❝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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Oboro's eyes, which were distant, clouded over. They brewed with something dark... something faraway before he snapped back to the present and smiled over at the children, leaning haughtily against his propped arm as he flicked at the boy's temple with a weathered finger.
"Blackbeard?" He chuckled, "Well, I don't know a lot about him, so there's really not much I can say. If you want to know more, you're better off loitering around a tavern to pick up on a few rumors here and there."
The boy pouted and pulled at Oboro's sleeves, "But mama says not to go to the tavern! That there are bad people there!"
The elder man belted out in laughter. His voice cut through the air, baritone richly gravelled in dirt and wrapped in satin. It was a pleasant sound, clearer than the bells of the cathedral in Saint Mary's. He turned and patted the boy on his back to urge him away. "Well, your mama's right. Best wait till you're of age. Hell, even if you're of age, I don't recommend going!" He ushered the other children away as well, "Now, hurry on. Your absence might not be appreciated, even more so when they find out that you've been with me."
One of the children whined petulantly. "Come on, Boro-gramps! I want to hear about Blackbeard!"
Another cried out, "Same here! My mama's been talking about 'im for a while now! Ever since he challenged the Court for the top spot!"
Boro shushed them with a finger to his lips before leaning in to berate them. A gentle smile graced his lips. "Now where did you hear that?"
"My auntie!" One of the children crowed out eagerly.
"I heard the same thing!"
You glimpsed Oboro's real expression brimming under the facade of superficial features. It was noticeable that this bothered him, in the long, purposeful breaths he took, the tight fingers knitting into the stump of his leg.
The court? Court of the damned? Now how did a few squirts come upon this information? And why does it seem like this Oboro knows something about it?
"Kids, come on now," Oboro said carefully, his voice lowering a beat, "You don't want to draw the attention of the soldiers, would you? I'd be a shame too. If you little brats were caught talking about it, I might not even be able to tell you stories anymore!"
The children all groaned simultaneously, "Boooo."
"Boo all you want. Now scram before I decide to haul your asses back home myself."
Once they all fled in different directions, laughing and hooting, you were left to your own devices. You chanced a glance at the old man. His face still retained that warm smile, but there was a slight wrinkling where the ends of his lashes met skin, and his lips flattened out into a monotonous line.
