The year is 1872, the Rogues of London move away from their hometown and out to sea in search of new adventure. However, oceans bite back, pirates are waiting, and stranger love is to be found out there.
Larry Stylinson, including all of One Direct...
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All eyes turned to the waters. Far in the distance a storm was brewing; dark clouds scraped the sky's surface, hovering gloomily over the water and leaving a rift between the hurdling waves and themselves. In was in that opening that the crew could see what Hanji had spotted. A black shape advanced on those waters, cut through them as it forged its way towards them.
Although it must have been half an hour away, everyone could see the battered black sails, they could all make out the crevices on the hull, and they could hear the voices that carried through the salty air. Deep rumbles that could've very well been confused for lighting caught each steamer's ears, burning in the harsh message that there was more life on these waters. The soft sounds rang hard through Louis as he stared. He couldn't make out the distance they were at, but everyone's silence was there to tell him how little time they had to flee.
Back when they'd lived in the underground, Louis often heard stories from fishermen, he'd heard tales of how pirates roamed the waters, and he knew for sure that if you were targeted by a ship like they were being targeted at that moment, you would never step foot on land again.
It had been made clear to him that piracy was a huge problem for the port's fishermen and ship tradings. He'd picked up newspapers with drawings of men that had gone missing far out to sea and never returned. For sure, pirates were not a myth, and as he watched the black vessel tear her path towards him, he could feel the fear that those dead fishermen had felt.
The ship appeared to reel the storm in with it, dragging the whole length of darkness to scrape the surface of the waters in attempt to annihilate whatever should be caught up beneath. There was little time to panic, and even dearer time to waste on ignoring possible solutions.
Louis turned his back, looked at the faces of his men, and as any Leader should do, he prioritised their safety.
He stared around him at the ocean, scanning the horizon in search of a place shallow enough for them to anchor down the boat without being reached by the ship. But just as he feared, the land was far gone, and the only three dimensional object arising from the horizon's flat surface was the pirate ship herself.
He looked down to his comrades, read the worry, the fear, the sheer panic in their body language but he could tell that they knew the lack of options they were faced with. Out there on the ocean, there was nowhere to run.
There is nowhere on earth further away from the furthest horizon you can meet; and it is only when you are hunted there that you realise-
