❝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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Consciousness stirred beneath your eyelids. It was a painful thing to wake up not knowing where you were, or what had happened to you. But that all changed as soon as you felt the throbbing ache deep in your bones and the fire blazing from your left brow to your lip.
With a hiss, you sat up, bringing a handful of sand and salt with you as you did. You lifted a hand to your face, crying out in pain when you felt your raw wound sting at the contact. That siren must have done a number on you, because every part of your body was pulsing with every kind of pain imaginable. Your ankle was swollen and quickly turning into an angry shade of purple while the rest of your skin -- the parts of it that were showing -- was littered with a necklace of faded bruises.
In your current condition, you'd be lucky if you could make it three steps without falling face-first into the sand. But you weren't holding out hope.
At the sound of a seagull crying out in the distance, you raised your eyes to the horizon and squinted, finding that you were not on a raft -- as you'd initially thought -- but instead, a sandy cove on some island. It didn't take long for you to come to the conclusion that this was the Isle de la Melodía, but if it was, you had more than your wounds to be concerned about.
As if on cue, you recalled the events of the previous night and panicked, wondering if the siren had somehow made it to shore. But then you remembered they couldn't walk on land and blew out a sigh of relief, only to panic once more when you took into consideration their ability to propel themselves from the water with just the strength of their tail.
You scanned the beaches for any sign of danger, but when you couldn't find any, you flopped back against the sand with a breath of exhaustion, draping a hand over your brow to stave off the glaring sun.
You weren't by any means an expert at survival, but it didn't take a genius for you to come up with a plan to survive the next few days until someone washed up onshore. You hoped by then that you'd concocted some way to communicate with them, but right now, you were more concerned about the body of water separating you from the rest of the mainland.
You appeared to be in a cave of some sort with a barrier of walls shielding you from the sea and a small lake (which would have been easy to traverse had that stupid fucking, pomeranian looking ass, blonde bitch boy not decided to snap your ankle in two), but that was in the past. You were a level-headed person, and you didn't like to hold a grudge if you could help it. Then again, this occurrence was serious enough to warrant an explosive reaction from you, because you could barely twitch a finger without pounding your fist in frustration when the pain blazed through your body with each movement.
If that siren were here right now -- oh, boy, the things you'd do to him. You'd love nothing more than to tear his fucking head off with the nubs of your fingers and make him choke on his own blood.
