m-callaghan-blog

[m-callaghan-blog]

The man had taken control of her arm, and she hated it. Her eyes were electric. Her jaw tensed, her teeth grinding against each other as if to lessen the impact she wanted so much to cause. And when she finally spoke, she spoke with authority, a dominance that coursed through her veins.

"Let. Go."

Frank kept his head steady, his cocky smile never leaving his face. “Why did you bring out your dagger, girl? Isn’t the sharpness of your tongue enough?” His hand snaked up to catch her wrist in a vice-like grip. Gone were the playfulness in his eyes now. “But of course, I would not try to harm your men, so as they don’t wrong me nor the people I care about.”

[m-callaghan-blog]

Madeline's eyes fluttered as she breathed in the sea. The man's voice was beautiful. He was beautiful. He had crinkles by his eyes, on the corners of his mouth, fine lines across his forehead, and yet he was beautiful. Hypnotizing. It was too late now. Her ears had been dipped in gold, clouding her mind, lowering her sword. Until its blade grazed her ankle.

Warm blood ran against her skin, the pain causing her to wake up from this voice, his spell.

She blinked a thousand times.

A thousand and one.

And then she gasped realizing t what he had done to her.

At that point, she was certain that the man in front of her was not just a man, that the old bedtime stories were true. "Don't toy with me, Siren," She inched closer, drawing her sword to his neck. Slowly. Carefully. "...or your head will pay the price."

Sing A Song Of Sixpence || Tamesis and Madeline

[m-callaghan-blog]

"Let me chop them off, then. I would probably saw your head off in the process, but at least we tried, right?"

You know you’ve been stranded here for too long whenever a randy pirate mistakes you for a girl because of your luscious, long locks.

[m-callaghan-blog]

Sleep had been erased from Madeline's thought ever since they got to the island. She only took naps, short ones, but only when the sun was shining and potential danger was not a guest. One might say she had become nocturnal. The reason behind it was because she never really felt truly safe, mostly because she never learned to truly trust.

The sand was colder tonight. She felt it through that hole in her boot. A fire, that was what they needed. She walked over to where her captain was sitting, and realized he had already built one.

She sat on the log, legs outstretched in front of her, feet crossed at the ankles. She stabbed her dagger into the wood with a quick thrust. "Came to keep myself alive, Capt'n. If a siren's going to kill me, I sure as hell won't let them do it in my sleep."

by the fire || madeline & cal

Cal sat by the dwindling campfire, exhaustion warring with the fact it was his turn to keep watch. The calls of the forest, of the many animals and dangers that lived there, rang out even from this distance, and each time they did, his hand flinched towards the sword by his side. It was tedious work, but it was work that needed to be done — and what sort of captain would he be if he gave such a task to everyone but him? 

He heard faint footsteps approach, and he glanced up, tense to strike should it be necessary. It wasn’t. It rarely was. At the sight of Madeline, he even managed a ghost of a smile and motioned to the log beside him.

"Come to keep me company? How sweet."

[m-callaghan-blog]

adrianisbestservedcold:

"I doubt you’re poisonous fruit that would cause bleeding from the eyes. Though my doubts don’t fall on you not being a dangerous sort."

"Bleeding from the eyes, you say?", a smile spread across her lips sweetly as she picked more, stuffing her pockets. "Thanks. You're mighty kind for a marine. You're not in uniform, though, so that's strange."

[m-callaghan-blog]

The way he shook her hand reminded him of her father. He could see him in Giles, almost, shaking hands with fellow noblemen at parties. She mimicked this firmness, doing it like she would with the handle of her sword, trying to crush his hand almost.

Beneath the vest she had altered to her figure, she wore a crew member's undershirt. Along with it were pants that were a little loose around her waist, only kept up by a belt that held her dagger and a finely-made sword. She dressed in men's hand-me-downs, basically, so why not shake hands like one?

Madeline met his gaze. Managed to steady her voice. "You misheard me. I said Tudor." She knew very well that he could tell she was lying. She wasn't stupid. And it seemed as though, neither was he. But she gave it a shot anyway.

"Anyway, Tudor would always scold me, saying that my handshake had too much... too much heaviness to it. That I shook hands like a man." Her lips twitched at the memory. "He said that a lady-- a woman, at all times, should be delicate. Eager to please, ready to submit. I never listened, of course."

Giles had relaxed considerably, his gaze no longer holding ire, merely watchful. He was a quiet man, tending towards silence when there was nothing quite to be said, and his expression was naturally quite impassive, features seemly carved from marble, Grecian, still. What truth there was was in the expressiveness of his eyes, and there was a hint of warmth and of grudging acceptance that had not existed before. She had been rude, she had been forward, but she had been brave. He would permit her words for now. He was a man of his word, and although he was certainly not the cuddliest of the Pirate Lords, nor the easiest to read, he was honorable to his word, and he was fair.

"Madeline," he said softly, and the edges of his lips quirked, subtle. "I would say that it is quite a pleasure but I’m not entirely sure that it is. We will see, won’t we? I would be honest with you." His eyes dropped to her hand, amused at the order, and then raised to her eyes again. Instead of shaking her hand immediately, he bowed slightly, gracefully, a faint dip from the waist. "As you were, then."

He then clasped her hand gently in his own, and shook once, firm. His hand was hard and calloused, but his touch was delicate, with a hidden strength behind it like iron, letting go. An amusement reentered his gaze again at the cover up. “I had tutors myself. What did they tell you about the difference in the handshake of a woman and a man?”

Giles met her eyes, and his brow quirked. He disliked being lied to.

[m-callaghan-blog]

With a pitiful length of rope, Madeline tied herself to the trunk of an old tree while she sat on one of its branches, her left leg spread along the wood while the other swung in the air, rustling the leaves beneath it. She had not eaten much the past couple, considering her horrible fishing skills, and so the short rope fit her waist perfectly as she tried to doze off in the middle of the after noon.

The salt in the air was comforting, smelling vaguely of home, or what others may call a pirate ship.

In the middle of the sound of waves crashing against the shore was a voice; pure, warm, and sweet, like honey to one's ears. The sound was beautiful, hypnotizing, even. If gold could sing, that was what it would sound like.

Or perhaps it was not a song of gold, but of a siren.

Quickly, she climbed out of the tree and was lured in by the song. She found what she had been looking for by the sea. Or rather, who she was looking for. She gazed upon a silhouette of a man as she came closer. A siren? Could it be?

As if by reflex, she drew her sword. "I would've tried a friendlier approach than this, but you see, I'm not really the trusting type."

Sing A Song Of Sixpence || Open

Tamesis was bored. The island, the people, the other sirens…they were all boring him to death. He sat on the coast, throwing pebbles into the sea and humming to himself. He wanted something to do…someone to play with…but he was so bored that his brain didn’t seem to be able to come up with any brilliant plans. So he was pouting, which was dangerous, because pouting and bored sometimes left people half dead when they did come upon the siren. Or those were the stories. 

Motion to the left of him caught his eye and he watched the figure coming closer, unable to make out what or who they were. He didn’t care one way or another. Here was a plaything…so he began to sing a little louder, hoping to draw the person nearer and have a but of fun. 

"And every demon wants his pound of flesh But I like to keep some things to myself I like to keep my issues drawn It’s always darkest before the dawn…”

[m-callaghan-blog]

The man had dominance, he knew how to hold ground, and Madeline despised it with a burning passion. Envied him, even. And yet, it was the same dominance that earned her respect. Once he told her she was safe, that he was safe enough to be with, somehow, she believed him. It was either he was telling the truth or simply because he was a damn good actor. She would never know. It was nice not to, though. It would keep things interesting between the two, her never learning to fully trust.

But she trusted him enough, to say at least.

And so, as rarely as it ever happened, she entrusted him with her name. "Madeline Callaghan. It's a pleasure to meet me, I know." She held out her hand, her thumb pointed to the sky, saying "Here. You shake it."

"You know, my tutors would always remind of the difference between a woman's handshake and a ma--" Tutors. She just told him about her tutors. It was as if she had just spit out her whole back story in one go. Brilliant, Madeline.

She laughed an awkward laugh, saying, "D-did I say tutors? What I meant to say was... Tudor... Tudor, one of my crew mates. Yes, so, Tudor would always say that-- Never mind. Do me a favor and forget I said all that."

Giles maintained eye contact for a moment, his shoulders tense. He was not so much aggressive as giving her a warning. She was one of Cal’s. He was a dangerous man, but he was not without reason. Even with the anger slowly churning inside of him, cold and pure, he maintained himself. Purity was what shone from him, honest and chilled. Still, he admired her bravery, admired the way she did not look away, even though she was afraid.

"Don’t talk as if you own me,” he replied softly back to her, but the coldness slowly thawed from his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said at last, quietly. “But I will not be threatened, in any form, nor my men. Do you understand? Not all pirates are understanding as me.” His tone had gentled slightly after this and he met her gaze. “You’re a brave woman. You deserve all the chances in the world to live and fight for what you want. Heed my words then.”

"You are one of Cal’s. I’m not going to harm you. I won’t say that you are safe. What Pirate Lord is safe? But you’re safe enough with me.”

[m-callaghan-blog]

There was something about the way he stared at her that seem to flood her lungs with so much... fear? Anger, was it? She didn't know. At that moment, she felt like prey; fixed onto the ground as if a thousand nails had pinned her on it as her grip on tightened on the dagger.

She stared straight into his eyes, careful not to lose contact as he spoke about information she never even knew existed until then. Looking away would mean weakness, defeat. She had been wronged and she hated it.

"I am not young." She meant to say it proudly, but the words fled her lips, barely a whisper. She was terrified, shaking, and yet she was brave when she breathed out, "Don't talk like you own me."

The smile disappeared as suddenly as if he was slapped. The air temperature seemed to drop precipitously. His shoulders straightened, his jaw tensed. For a moment, fatal danger radiated from every pore, his eyes on hers.

Giles was gone.

The Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean was here.

His voice was exquisitely soft. ”I have made an agreement with your Captain, who is an ally and a friend. I will not harm any of your crew unless you harm mine.  As for the Elixir, that is between me and Cal. It always has been. It always will be. You don’t know our history. You don’t know even my motivations. You are young, so your exploits currently still are amusing, but understand right now that you are over the line.”

"That’s all sweet words. Words upon words. As for killing me, as for threatening me…you want to step back over that line.” His words were cold as ice. His eyes were colder. 

He was terrifying.

He burned.

"Now."

[m-callaghan-blog]

Madeline pulled out her dagger, throwing it in the air only to catch it again. She walked towards the group of soldiers. "Remember this, Waters: If you ever dare hurt me, or any of my men, I will kill you with so much violence Death himself would fear me.", she said as she caressed his jaw with the blunt edge of her blade.

He met her curtsy with an equally mocking smirk. “Officer Frank Waters of the Royal Navy. I wish I could ask for your name as sweetly as you did with mine, but sadly, I find no pleasure in your words.”

[m-callaghan-blog]

"It's so hard to be, now that they're polluting the island like seagulls."

"Patience, little one, and you’ll get your reward."

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"Good. Now let me set some ground rules." She slid out a dagger from her belt, saying, "You see this? This goes straight up your ass once you ever try to hurt me or any of my mates."

"And when you do as little as get in the way of my captain in getting the Elixir, I will kill you. I swear on my life I will."

Pretty boy? He almost snorted in a rather undignified fashion, his eyes amused, but vaguely appreciative of her confidence.  I’m pretty boy? 

"I’ll be a diligent pupil."

[m-callaghan-blog]

Madeline rolled her eyes, standing up. 'Well will you look at that, the little drunk fucker from last night.' She mocked a curtsy, "And to whom do I owe the utmost pleasure?"

Frank and a couple of his fellow naval officers were passing by, and he had happened to overhear her. “If all you wish is to see us naked, don’t threaten our balls and we might oblige next time.”

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"That's how you curse, pretty boy. Better start writing it down."

"You might find that rather redundant."

[m-callaghan-blog]

"Good. I don't do polite."

"It is impolite to use such vulgar words."

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"Keeping alive. Neptune knows what's lurking beneath those waters. Tell me, what's-your-face, have you ever seen one? A siren, I mean."

"Fair enough," Giles stated, amused. "And what do you find more engaging, then, if not rest?"

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"One more look at their fancy little fucking uniforms and I swear, dear Neptune, I will cut the balls off every fucking soldier I see on this fucking island."