swim. So it chugged along, slow, quietly, like an old woman's heart, steady as an ox and only half as sturdy.

The boy, man -- what was his name? Something with a J. Or L. Sankari blinks, feeling heavy as a rock against the cabinet; was she turning to stone this time? If she stayed here long enough would there be a woman shaped legacy forever blocking the cabinet to all the booze? The thought is amusing; her pirate crew wouldn't like that at all. ---it? ... you're not .....oking...

[/i]

Sankari's nose twitches, her attention slipping away like an eel; he was saying something to her, what was it? Could she find the energy to try to piece everything -- ---drin------- to you.[/i] She turns her face toward him, focusing on him, struggling to erase all of that white static that buzzed around her ears, ---did you last eat? Her heart warms, the hard lines that define her face softening, her attention focusing on him, struggling to remain there and not slip away, not to follow the shades into darkness. He wanted her attention, wanted her to say something --- when did she cease to be the Captain? When the sun had fallen beyond the horizon? When she had thought, ever so affectionately, that she wished she could plunge below the horizon as simply as the sun? Kari can't find it in herself to assure him -- her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, the rest of her mostly numb, the rest aching as if blood couldn't quite circulate properly; but his words, like the drinking, made her feel as if she were rising up again, and not falling. As if grace could be found, not in a Goddess' praise, but in a kitchen boy's concern.

She reaches out with her right hand, suddenly certain this wasn't happening, paranoia and humor colliding in a messy cosmic joke that left her suddenly desperate to find out if he was of real flesh and blood. She had missed after all -- though it was a blind shot. Her hand hovered near him, not quite wanting to touch, to find out that like Luann, like her mother and father, sisters, and brothers, he was dead already. When her hand touched flesh, touched skin, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her, her eyes opening fully to stare at him, "You're real."

Her head dropped down, forehead pressing to her knee, hand dropping away from him, "Fuck." once again, she grabbed onto the cabinet with her right hand and hoisted herself up, dragging her arm like dead weight, her feet beneath her slowly, agonizingly. Looking more tormented than anything else, she side-glanced, watching his reaction as she reached over and grabbed her left shoulder, feeling the weight doing horrifying things to her body. "Get that." she mutters, her eyes on the long gruesome scourge curled on the floor. Unsteady, but feeling the urgency to getting out his sight, she tried valiantly to remain still, but only managed to sway harder for the effort as blood drained to her toes.
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word count;; 1290
tags;; Crack into a slim Jim!
OOC;; So sorry it's so long >.< Also, I know it might be annoying, but can you change the color of your dialogue text? I can't read the orange o.o

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[Jimmy Terranova]

She was in another world. That was clear. Her eyes, when they ere open, were barely focused, looking off into space. She seemed to react to him, though. Barely. She saw him at least, turned to face him, coming out of her trance somewhat. Jimmy didn’t know if she had done it on purpose of if her head had just turned to face him naturally. Either way, she did seem to register his presence. Her mouth seemed to show just the slightest trace of a smile, barely noticeable. So slight that Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not. Were his words getting through the haze and into her head? Did she hear him, or was her reaction to something only she could see and hear, a coincidence that created the illusion of interaction. She was slipping away again, despite his words. They were falling on deaf ears, Jimmy may as well have been talking to himself. For a moment he saw himself sitting here for hours, for the rest of the night, speaking at the captain’s prone form, never being heard. He thought for a moment that she might never get up, that maybe she had been defeated by herself before the enemy got to her. But something in his mind shut that thought off. The captain was much to strong to be brought down like that. Even given her current state, Jimmy could not shake his view of her; the indomitable automaton stood tall and unyielding against the world.

As gently as she had seemed to drift off, the intelligence behind her eyes seemed to return, if only a little. She didn’t speak, she didn’t move any more, but for just a moment Jimmy thought she might actually be hearing his words. It wasn’t much, but it was an improvement on the near catatonic being that had lay before him only a moment before. ”Captain?” He tested, seeing if she heard his voice. At that point she seemed in danger of slipping back into whatever void she was emerging from.

Instead of falling back into a stupor, she moved; lifting her right arm, reaching out to him. The look she was giving was confusing, as indecipherable as her usual steely cold gaze, but this was a different kind of mystery. If he had to guess he would say she was considering him. Assessing his presence. She had never seemed the type to crave physical contact, but she was practically stroking his cheek. It was as though she was reaching out to the only connection to this world she could see. The only thing concrete amongst whatever vision resided in her mind. He wanted to move away. Despite himself, and despite trying to see the good in people, Jimmy couldn’t help but fear the captain slightly, even lying as she was barely conscious. He resisted the urge to back off, though. As her hand came into contact with his cheek he saw the change hit her, saw her dragged back into the physical world.

Her reaction was not something he had expected. What reason did she have for believing him to be an illusion. You’re real… For the first time since meeting her, Jimmy seriously doubted the captain’s sanity. Before now he had never seriously considered that she might be mad. He had wondered about her motives, and about how her mind worked, but had never truly entertained the thought that she was insane. His look of confusion momentarily intensified into one of near disbelief. He quickly changed that. The captain was conscious again, and wasn’t someone Jimmy wanted to piss off. She was the kind of person he could imagine would kill a man rather than risk them talking about their captain’s crazy episode on the floor of the galley. Her head dropped, and her hand fell away from him, and for a moment he thought he saw a pure emotion from her, unassisted by whatever state she had been in moments before. Even now though he couldn’t tell what it was. Sorrow? Regret? Embarrassment? The next word out of her mouth did little but reinforce what he already knew; she was not a happy about being in this situation.

Rising to her feet under her own power, the captain still looked weak, but at least she seemed stable now. Physically he couldn’t say much for the state she was in, but mentally it looked a little like she’d recovered. Well, at least, as close to recovery as she ever was. Jimmy stayed where he was, still half-crouched next to her, his gaze following her as she rose. His expression was now more restrained, but still showed a good deal of confusion. There was concern there too, this was not normal behavior for the captain. When someone’s ‘normal’ behavior is so different from that of the general population, it takes quite an act to make them abnormal by their own standards.

Even now, when she was as weak as he’d ever seen her, Jimmy wasted no time in carrying out any order she gave him. Following her gaze, Jimmy’s eyes fell on the weapon lying on the floor. That must have been the something that almost sliced through him earlier. It certainly looked capable of doing so. Moving fast, Jimmy grabbed the weapon, gently bundling it into rough loops. The cook stood, turning as he did to look at the captain. She looked in a bad way, swaying slightly on the spot. She looked like she might return to the floor at any moment. It was unnerving to see her in this state. But Jimmy might be able to change that. ”Captain. All respect, but you’re looking a little unstable.” He offered the scourge to her, hoping she wouldn’t take offence. His tone was reasonable, the only emotion it showed was concern, and even that was minimal. Jimmy’s attitude to the captain was to keep things formal if he could, though he could never really extend that to his speech style. ”Maybe you should have a seat for a while. If you need rest, or food… Not to speak offensively, but if the enemy shows up with you at less than top strength it could end badly.” He hoped she would see the reason in his words, realize that to look after her crew, and keep the effort alive, she would have to take care of herself. He could see her simply dismissing him and trudging off back to her cabin though. If she did... He probably should force her back, tell her to listen to him… In truth though, he probably wouldn’t dare.

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Tagged: Sankari/C1rce
Words: 1108
Note: not quite as long as yours, but still over 1000, woo! Also, I was wondering about the text colour, thanks for telling me. Is red alright? If it's still bad I might try something else... do you think bold will help? I don't normally like bold.

[Cap'n Sankari V.]

Time never moved fast enough, it simply slowed to a crawl as she watched it tick by; each second pronounced by a pulse, a little blip of life that kept her going. And going. And going. She can't smile away the time, can't laugh, can't love -- she has lost all of that, lost everything that made her human, and in losing it, gave her soul to the devil for a chance at vengeance. She is hardened, now; despite the fall, the dip into humanity, she is steadily climbing, steadily rising up the ladder of all that hate. It is a ladder of human hair and she is ruthless in tying the poieces together, in wrapping her cold, dead hands around it and binding herself to earth.

If they die, so she could live, she would personally take a knife and peel the skin off of their faces, so careful around the edges of eyes, and lip and tongue; so careful the knife that plunges into the skull and screws up the brain into soup; Sankari is losing herself in thought again, spiralling away from the reality that has opened itself up about her feet. She has risen already, she is living already; why speak of this death, this ever pervasive, this ever revolving talk of death and rot and black blood that stank of infection? Would it bring anyone back? No, no, her vengeance is as cold as her heart, as sorrowful and hated. Sankari reaches for the light because she is smothered by shadow, and anyone can see through to the taint that spreads further, and further.

She reaches, like a moth blindly groping for th roving light, with hopes of snuffing it out -- let her linger, blinded, hated, hateful. Let her remain as she is: it is a blessing for sure. A blessing to never look in the mirror and piece together the face that stares back at her -- yes, that is her nose, the one that had been cut on a lawn chair once upon a time. Yes, that was her lip, those, her teeth -- jagged and harsh now, but once, they had been like any little girl's. Once, they had eaten so much candy they ached for days afterward. When had she last eaten? Her stomach flopped over, reminded of it's hunger as quickly as it was wont to forget it; Kari's eyes slip away from the retreating figure of her kitchen aid, they slide away from that moving back, all of that fear and confusion. She holds herself a part, a different entitity altogether, not necessarily arrogant, but too confident in her trade.

It was her gift, after all. It was her gift to be so good at things she hated to do; to love what she hated, to love what she had lost. It was only in the losing that she realized how blessed she had once been. So for the sake of all those little girls she had vowed, and will vow again, to destroy everything. Except, even that, is a lie. Even that little bit of committment turns foul on her tongue as she purses her lips, tasting old blood oozing from the back of her throat. Had a wou come undone again? Pain makes everything easy.

With creaking movements, she pushes her left shoulder upward with her palm, feeling it click and sway, the metal clasping onto the bone again, away from the dislocation that had been worrying at her body for days now. It didn't matter; none of it mattered. in a few hours it would slip the clasp and the metal arm would dislocate again, her bone raw and shattered at the end, her shoulder bleeding, still. Hurting, still. Even the chains no longer helped -- the poignant sweet smell of disease drifted up from her shirt as she peered under at it, jaw clenched; no point at all. She lets the cloth drop as he comes closer again, edgy it seems, worried, perhaps -- but more certain than anything else, too wary to say a word against her. Stupid boy; she reaches for the scourge as if it were a beloved pet finally come home: her hand fit aroudn the handle, as if it had never left it.

Captain. All respect, but you’re looking a little unstable.

[/i] -- her eyes drifted sideways in his direction, eyelashes fluttering. Was pain chasing away what was left of her drunkenness? Or had she always been on an unstable slope and had no hope of finding footing now? Though her nose twitched, there was only the amusement of a higher creature deigning to listen to the bug that crawled along it's hide. His oily concern amused her; what did he hope to gain from it? Maybe you should have a seat for a while. If you need rest, or food… Not to speak offensively, but if the enemy shows up with you at less than top strength it could end badly.[/i]

Did the stupid boy forget who he was talking to? She smiles, dangerously, slowly -- a predator that realized it should show it's fangs once in a while else the mouse forget that they existed beyond the realm of dreams. She showed her fangs now, a strange, enigmatic look; cold, perhaps, but altogether lifeless. The worst kind of demon, for sure, that only cared about impressions. "Concerned?" She smiles, briefly, but there is nothing pretty about it, "Come t' the C'bin at dawn. We'ayve much to discuss."

Sankari takes the scourge in one hand, letting all of that coiled mess unwind to the floor, slithering around her feet as if it were alive; the other, she allowed to remain defeated beside her. Sleep wouldn't come tonight -- but something else had. Poison.

Picking up the bottle of brandy she takes a swig, swirling all of that poison around in her mouth, pondering her next move with slow, practiced steps. The stage, after all, was calling to it's mistress -- and there was no room for slouching, or dragging one's feet. Putting her foot to the step, Sankari chuckled, low and clear.
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word count;; 1024
tags;; slimmyJimmy
OOC;; skidoosh. Yeah that's better. (the color font that is) As well as my muse I guess XD

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[Jimmy Terranova]

When you’re dealing with a wild animal, there are several rules one must observe if they are to remain alive. No sudden movements, nothing that could be interpreted as aggression. More importantly than that: don’t run, and don’t show fear. If you appear to be prey you will be taken as such. Captain Sankari was wild in her own way. She was just as dangerous as any beast you were likely to find. More so in fact, for she can fool you, make you believe you are safe, then strike when you don’t expect it. Jimmy wouldn’t put it past her to attack one of her own crew if the idea to do so took her. No-one would question her, they wouldn’t dare to. And even if they did she would likely have a reason, though it would likely make no sense to anyone but her. Still, the cook knew he would have to be careful around her, especially in this unstable state. He was playing with fire. But fire was so much simpler. This fire was not indiscriminate in its victims. It would choose who to burn. But rather than making her allies feel safer, it left them feeling more in danger than they had previously. Those closest to the flame are the first to get burned.

She fixed him with a look; unfocussed for a moment, but swiftly changing, becoming sharper, directed at him, through him almost. The look was meant to fix him, and it did just that. Jimmy was caught in her gaze, unwilling to move even if he could do so safely. A smile accompanied the look she gave him. It was as worrying as her gaze, perhaps even more so. The captain wasn’t known for her displays of emotion, so even a slight gesture like this was not to be taken lightly. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her eyes, instead focusing on her smile. It was, in this case, the lesser of two evils. He feared that looking into her eyes would provoke a reaction from her, and from the look of that smile, it wouldn’t be a positive one. So he stood, eyes slightly down, trying to understand the look he was being given through his peripheral vision.

Her words didn’t make him feel any easier. It sounded almost like she was mocking him, as though she found it laughable that he cared about her. Did he care about her? He barely knew her. Well, he didn’t know her at all, if you though about it. He had barely even seen her before, and shared very few words. Still, she was his superior. He cared for her in a professional sense. He relied on her, as did the rest of the crew. Without a captain there may as well be no crew. And with a captain in the state Sankari had been in, it was almost surprising that the ship was running at all. Still, she seemed able to contain whatever was wrong, for the most part. He had never seen it before, and hadn’t heard of it from any of the others. If the captain had been spotted acting as erratically as she just had been it would be big news amongst the deckhands and lower crewmembers, the people that Jimmy dealt with daily. He would have heard something. Maybe she kept it hidden? Maybe this was the first incident?

As much as Jimmy wanted to ensure the captain was fit to lead, he had a duty to her as much as she had to him, he didn’t want to spend much more time around her, at least while she was in this state. She wanted to see him again, possibly when she was feeling fitter? ”Discuss?” Jimmy asked before he could stop himself. He highly doubted the captain would fill him in any more here. With any luck she would ignore or brush of his question. Would dawn be enough time for her to recover sufficiently? Or would if leave her in a worse state than she was now? Either way, Jimmy could hardly refuse. Even though she didn’t specifically say it was an order, not turning up would be foolish. Despite himself, his curiosity left him wondering what they could possibly have to discuss. ”Of course, Captain.” He gave a quick nod, still avoiding her eyes. Why did he feel like he’d just signed his own death warrant?

Jimmy, with his eyes slightly downcast, noticed the weapon unfurling from the captain’s hand, falling about her feet. Thinking back to when he’d first entered the room, Jimmy couldn’t help but take a half step backwards. If she was unfurling the weapon in order to use it, he wanted to at least be in a position to avoid it. His hand, which had been hanging by his side, moved backward slightly, subtly towards the handle of his kukri. If she was going to strike, he wouldn’t be caught out. He wouldn’t dream of actually fighting the captain, but if it came to that he wasn’t going to stand there and take it either. Would he? When the time came, would Jimmy actually draw a blade against this emotionless figure stood before him?

When he had joined the crew Jimmy hadn’t expected anything like this. He had known it would be tough, but he expected that to be more due to the enemy than his own captain. How many of the crew felt the same way? How many of them would have signed up if they had known what the person leading them was like? Still, he may be the only person to have seen her like this. Though she was still dangerous and unfathomable at the best of times, at least the Sankari the crew usually saw was relatively stable. On her own, after drink and Gods know what else, she was a different beast entirely.

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Tagged: Sankari/C1rce
Words: 986
Note: sorry, it probably sucks. It was working for a while… I dunno, tell me if it’s awful and I can re-do it.

[Cap'n Sankari V.]

The more she walked, the straighter she became, the stronger she became -- there was the illusion of light beckoning to her: that stage she learned to walk, with her eyes of cool indifference, the smile of thought, the curling of a metaphorical tail. Was she human, or cat? Or something so foreign it could only be described as alien? Was she of another creation altogether, genes spliced together before birth, fulfilling a hole in the universe where only the cursed can fill? She doesn't smile now, but there is satisfaction on her face nonetheless, in the motion of her hips as she walks, a straight line that she can see in her sleep, one foot before the other, a walk she has seen in so many facets of life.

She left the weakness behind in the shadows, left it to fester and ignite the imagination of her poor kitchen boy, letting him wonder, letting him wander in circles of thought, as she has all night, as she will continue to do -- but sleep had left her, and the drunkenness continued to slur the colors before her into one meaningless grey. But the stage had called, and it was to the stage that walked -- up the stairs, hearing his faint question, pausing only a moment, her head turning in a quarter profile. Only a pause, but it meant everything: this one moment where power can hold sway over lives. Narrowed in that characteristic sleepiness, she ponders him once again, fascinated as one who eyes a bug will be fascinated: will he curl up and hide, or scurry away when her attention shifts back to him?

He surprises her; her pupils contract, seizing to a pinpoint as he readies himself for defense; she knows the signs, has learned to almost smell the tension on the air. What did he think she would do? The thought amuses her more than it should; her hair, tied up in long pig-tails slips over her shoulder as the quarter profile becomes a half, her eye focusing on him. What will you do? she almost asks, but only purses her lips before they curl up at the ends, fully amused, fully immersed in the script that had to be spoken. This is a moment suspended in time -- an endless cycle of staring and wondering, of worrying and beginning again from the first. Yet even that moment is broken, that spell shattered by footsteps rumbling overhead. The spell shatters, and she climbs the steps. Yes, Captain -- Yes, much better.

Jimmy had seen a side of her she had not wanted to be seen; but she had nearly begged for it when she had left the confines of her self-made prison, letting the animal out before it was properly trained to live amongst humanity. Even drunk, still drunk, she should have had more sense than to spill out her first impressions to him; but the world kept on turning, and time kept on ticking, albeit slowly, painfully. Morning would come, dawn brushing across the sky, and it would be time to continue on with the fight.

Thus, she left him, enigmatic as always, riding the line of sanity with gritted jaw and tight hands. Would she make it through on the right side? Or would she tilt a little to the left and plunge into the imaginings of a broken, fragmented mind? Now, with her body on display, she loses even the smile, her stare returning theirs as they noticed her on deck. No point in trying to sleep, or trying to eat. Was she truly starving?

Sankari couldn't even tell anymore. Her arms loose over the railing, her head tilting back slightly she viewed the darkness that surrounded them, the clouds that brushed by her cheek, the memories that stirred and died. Wind came and twined through her hair, but it was all distant sensations as she, briefly, thought of slipping over the edge and seeing how far she could fly. No, even her inner voice is purring with whimsy, I have an appointment, her smile was full of promise, and none of them were good. Idly, she scratched her fingernail through the wood, the coiled scourge beside her, restful against her leg as if it were truly some exotic pet. In some ways, the weapon was more alive than she was.

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word count;; 731
tags;; JimJim ~
OOC;; I guess this is the end of the thread. Would you like to start another one, or do you just wanna hide from Kari for a while?

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