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]
no subject
If you're dead when one of us dies, we still wake up again...right?
no subject
... How does that work...
[she doesn't know what does happen when she's dead... does the captain do it.... but he's so lazy.....]
no subject
Even more reason to keep you alive, methinks.
Must be rough. You like this? This...job? Well, aside from the occasional murder bit--I could maybe see how that might not be great.
no subject
Well, this is what I was created to do! It would be awfully inconvenient if I didn't like it! And I... [her fingers twitch] I do like it! I like caring for my guests! And the other parts aren't that bad, really!
no subject
What she was...created to do? That's not at all a bit weird.]
We're not very good guests, though. Pretty sure. Haven't met too many yet.
So is that all you do, look out for us and ...stuff? What about in your time off? Stede likes to read; I-- [Don't really have hobbies, huh. Ed shrugs. And what even is he doing with this conversation. Stede better not be rubbing off on him.]
no subject
That question always seems so strange! I don't really have time off; I have to always be ready to serve, after all! [a pause] Though, I suppose... When most of the humans are asleep, sometimes I like to do that for a little bit! The morgue is awful nice when nobody's using it... And, I like poems! But, only when other people read them; I'm not very good at it!
[like when your voice is stuck at "enthusiastic piping" you can't really get the nuances across.]
no subject
Sleeping in the morgue doesn't sound half bad, really. At least you'd assume it'd be quiet.]
Never really got poetry, personally, but it seems nice. Putting feelings down in words that make other people ...feel things... Kind of powerful, right? Could be something to try. You ever write any of your own?
no subject
no subject