Accidental Pirates - The Bonny Pirates

Marlo was humming merrily to himself, as one does when undertaking charitable acts. Most would be pleased to receive his good intentions, Castain, however, was suffering from a nasty dose of cabin fever—the only excuse for which was a lack of movement and sunlight for a few hours, “I can darn well, go and get my own food, you don’t need to baby me.” The Pirate captain’s greeting was a verbal example of said ailment. Marlo ceased cheerful humming to offer polite words, “Morgan said, you need another day of rest, and that’s even before you can start going for light walks. Why don’t you try some of these sweet cakes, they are to die for.” “Darn it man, you worked for me first,” Castain grumbled. Marlo was about to challenge the rather inflammatory comment when a glance out the porthole produced considerable alarm, “Speaking of to die for, that’s not good,” He exclaimed. “Looks like the Garrisons, not on our side after all,” Castain said, the casually worded assessment required con...

A s usual, Morgan’s body clock roused her at the crack of dawn—no rooster required. Not one for dawdling or preening for that matter, she leapt out of bed, yawned and threw on a loose white blouse. Feeling a sudden need, especially after a late night, she raised her arms up into the air and let out an undignified squeak when her stretch reached the middle. Leaving one hand elevated she shoved a corset through and over, pulling until it was hanging loosely. Still on the move, she yanked the leather straps of the corset from behind with one hand while tugging up her pants with the other, all the while walking towards the sliding door to her day room. Legs working faster than her brain could catch, she tripped through the door and was greeted with a pleasant surprise. Morgan was a creature of habit, let it be enough to say that it made her feel warm inside when she sighted Meena standing in front of her, holding a tankard of what her nose told her was undoubtedly coffee. Coffee was a luxu...

Morgan entertained thoughts on Sha’s maturity as she gripped the stern rail, “Wait, what, so there was no one, no boyfriends, girlfriends, stolen kisses, attractions, dreams of forever lost?” Although she was distinctly aware that Sha’s line of questioning was typical in a new relationship, the interaction was causing her to heat up, and not in a good way. It took a lot to tip Morgan over the edge, she epitomised level-headedness, yet the disbelief in Sha’s voice, left her sitting on the verge of unbalanced. “No, now please don’t keep asking, the answer is not going to change.” she said, amidst a desperate hope that Sha heard the annoyance in her voice. “But surely, someone that looks like you,” he held. Morgan snapped, aware, but not caring, that she wasn’t pretty when she was angry, she spoke loud enough to advertise the fact that she no longer cared if they were overheard, “I WAS ALONE BECAUSE I WAS AFRAID OF MEN, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR!” Sha froze, the sharpness in...

Aquila came into view against a backdrop of cobalt and emerald where sea met land, he circled the ship a few times and emitted a high-pitched squawk, before landing at his preferred spot on the topmost spar. Morgan lowered her eyes taking in the broadening scene before her, the welcoming view of Astrom, stealing breath, and as always leaving her in wonderment. Morgan rarely sailed as far as Sirillia; not that it mattered because every time felt like the first. She pondered often on what exactly drew one to such an exotic part of the realm, was it the stark beauty, the carefree lifestyle that people took for granted or was it a view that was simply unobtainable anywhere else. Astrom was full of lush green terraces that ascended from the sea upwards to the deserts edge, the lower levels taken up by a business district of sorts. The bazaar itself was so large it was broken into sections according to wares. The traders who were rich enough had their dwellings at the same level. The next ti...

Having been thrown into his cell, Castain was disgusted to find that his hands were shaking as they held him from the cold ground, he wondered which of his many wounds from the past weeks torture was the cause of the crimson droplets falling to the floor. Waves of searing pain sent his stomach on a ride and what little food he had been given tried to exit, an exercise ending in failure. When the world stopped spinning, he pushed with his hands and knees until he was leaning against the cell wall, knees bent, arms resting upon them. As usual of late he was ravaged by undesirable thoughts, the unfortunate events that led him to his current abode, forefront. Unaware that he had been marked by his captors, Castain had sailed into Astrom and disembarked like it was any other day, his intent to wait for a contact at the bazaar. The lateness of his contact had left him contemplating melding into the crowd, then as if the thought invited such, he found himself surrounded by his captors. He kne...