#deathisachoice

OKAY

so i finally got the list of 15 participants made and used google’s random gen to select the winners....

-drum roll-

send me five times kissed for a drabble about five times our muses kissed  |  @deathisachoice

1.  The first kiss was one to the temple, one of joy and celebration, as drinks were shared amongst the crew, the wealth of their latest prize raising the spirits of all. It was a barely there gesture, lips brushing skin only briefly before words were spewing from Jack’s lips again letting it pass into the raucous nature of their victory, just a fleeting moment of exuberance to never be discussed again. As it was Jack did not even recall the moment to speak of it, the intoxication more than clearing the moment from his mind by the time he dragged himself from his slumber the next morning. 

The light of the flickering torch shimmered through the soft translucence of Myrtha’s essence, the shadows of the rusting metal bars crossing her face. Even she, in ghastly state of physical apathy, could sense the cold, balmy air of the tunnels brushing past her.

She watched from the grimey corner of the tunnel bend, ethereal white a cold, stark juxtaposition. Myrtha could hardly be seen by mortal eyes. Her skin was naught but a simple outline against the dark, flickering in and out of existence. The spirit’s presence was only heralded by a prickling sense of growing anger and a harsh toll of a bell signifying a heart breaking with finality.

Myrtha’s eyes narrowed as she watched the woman walk away without so much as a glance back. She shivered as she granted herself visibility; it felt as if a pail of water was upturned over her head, covering her body.

[normally, mia is good at sneaking in and out of the house. slipping out the window. taking off into the treeline for hours after her aunt has gone to bed. she knows how long to take. how much she can do. it’s her few hours of freedom. no uncomfortable dresses. shoes pinching her toes. her hair isn’t pulled back too tight. she’s free. but tonight....something is wrong.]

[there’s a candle lit in the window and she’s unsure of why. her aunt should be fast asleep. carefully, she tiptoes on bare feet towards the backdoor unwilling to risk the small noise caused by going in the window. hoping that she can slip in and up unaware. though, perhaps, her aunt already knows she isn’t there.]

[she’s barely closed the door when she hears the shrill voice call her name and she knows she’s been caught. knows what comes next. a part of her considers darting out the door but she doesn’t. she’d rather take her punishment in defiance. as she always has. stiff upper lip. no fear.]

[her back straightens as she walks into the living room, a nine year old girl, stubborn and determined not to show any submission to her aunt. though, she must be a sight, mud covered feet, cuts and scrapes on her legs and hands, only in her night clothes with leaves in her hair.]

[she enters the room but stops short when she sees that her aunt is not alone. she recognizes one face. her grandfather. the father of the mother who died when she was born. but the other. she doesn’t know. a frown makes its way onto her face as her head tilts, eyes on the unfamiliar man.]

[msg: charlie brown]

“ Didn’t realize you kept my balls in the same bag you keep Jack’s. Where I was doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Where we’re going is more important. ”

If there was anything he loved, it was micro-environments that represented something bigger. Nassau could pretend it was a small rebel island but it was a spark towards a much bigger flame that none of them would live to see, and it reminded Jack of the rebel pirate outports on the edges of systems in the far-flung future. No law except those unspoken, you were judged off the merit of your actions rather than any bullshit name or title that you didn't earn.

Times changed, but people didn't. You could throw a beach and no electricity on the type and they'd be just the same as they would be skirting the edges of systems in thousands of years. The core remained.