(Untitled)

[bushel_o_apples]

Barbossa sits at a booth, with a goblet and a jug by his side. Glasses are all right, but this is what he's used to drink from and it makes him feel more comfortable. Occasionally he dips one long black fingernail on the wine and draws little patterns or diagrams or something on the tabletop,

Of course, we could always... No, the guardians are too

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[will_scarlett]

Will is thoughtful, the scars he found on his body are still in his thoughts though dueling with Marian helped, so he walks the Bar.

He spots Barbossa at the corner of his eye and his curiousity wakes up, so he walks over, a young man dressed in green medieval clothes and red hair who bows,

"Good day, sir, what do ye draw?"

[bushel_o_apples]

He looks up at the young man. Quite old-fashioned, but still closer to the world he knows than many of the people he has seen around the Bar in these couple days. A smile curves the corners of his mouth and crinkles around his eyes.

"Naught but idle drawings to keep the musings of an old man company, my good boy" As his hand absently wipes over the last pattern he traced. He then dries it on the handkerchief, still smiling.

"You seem to know your way around this place. I take it you have been here for some time, then...?"

[will_scarlett]

Will looks embarassed and fiddles with the lanyard round his belt with a nametag saying number 3 and Will Scarlett,

"Na quite sure, sir, lost me memory on Midsummer day an been findin' out bits o'who I am an this place."

As he fidgets he looks quite young though the hands that twist are calloused and rough.

[bushel_o_apples]

His eyebrows raise, and he looks interested now. Genuinely so.

"Ah. Magic afoot. I had been told that this place was heavy with it, but it's an entirely different thing to get a confirmation."

He gives the boy a sympathetic smile, pushing the jug of red wine across the table.

"Sadly, I only have one goblet and I don't think you'll care for sharing it..." A looks at the nametag "Mr Scarlett?"

That almost sounds like a pirate name, doesn't it? Well, sure enough he isn't a noble fop. Doesn't look like one, doesn't move like one, and he has the hands of a working man. Could even be, couldn't it?

[will_scarlett]

"Aye, sir, tis certainly magic. Forgive me manners, 'ppears me name's Will Scarlett an I'm from Sherwood forest in England, sir, an most folks seem to just call me Will. Nay, thank ye for the offer, sir, still tryin' to 'member what I like to drink though do like the taste o'ale."

With a small bow, Will sits down and looks at the wine which doesn't call any memories.

[bushel_o_apples]

He retrieves the jug and pours himself a drink, watching the young man with a serious expression

"Magic can be quite a terrible thing, Will Scarlett. Prone to giving out disproportionate punishment for even the smallest transgression. Or even for no cause at all."

My, did that sound like a man speaking from experience.

"Feel free to ask for any help I can give in lifting that... Let's not call it curse, shall we?"

[will_scarlett]

Calling the forgetting a curse makes Will quiet again since he hasn't worried, what he's discovered about himself at times has caused more worry.

Without realizing it, he takes a coin from his purse and begins to spin it on his knuckles, the silver spinning and dancing,

"Aye, sir, sure ye're right. Know I'm na the only one who's forgotten an figure tis somethin' to do with Midsummer. 'ave learned more o'who I am, bein' one o'Robin 'ood's men an all."

[bushel_o_apples]

The name 'Robin Hood' doesn't say much to him, but he nods, the spinning silver attracting his attention for a moment. Not a Piece of Eight, is it? Then he returns his gaze to Will's face.

"Yes, that's a night to watch out for. A night when all the veils between the world become thin. Be thankful a loss of memory is the only damage you've incurred, young master Scarlett"

We'd light bonfires, back home, and leap over them to have the flames protect us against bad magic for the next year. It's funny, coming from a land rife with the stuff, I finally only met magic after I set out to sea.

[will_scarlett]

Again Barbossa's hit unknown nerves as he talks of damage and Will thinks of the scars he found on his back and at his wrists, the penny spins faster and higher as Will thinks,

"Aye, sir, an tis much magic 'ere. I'm grateful, sir, keep thinkin' 'rhaps come from a dangerous world since I know 'ow to 'andle a sword an 'ave a bow in me room."

[bushel_o_apples]

"Well, if that's a sign of anything, then my world must be dangerous as well"

Says the man with the straight-bladed saber at his hip and the flintlock pistol carefully set on the bench by his side.

"Or maybe we are just men of dangerous occupation, haven't you thought of that, master Scarlett? 'Robbin' Hood' is quite the suggestive name, after all."

[will_scarlett]

There's a knife at Will's belt and the hands that spin the penny are an outlaw's hands,

"Aye, sir, been told I'm an outlaw."

Though he's not sure how to react to Barbossa mentioning a dangerous occupation.

So Will opens his mouth to ask if Barbossa knows what the scars mean and stops himself, as the penny flies near the rafters.

[bushel_o_apples]

"Ah, a colleague then! I'm glad to see at least you don't look ashamed of what you are. Laws don't have to be good, after all"

There is a not-quite conspiratorial look on his face, the faint smile and half-lidded eyes making him look... Well, anything but trustworthy, that's the truth. But then again, it's so wrong to judge by appearances alone, isn't it?

"Please, do ask what you were about to, Master Scarlett. I'll be glad, as I said, to be of help if at all possible"

[will_scarlett]

"Nay, sir."

Will looks at Barbossa, not quite sure what to make of this man, who might understand, but its all so strange.

So he takes a deep breath and reaches for his shirt sleeve, the penny dropping out of the air and Will jumps, not even realizing it'd been spinning,

"Did that 'fore, dinna e'en know was doin' it. What's 'ard, sir, is when I went to me room for the first time, took off me shirt an found lots o'scars. Na sure what they mean."

As he talks, Will undoes the sleeve of his shirt, showing a white bracelet like scar, made by an iron manacle.

[bushel_o_apples]

He takes a breath, slow and measured, and nods before taking a slow thoughtful sip of wine. When he speaks, his voice is low, serious. Funny that both he and the man he hates so much share this love of freedom, isn't it?

"But I -do- know what they mean. Seen those on many a good man's wrists, young Master Scarlett. Made by manacles and other devices for restraining a man's freedom. Seems like the law made sure you had reasons for being an outlaw, if you didn't have them before you fell in with it"

[will_scarlett]

Will clenches his hands at being told that as he searches his memory for something but there's nothing there.

So he breathes again before speaking,

"An lines on me back, lots o''em, sir, crossing each other?"

[bushel_o_apples]

He whistles low

"Seems like they gave you the whole walk of the plank. Those are, in all probability, scars from a good whipping. Not a common punishment on land. At least where I come from. Maybe you were of a nautical persuasion before?"