#piirating

The quiet musings of people who lay together; warm, sated, nostalgic. The beams of the rising sun slowly started to drift in through the parted curtains, setting a portion of the bed in light and shadows. One could only predict the turn of the tides so far, but Killian didn’t expect that they would lead him back so soon to a place of familiar faces.

Word didn’t take long for him to be face to face with the Inquisitor, a greeting that was both warm and infectious, one that even he couldn’t deny. A night of merry with drinks and shanties shared between men and women, which inevitably lead to his departure back to Lasair’s private quarters. It was as if he had never left; places touched, memories shared, laughs and more drinks given and received as if it all happened just yesterday. At some point they fell into a quiet solitude, as only the feel of one another was enough to remember. Lasair’s voice drifted quiet within the small confines they had made for one another, but its impact as loud as a leader’s call.

Killian shifted so he could glance down to the head of red, hand reached out to brush some loose strands that fell into her face. “Your heart is a precious thing, are you sure you wish it to be in the hands of a pirate? Even if this pirate does quite enjoy stealing away some of the world’s time they demand of you.” Words whispered just as quietly back, but despite his levity a note of seriousness held glint. He needed to know… What that is even he isn’t quite sure himself yet, but he needed it.

There was a certain comfort in having Killian around once again. Lasair didn’t know how just much she missed him until he was there with her. How often she’d turn to look for him while they laughed, or to ask if he wanted to share a bottle of spirits with her.

Maker, she really did miss him.

So much so, that when they were finally alone in her quarters, Lasair couldn’t help but let the words come out. Truthfully, she was glad Killian didn’t bolt from the room right then and there. No, instead, he stayed. And he was tender. Could it be...he missed her as well?

Lasair smiled gently as he brushed the hair from her face, listening to his whispers he sent her way, and nodded. “I am sure, Killian. I...I want you to have it. My heart. It’s yours. And a healthy portion of my time, of course. If you wish it.”

Was that– did they– how–

“T’bloody hell…?”

Aha! They seemed to have acquired the strange elixir that keeps this pirate in peak condition. At least, they assumed that’s what it was. Best test it out, right?

They immediately gulped down nearly the entire thing, a hiccup escaping their lips as they finished. 

“I wouldn’t be counting your lucky stars yet, mate. Still not bloody sure how anyone could find you worth while for the expedition, but the coin in my pocket says otherwise.”

That doesn’t mean that there weren’t going to be words by the end of this– that is, if Bal doesn’t get on his last nerve and is still alive by the end of it.

                 “Oh, come now. I’m sure we’ll be excellent friends by                    the end of this. And you’d do well not to underestimate                    a templar, love.”

He had learned fast to keep an eye on the tavern around closing time, to see what kind of mood his father would be in as he staggered home.  If he could at least prepare himself somewhat, things maybe wouldn’t be so bad.  The good days, his father passed out before making it home and wouldn’t have to be dealt with until the morning.  The bad days, the man was particularly violent and had been kicked out of the tavern for causing trouble.

Today was a bad day.

His father staggered out of the tavern, drunk, ranting and cursing the bar keeper, a half empty bottle in his hand he was waving around and Arthur’s stomach dropped.  Shit.  

“Boy!”  His father slurred, calling for Arthur to come with him on home for the night, knowing full well the child wandered the streets while he drank.  “Where are ya brat?”

Arthur froze, hiding behind a building out of his father’s sight.  He didn’t want to go home.  Going home right now meant getting hurt, and while if he didn’t go home until later, he’d still be hurt, but at least then it would be put off.  If he could time it right, he wouldn’t get hit at all, but his father never did have much of a pattern.  It was a thought.

He’s noticed his boss likes getting around. So to help him with the common literature (and because everyone needs a hobby), Fenris has written every letter of the Common alphabet down.

Everytime Killian sleeps with someone, he scratches off the letter of the first name.