#swallowsandamazons

Anne is over the rail and in the drink before the shocked crewman even finishes his cry of MAN OVERBOARD! Swimming is a skill a pirate is truly wretched without, and Anne has never been a wretched pirate; with strong, sure strokes she makes it to the kid, pulling one of their arms around her shoulders as she slides her opposite around their middle. The cries echoing out over the water from the deck show the ship in a manic state, with black-painted faces peering out over the railing and craning to see the two redheads in the water below. A line sails out over the heads of the crew and drops with a splash into the drink; Anne ties the rope around the child and tugs once, hard, treading water as they’re hoisted back onto the deck.

Voices in My Head by Falling In Reverse || X || Starter Post || X || @swallowsandamazons

"The voices in my head keep telling me I'm not okay It's feeling like a hurricane in my brain Dark clouds, hard times, bad weather Please don't make this last forever"

ᒥ🐙ᒧ—        He'd only gotten worse as time went on, the spirals of his mind leading him further down his dark, irredeemable path. The amount of raids increased, and so had Edward's anger. He'd kill anyone that stood in his way, mercilessly. It wasn't uncommon for Edward to return aboard The Revenge soaked in blood after a raid, and this time was no different. He wordlessly goes to his cabin, slamming the door shut behind him once inside.

Edward doesn't notice Ely in the room, his gaze vacantly staring off somewhere as though he wasn't fully there in his body. He approaches his desk and picks up a bottle of rum, popping it open and chugging as much as he can from it in one go. The man then slams down the bottle after and leans over the desk top, his hand coming up to cover his kohl and blood spattered features.

Iraia didn't particularly like being on land. She liked to think it was because she had been born on a ship and had already spent a majority of her life on a ship. The truth was probably closer to unfamiliarity. There were too many variables and unknowns on land. Too many things to see and hear.

And it was so goddamn still.

She worried her fingers together and thought of excuses to go back to the ship. Iraia could slink back aboard without anyone being the wiser or stopping her. On one hand, she was the fucking Captain's daughter -- on the other, he had taught her to walk as cat-quiet as him.

He had also been the one to tell her to get off the ship and do something. Which was hypocritical. She knew that he hated leaving the ship just as much as she did, if not more. Her pa was the one who attended to anything that needed to be attended to on land more often than not. He hadn't given her space to argue her case, either.

Iraia could see Izzy from where she was sitting. He was standing with his hip slightly cocked, his hand draped casually against the pommel of his sword. It was a subtle and unspoken threat, even if the posture was 'relaxed'. She wondered who he was talking to and what about.

"Oh, Ely! I was looking for you." The blond man said in a cheerful voice. The youth was up on deck, nibble fingers working the thick rope of the sails. Seemingly out of nowhere Stede produced a book from somewhere in his silk waste coat. "It's a first edition of that book I was telling you about!" He said with glee, holding out the red-covered edition with large gold lettering.

Ed crossed his ankles on his desk, taking a draw off of his pipe. He was in a sedate mood, lulled further by the mixture of herbs burning hot in the bowl. He exhaled the smoke in a gust... and made an effort to mask his cough (unsuccessfully) by clearing his throat into the crook of his elbow.

Ely was in the cabin with him, cleaning up. Ed had a habit of collecting things that equally had a habit of collecting dust. It made for good busy work. That, and Edward's habit of discarding things that bored him or that he ceased to have a use for. Like the burned up remains of matches.