My Time Will Come [Kaitto]

[CLYDE HAWKE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,475,true] [atrb=height,380,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #000000; border-top-left-radius:4em; -moz-border-radius-topleft:4em; height: 350px; width: 125px; border-top: 2px solid #C7A317; border-left: 2px solid #C7A317; border-bottom: 2px solid #C7A317]

[atrb=style, background-color: #000000; height: 360px; border-top: 2px solid #C7A317; border-right: 2px solid #C7A317; border-bottom: 2px solid #C7A317; width: 350px; border-bottom-right-radius:4em; -moz-border-radius-bottomright:4em;] remember this feeling, how it feels to be alive Lvneel Kingdom was a popular enough place. Despite the strict security that the newly appointed king had placed, it was still a popular place for travellers. And in that fact, Cain hoped to find what he had long been waiting for. The arrival of a pirate crew. One that would be willing to take a fresh fish as he was. One that would be able to compromise with his skill of the blade in return for his lack of experience out at sea. He was looking for a pirate crew to travel the Blues with. A band to call his friends. Though, despite the weeks that Cain had stood by the docks of the Kingdom, he had yet to find one that would be willing to take him. Hell, he had failed to even see a pirate crew dock upon the Kingdom. It seemed that a few of them now dared to test the king's new additions to the kingdom's security. Cain sighed in defeat, as he sat there, upon one of the many crates that littered the docks, unbothered by the sailors for he chose not to trouble them as well. Besides, a number of these people knew who he was. The son of a merchant, and the nephew of a town-guard, Cain was, to say the least, recognised by a number of the kingdom's residents. His father had been quite a successful merchant, after all, the man having travelled to many islands to carry out his business. At the same time, his uncle, who was a retired Marine turned town guard, was known for his skill in battle. And Cain was their last blood relative. He sighed, allowing the smoke from his cigarette to roll out into the air, twisting and dancing with the wind. He was clad in a black plain shirt, under his distinct leather jacket with the golden shoulder pauldrons. The short crimson cloak hung around his neck, by the collars of his jacket with a silver chain. A pair of cream-coloured pants completed his attire, held in place by a black leather belt with a large silver buckle the size of his own fist. And finally, a pair of leather boots that had long lost its shine. Beside him, upon the crate, lay his sheathed blade, a weapon handed down to him by his late uncle, Harpe. And of course, in wedged in between his lips, was one of his many cigarettes, ablaze and feeding him with poisonous fumes. Delicious, relaxing, poisonous fumes. He breathed out another puff of smoke, wondering when his time would come when he would finally belong upon a ship. And witness what the world had to offer to him? you can't break the broken, TAGGED: n/a NOTES: there. xD made by FLOU of OTE. song is ANTHEM OF THE UNDERDOG, by 12 STONES.

[JESSE]

Why were the so many people here? People seemed to leak from every orifice of the town, draining into the streets where they blotched up into little packets of human life. Jesse bit back a primal growl towards the caked up crowds, his tread careful so he didn't end up too close to any specific civilian. He probably wore a suitably pained or angered expression as he filtered himself through the crowds, he was a sore thumb in this town. He was a stranger to travel and lacked the briefest idea of how to properly avoid too much contact. In his old home perhaps he could do it, or well he definitely could, and had, he knew the every nook and cranny in that place, when it came to short cuts and back roads he knew it all, or most of it. He missed knowing it all, or the most of it. Too much contact just aggravated him, and with people casually brushing arms and bumping shoulders with him he was on the brink of lashing out like some untamed dog. He was an untamed dog.

Lyneel kingdom sounded great through peer review, but like any other town he had crossed on his travels there was always something left to be desired. He remembered how strongly he hated being packed in as a child, the only good thing about crowds was distractions and lots of open pockets. He'd like to say he was above that now, but his arms were already snaking out of his pockets. It seemed fair that if they were troubling him, it was only right to make an equal deliverance onto him. His eyes skimmed along the crowds eagerly, he always chose the wealthier looking ones for this little game, he had understood how it feels too have no money at all, and he wouldn't dare subject that to another. His eyes jetted along the crowds until he found a proper target, a man donning a some circular glass like contraption over one eyes, people called it a monocle, and a suit definitely tailored to his structured. And slowly drifted towards the man, more cautious than usually, he was older now and certainly more noticeable in crowds than say a small child.

It was an art, pick pocketing, and he was somewhere along the lines of Picasso in the field. It only took a moment as he feigned being pushed into the man, his hand worked majestically as it stole away something leathery and traded it with empty air. He uttered an apology as he moved ahead, only slightly and switched off into another intersection, and another until he did a proper three-sixty all the way back to his starting spot, where the man no longer was. If he was searching for him, it probably wouldn't be where they met. But in case he just gingerly assumed he dropped it, he drifted into the opposing side this time, pulling out the stolen object for further inspection. He was rewarded with a somewhat bloated wallet. "How befitting", he faintly smiled and began to count his winnings. He imagined the uses he could put this to.

It was only out of the corner of his eyes did he spot the white haired male, plumes of smoke rising from his lips in a steady stream. What have we here? The sword angled next to him said pirate, or perhaps a simple swordsman, and he instantly pocketed the contents in his hands. Money? What money? "Greetings," he waved, not exactly making his atypical dart for freedom, "Are you perhaps a pirate?" And that definitely wasn't an awkward question.

[CLYDE HAWKE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,475,true] [atrb=height,380,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #000000; border-top-left-radius:4em; -moz-border-radius-topleft:4em; height: 350px; width: 125px; border-top: 2px solid #C7A317; border-left: 2px solid #C7A317; border-bottom: 2px solid #C7A317]

[atrb=style, background-color: #000000; height: 360px; border-top: 2px solid #C7A317; border-right: 2px solid #C7A317; border-bottom: 2px solid #C7A317; width: 350px; border-bottom-right-radius:4em; -moz-border-radius-bottomright:4em;] remember this feeling, how it feels to be alive "Greetings," Cain raised an eyebrow, as he heard a voice that reached over the populated sound of the city, and into Cain's ears. The blonde sat upon the crates that outlined the docks, and it was, after all, close enough to the city to hear its residents going on about their business. That, and the docks themselves carried a life of its own. Sailors. Ships. The men of the sea were rowdy in their own rights. And such could be seen before Cain, as the merry sailors of the trading ships and the small number of Marines that wandered about allowed their voices to be as loud as their lungs could allow them. This voice, however, would overcome all challenges, and catch Cain's attention. The blonde turned his head by the neck to face the source of the greeting, his eyes slightly wide in curiousity. Who could it be, he wondered? And there, before him, stood a black-haired male. An unfamiliar individual, which led to two possible conclusions. One, Cain simply did not have the fortune of meeting him here yet, through his 22 years of living in the Kingdom, or two, he was a foreigner. "Are you perhaps a pirate?" Cain chuckled, raising his eyebrow. He wished he could give him a nod of his head for an answer, but the blonde knew it himself. As of now, for he sailed under no Jolly Roger, he was no true pirate. Simply an ambitious young swordsman. With that in mind, Cain gave a soft shake of his head. "Sorry to disappoint, but no. Though, that is a rather blunt question you ask. Are you a pirate?" Cain returned the question to him, a soft hospitable smile on his face. you can't break the broken, TAGGED: jesse NOTES: there we go. made by FLOU of OTE. song is ANTHEM OF THE UNDERDOG, by 12 STONES.

[JESSE]

"Oh", there was a hint of disappointment in his tone as he slanted his gaze. "Hardly", the idea of him as a pirate was an almost laughable matter. He could hardly handle a blade let alone start pillaging villages. But the idea was amusing. Sailing the sea and warding off those who opposed, not the pillaging though, he liked people too much for that. He a humanitarian on some level. He pushed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and took a steady breathe, "Fuuuuck" he sighed, "swordsman then?" He wasn't the most avid fan of the guessing game, but he was willing to try today, if not bitterly. He had already drawn the attention so there wasn't much need for being reserved, he figured they wouldn't cross paths ever again after today.

His eyes were lingering on the man's strange attire, was there any practical point for it or was it just his taste of couture? But he thought the leather was a nice touch, leather was always a nice touch to him. He pressed his lips together and exhaled, if not for the sake of doing something. People scuffled about around him, going about their day lives, but they didn't matter in a sense to him, they were all common folk and he was looking for someone with some knowledge more of less on weaponry, or some class of defense. He figured the man with the sword might know a thing or two, and maybe it was better that he wasn't a pirate. Rumor had it they were profoundly idiotic, at least the general sum of them.

"Oh, and nice sword", he remarked with a finger aimed at the sword next to him. It was a stupid comment, was it actually a nice sword? He had no clue how swords were classed, it could have possibly even been a prop, but he felt the need to draw attention to the weapon. Maybe the man would just assume he was just nervous about the blade and was being a little probing? That probably wasn't so great either. He tried to wear a smile though, appear not so dangerous or creepy, he was just a passing civilian with a lingering eye. Right? Right.

[CLYDE HAWKE]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,475,true] [atrb=height,380,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #000000; border-top-left-radius:4em; -moz-border-radius-topleft:4em; height: 350px; width: 125px; border-top: 2px solid #C7A317; border-left: 2px solid #C7A317; border-bottom: 2px solid #C7A317]

[atrb=style, background-color: #000000; height: 360px; border-top: 2px solid #C7A317; border-right: 2px solid #C7A317; border-bottom: 2px solid #C7A317; width: 350px; border-bottom-right-radius:4em; -moz-border-radius-bottomright:4em;] remember this feeling, how it feels to be alive "Hardly", Well, it was still a rather peculiar question to ask. Security may be tight, but people were still allowed to carry swords around in the Kingdom. They simply were not allowed to use it. And he doubted with the number of soldiers present in defence, he doubted anyone would actually be stupid enough to do so. Though, Cain was rather curious as to the intention behind the question. If he was no pirate, then he probably was not looking for someone to talk to. That left a few more possibilities. One, he was a bounty hunter, looking for pirates for easy money. Two, a Marine who simply had suspicions. And three, someone wrong in the head. "Fuuuuck, swordsman then?" Cain chuckled as he gave a soft shrug, a sly smile following up the double gesture. Turning his body slightly so that he faced the man, a posture of respect, he allowed himself to answer the question. "Well, I'm carrying a sword, so I figure yeah, a swordsman is what some might call me." Cain raised his right hand, bringing his cigarette back upon his lips as he took a drag of smoke, before breathing it out to the side, ensuring that the wind would not blow it towards Jesse. He knew not what his opinion of smokers were, and majority of the people Cain had met despised smokers. So, it was only polite that he bothered him not with his cigarette smoke. "Oh, and nice sword" Cain glanced towards Harpe, as it lay beside him, on the crate. Carrying a proud grin on his face, he turned back to the man before him, nodding his head in appreciation. "Thanks. It was my uncle's, but he handed it down to me. You're a lover of swords?" Cain inquired, still curious and confused as to what exactly the man's intention was for talking to him. Or perhaps he simply was looking for a conversation. if that was the case, Cain was more than glad to oblige. It would definitely make the fruitless waiting here in the docks much more interesting. you can't break the broken, TAGGED: jesse NOTES: there. made by FLOU of OTE. song is ANTHEM OF THE UNDERDOG, by 12 STONES.