❝Dead men tell no tales, lass. That's why very few pirates have cemented their names in history. The road to piracy leads to a short drop and a quick stop.❞
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The life of a commoner never sat easily with her, especially when she was su...
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Your life had been the farthest thing from easy. At the age of five, your mother abandoned you with your twin brother at St. Mary's Island, Madagascar, where you were exposed to the absolute worst of criminals. Those ranging from buccaneers, western pirates, traffickers, corrupt naval soldiers, and a whole slew of other rotten individuals. But it wasn't terribly horrible. After all, you had your new family. Only a month after you were left by your mother -- who had been a prostitute prior to birthing you -- she moved on to further her career as a tavern wench, or whatever else your brother called her. You didn't know her well, so you couldn't make a substantial claim about her without warping the reality of her circumstances. It wasn't any better with your father's situation either; a man you knew absolutely nothing about. Not his face, not his background, not even his name. Your brother assumed he was just one of mother's many clients, but he couldn't be sure. She frequented many homes. He could be anyone. But you tended not to think too much about what could have been, and focused more on what you could do now.
After meeting your new family in the slums of St. Mary's Island, you were branded a new name; "Seven of Nine," One said with a smile,while your brother was granted Six for his older age -- being that he was a few minutes older than you. The rest of the children, One -- the eldest at the age of fourteen, Two at thirteen, Three, Four, Five, and so on and so forth were given succeeding names based on their age, until the last child, Nine, who had been left by her parents at the tender age of one after they were killed at sea.
In a way, shedding your old name, your old identity was cathartic, like you were freeing yourself of the shackles that kept you confused about who you truly were. It wasn't your parents that defined who you would become or your social status in the world -- it was your determination to carve out your own fate from the world and make it your own.
Still, it was fairly odd to be called a number, but it was easier to use when One would go out to pillage the nearby town for food. If there ever was an event that would warrant the need to escape, wouldn't it be simpler to call a number rather than a complicated name that could potentially cost you your ability to escape in time? It was the smarter option, not to mention the uncomplicated one. And quite frankly, you fancied it.
Seven.
It reminded you of the seven seas and the pirates who would conquer it. And Two -- who called you Sev, a shortened version of your name -- told you it was fitting for a future conqueror. That had been, perhaps, the first instance where you truly realized you had the blood of a pirate running through your veins. Not necessarily through genetics, not really, but through the will of a pirate, you held within the spirit of your mind.
You parted from Six for a moment, leaving his side to walk over to a nearby vendor that was displaying an array of mirrors, jewelry -- which were no doubt counterfeits -- and other bobbles. You were sure the seller had thrifted them from a pirate who happened to steal it from another poor sod, but you weren't in any position to be criticizing them, seeing as you weren't any better either.
