Post by Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro on Jul 24, 2013 22:42:36 GMT -5
It took a bit longer than it probably should have to narrow down the exact place she had made port, but Jude was in no real hurry. He had always been a rather social beast, and getting to take in the sights and sounds was generally enough to keep him interested. This combined with getting to converse with an adventurous woman such as Anne made things even more tantalizing. “You flatter me. As it so happens, I’ve had to spend a good amount of time here, for a number of reasons.” He remarked, waving his back and forth as if physically rolling the compliment aside. Of course, the initial reasons had to do with a set of undesirable circumstances of which he had absolutely no intention of divulging flippantly. Any subsequent times he had returned to Toroa had involved either the pursuit of work, women, or wine (Or preferably all three). Certainly not for the memories this place contained. “After all, there are worse places to wash ashore.”
As they started down the last descent that led to where the ship was moored, the deft-fingered musician got a got his first look at the Kuzunoha. “And this must be the craft I’ve heard so much about. It seems quite… weathered.” An understatement, to be sure. Not one of the century mind you, he had always found that phrase to be a bit too conceited for his taste. It was, after all, as accurate a statement as he could attribute to the vessel: A three-masted affair, which despite Anne’s claims to piracy, did not seem to fly the infamous black flag. While it scarred hull that seemed to him to have more patches than it did wood, his limited knowledge on the subject informed him that it was still a fairly solid construct. To be ‘weathered’ meant worn down, yes, but it also meant experienced. An old hand. Something about the chirring noises it made as the ship rose and fall on the lapping waves reminded him of squeaking boots. In particular, that aged pair of leather boots you keep in the back of your closet, held in reserve for those gruesomely muddy days you fear would ruin lesser footwear. A bit tattered, but they’re comfortable, and fit your feet perfectly. He respected that, almost moreso than if it had been sparkling new. Though, he really was curious as to why its figurehead was so very… vulpine.
And that was not the only inconsistency. As far back as his memory went, most anything bigger than a skiff had a crew to man it. However, from what he had seen just a few seconds before, the vehicle was barren. But as a man who conducted most of his nautical navigation from on top of a fish, he had learned not to make any assumptions about this sort of thing. “Do you have the entire ship to yourself?” Jude asked quietly, as he observed the scarlet woman place a hand up against the wood, almost reverently. His reply came in the form of a shout, as she rattled off a summons aimed at the apparently absent aggregation. They did not have to wait long for the call to be heeded. Moments later, the very same ears by which he made his living picked up on a clamor of footsteps scraping across stairs somewhere in the bowels of the ship.
There was a subsequent thump, like a foot impacting something harder than itself, followed by a brief stint of curses. With the squeak of a hinge came confirmation of the boat’s occupancy. "Huh? Who's making a racket?" Came a deep call, still tinged with the slightest amount of suppressed pain. Obviously Jude had no visual confirmation from this angle, but if he had to guess, that was probably the one who had issues with the door.
A man’s head popped over the side of the railing, glaring down from behind a pair of bright blue sunglasses. He was young, maybe in his late teenage years. The fellow’s gaze first fell on Jude, to whom he expressed a look of annoyance, but as soon as his eyes met with Anne’s the expression melted away. "Whoever it is, I'll- Ah, captain, welcome back!" His feet possessed with a sudden burst of excitement, the sailor dipped back out of sight.
"What are you guys doing hiding away?" Anne asked, planting a hand atop her generous hips. It seemed to him that she might be a bit suspicious of their erratic behavior. Jude’s attentions, on the other hand, were less occupied with considering the other men’s actions and more with imaging the lady captain barking orders at a gaggle of minions while at sea. He had to wonder if she dragged others into her service in the same way that he himself had been. And he meant that ‘dragged’ bit quite literally.
The first voice returned, this time with a face to go along with it. A thick-necked gentleman presented himself, beaming with pride. He had a mop of reddish-brown hair, which was pressed tight against his forehead by a vibrant green bandana. "We did good, captain; caught a chick who was snooping around earlier on..."
His mate seemed to feed off the enthusiasm. "Yeah, maybe we should make her walk the plank?" Glasses suggested. Or were they goggles? It had been difficult to tell in that brief instant, but either way he seemed serious about performing the act.
There were not many forces alive that could have kept Jude from giggling to himself over the situation. Pirates, planks, and performances, all in the short span since he had wandered into town. If things kept up at the pace there were going, the busker could hardly imagine where he might find himself by sundown. Oh yes, this was going to be a most excellent of days. “Oh my. Quite the assembly of buccaneers you have here, Miss.” He said between breaths, having been only marginally successful at stifling his obvious amusement.
Anne’s face was twisted in a look of confusion. Rather than continue with their inefficient back-and-forth method of communication, she set off to climb the boarding ramp, presumably to settle manners in a right proper captain-y manner. Jude trailed along behind her, a spring in his step and a tune on his lips. After all, he was more than content with playing the spectator in the unfolding drama.