THE THROW-AWAY.

( # CARIBBEANFATES ) : a select duo-multimuse mainly featuring ELLIOTT " ELI " SPARROW. written by kris / riju ( 30yrs | she / they. )

heavily affiliated w / @rocpst ; cordelia jones.

“ an’ eli is better ‘an whit th’ others hev bin callin’ ye, so a’ll take a gander an’ say we’re even. ”  she whispers while picking at the mess under her nails and doesn’t even give any sort of satisfaction of what the crew had been calling them. it was embarrassing, downgrading even. for her at least, knowing what it implied. 

‘ pirate-dog ’ was just about as demeaning as it could get on the ship, it meant exactly what jones had been calling them this whole time, they were her ‘ pet ’ and she was responsible for them. jones, along with the rest, thinking this was a game annoyed her to no end. they knew this, and it only made them laugh more.

           no matter, she proved her point enough, no reason to let it get to her now. 

unfortunately letting go of her issues didn’t stop the fact the autumn air was nipping at her exposed skin. shivering, she huddled closer to the wall as if that would help then placed the book down and wrapped her arms around her knees. she could see her breath, making her remember that eli themselves weren’t immortal.

“ if yer done botherin’ me, it’s warmer doon below. ye shuid get some winks befo’ mornin’. ” what she was saying wasn’t friendly advice, it was a warning. at least, that’s what she told herself. just like her, they would have a harsh batch of chores, so it was best for them to sleep while they can.

Oh, they’d heard what the crew called them. They’d just elected to ignore it, because they’d been called a lot worse by the pirates that frequented Tortuga when they were growing up.

Eli watches her for a few moments, as she curls in on herself, and then removes their own coat and shifts to drape it around her shoulders.

“ I’ll go back down t’ the brig in a bit. I wanna see the stars for a bit first. ‘Sides, the cold don’t bother me that much. ”

her glare only intensifies by their comments, especially with them asking for her real name ( that she herself barely remembers to begin with some days. ), “ aye, let me go an’ dae ‘at real quick ― an’ then watch as they tie me tae th’ mast fur th’ seagulls, ” she tells them, tone laced with bitter sarcasm before continuing,  

“ as fo’ my name, ‘at is none o’ yer concern. ye be best tae mind yer own business. ”  her voice becomes louder towards the end, as if she wanted the rest of them to overhear her giving advice to their recent addition. then she readjusts herself to get as comfortable as she could on a hard floor, opened her book once more and pretended to read it. 

moments later, once she knew the coast was clear, she ripped a blank piece of the page and smudged gunk she’d collected with her finger off the deck to spell out something. 

bold as it was, the stowaway smacked her hand against elliott’s thigh; the one containing the folded up paper and if they were to open it, they would see one word. 

                                                ‘ CORDELIA. ’

When she brushes them off, Elliott just accepts it. If she didn’t want to share her name, that was her choice, even if the curiosity would eat away at them. But they respect her decision, and they’re more than willing to drop the subject...

... until her hand reaches out and smacks against their leg. How curious. As she draws her hand back, they look down to see the small piece of paper settled there. With a quirked brow, Elliott unfolds it, but it sure to keep it close so nobody else can read it.

‘ Cordelia. ‘

@caribbeanfates​ | cordelia && elliott | 01

“ I’ve telt ye once afore ‘at ye’re lookin fo’ a beatin’ if ye don’t stop tryin’ tae have a blether wi’ me ! ”  cordelia harshly snaps at whoever had the gall to interrupt her as she slams the crusted book in her hands shut. gaining the attention from a few various crew members, though going back to their last minute chores the moment she turns her glare on them. 

not like she would do anything. the last time she fought a crewmember, despite winning against him, it ended in her gaining a hell of a sunburn; she’d rather not deal with that, or worse.

time passes, she turns back, “ honestly, it takes nae effort tae shut yer geggie. whit could possibly be so important ? ! ”

“ Wot, a lad can’t just ‘ave a chat with their captor? ”

They should consider themselves lucky that they’d been allowed out of the brig at all, as long as she kept an eye on them. A fair trade, really; they weren’t stuck in a barnacle-encrusted cage 24/7. Though, she seems far less enthused about this than they do.

“ Ya ne’er learned how t’ make friends, did ya? Y’ oughta give it a try some time! ” Elliott says this, as if there were possibly anyone aboard the Dutchman that she could be friends with. They’d heard what they called her, whether whispered or shouted: ‘stowaway.’