Pearl isn't rosy cheeks pinned back with golden curls in neatly pressed frocks of colours dyed deep into satin and lace. No, Pearl is a maw dripping black over teeth turned to fangs waiting to bite the hand that feeds her. Pearl is gnashing and reeling and pitching waves throwing squalls over decks of tar hardened wood warmed with sun and anger beneath black damask and raging, obsidian eyes. && she isn't smiling, standing like some Calypsonian goddess before Edith now.
She stood before her, a passenger on these decks as any man who watched them, golden curls pinned neatly beneath her hat as the salty sea air tugged at the soft violet cloth that made up the dress she wore. They were so different on the outside, but they recognized exactly what the other was without question.
Blue eyes breaking from the other’s obsidian gaze, she glanced back at the lifeboats, pieces of her brought aboard without the ship’s consent, it wasn’t a question as to why she was hostile. So she relented, one goddess paying respect to another to keep what little peace was left aboard these decks.
