blueberry cheesecake and flavour of the day
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Head Over Heels
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: sojourn, Blueberry Cheesecake #6: iron fist
Toppings/Extras: none
Wordcount: 400
Summary: Gatecrashing rule number one: look behind you.
Notes: It’s the 25th of May- Isaac’s birthday! He’d be 402 years old today… so he deserves some fun. (Also, whoa, three days in a row, am I back or am I back?) Sojourn: to stay as a temporary resident; to dwell for a time. A temporary stay.
Lord Ashdown rested his elbows on the polished wooden banister that surrounded the outside of the Truthseeker, gaze settling on the iridescent ocean. May was a rather lovely time of year, he had to admit. Almost everywhere he’d been, May seemed to highlight the best of nature. He’d been born in January himself. January wasn’t fun. Everything died in January.
He was holding a decanter of very fine brandy and a crystal glass. Eventually, he managed to tear his silvery gaze from the curve of the horizon and the verdant rush of emerald green that was Nassau in the distance.
“Here’s to another year of not being killed, then,” Ashdown murmured, pouring some of the alcohol into the glass. It bounced from the bottom, cool and smooth, a shiny string of liquid. “A celebration, of sorts.”
The instant he finished pouring the glass was snatched from his hand and Ashdown watched without much surprise but with a little reproach as Captain Jacob Graham downed the lot.
“I’ll drink to that!” he said brightly. “What’re we celebrating?”
Ashdown looked around the deck. For a brief moment, the only sound was the wind tugging at the sails gently: the sort of weather that seemed to take the ship by the hand instead of dragging it by its nose.
There was no way out of it. Ashdown just had to ask-
“Where did you just come from?”
Jacob gesticulated wildly with the hand holding the now-empty glass. The gestures, however, fell slightly flat due to the fact he apparently had nothing to say to go along with them. He flopped over the banister and scratched his forehead, apparently as confused by the question as Ashdown.
“Er,” he began, and didn’t get much farther before Isaac Prowse showed up. Prowse leaned down, grabbed the pirate by the boots and swiftly flipped him head-over-heels over the railings of the ship and into the ocean.
Ashdown peered over the edge of the ship with a small wrinkle of the nose.
“That glass was part of a set,” he said absent-mindedly. “Gold-leaf rims.”
“Sorry,” Prowse said, and held out a glass of his own; one he’d already been carrying. Ashdown passed him the decanter and Prowse poured himself a drink, taking a satisfied sip of it.
“I don’t suppose it matters much,” Ashdown said, turning away from the sea. “Anyway, happy birthday, Mr Prowse.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Title: Head Over Heels
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: sojourn, Blueberry Cheesecake #6: iron fist
Toppings/Extras: none
Wordcount: 400
Summary: Gatecrashing rule number one: look behind you.
Notes: It’s the 25th of May- Isaac’s birthday! He’d be 402 years old today… so he deserves some fun. (Also, whoa, three days in a row, am I back or am I back?) Sojourn: to stay as a temporary resident; to dwell for a time. A temporary stay.
Lord Ashdown rested his elbows on the polished wooden banister that surrounded the outside of the Truthseeker, gaze settling on the iridescent ocean. May was a rather lovely time of year, he had to admit. Almost everywhere he’d been, May seemed to highlight the best of nature. He’d been born in January himself. January wasn’t fun. Everything died in January.
He was holding a decanter of very fine brandy and a crystal glass. Eventually, he managed to tear his silvery gaze from the curve of the horizon and the verdant rush of emerald green that was Nassau in the distance.
“Here’s to another year of not being killed, then,” Ashdown murmured, pouring some of the alcohol into the glass. It bounced from the bottom, cool and smooth, a shiny string of liquid. “A celebration, of sorts.”
The instant he finished pouring the glass was snatched from his hand and Ashdown watched without much surprise but with a little reproach as Captain Jacob Graham downed the lot.
“I’ll drink to that!” he said brightly. “What’re we celebrating?”
Ashdown looked around the deck. For a brief moment, the only sound was the wind tugging at the sails gently: the sort of weather that seemed to take the ship by the hand instead of dragging it by its nose.
There was no way out of it. Ashdown just had to ask-
“Where did you just come from?”
Jacob gesticulated wildly with the hand holding the now-empty glass. The gestures, however, fell slightly flat due to the fact he apparently had nothing to say to go along with them. He flopped over the banister and scratched his forehead, apparently as confused by the question as Ashdown.
“Er,” he began, and didn’t get much farther before Isaac Prowse showed up. Prowse leaned down, grabbed the pirate by the boots and swiftly flipped him head-over-heels over the railings of the ship and into the ocean.
Ashdown peered over the edge of the ship with a small wrinkle of the nose.
“That glass was part of a set,” he said absent-mindedly. “Gold-leaf rims.”
“Sorry,” Prowse said, and held out a glass of his own; one he’d already been carrying. Ashdown passed him the decanter and Prowse poured himself a drink, taking a satisfied sip of it.
“I don’t suppose it matters much,” Ashdown said, turning away from the sea. “Anyway, happy birthday, Mr Prowse.”
“Thank you, sir.”