WHO: Azrael and Anne WHAT: Anne's cashing in on that free drink and Azrael gets to meet the infamous Ms. Bonny. WHERE: Limbo (the bar) WHEN: Thursday evening RATINGS: Anne's mouth is filthy and she's shameless. Some possible talk of violence and sexuality.
The first week or so of Anne Bonny’s arrival to Preya had been spent in isolation. She’d arrived on a ship and come across a boarded up shack of sorts and pried the wood quartering it off from the doors. By any modern standards, the place would be unloveable. It was comprised of a bedroom, bathroom (with no shower, but an ancient-looking sink) and a family room where the stove, fireplace and an old sofa sat. By her standards, having been used to what Nassau had to offer before she and Jack had taken over the brothel, it was a neat, tidy little place to make a nest. Anyway, in her opinion, houses weren’t made to be lived in for one’s whole life. Her place was on the sea, she didn’t much care where she rested for a while on land.
It had vermin in it, snakes, rats, which she cleared easily with her swords and a good sweep of the house. There was really nothing to complain about there. She caught her rabbits in the forest, even caught a deer and tried to prepare and boil seawater down for the salt. The deer was cured so it would last her a little while. She thought she was alone until she heard some voices and when she followed them, she was led to the King’s Guard. That was admittedly a shock to her system. People wearing clothes like she’d never seen before were exchanging paper money to people in clothing that both came before her time and were worn by both the rich and poor every day in 1715 to learn swordsmanship, axe throwing, archery and other weaponry. But no guns, it seemed. She kept those beneath her jacket in the waistband of her trousers. After being mistaken for a worker there, she offered to do what she saw the others doing: teaching someone how to dance with a sword a little to pocket some cash. However, when it came time to pay her, they went to the owner of this place, apparently and gave them her pay. When she approached swiftly, demanding to know what this was about, they asked her who she was. After learning her name, they wanted to see her give the same boy a lesson and she agreed on the condition that the money would go to her, directly. Upon seeing how quickly the lessons took hold and the true utility of Anne’s tutelage, they agreed that she could be paid directly but that twenty percent would be delivered upon the end of the day to the owners.
Of course, she wasn’t happy with that, scowled at them at first and called them ‘cheating bloody twats’ but they couldn’t deny unique talent where they saw it, told her to keep the language toned down with the kids and like that, Anne Bonny had earned herself a job. They kept needling her about the distinct smell of rum emanating from her, but she told them to go fuck themselves if they had a problem. No one had exactly known to explain to Anne that there was certain water in this New World that was safe to drink, so she was none the wiser about it. Upon following another group of people later, she found herself at the Abacus Institute, confused, frustrated, rowdy and disruptive in her class and once it was over, she vowed never to return and almost drew one of her concealed swords on her professor for telling her it was for the best she didn’t come back. No one, no one, especially some sweaty fat little man told her when to speak and when not to.
But when he left the room to respond to a call for him at the dean’s office, she saw that he left his machine, called a ‘computer’ on the desk and promptly left with it tucked under her arm. After all, she had no idea where to get one of these and had learned a couple of things about something called ‘the internet’ that was apparently inside every one of these machines. It seemed useful. It also seemed like something Jack would appreciate, she thought to herself, putting the computer and charger on her dusty, sagging mattress with no small amount of pride.
She’d thought about him a lot since she arrived. If he’d ever find the ship there, if he was thinking about her just as she was thinking about him, how she’d secretly hated sleeping alone and left the computer open all night just to feel like others were talking to her… and soon enough, they were after one simple question on her part.
But she knew somewhere Jack would find her, given enough time. He always did. Their fates seemed interconnected and even when she’d left for Port Royal, she took the time to lean on the bannister and look at the stars, knowing however far apart they were and whatever damage had been done, they were looking at the same stars. He was somewhat like.a brother to her… but they had become lovers fairly early on as well. She’d never tell a soul but sometimes she thought she needed him. It wasn’t like the soppy poems that so many women mooned over and expected the men in their lives to live up to. It was the sense something of hers was missing without him. She walked the earth. She fought. She sailed. But she was missing a little part of her. In fact, she hadn’t laughed since she’d seen him last. A smile was rare on Anne’s face but Jack looked at her the way he did even if she scowled at him and told him to fuck off. He was smart. Smarter than anyone she’d ever met and she knew that if he wanted to, he’d find her. It was something she told herself when things were still and quiet and she ate the cured deer in front of the fireplace alone.
Anne wasn’t used to being alone. Nothing was private among the crew, really, she was used to waking up each day with a group of filthy, rowdy men and going to sleep with them too. This isolation wasn’t something she particularly liked at all. It felt like she was the only living person in the world sometimes when she’d finished her chores and sat down to relax, maybe whittle a stick to pass the time.
So when this ‘Azrael’ told he he owned a pub of sorts called a ‘bar’ in Ravenmoore, she decided to hell with it, she’d give it a chance. Especially if she was getting a free cup of whisky for her troubles. Hat on to protect against the cold instead of the sun as it usually did, billowing coat hiding the swords pushed to the back of her narrow hips (leaving the only evidence across her chest in the straps that held their sheaths) and the pistols in the backs of her trousers, she left to find this ‘metal vessel’ he told her about. Besides, there was usually a little trouble to be found at pubs and she wouldn’t mind that in the slightest. All of this peace didn’t settle her even a bit, she found herself wound up and edgier than usual, in fact.
After wandering around for hours, she found this ‘metal vessel’ and they asked her for money, which she wasn’t planning on saving for anything special (well, aside from a horse) so she gave freely. Anne wasn’t really used to being able to afford things and compared to what she made it was so cheap to find her way to Ravenmoore. She sat in the train, wolfing down the small refreshments they came by with but tossing her water out the window. She didn’t have a fucking death wish.
It arrived at its stop in Ravenmoore and she asked the attendant where she could find Limbo (which she pronounced ‘Lime-bo’ at first, but thankfully, she knew what Anne meant to say). The instructions seemed easy enough and she stepped off, exiting the station while gawking at all the concrete around her, she’d never seen such material. She touched it and it was cold, like stone, but smooth. Giving the station one last glance over her shoulder, she headed out to the street and stopped stock-still when she noticed all of the ‘motor-cars’ Black had told her of and she was taken off guard by how fast or slow they could go, how the driver sat inside, the colors, the shapes, the way they smelled… she walked slowly towards the cross-walk, as that was the only place she saw others walking and didn’t particularly want to be struck by one of these gigantic machines.
She kept glancing at them with extreme wariness and fascination as she followed the streets she was told to and finally found the pub. Anne shivered in the snow, she didn’t own anything but the light linen tunic she wore with the lacings up the front and her coat, trousers and boots as far as protection against the weather went. Her teeth started to chatter a little by the time she reached it… couldn’t miss the sign. ‘Limbo’.
For the life of her, she didn’t know what the design was about. Metal and wood, bricks of different colors (why did they even make those, she asked herself), but of course, the most important thing: the front door. She prayed it was warmer inside.
Pulling the door open, she assessed the crowd. Well, the few people there. Mostly men, they all turned their heads when she entered and she stared them back down as she walked inside, shutting the door behind her. They looked at her questioningly, some of them sadly, some of them with glazed-over eyes, having over-indulged. She just sneered and approached the counter. It was furnished without too much flair or imagination. That’s all a good pub needed. Somewhere to sit and something to drink.
She sat herself on a stool and waited for someone to come to the front, dull-eyed, pretending to shut out the rest of the room, her face, absolutely unreadable.