❝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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It took Jirou no less than three shillings and a few choice words to find you loitering by the bay. Though, she probably wouldn't have had to go through the effort given that you stuck out like a sore thumb with your less-than feminine appearance and unique choice of scars littered over your brow and lip.
How could you, a woman with a penchant for running wild (she'd heard that from Oboro), and a blatant disregard for ensuring self-survival be someone she could rely on? No matter how hard Jirou tried to piece together Oboro's reasoning, or how many 'don't judge a book by its cover' lines she fed herself, her mind kept floating back to Midnight and her cruel threat to hold her parents hostage. She was paranoid by nature. It was what had kept her alive for so long.
Even at Oboro's insistence, she was wary of you and your intentions. Jirou could hardly have peppered him for more details. You weren't exactly the type of topic one could comfortably discuss, especially the dubious nature with which you'd appeared. Like a phantom in the night, covered in cuts and bruises.
But...
Jirou observed you crunching down on a tart green apple. Your face blossomed with a single bite, the exuberance shining through the wrinkles around your eyes. Something as simple as an apple could have never satisfied Jirou, and yet, here you were, savoring this tiny piece of fruit when everything else about you seemed to be going wrong; from your tattered attire, broken state, and weary features.
Jirou supposed, with reluctance, that she'd misjudged you from the day she'd seen you in the shack. If Oboro were speaking this highly of you, then maybe, just maybe she could find her freedom through you.
Jirou's hand stiffened around her wrist. She gave it a pinch, wallowing in the pain for a moment with squeezed eyes before starting forward, jolting her entire body to near falling. She only just caught herself mere moments before she hit the pavement and then pushed herself to take another step. After that, walking became easier, more fluid. She gained more confidence the closer she neared. Midnight no longer felt as threatening, her life no more burdening than it was two seconds ago. Because the closer she was to you, the more she felt the confines of her life breaking from her wrists.
It felt dangerous. The excitement pumped through her heart, through the nerves of her body and her blood. Adrenaline coursed to the tips of her toes and scattered in her phalanges.
This was the first time in her life that she'd engaged in something Momo would deem illicit or dangerous -- creeping on the boundaries of what Midnight would consider going against her word.
Imagining herself as a thief in the night, inching closer to the target with bated breath, she closed the last few gaps separating the two of you and extended a hand oh-so-carefully. Parting her lips on a quiet breath, she wrapped her fingers around your shoulders--
