A New Undertaking
Jan. 26th, 2006 06:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsBah, and I finally made myself start this thing. I have plans to hopefully accomplish a multi-parter, and I'm aiming for around 50,000 words minimum although it's quite possible it might be longer. Anyway, here's the very first 1010 words, posted just because I'm curious to see what people think about the character interactions thus far. Rated PG
“Ssshhhhh!”
Shanks grinned broadly behind the finger he had raised to his lips, wagging his head sharply back and forth.
“This is THE LIBRARY. Proper behaviour and volume is expected from all patrons. If you continue to be disruptive, you will be asked quite firmly to leave.”
He paused for effect, peering down his nose and over the thin gold rims of the spectacles he’d swiped from Renzo.
“Don’t make me call the marines, young man…Ha! Marines! The only gull-backed bastards I’ve seen in this city have all been old, fat, or both. I don’t think we have anything to worry about beside bein’ nagged to death by ladies with hair pulled so tightly back it’s affecting their brains AND hiding their wrinkles.”
Scattered bits of applause and laughter met the end of Shanks’ little performance and he offered his audience a cocky bow from his seat, leaning even further back in the precariously tilted chair to return the stolen glasses to their rightful owner. As the world returned to its proper, right-side-up orientation, he swung one leg off the table, tucking his bare foot under his thigh and sending the two chair legs that had been resting on air thumping back to the floor. The movement jarred the sabre propped up his side, the sword slipping across the soft brown cotton of his breeches. He caught it just in time, fingers closing familiarly around the leather-wrapped hilt as he brought the sheathed blade to rest across his lap. One calloused, tan hand smoothed absently down the length of the weapon as Shanks flashed a toothy smile at the men sharing his table.
“I doubt the marines ‘round here have anythin’ sharper than the tongue of that librarian. We can relax and enjoy a little down time.”
Pleased noises of agreement and a call for another round of ale were main responses to his words, and Shanks tipped down the brim of his battered old straw hat, looking for the world as if he was preparing to take a nap now that the matter of their stay had been, to his intents and purposes, settled. Two seats away, deceptively sleepy-looking, half-lidded dark eyes glanced over, met bright hazel behind the solid, green-striped back of Lucky Roux before sliding back away to study nothing in particular on the wall behind the bar.
Ben took a long drag on his hand rolled cigarette, let the first wisps of smoke trickle out of his nostrils before exhaling the rest in a thin stream of controlled gray. He shook the ashes from the end with a practiced tap of a nicotine-stained fingertip, adding once more to the growing collection in the small glass dish in front of him. Finally, just as Shanks was torn between going to sleep for real and slipping his other foot off the table so he could hop up and go in search of the pretty waitress who’d first shown them in, the edges of his thin mouth curled up ever so slightly in a faint smile and he nodded once in agreement.
The captain let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, shooting Ben another canine-baring grin that was equal parts pleasure and repressed annoyance. Slow torture, or rather causing irritation of any kind, was supposed to be Shanks’ exclusive domain, but his first mate had recently shown increasing signs that he could play that game just as well. Still, although he hadn’t specifically needed that tacit approval to his plans for the crew, he’d wanted it. And he’d gotten what he’d wanted, Ben knowing to look over and give it even as he’d instictively sought it out. It was still growing apparently, this strange bond that he’d witnessed in other pairs but never expected to have for himself. Then again, his own first captain had been even more willful than his own youthful self, and that man had successfully held in check or left to run free by the short and mirthful old pirate who never left his side.
With a small snort of exasperation at the train of his thoughts, Shanks decided that he would go in search of that blonde waitress. And if he couldn’t find her, he was sure there would be other worthy candidates for his affection. That would show mister tall, dark, and obstinately silent over in the corner. Both feet now on the floor, he slipped them easily into his abandoned sandals before standing and clapping a hand to the shoulders of either man beside him.
“Well boys,” he said, letting just a hint of a leer venture across his face and into his tone, “I’m off to catch me somethin’ warm and soft and silky smooth to keep me company for the night. You just make sure not to do anythin’ I wouldn’t.”
“I guess that means we’re free ta do whatever we damn well please then,” came the quick response from Yasopp, and Shanks laughed, squeezing the sharpshooter’s shoulder familiarly.
“I guess it does.”
He slid his sabre through his sash, pushed the brim of his hat back so that it sat at a jaunty angle, and gave a last smile and a wink with his unscarred eye to his men, leaving them with a cocky swagger and no more words. Dark brown eyes tracked his progress until the redhead disappeared into the outer room before Ben ground out the last of his smoke and shook his head, smiling to himself. Lucky Roux had watched the little exchange with his amusement hidden by the red lenses over his pale blue eyes and the large hunk of meat hiding his mouth. With the captain gone, he felt free to elbow the first mate in the ribs, raising a sandy eyebrow in silent query.
“There are books that I need to read, research that needs tending to if our trip is to bear fruit.”
And with that cryptic answer, Ben also stood, nodding to his friends and crewmates.
“Goodnight gentlemen. I’ll see some of you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Ssshhhhh!”
Shanks grinned broadly behind the finger he had raised to his lips, wagging his head sharply back and forth.
“This is THE LIBRARY. Proper behaviour and volume is expected from all patrons. If you continue to be disruptive, you will be asked quite firmly to leave.”
He paused for effect, peering down his nose and over the thin gold rims of the spectacles he’d swiped from Renzo.
“Don’t make me call the marines, young man…Ha! Marines! The only gull-backed bastards I’ve seen in this city have all been old, fat, or both. I don’t think we have anything to worry about beside bein’ nagged to death by ladies with hair pulled so tightly back it’s affecting their brains AND hiding their wrinkles.”
Scattered bits of applause and laughter met the end of Shanks’ little performance and he offered his audience a cocky bow from his seat, leaning even further back in the precariously tilted chair to return the stolen glasses to their rightful owner. As the world returned to its proper, right-side-up orientation, he swung one leg off the table, tucking his bare foot under his thigh and sending the two chair legs that had been resting on air thumping back to the floor. The movement jarred the sabre propped up his side, the sword slipping across the soft brown cotton of his breeches. He caught it just in time, fingers closing familiarly around the leather-wrapped hilt as he brought the sheathed blade to rest across his lap. One calloused, tan hand smoothed absently down the length of the weapon as Shanks flashed a toothy smile at the men sharing his table.
“I doubt the marines ‘round here have anythin’ sharper than the tongue of that librarian. We can relax and enjoy a little down time.”
Pleased noises of agreement and a call for another round of ale were main responses to his words, and Shanks tipped down the brim of his battered old straw hat, looking for the world as if he was preparing to take a nap now that the matter of their stay had been, to his intents and purposes, settled. Two seats away, deceptively sleepy-looking, half-lidded dark eyes glanced over, met bright hazel behind the solid, green-striped back of Lucky Roux before sliding back away to study nothing in particular on the wall behind the bar.
Ben took a long drag on his hand rolled cigarette, let the first wisps of smoke trickle out of his nostrils before exhaling the rest in a thin stream of controlled gray. He shook the ashes from the end with a practiced tap of a nicotine-stained fingertip, adding once more to the growing collection in the small glass dish in front of him. Finally, just as Shanks was torn between going to sleep for real and slipping his other foot off the table so he could hop up and go in search of the pretty waitress who’d first shown them in, the edges of his thin mouth curled up ever so slightly in a faint smile and he nodded once in agreement.
The captain let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, shooting Ben another canine-baring grin that was equal parts pleasure and repressed annoyance. Slow torture, or rather causing irritation of any kind, was supposed to be Shanks’ exclusive domain, but his first mate had recently shown increasing signs that he could play that game just as well. Still, although he hadn’t specifically needed that tacit approval to his plans for the crew, he’d wanted it. And he’d gotten what he’d wanted, Ben knowing to look over and give it even as he’d instictively sought it out. It was still growing apparently, this strange bond that he’d witnessed in other pairs but never expected to have for himself. Then again, his own first captain had been even more willful than his own youthful self, and that man had successfully held in check or left to run free by the short and mirthful old pirate who never left his side.
With a small snort of exasperation at the train of his thoughts, Shanks decided that he would go in search of that blonde waitress. And if he couldn’t find her, he was sure there would be other worthy candidates for his affection. That would show mister tall, dark, and obstinately silent over in the corner. Both feet now on the floor, he slipped them easily into his abandoned sandals before standing and clapping a hand to the shoulders of either man beside him.
“Well boys,” he said, letting just a hint of a leer venture across his face and into his tone, “I’m off to catch me somethin’ warm and soft and silky smooth to keep me company for the night. You just make sure not to do anythin’ I wouldn’t.”
“I guess that means we’re free ta do whatever we damn well please then,” came the quick response from Yasopp, and Shanks laughed, squeezing the sharpshooter’s shoulder familiarly.
“I guess it does.”
He slid his sabre through his sash, pushed the brim of his hat back so that it sat at a jaunty angle, and gave a last smile and a wink with his unscarred eye to his men, leaving them with a cocky swagger and no more words. Dark brown eyes tracked his progress until the redhead disappeared into the outer room before Ben ground out the last of his smoke and shook his head, smiling to himself. Lucky Roux had watched the little exchange with his amusement hidden by the red lenses over his pale blue eyes and the large hunk of meat hiding his mouth. With the captain gone, he felt free to elbow the first mate in the ribs, raising a sandy eyebrow in silent query.
“There are books that I need to read, research that needs tending to if our trip is to bear fruit.”
And with that cryptic answer, Ben also stood, nodding to his friends and crewmates.
“Goodnight gentlemen. I’ll see some of you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
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Date: 2006-01-27 12:31 am (UTC)