crosscalypso-archive

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-IMPORTANT-

OCC UPDATE

I am moving Calypso to my main blog. I’m changing the username of my main blog to be for Calypso, as I’m far too lazy to keep switching back and forth. XD

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hrhmonpetitchou:

@crosscalypso

Trying not to rush to the beautiful chair, Calypso reminded herself one foot in front of the other. She tried to daintily place herself on the chair, but ultimately her fear of flashing the queen outgrew her want to sit nicely. She flushed and looked up at the monarch, “I really dunno how you manage to be so graceful all the time. I can barely keep myself from spilling tea all over myself.” She ducked her head, a small, crooked smile painting herself.

Jane rearranged herself on the chair, marveling at the comfort of the chair. Cor blimey… this is nicer than everything in my house! She brushed her hair behind her ear, more out of habit than actual need. Her eyes searched the carpet for a moment, before looking back at Princess Elizabeth. “In truth, ma’am, I’m terrified and a little confused. I know that I want to do but my part, but I know that all I’m good with is water and ships. I want to do what I can for king and country, but I can’t fix things or people.” She held her hands up in slight exasperation.

The young woman’s compliment caught Elizabeth off guard. Her cheeks flushed and she let her firm expression fade into a soft smile. “A lot of practice,” the princess said, only half joking. Upon Calypso’s proclaimation of clumsiness, the staff had set down two freshly brewed ups right on cue. “I suppose now would be the time to withhold offering you tea…” 

Elizabeth refocused and unfolded the letter she’d received from Jane weeks earlier. “The Royal Navy would be more than just sailing,” she reminded gently, glancing at the words across her lap. “I know you know that. You mention the battle of Dunkirk in your letter. How horrific.” 

Jane chuckled at the Princess’s mention of not offering her tea, but didn’t reach for her cup all the same. She squeezed her hands together tightly as Princess Elizabeth mentioned Dunkirk. “Aye,” She murmured softly.

Her wild, brightly-colored hair had been hastily braided back. Two hours. Two hours from Dover to Dunkirk. Two hours to steel herself, two hours to contemplate failure. She could still hear the rallying call from the Prime Minister. The boys out there had to be saved. They needed to be brought home. 

When her little fishing boat got closer, she could hear them. The planes firing down on the beaches. There were other fishing smacks to her left, right, and in front of her. They were all captained by men. Cor, her dad was going to kill her if she didn’t make it back. Her thoughts were shut off when she finally saw the beach. Instinct and muscle memories took over. Pull this rope, loosen that one, turn the wheel, get to the beach. Just get to the beach. Get the boys. Get the boys. She took a deep breath, the salt mixing with that smell that she later realized was rotting people. The ones in the water, the ones in the beach. Forcing herself not to gag, Calypso approached the beach closer. The planes were gone, but she didn’t notice beyond the roaring silence. Then she saw them. The wounded, the healthy, the terrified. 

She got fifteen men. Two Frenchmen, thirteen Brits. As she was pulling away, another skiff rammed her side, jostling the men. A Frenchmen fell off. But the planes were coming back. She couldn’t get him, a few of the other men were bleeding out and they needed to get home. One of the higher ranking men stood beside her, screaming to go as the planes roared back. And she left the Frenchmen in the water.

Calypso held her own hands so tightly, her nails bit into her calloused hands. “Dunkirk was horrific. The things I saw...” She trailed off slightly before clearing her throat, “I’ll never un-see those things.” Her voice became hoarse. “I might as well see more and do more so that I can help.”

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annastrxng:

supersierrawynter

Relief flooded Calypso. “Thank the moon and her tides.” She sighed. “I’m afraid I’m always hungry.” She joked. “But I haven’t a husband. I don’t need one, either. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Jane Smith of Belfast, though folks be callin’ me Calypso. I’m afraid I’m not just passin’ through Setauket, but lookin’ to stay for a while. Yah see I’m lookin’ to get something I want and I fear it may take some time, so I’m hopin’ to get a semi-permanent room.”

It was hard to not give orders. As a previous captain, orders were what she was accustom to- telling someone to do something was a guarantee. If her underling couldn’t follow through, they weren’t brave enough to come back. She’d never ruled as a tyrant, but she had standards that had to be followed. Tacking this goal would require more tact.

“Wont you come in then. I think I’ve got some extra sandwiches. That be, if they are to your taste…” Anna offers with a genial smile. “I don’t blame you. Husbands can be a good lot of no help sometimes….” The tavern-maid breezily answers, obviously teasing. 

Fingers drift down her apron to clean her hands before one is offered in the other’s direction. “Pleasure to meet you, Jane of Belfast. Or Calypso- which ever you be willing me to call you. And don’t be afraid. Most people do pass only through this sleepy back-water town.” Then thoughtfully, Anna adds, “I be sure I’ve got some rooms in the tavern. That be if you don’t mind staying in such an irreputable place for a young, unmarried woman.” 

“Something you want? Sounds mysterious…” Anna adds. “Is it anything I can help you with?” She queries on the off, chance that the other might be needing her help. 

“Calypso would be fine,” The fire-headed lass answered with a bob of her head. “Aye, sandwiches are always welcome with my stomach. I’m not a picky eater- years at sea will remove any aversions to certain tastes.” She chuckled slightly, grasping Anna’s outstretched hand. “I’ve never minded staying anywhere of poor public standing. I can assure yah I’ve slept far worse places and I’ve ne’er been to your tavern.” She offered a wide smile, not altogether pleasant as she remember some of the fierce places she had laid her head.

“As for your help, I think time will tell. Until then, I think that I would only offer my friendship and possible help about the tavern. I’ve lots of experience with a mop and disgusting men and their ungodly fluids.” She shuddered slightly- for a hardened captain, nothing made her squirm like human bile mixed with piss.

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Reblog if I'm allowed to send you in character asks even if we have never talked before.

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A poultrygeist.

What do you call the angry ghost of a chicken?

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What do you call the angry ghost of a chicken?

[crosscalypso-archive]

Trying not to rush to the beautiful chair, Calypso reminded herself one foot in front of the other. She tried to daintily place herself on the chair, but ultimately her fear of flashing the queen outgrew her want to sit nicely. She flushed and looked up at the monarch, “I really dunno how you manage to be so graceful all the time. I can barely keep myself from spilling tea all over myself.” She ducked her head, a small, crooked smile painting herself. 

Jane rearranged herself on the chair, marveling at the comfort of the chair. Cor blimey... this is nicer than everything in my house! She brushed her hair behind her ear, more out of habit than actual need. Her eyes searched the carpet for a moment, before looking back at Princess Elizabeth. “In truth, ma’am, I’m terrified and a little confused. I know that I want to do but my part, but I know that all I’m good with is water and ships. I want to do what I can for king and country, but I can’t fix things or people.” She held her hands up in slight exasperation. 

@crosscalypso

Nothing in her life could have prepared her for this moment. Jane was so close; so close to all her dreams. A position in the Royal Navy… an honor beyond all honors for anyone, but especially a woman. Jane had been called Calypso for so long sometimes she forgot it wasn’t her real name. It felt like it was her God-given destiny to sail. She wanted to help the war effort as best as she could and if that involved sailing… she’d give anything for that. There were no etiquette classes that taught you how to greet a princess. She’d been granted a crash course by one of the palace attendants, but as the attendant announced her name, the redhead felt like she forgot everything they had told her. Curtsey, greet her, present the gift, wait for her to speak… Calypso forced her eyes to focus on the fine carpeting beneath her as she dropped into a clumsy curtsey. “Your Majesty,” She sounded, her voice sounding all together too loud and too soft for her own liking. She pushed her arms out, displaying a ship in a bottle. It had been one of the few items of value that the Dover-native’s family owned, but it was not to precious to give to the future Queen of England.

The woman who entered the room was hardly who Elizabeth expected. If she had to guess, Calypso looked to be a few years younger, smaller, and more dainty than the warrior she imaged would be turning up on the Buckingham Palace doorstep.

Lilibet offered a gracious smile and examined the gift. “Ah!” she exclaimed, taking a moment to peer at the miniature vessel enclosed by glass. “Thank you! Thank you for coming.” Pale blue eyes returned their gaze to the visitor before gesturing her to take a seat on one of the velvet-strewn armchairs. “I asked you to come here because I want to help you - in any way that I can, including discussing your request with my father. But, I’m going to preface this and say that I don’t quite know if what your asking is doable.” Shifting in her seat, the princess furrowed her brow in search of words. “As you know, I spent a good amount of time in the Auxiliary Territorial Service. While I might not seem it, I like the outdoors and being in the thick of it all. Getting one’s hands dirty as they say. I rather think if I were in your position I might write me too. But, I do have to say: you must be certain that this is what you want. Do you think you are? One hundred percent certain.”

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Her heart was stuck somewhere between her throat and her stomach, although that seemed a good place for it, considering that was where it belonged. The flame haired girl didn’t want to simply be another one of the poster girls, all smiles for the war. She had seen Dunkirk. Everything was already seared into her mind.

She paled slightly, recalling the scene at Dunkirk. The things that boy had gone through.... maybe a desk job would be better. But compared to those women, she would once again be Plain Jane Who Smells of Fish. The girls at school even had a little song for her. These poster women were beautiful, with lipstick and curls. She was lucky to get her hair to stay out of her face, let alone hold a curl.

Her heart felt like it was being snapped into two - self preservation or doing what she craved? Could she handle looking into the eyes of more dying and scared soldiers? Could she handle feeling like she had abandoned them to their fate? “Yes, your majesty. I’ve done what I could.” She paused, hesitating slightly. She took a deep, reassuring breathe, “I think I could live with being the the Women’s Royal Naval Services, if they would have me. Who knows, maybe I can even go sailing on the weekends, eh?” She felt like she had just betrayed herself, but she knew the feeling would have been the same either way.  Tears stung sharply in her bright eyes, as her throat grew a lump bigger than she realized it could have. She wasn’t ashamed of this. She would do her best. But it still stung.

supersierrawynter :

Jane slipped towards the chair, sitting carefully. The last thing in the world she wanted was to flash the King of England a sight of her knickers. Lord, the embarrassment alone would likely kill her. Arranging her hands on her skirt, holding tightly to her own her hands.

“Sir, with you being a Navy man yourself I think you’ll understand a love of the sea.” Something about the King put Jane at ease. Her eyes were soft and his voice wasn’t harsh like she’d expected. “I want to serve my country, your majesty. I want to do something great with my life. I saw our boys at Dunkirk. I saw the fear in their eyes and the things they’d been living with. I think there’s tremendous honor in being an engineer or a factory worker. It has to be done and the women that do it are incredible. But I don’t feel like that’s me.”

She squeezed her hands a little tighter, having a white knuckle grip on her own knuckles. Dangerous- so, so dangerous. Not only sitting in front of a king and beseeching him, but what if her request was granted? Sailing in a type of ship she’d never been in straight into an active war zone. It may cost her her life. But wasn’t that what her countrymen were doing? The boys she’d grown up with, their fathers, brothers, uncles… they were risking everything. It felt wrong to do less. “If I thought I could be helpful in another way…” She trailed off, attempting to choose her words carefully, “I’m only good at a few things, sir. I’m good with water and waterways. I know these waters well. I want to help.”

Quite well trained, Albert’s attention was focused on a small vase of flowers on the table between them, though once she was sat, his gaze did shift back to her politely, a little stunned that this was something that was allowed to come before him at such a time but he did not blame Calypso. He would have to look into who it was that made the appointment for her audience, it was very unlikely to happen to anyone else.

Tugging at his memories of his days in the navy was likely a clever move on her part, the King had a particular soft spot for those with an admiration for the sea and while she continued, there was a moment where he very much thought about sneaking aboard one of his own ships again but he would only make it a priority target. Her words were not lost to nostalgia and plans though and the notion that she wanted other work with regards to the war caused him to sit back a little more in his seat. He made no attempt to interrupt her mind and waited while his mind ticked. It did take courage to say what she had directly to him and in private no less.

“You are –aware that you –have already helped?” Spoken softly and to try and keep her at ease, she had done nothing to anger him and while he had a quick temper it did not appear to be a day where telling him that she wanted to do her bit for the country would fire it off. “–Failing that, there is the Women’s Royal -Naval Service? There are a -number of –positions available beyond –mechanics and -factory work. You –could even –provide -charts of the waters you know if you wished –to -contribute in that sense.” She would not be brought to sea through them but it was by all definitions a means in which women were able to serve in the Navy and for a moment that is what he assumed she was asking for.

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Paddy. Paddy. Oh yes, this one was a keeper. It was always great pleasure for Calypso to find someone who bit back. For all her talk and insulting nature, she had a true desire to find someone who would argue with her. Something some may call a friend.

Calypso leaned back against her chair, draping her around round the back before smiling lightly. Paddy. “You have my apologies, Lieutenant. I’ll choose my adjectives more carefully. As for my tests, you clearly live in a fantasy world if you believe a man and woman would have been given the same educational opportunities. I have no esteem for the Navy, because I saw exactly what those educated... gentlemen were like when they landed on shore. But that’s no talk for dinner.” In fact, the First Mate herself was losing her appetite from some memories. Granted the terrors were far less plentiful than the ones who simply came in, ate their meals, and slept off their liquor. But those that were hell bent on troubles always knew where to find it.

“Because I find it terribly interesting. Not just the prospect of living forever, but other things, too. I love the questions surrounding it; where did it come from? How does it work? How can it have been kept secret for so long? Why the strange materials?” She trailed off when she noticed the captain’s strong look. “If it exists.” She amended carefully.

crosscalypso:

“Lieutenant?” Calypso scoffed as she unceremoniously flopped into a chair. She folded her arms across her poet shirt. Tilting her head to the side, the first mate resembled a cat watching a mouse. “I didn’t realized that I was in the presence of such an esteemed military man. Creatures like you used to frequent Belfast- where I was born.” She added, her eyes taking a sharper tone. “You ever been to Belfast, Lieutenant? We have stories there, I wonder if you’ve ever heard of.”

Sitting up straighter, she braced her elbows on the worn wooden table. “One in particular fascinates me. I’ve spent many years researching it. Have you ever heard of the Fountain of Youth, Groves?” 

Calypso’s pet project. The precise location of the Fountain of Youth. Long nights in her hammock below decks were spent drowning in her own salty sweat and imagining living on the seas for one hundred years. More. Calypso of the Sea, Queen of the Waters. The freedom it invited, the power. If she had to sell her soul to Davy Jones, Calypso was determined to find her life continuing on and on.

She was particularly aware of how others perceived her fantasy. Many of her underlings on the ship would tease her about it. After all, how could some glass of water, a mermaid’s tears, and a few other odds and ends grant life eternal? Ruffians on Tortuga refused to speak of it, Belfast natives scoffed at her, and the Crimson King refused to entertain the idea, other than allowing Calypso to toy with the idea alone. Perhaps the most unlikely of people- navy men- would have an inkling.

Sharply the young man, hardly more than a boy, darted his eyes from the Captain back to Miss Calypso. His hands tightened on the arch of the chair. “I have passed my exams.” He snapped a little too quickly, “Have you done so?” He had to hold tight to the chair to keep himself in place while beside him, the boy Dawes grew quite pale. “I have not referred to you with any such belittling words Paddy and I would ask the same.” After the ridicule suffered for being a colonist, nevermind that his family was from Bristol, to be even more debased was beyond grating.

Instead of even entertaining the rest of the conversation just yet he pulled the heavy chair away from the table and dropped into it. Calypso was pointedly ignored while instead Theodore eyed the over-flowing plates and was reminded just how hungry he was. Dawes followed his lead and they both barely kept from helping themselves until the Captain served himself. Theodore then continued his petty childish revenge by forcing the First Mate to wait, and so reclaimed control of the conversation. He finally answered “Aye.” Now his voice was even-tempered again, polite and non-challant. “Merchants such as myself used to frequent there. During summer recess I traveled with my grandfather to sell the family wares.” Not a word was said about the navy.

He opened a biscuit and was momentarily sad to not see butter or honey on the table spread. Gravy from the meat served as a substitute and so there was no tragedy. “There were lots of stories and tales. The Fountain though I’ve only heard from below deck sailors. Most of the senior officers discount it entirely.” Not to say that he did. Theodore thrived on any story he could listen to. Most thought the Fountain was a remnant of the Garden of Eden, perhaps still guarded by vengeful angels. Some stories replaced angels with ravenous devils, man-eaters and monsters. “Why?”

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Nothing in her life could have prepared her for this moment. Jane was so close; so close to all her dreams. A position in the Royal Navy... an honor beyond all honors for anyone, but especially a woman. Jane had been called Calypso for so long sometimes she forgot it wasn’t her real name. It felt like it was her God-given destiny to sail. She wanted to help the war effort as best as she could and if that involved sailing... she’d give anything for that. 

There were no etiquette classes that taught you how to greet a princess. She’d been granted a crash course by one of the palace attendants, but as the attendant announced her name, the redhead felt like she forgot everything they had told her. Curtsey, greet her, present the gift, wait for her to speak... Calypso forced her eyes to focus on the fine carpeting beneath her as she dropped into a clumsy curtsey. “Your Majesty,” She sounded, her voice sounding all together too loud and too soft for her own liking. She pushed her arms out, displaying a ship in a bottle. It had been one of the few items of value that the Dover-native’s family owned, but it was not to precious to give to the future Queen of England. 

@hrhmonpetitchou

—

To Her Royal Highness, Princess Elizabeth,

I am beseeching Yourself because I am praying to God that you are sympathetic to my cause. I find myself in a terrible predicament- I wish to serve God, King, and country, but because I am a woman, I can not serve in the capacity in which I desire. I have been raised all of my life on the water. In fact, my parents lovingly nicknamed me “Calypso” after the wild sea goddess. My father is a fisherman by trade and I have joined him since I was able to stay on the boat without tumbling overboard. I know it is a foolish dream, but I have often found myself wishing I could join the Royal Navy. When the call went out for our soldiers to be evacuated from Dunkirk, I immediately got on my father’s boat and sailed straight from my home in Dover to the French port.

I cannot describe to you what the scene was. Even if I could, I wouldn’t- it is not something to be shared. I will never clear the sights, sounds, and smells from my memories. Instead of dampening my wish to be in the Navy, it only fueled it more. Our boys on the beach were shaken and terrified, but they were determined nonetheless. I want to join them. I think there is great honor in being a machinist, engineer, or nurse, but I do not think that is what our Lord created me for. I know you are a Princess of something greater and your father seems a wondrous man. He was a Navy man himself, I pray that perhaps you may appeal to him on my behalf. I want to prevent Dunkirk from happening again.

I am a strong sailor and I have a knowledge of the stars for navigation. 

Your obedient servant,

Jane “Calypso” Smith of Dover

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“Y-Your Royal Majesty.” Jane stuttered. She bobbed nervously, somehow managing to trip herself on her own feet. Jane, loving called “Calypso” by her family and friends for her love of sailing, had attended all of her etiquette classes in school, but was still quite the mess. She never felt as though she were made for grand rooms such as this, but rather open planks and billowing sails. 

Jane stifled the urge to fiddle with her skirt for what felt like the millionth time. It was the nicest dress she had ever own, but that wasn’t saying too much. Her father was a humble fisherman and she felt much more comfortable raising terror and eyebrows in slacks. Her mother had always insisted on her wearing skirts and dresses when Calypso was young, but when she began to regularly assist her father or take his fishing boat-  the Calypso- out for joy rides her mother finally broke down and purchased a fine pair of young man’s slacks. Her skirts always seemed to catch more wind than the sails, often making for a situation more frowned upon than a young woman wearing trousers.

“It’s a pleasure to see you in person. Sir. Your Majesty.” Jane could feel her cheeks flushing as she scrambled for words. At this point, she would take any words that would make sense, “It’s lovely weather we’ve been having lately. We’re ever lucky to be seeing the sky lately, what with all the rain in this country. Not that I don’t like rain, I love rain. Well, not love it. What I’m trying to say is- actually, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.” Jane laughed nervously, her ears burning hot enough to roast bacon over. “Sir, if this is about me asking to join the Royal Navy, I’m sorry it has to concern you in this busy time, but I’m-I’m not sorry for asking.” Her voice became quieter and quieter with every word.

@crosscalypso

The war was demanding much of so many, the miracle that was the success of Operation Dynamo had lifted home spirits but the war was about to come to home shores and Albert was very aware of it. The country needed to be prepared and those volunteers for Dunkirk were surely worthy of the call.

He had heard word of someone wishing to join the Royal Navy and as things had progressed, the King was wandering why on Earth it had been brought to him to work out if the recruit would be allowed to enrol, that was of course until he was actually formally introduced to Jane Smith as she was shown into his state room.

He was stood waiting, hands together a little too high to mask how nervous he truly was, not for meeting her but for all else that was happening. Regarding her seriously though still with a glint of kindness in his observations, she was already a hero in her efforts for Operation Dynamo, the issue was her sex, women and children needed to be protected at all costs after all.

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@toodamnloyal knows me too well.

[crosscalypso-archive]

@hrhmonpetitchou

---

To Her Royal Highness, Princess Elizabeth,

I am beseeching Yourself because I am praying to God that you are sympathetic to my cause. I find myself in a terrible predicament- I wish to serve God, King, and country, but because I am a woman, I can not serve in the capacity in which I desire. I have been raised all of my life on the water. In fact, my parents lovingly nicknamed me “Calypso” after the wild sea goddess. My father is a fisherman by trade and I have joined him since I was able to stay on the boat without tumbling overboard. I know it is a foolish dream, but I have often found myself wishing I could join the Royal Navy. When the call went out for our soldiers to be evacuated from Dunkirk, I immediately got on my father’s boat and sailed straight from my home in Dover to the French port.

I cannot describe to you what the scene was. Even if I could, I wouldn’t- it is not something to be shared. I will never clear the sights, sounds, and smells from my memories. Instead of dampening my wish to be in the Navy, it only fueled it more. Our boys on the beach were shaken and terrified, but they were determined nonetheless. I want to join them. I think there is great honor in being a machinist, engineer, or nurse, but I do not think that is what our Lord created me for. I know you are a Princess of something greater and your father seems a wondrous man. He was a Navy man himself, I pray that perhaps you may appeal to him on my behalf. I want to prevent Dunkirk from happening again.

I am a strong sailor and I have a knowledge of the stars for navigation. 

Your obedient servant,

Jane “Calypso” Smith of Dover

[crosscalypso-archive]

@annastrxng

---

Land. The goddamn land. It was never ending; solid, unmoving earth. Despite the hamlet of Setauket being close to the shore, Calypso felt as though she would never see her beloved waves again. The heat of the day was stifling on Long Island. In order to fully remain under the guise of who she was once meant to be, Calypso had retaken her given name of Jane Smith and even donned a dress. Muttering through clenched teeth, “Jane” scooped as much of her skirts as she could and kept marching towards town. It had been around fifteen years since she had last worn a dress, much preferring her usual pirate’s poet shirt and plain breeches. While she had to forgo her man’s shirt, she kept the breeches on after deciding she would rather die of the heat than have her legs rub together for one more moment.

Her shoes were pinching and too small, her skirts seemed more numerous than the guiding stars, and her stays made it hard to breathe. Never the less, she persisted towards her goal- towards Anna Strong. After nearly an hour’s march, Jane was closer to her goal than ever. Her aching feet had landed on the farm land she sought. Now only for the tavern.

[crosscalypso-archive]

“Lieutenant?” Calypso scoffed as she unceremoniously flopped into a chair. She folded her arms across her poet shirt. Tilting her head to the side, the first mate resembled a cat watching a mouse. “I didn’t realized that I was in the presence of such an esteemed military man. Creatures like you used to frequent Belfast- where I was born.” She added, her eyes taking a sharper tone. “You ever been to Belfast, Lieutenant? We have stories there, I wonder if you’ve ever heard of.”

Sitting up straighter, she braced her elbows on the worn wooden table. “One in particular fascinates me. I’ve spent many years researching it. Have you ever heard of the Fountain of Youth, Groves?” 

Calypso’s pet project. The precise location of the Fountain of Youth. Long nights in her hammock below decks were spent drowning in her own salty sweat and imagining living on the seas for one hundred years. More. Calypso of the Sea, Queen of the Waters. The freedom it invited, the power. If she had to sell her soul to Davy Jones, Calypso was determined to find her life continuing on and on.

She was particularly aware of how others perceived her fantasy. Many of her underlings on the ship would tease her about it. After all, how could some glass of water, a mermaid’s tears, and a few other odds and ends grant life eternal? Ruffians on Tortuga refused to speak of it, Belfast natives scoffed at her, and the Crimson King refused to entertain the idea, other than allowing Calypso to toy with the idea alone. Perhaps the most unlikely of people- navy men- would have an inkling.

crosscalypso:

“Aye, it would unfortunately seem so.” Calypso answered, annoyed. She glanced from Theo to the midshipman. “Aye,” She murmured again. “If I were you, lieutenant, I’d keep both eyes on that coat.” Smirking, she marched towards the captain’s cabin, “This way, gentlemen.”

Calypso immediately noticed the captain had removed his hat, further confusion roiled within her. After all, why would he risk being so informal with these naval lambs? Sitting in the seat to the captain’s right, she dared a glance towards him. He had saved her life more times than once, but he had a reason. What was his reason here?

“Welcome, gentlemen.” The Crimson King greeted, standing up. “Please take a seat. Allow me to formally introduce myself, my name is Captain John Hayes- although most people call my the Crimson King-” He gestured to his dark red hair and sunburned skin, “-and this here is my first mate, Calypso. That’s the only name you need to know her by. Calypso, why don’t you move down a seat? We’ll allow the lieutenant to sit there.”

A certain pleasure was taken in seeing that the first officer was put out by the change in plans. He buttoned up his waistcoat and did up the little hooks that held his coat closed, smiling at her while he did so. Theodore squeezed the midshipman’s shoulder and steered him to follow the lady. 

If he’d still had his hat, Groves would have removed it upon entering the Captain’s great cabin, as it was he simply bowed only so much as was polite and then elbowed the younger boy for him to do the same. Three chairs were left open, and he stood behind one. He nodded to the Captain and bowed again to the first officer, “LieutenantTheodore Groves, sir, ma’am. This is Mister Midshipman Albert Dawes.” Both of them obediently shifted down seats. 

Propriety should have insisted upon waiting for the lady to be seated - though Theodore doubted he should pull out the seat for her if he wanted to keep his hands attached. Do they wait for the Captain then as it would be if dining in their own Captain’s cabin? He settled for just waiting for some invitation or signal as to what he should do.

[crosscalypso-archive]

Get To Know the Mun

NAME   :   Sierra NICKNAME     :   Not really a nickname person. FACECLAIM     : Eleanor Tomlinson PRONOUNS     : she / her HEIGHT     : 5′4″ BIRTHDAY     :    April 7th AESTHETIC     :   Well light, old libraries; indie;  architecture; historic buildings/texts LAST  SONG  YOU  LISTENED  TO     : Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture with Full Cannons FAVOURITE  MUSE  YOU’VE  WRTTEN     : It wasn’t on this site, but I had an original muse called “Kat”. She was a bad-ass gangbanger with an axe to grind. (I have a type.)

GETTING  TO  KNOW  THE  ACCOUNT -

WHAT  INSPIRED  YOU  TO  TAKE  ON  THIS  MUSE     :     @toodamnloyal finally broke me. WHAT  ARE  YOUR  FAVOURITE  ASPECTS  OF  YOUR  CURRENT  MUSE     :     Her unrelenting determination, inner and outer strength, power to not give a shit. WHAT’S  YOUR  BIGGEST  INSPIRATION  WHEN  IT  COMES  TO  WRITING     : Passion. I love writing and I love being able to interact with other people with the same veneration as myself.

BIGGEST  STRUGGLE  IN  REGARDS  TO  YOUR  CURRENT  MUSE     :   It’s hard to keep up with her. There’s a fine line between where she is and where I want her to be. I don’t want to lose her brash personality, but I don’t want her to be an asshole forever.

[crosscalypso-archive]

My precious little bean. <3

Pippin and Calypso having some fun in their leaf piles @crosscalypso