#ingeniumignis

         ❝ the fuck happened to you? ❞ years in exile hadn’t made for a particularly skilled socialite.  it was normally his disposition to lurk quietly at the edges of any gathering, gleaning pieces of conversation and staring plainly at any gaze which turned his way ( he didn’t need to glare - not when his disfigurement struck nervousness in most individuals ).  but the red-haired woman, clearly bruised, clearly pummeled far beyond a typical brawl, had drawn enough attention for him to speak.

     “ you’re probably wondering why am i not in the sea opposed to this... tub of yours. ” her legs are bent at midway, partially her tail hanging over the surface. candle light reflected upon cerulean and lavender scales. other than her head and arms, it’s the only bit of her body visible above the surface. she smiles at anne upon seeing the red haired woman. “ if i told you it’s because in here smells like you, would you believe me? ”

❝ Steel? ❞ Dark eyes glance aside at the item he’s commenting on, a CRITICAL gaze... before he shrugs, raising a tankard to his lips. ❝ Looks poor quality. ❞ 

      Some time has been given to spend time on land before they embark once more, and Will has been sitting (part slouching) in a tavern, listening to a sword-based conversation going on close by. A merchant, trying to push a victim customer into buying his crude wares (easiest to do in this environment, where drink will cloud detailed judgement). He couldn’t resist the comment -- as well as his usual morals, a BLACKSMITH’s pride still affecting him, even now. 

The years have blessed Salazar with experience.  The more pirates he’s hunted, the more skilled he’s become at identifying them.  Vermin.  He sees no reason to keep them alive, much less to allow them the privilege of a trial.  This woman has caught his eye  --  and he intends to verify who she truly is.

      Gunpowder burned her throat, her lungs, her eyes. She was no stranger to it on the battlefield, on solid land as she prepared to charge onto the front lines and take on her opponent -- and, as she’d discovered, at sea the premise was largely the same. The captain had authority over the crew, ordering them not to surrender to the sight of the black on the horizon ( pirates. also rather a novelty to her ) and prepare to fight, and almost instinctively Mark had fallen into step with his comrades, fetching shot and doing all he could in spite of his lack of nautical expertise.

      But the ship was eventually taken, the hull breached enough for there to be no choice but to raise the white, hoping for a surrender that included quarter. Grappling hooks were thrown and attached, raucous figures both swung and jumped across the decreasing gap between the two vessels and, for the first time, Mary felt a pang of fear in her chest that she’d never once felt on the battlefield. For some reason, this was different. When on the battlefield, she hadn’t feared her death -- a certainty if the enemy got too close -- but never had she been a prisoner before. These men could do whatever they liked with her ( admittedly, the veil of her disguise afforded her some protection. she wasn’t a woman here who could be thrown to the men for their pleasure ), and she therefore knew that she needed to think on her feet.

      Then again, these pirates were different, too. They didn’t follow rules as she had for the majority of her life. They operated outside of the law completely.

      As the majority of the men were herded together by the pirates, weapons removed and left as sitting ducks whilst the ship’s hold was looted, Mary managed to catch one of the men’s eye -- a redhead, whose gaze almost seemed to bore straight through her as he approached. Unconsciously, from so many years as a soldier, she straightened up her posture at once.