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Just a place for stories. MDNI. 21+ only. A roleplay blog of Panda Bear's. You'll find a number of original characters here, as well as many canon ones. This mess is my own. We're anti-AI here, thank you very much.
This is only a side-blog! Any following will come from my main.
On another note, you can find my fanfiction here.
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At his confession she arched a brow, she didn't outright tell him off knowing that it likely wouldn't make that much difference and the look on his face suggested he already knew she'd disapprove.
"Hmm," she hummed a soft sound of clear disapproval and leaned forward toward him slightly. "I suppose I'll have to work on that."
She eyed him for a moment longer and then began to wipe down the table, reaching for the bottle of liquor to top up his tumbler. A little smile played at the edge of her mouth at his offer, at his soft insistence that he would keep her safe in this dangerous time. It was so strangely wholesome.
"Thank you," she told him, pausing just long enough to collect her empty glass. "I look forward to seeing you later, then."
With a secret little smile for him, she bustled off back to work, bringing him his meal as promised a short time later, as promised it was a nice meal, salted spiced pork, bean stew -with a little lime for health because she wanted him healthy, and some reasonably fresh bread.
"Enjoy," she added with a playful wink, already wandering away to continue on with her work. It was some hours later, the tavern still reasonably busy, more candles burning and flickering warm light against the walls that she rejoined him.
Of course, he stayed. He ate his meal in blissful silence, content to watch Bonnie from afar as she worked her way around the room and took care of the patrons in the establishment. Once she was finished, however, she rejoined him at his table. He rose to his feet, placing down enough coin to cover his meal and liquor and then slowly slipped into his jacket.
"Fancy a walk, then?" he asked curiously. "You could do with the fresh air, I'm sure. It's rather stuffy in here. Smells of ale as well."
He laughed, offering her an arm as they left the tavern. Once outside, he breathed in a lungful of cool night air. The smell of the sea was wafting their way, that hint of salt, and it seemed to considerably calm him. With a soft look, he glanced her way.
"You know all about my affairs over the past week. It's been shit," he admitted. "Tell me about yourself. How have things been for you?"
There had been times when Lilith wished for mortality. Long stretches of doing Lucifer’s bidding, being held under his thumb, praying it would somehow end. But Alistair was right. This was new and exciting.
“We are becoming a true hybrid. Nobody ever considered that a vampire and a demon could commingle their blood and take on each other’s characteristics. That’s something else we should discuss with Ambrose. Perhaps we’re looking at the creation of a new race. Mummy and Daddy.”
She turned slightly so she could lie on her back and look at him. “We bring out the absolute best in each other. You make me so happy, Alistair.”
He was watching her with furrowed eyebrows, expression warm and open. He ran a finger across her eyebrow, down her cheek, and then followed her jawline. "Yeah, we do." It was said with a soft, happy sigh, finger continuing on its path down her throat and over her sternum. He politely drew away afterward, just before he could go any further.
"You do bring out the best in me, Lilith. I'd marry you if you ever wanted it. I'm already yours, it isn't needed, but it might be nice. It's something I never had the chance to experience when I was mortal. Pledging my eternal faith and loyalty to you sounds rather romantic."
It was such an earnest confession, and he cleared his throat softly, lying back and closing his eyes. He was uneasy now. It felt silly, admitting something like that.
"As for... the rest, the creation of a new species, new race, whatever you want to call it... I can't. I promised myself that I would never make another, so whether it's lovemaking with these new... abilities of ours, with you falling pregnant, or me biting and turning another friend or stranger, it doesn't matter. I won't give a Life of Undeath to anyone else. Never again. I'm sorry, love. Please, don't be upset with me."
Her hand came up to her chin briefly, her fingers catching there for a moment as she considered him, a half smile pulling at the edge of her mouth as he spoke his wisdom.
"You're quite right, no one has ever called me interesting before. But I believe your interest in me may be starting to sway my mind a little. Perhaps with your help I might be able to find some of that magic."
She was already a different person now to the one who had found herself offered freely as a hostage by the people who were supposed to protect her. She'd always been a little fiery, a little spirited. But being here like this? It had certainly allowed her personality, and her confidence, to flourish. Time was she never would have found herself speaking so freely with a gentleman as she was now, with him.
"I don't mind, but I could arrange a meal for you, a good one at that, I happen to be friendly with the cook." She flashed him a cheeky smile. Lifting her drink she drained the glass and pushed herself up from the table, "If you're happy to wait for me then I'd be thrilled to join you shortly, perhaps we can share another drink."
"I would like that," he said, sharing a smile with her. "A warm meal is definitely in order for me. It's been a rather long day. I vaguely remember eating an apple this morning and having black coffee at home."
He sent a soft look in her direction, well aware of the fact that she was probably about to yell at him for his terrible habits, and then he laughed.
"I'm awful, I know. But please, yes, don't let me interrupt your hard work. I wouldn't want to be a bother. I'll walk you home afterward. Some fresh air will be good for us, and I'll keep you safe in the dark. It can be dangerous here at night."
Frankly she was somewhat fascinated that he found her so interesting. This man, this handsome, charismatic, pirate, Captain and gentleman found her interesting. A tiny, Lady from England, whose story was probably only slightly different to a lot of young ladies back home. And only in the way that fate had allowed her to escape in such a spectacular fashion.
She hummed softly and rested her elbows on the edge of the table, one arm folded and the other thing with her tumbler, fingers gently tapping at the rim as she watched him.
"I shan't pretend to understand it, but I am pleased you find so interesting, it means I can expect you to come back. At least for the short term."
Lifting her tumbler she took a delicate sip, aware she should probably be working, weaving her way through the crowded bar, collecting glasses and serving drinks. But she also knew it was unlikely that anyone was going to question Cresswell and draw her away. Settling the glass back down with a soft clink, she drew her tongue over her lower lip, catching a stray drop of liquor then continued.
"As for friends, you're quite correct, they are important, and I'm thrilled that you'd count me amongst your own. I am friendly with perhaps one or two, but none as beguiling as you."
"Beguiling," he repeated, laughing now. He rolled his eyes playfully, sitting forward to rest his elbows on the table, eyeing her with amusement. "And I'm thrilled to hear it, even if it's only a handful of folks. Friends are hard to come by, you know. Perhaps even harder to find than trustworthy lovers."
He tilted his head, taking in her expression. "It's a pity that you find yourself as boring or as ordinary as you do. Everyone should believe themselves to be unique, even in some small way. You've clearly never had anyone tell you as much. That has to be the third or fourth time you've admitted that you're somewhat perplexed and confused that I find you so interesting, so alluring. It's true. I'm not just fibbing, darling."
He scratched his chin and eventually smoothed out his beard. "You sit here surprised, and yet you've paid me nothing but kind compliments and care. Afford yourself the same opportunity, just for me, just this once. You're a sweet lass. There's just something different about you, alright? Try to think more highly of yourself. Most women have a little special something about them. It's akin to magic."
Pausing, he chuckled softly. "Confidence is a sexy quality to have when you're living on this island."
He glanced around the tavern with a sigh. "By the way, if I'm keeping you from your duties, then I'll gladly wait until you're finished. I could have a meal while I wait for you. I'm absolutely famished." It was only a suggestion, but one that came with promise. He didn't mind waiting for her. He wanted to wait for her to be finished, in fact. It didn't matter how long it would be.
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Lilith snuggled back against him, getting as close as she could to him. “I’m not upset, darling. Not at all. Besides, I kept a whopper of a secret myself, so I’ve no right to judge you for keeping your age to yourself. You’ve nothing that needs forgiveness.”
Their little familiars came running into the room, jumping up on the bed. They’d had a snack and had played together, now they just wanted to be close to their parents. “We should talk to Ambrose tomorrow. I think he can help us with teaching you magic. I’m certain he has some spell books handy. What would be perfect is if we could find some Celtic spells for you.”
So this was what happiness and and love contentment felt like. She hadn’t really known what she was missing until now. Someone who actually considered her needs ahead of his own. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced.
Alistair began laughing as their familiars pounced on him, eventually running down his legs and settling at the foot of the bed. Afterward, his eyes met Lilith's, and he hummed softly.
"Of course," he said, a hand moving through her long hair and brushing it away from her shoulder. "Ambrose will have the answers we seek. He always does."
The prospect of performing spells (of any kind) was a jarring one. Magic. He wondered if he would have any aptitude for it. "It's funny," he mused. "I've been on earth for so long now. It's a rarity, you realize, to find something new for a being like me. You must be the same way, I'm sure. We've survived for ages, you and me, stagnant yet enduring. Something new feels rather exciting. Revitalizing. Fun. I'm looking forward to seeing Ambrose tomorrow."
It didn't matter what they were doing, so long it was done together.
As he stripped out of his jacket and settled in, making himself more comfortable, she let her eyes follow his movements closely. Her gaze traced the long, lean lines of his forearms as they were exposed, strong and tanned. And when he spoke again, she let her gaze slide back up to his.
With a smile she leant in a little closer to him, her elbows on the edge of the table, murmuring to him, voice soft and conspiratorial.
"I am pleased, incredibly so, it's curious, but I am. And I'm happy that you're allowing me to be privy to the inner workings of your crew like that. I'm not entirely sure I'm that interesting though, but I can't deny that I'm pleased you think so. Perhaps it'll keep you coming back."
"Believe me," he assured her. "I've lived here for decades, and I've only been close to one other woman in that time. A pity, really. And she's gone now, like I said the last time I saw you, and she wasn't as interesting as you are. That's just the truth."
Cresswell sipped at his drink, laughing softly. "I think we could all do with a friend, eh? It's a fucking lovely concept. Are you close to anyone here? Have you made any other friends since your arrival?"
His gaze slid across her features again, eyebrows rising in curiosity as he waited for an answer. In the meantime, he nursed his drink, occasionally twirling the tumbler glass.
"Now none of that," she replied with a playful little edge. "I'd love to spend some more time here with you. I rather enjoyed our conversation last time."
She paused for a moment, placing another tumbler on the table and pouring a small drink for herself.
"I am pleased to note that you've been looking forward to seeing me though," she flashed him a little smile, honest and pleased. "I heard about the trouble, how are things? How are your crew feeling?"
Cress watched her for a moment, thrilled that she decided to join him. He slipped out of his jacket, rolling his sleeves up as he made himself comfortable. After sipping at his drink, he hummed.
"The crew are... okay, I suppose. Things are getting there. We'll be alright. Everyone has to heal from the mess that's taken place. I lost a good man. It's... been a tough week, as I'm sure you know. News travels fast here." He leant closer. "I wouldn't mind telling you about the events, but no one else who isn't a part of my crew, of course."
He scratched at his bearded chin, sighing. "I was looking forward to seeing you. I've found that you're the only interesting person here on this godforsaken island. You should be pleased. It's a compliment."
She'd be lying if she said she wasn't pleased when he appeared in the tavern again. A part of her had been hoping to see him again, she was just disappointed that it hadn't been sooner, but she understood he was a popular and busy man. Never the less, she was excited to see him again, which was in itself a novel and wonderful experience.
When he settled at a table, in the corner by a window, soft breeze fluttering the candles around him, she made sure she was the one to approach. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and, without being asked, she set down a glass and poured him a healthy serving of liquor.
"Hello again, Captain."
Cress gave her a soft smile, something secret and entirely hers, before nodding his head gently. "I was hoping you'd be here tonight," he admitted, honest as could be. "Do you have a minute to keep an old man company, or are you too busy for any of that?"
He took a moment to admire her hair, the curve of her jaw, and the slope of her nose. She really was rather pretty, wasn't she? It was undeniable. Short than him, too. He was usually the tallest person in a room, though, to be fair. Her height was attractive, somehow. He liked it.
"I completely understand if you're too busy, or if you'd rather not," he added. "No hard feelings whatsoever."
( for @wastelandfairy. )
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Working at the tavern as she did she heard exactly what had happened. The murder, the culprits. The chaos and the revenge. It was all rather brutal, a very stark reminder of the kind of people that also called his place home.
The chatter had been loud, the rumours thick and she'd been listening, hoarding the information and wondering when she'd see her elusive, secretly soft Captain again. He'd certainly made an impression on her.
Her mind was swimming when she finally left work that night, the streets were still quite busy for the time of night, drunkards, ladies of the night and others still doing business as night covered the shores. There were murmurings of something happening by the docks, quiet murmurs of recommendation to stay away.
In the end, Captain Stanley's body was never recovered. People were content to say that he must have run off for fear of his life, perhaps sailing away on someone else's ship, like the coward that he was. The island's inhabitants respected (and feared) Cresswell far too much to say anything differently. Everyone knew it was a blatant lie, but it didn't matter. Speaking of the man, Stanley's crew that were left behind steered clear of Cresswell and his men. Eventually, they found other work for themselves.
A week or so later, Cress came to Bonnie's tavern for dinner. After the shit week he suffered through, he was hoping and praying that she would be working. He'd enjoyed her company and he wanted to come by sooner, nearly every day, but life had taken a turn for the worse.
Fuck the rest of it.
Her gaze flicked to his hair as he spoke and she offered him a small smile, "Like when the moon touches the waves."
There was something about this man. His charm, his kindness and his honesty. It was a strange thing to find in a place like this, she certainly hadn't expected it. How could she be treated so well here, in this place that was supposed to be thick with savages and uncivilised huts and shanties. The people here, though not all good, had so much humanity and life. So much character.
Her gaze dropped to the table as the newcomer spoke to Cresswell and she only lifted her eyes again at his farewell, "Bonnie." She corrected him softly. "And I'm sure you will, I shan't be going anywhere any time soon. Take care of yourself, Captain Whitemane."
She flashed him a little smile, waiting until he'd left before she pushed herself up to continue with her work. It had been.... A nice change of pace, chatting with him.
What a mess the remainder of the night was. A rival crew had jumped one of his men and left him mangled in the street. He was dead, which was the only mercy they had given him. Cresswell was absolutely livid. He knew exactly who had done it as well. They were a savage group.
By the time he returned home, the hour was late and it was sometime past midnight, he knew. He fell into bed and dreamt of Bonnie. When he woke in the morning, however, it was back to the grind. He and his first mate, Jonathan, made their way into the center, murmuring amongst each other. He went into the tavern for breakfast, quietly sitting in the corner with Jon. They talked, coming their own conclusions about the previous night. News had spread around Nassau, surely.
Captain Stanley had to eventually show his face today, so they waited, eventually leaving an hour or so later. They found him down by the docks and a "conversation" ensued.
"I'm not certain the type of people that have been approaching me are to my taste, anyway," she confessed softly, taking a little sip from her tumbler and then setting it down on the table with a soft clink, twisting it idly between her fingers.
"I respect your choice, but never say never. If the poems, songs and stories are to be believed, the best kind of love finds you when you least expect it. That's how you know it's real."
Another pause as she took another sip, her eyes on him over the lip of her glass.
"I don't think it's sad. I've been talking to you for a good chunk of the evening and I can certainly admit there is a certain something about you. You're alluring, charming, charismatic. You're beautiful and I can certainly see why you'd pull people in. But that doesn't mean you should settle. If the sea, sand and sunshine are all you need, then you chase that horizon."
She glanced down at the table top, "You have to do what makes you happy."
For a moment, he was a bit stunned. She would make a fine poet if she ever sat down and began writing out her thoughts. He exhaled slowly after draining his glass. "Listen to you... You'd be a bestselling author back on the mainland. Too bad the disgusting pigs would never allow such a thing. Maybe here, though. You never know, like you said."
He watched her for a moment, having softened at the compliments and her sweet words about the sea. It was plain to see, honest and true. She was far too kind. "Do you find my silver-white hair beautiful? That's a rather sweet compliment. I think..." He paused, eyebrows drawn together. "I think I'd say yes to you if you ever—"
He never had a chance to finish that thought because someone had come into the tavern and tapped his shoulder. Leaning down, his gray-haired first mate said, "There's been an issue. I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to come with me. Something's happened. Prepare yourself."
Turning back to Bonnie, he sighed. He placed some coin on the table and reached out to brush her fingers with his. "I'm sorry. I'm sure I'll see you around one of these days. Take care of yourself, Miss Adelaide."
His response startled a laugh out of her, "I would certainly take good manners and grubby clothes over the other, thank you. Though, you are yourself dressed rather finely, if I may say."
Her gaze remained on him as she settled in her chair, watching the shadows and light dance across his features, the candlelight softening them somewhat.
"I believe myself a fine judge of character, and those descriptions fit you somewhat perfectly." Another little smile touched her lips. "Perhaps a few have tried, I may have a pretty face and a neat little accent. But I think my fire puts some people off, I'd be a lot of work, I assume, when intimacy can be purchased not far away for less work."
She cocked her head, a tiny, playful smile tugging at her mouth, "Are you looking for love still? I think your heart deserves it." He'd been kind to her since she'd sassed him some time ago.
"I suppose I'll give you that," he eventually conceded, lips curling into a half-grin. "When you're confined to a life of servitude and pretty manners and platitudes, you learn to judge a man by his character rather easily. And quickly, at that. You've had the time to observe others. You can tell if they're good or not. I'm not so bad, I promise."
Just as she was watching him, he was gazing across the table at her as well. No one else in the tavern mattered in that moment. It was like a spell, and he was desperately hoping that someone wouldn't break it.
"If your fire puts them off, then they weren't meant for you anyway. It makes the job easier. Let them head across the road to the brothel because you're better off. You have more spirit than they can handle. What a pity."
He paused, though, a bit stunned by her next question. Was he still looking for love? He pondered the question for a moment and eventually decided to be honest. "No, truthfully, I'm not," he confessed. "But that's kind of you to say. That you think my heart deserves it. I suppose I'm finished with love. It's finished with me, certainly. I've never caught anyone's eye, not in the way that would mean a life together. Most women just want a single night with someone powerful and someone they consider to be good-looking, and I've never been interested in that sort of thing. Sad, isn't it?"
"I' was a bird in a guilded cage, I've had a lot of time in my life to read poetry and think, reflect. It's only natural, I suppose, that some of it has rubbed off on me."
She smiled and watched as he refilled her glass, swirling the liquid absently for a moment before she lifted her gaze.
"I have no doubt that there are both good and bad men here, but I suspect they're all honest about who they are. That's already an improvement on where I came from. Crooks masquerading as gentlemen. Fine clothes and ill manners."
She tilted her head, her eyes on his face as she considered him. This man was a marvel. He'd clearly been hurt deeply yet he was so incredibly forgiving.
"You intrigue me, Cresswell," she murmured, unable to help herself. "You're a pirate, and everything that comes along with that, yet... You're far more genteel, far more graceful and gracious than anyone from home." She smiled a little. "I believe I prefer it here."
"Fine clothes and ill manners," he repeated softly. "Yeah, well, here you'll mostly find grubby clothes and good manners, I reckon. If you look in the right places, that is." He flashed her a quick grin, something sharp and amused, before sipping at his liquor.
Afterward, a short while later, as he thought about her words, he tilted his head and met her chocolatey-brown gaze. "I've never been called genteel, graceful, or gracious before. That's a new one. Thanks for that, love."
He let his chin come to rest on his hand, almost lazily, as he watched her. "I'm a bit surprised that no one's tried to claim you yet. You've got a fine figure. Lovely hair, a beautiful face, alluring eyes. A great sense of humor, too. But you're here in search of freedom, so don't let them. We're all looking for love, not ownership. You've already escaped that."
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"Love," she repeated softly, rolling her glass again in thought, her eyes searching his face as he told his story. "I'm not sure I truly know what that means. Romantic, familial or friendly. The sheltered life of a 'lady.'" There was a certain degree of scorn attached to the word.
She took a breath, meeting his eyes, "I clearly haven't known you for long, but I know she's a fool for leaving you behind, Cresswell." She felt the need to comfort him, even if it didn't work, she wanted to try. He'd been so... Accomodating and friendly with her. Warm, even. And that was something incredible.
"I am sorry you had to endure that, though. I don't have experience myself, and forgive me if I'm being tragically romantic, but I believe hearts should be taken care of. I would imagine there's no gift quite like it when someone gives it to you."
"Yes," he murmured softly, expression thoughtful. "Hearts should be taken care of. You sound like a poet, Bonnie, and that's very sweet. And it's meant as a compliment, believe me. You'll find it for yourself someday. Stick around and keep a sharp eye open. He's here somewhere, just waiting for you. Nassau might be filled with ex-criminals, sailors, and thieves, but there's more to this place as well. There are some good men here. I've met them myself."
Something about hearing her say his name left him shaken. It sounded right coming from her. He cleared his throat softly, pouring himself another drink from the bottle that sat between them. He filled her glass as well, ever the gentleman.
"Thank you for saying that, by the way. I hope she's happy now, wherever she is. She ran the brothel here, just across the road, for decades. Anyway, it's over now. She left last year. I hold no ill will for her, no hard feelings. This is just how life goes, sometimes. We move on."
A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth at his offer and she lifted her gaze to meet his. The silver blue of his eyes was striking in the candlelight, bright and though cold, there was something undeniably comforting in them, like looking at the stars in a clear, night sky.
"James Norwood." She replied. "If you ever do have the misfortune to come across the man. He does rather fancy himself a business man, he may find himself on the water at some point."
Tilting her head she watched Cresswell across the table, listening to the sounds of the tavern around them, the clink of glasses and shuffle of feet, the soft whoosh of candles flames.
"What would you recommend? I'm new to freedom, how should one enjoy it? Where does one start? I have no practical skills to speak of, but I have gumption and I'm certainly not afraid of work." She leant forward a little, closer to him. "Tell me Captain, where should I start?"
Utterly unable to help himself, his eyes flicked lower to her lips before meeting her gaze again. She'd leant closer and it made him feel a bit dizzy. "Find yourself a lover," he suggested. "Someone worthy of it, though. Love's hard to come by these days. So, if you find it, keep it. And please, call me Cresswell. Or Cress."
He finished his drink, setting his glass aside on the table. A hand brushed through his short curly hair, a sigh tumbling from his lips.
"Not that I have much experience in the matter, myself. Love wasn't meant for me. I was with a woman for years. What do I have to show for it? A few scars, perhaps. And after fifteen years of being together, she left me for a merchant." He chuckled ruefully. "Find the real thing for yourself, though, please. Learn from my mistakes, lass. And if I ever meet this James Norwood, believe me... He'll pay for what he put you through."
