Edward Teach - Blackbeard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saltandpepperbeard) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2022-04-26 10:39 pm
saltandpepperbeard) wrote in come_sailaway2022-04-26 10:39 pm
I swear by my tattoo
Who: Blackbeard (Edward Teach) and YOU!
What: An Existential Crisis
When: End of April, beginning of May
Where: Everywhere
Warnings: Language?
[i. Nautilus]
This ship--floating city, really--is absolutely fucking MASSIVE. After all that weird introduction to the place, Ed's been wandering above and below deck with a wide-eyed, slightly baffled, slightly-awed, slightly alarmed look as he took in the metal hull, the lack of sails and rigging, the way you barely felt the roll of the ocean.
He had climbed over the rails and banged on the hull, amazed at the durability and evenness of the exterior. He had walked the longest of the decks, one foot directly in front of the other in an attempt to map the sheer scale of this beast. He had yet to figure out how the damned thing was moving.
He had tried to get into the wheelhouse, but that went down like a lead cannonball.
It was both the most amazing and most frightening place he had been in a long-ass time.
"This is wild."
[ii. Blow me down and pick me up! She swapped me for a trout]
Scattered around him are various drinking glasses, most empty, some with their garnishes still garnishing. He's eaten all the cherries, though, if they had cherries. And any citrus garnishes have been finished to their rind. Doesn't seem too keen on mint garnishes however.
"They come in so many colors--did you know that? This one is green!" He picks up a glass and points at the obviously green contents. "And none of them even TASTE like rum. How do they--and look, they have these little--" Ed plucks a paper umbrella from one of the cocktails, going almost cross-eyed to look at the parasol pinched between his fingers. "These little umbrellas! Look at that. How do you think they make 'em so small?"
[iii. Strange Man of the Seas]
By the end of it, this man with a scraggly salt-and-pepper beard and long hair, dressed in leather like a biker, is just laying on the deck. Not on a deck chair, just flat on his back on the floor, staring up at the sky.
Ed is overwhelmed. The lights--there's not a single candle to be had but everything is all lit up, and the casino even has colored lights, like stained glass but...not. There's a sink where he can turn a tap and the water can be hot or cold at request. The possibility of ghosts are the least of his concerns.
"But how the fuck is it moving?"
[iv. pick your poison]
What: An Existential Crisis
When: End of April, beginning of May
Where: Everywhere
Warnings: Language?
[i. Nautilus]
This ship--floating city, really--is absolutely fucking MASSIVE. After all that weird introduction to the place, Ed's been wandering above and below deck with a wide-eyed, slightly baffled, slightly-awed, slightly alarmed look as he took in the metal hull, the lack of sails and rigging, the way you barely felt the roll of the ocean.
He had climbed over the rails and banged on the hull, amazed at the durability and evenness of the exterior. He had walked the longest of the decks, one foot directly in front of the other in an attempt to map the sheer scale of this beast. He had yet to figure out how the damned thing was moving.
He had tried to get into the wheelhouse, but that went down like a lead cannonball.
It was both the most amazing and most frightening place he had been in a long-ass time.
"This is wild."
[ii. Blow me down and pick me up! She swapped me for a trout]
Scattered around him are various drinking glasses, most empty, some with their garnishes still garnishing. He's eaten all the cherries, though, if they had cherries. And any citrus garnishes have been finished to their rind. Doesn't seem too keen on mint garnishes however.
"They come in so many colors--did you know that? This one is green!" He picks up a glass and points at the obviously green contents. "And none of them even TASTE like rum. How do they--and look, they have these little--" Ed plucks a paper umbrella from one of the cocktails, going almost cross-eyed to look at the parasol pinched between his fingers. "These little umbrellas! Look at that. How do you think they make 'em so small?"
[iii. Strange Man of the Seas]
By the end of it, this man with a scraggly salt-and-pepper beard and long hair, dressed in leather like a biker, is just laying on the deck. Not on a deck chair, just flat on his back on the floor, staring up at the sky.
Ed is overwhelmed. The lights--there's not a single candle to be had but everything is all lit up, and the casino even has colored lights, like stained glass but...not. There's a sink where he can turn a tap and the water can be hot or cold at request. The possibility of ghosts are the least of his concerns.
"But how the fuck is it moving?"
[iv. pick your poison]
Re: iii.
I mean, that could change if he tells Ed he looks like a god. Take THAT, John-fucking-Watson.
"Still not sure what a combustion engine really is, but--" He decides why not and offers his hand for help up. This lot seems about as deadly as Stede's. "--sure. Been down here too long. Thanks, pal." Once he's standing--with a slight groan because he's not a young man and he hates that that's the case--Ed dusts himself off a bit; Stede's habits are starting to sink into him. He offers a gloved hand to shake. "Name's Ed. What's yours?"
Re: iii.
Look, Ed did ask. "There were particularly common in the 20th and 21st centuries and wrecked utter havoc on the environment. I'm Palamedes. You haven't been aboard long, have you?"
If he'd been on the Serena Eterna for very long, Pal is sure he would have noticed.
Re: iii.
The explanation is a little beyond him, but he nods along with it. The whole concept of modern industry destroying the environment is still a ways off from general cultural awareness in his time.
He tries the name out while dusting himself off. "Palamedes... What's that, Greek?" It's an important-sounding name. "The name's Ed--and no, not really. Still getting used to this place. You got anything like this back where you're from?"
Re: iii.
The corner of his mouth curves up a little. “Where I come from we have neither boats nor combustion engines, so… no. Nothing quite like this.”
no subject
"How do you not have boats? Everybody's got boats. Canoes. Rafts. If you're on the water, somebody's gotta have a boat. How the hell do you fish without them?"
no subject
He gets straight to the point. “Well. I grew up in an orbital station.” Helpfully, he points to the sky. “Its, ah, a sort of large building in lower planetary orbit.” A beat. “In the sky. Well, technically above the sky, but let’s go with in the sky.”
no subject
Not going to even lie, that sounds like a fucking fantastic adventure, though he hasn't the foggiest idea how you could get there. One of those combustion engines and a very sturdy ship, maybe? What's out there? Sign Ed up.
"How?"
no subject
How is quite a large question. Even Palamedes Sextus, who quite enjoys teaching things, realizes he doesn’t know where to begin. It doesn’t help that his understanding of pre-Resurrection technology is fuzzy. If this man has never even heard of a combustion engine, which is downright ancient, what else doesn’t he know about? “…I suppose you don’t have rockets where you come from. Or, er, airplanes?” He taps his finger on his chin. “What about artillery? Do you have that?”
no subject
"Rockets, sure. Light a fuse and the gunpowder in them goes off and they go--" He demonstrates with sound effects and motions to indicate something akin to a firecracker zipping through the air and exploding. "And artillery--we've got cannons. Not sure about an air-plain."
no subject
He nods eagerly, relieved to have found some point of technological understanding. “Yes, excellent. Then with a rocket powerful enough—equipped with an enormous fuse, and fuel that far surpasses the capability of gunpowder—you can send people to the stars.”
There’s a lot more to it than that, but Pal isn’t sure this man is ready for, say, terraforming or faster-than-light travel
no subject
So in the future, humans strap giant rocket to ships or something and shoot themselves off like a geyser into the stars. Maybe they go to the moon, or Mars, or the Sun... wouldn’t that just be something. What an adventure, a thrill, and to think, Stede’s great-great (x something) grand children might be living among the stars...all because some fantastic loon thought why the hell not try it.
“And you just ...live there? Shit. That’s. Wow.” And then he’s tickled by an idea and just has to ask, because deep down Ed is sometimes a little boy at heart: “Are there space pirates?”
no subject
“Space pirates? Oh, well,” he laughs a little. “They have them in books. And they say there’s smugglers who trawl the outer colonies and pray on Cohort ships and transport vessels. But it can be difficult to tell what’s real and what’s rumor.”
no subject
Oddly now he wonders what one wears in space. Are they still sporting leather in inappropriate climates (for that matter, what is space's climate). Ed has so many questions, but he's not Stede. He's not about to look like an eager puppy and bombard this guy with his curiosity. That's not...cool. Even if he really wants to know everything.
"Maybe not the oldest profession, but good to know it never goes out of style. What about you, since you're clearly not a pirate?"
no subject
Frankly, Palamedes is a lot more than the rather prim word implies. He’s heir to the House of the Sixth, and that makes him something altogether grander: a necromancer, a literal genius, a politician. Palamedes Sextus has faced down saints and monsters, but he still believes there’s something simpler about who he is and what he does—he protects knowledge, and therefore people.
Besides, Pal knows that it can be useful to be just a little bit underestimated. He offers a rueful shrug. “Not quite so exciting as a pirate, I know.”