|тнє ¢αρтαιη (piracy) wrote in theconsolelog,|
@ 2018-06-06 10:53:00
|Entry tags:||commander shephard, killian jones|
WHO: Killian and OPEN~
WHERE: N’Sanity Beach
WHAT: He’s working on his boat, you’re welcome to help or simply chat at him
STATUS: In progress
|Things had been interesting as of late, which meant Killian was actually getting a headache and needed to self-medicate. He supposed it was only a matter of time before someone stepped up and attempted to wrangle the masses for heroics, but frankly, he would rather just lone wolf his way out of this one - or alongside Emma and the Hatter, though they were snarking at each other all the time, Emma was timid about her magic, something-something, who the fuck knew. Being from another realm entirely, and another version of the Hook she knew and had fallen in love with, was frustrating - Regina was a different person entirely as well; it was Roni he'd actually enjoyed when it came to their friendship.|
Alas. A day spent inhaling the fragrance of the open seas with the salt-kissed breeze whipping around him and working on the boat he was building would do him good.
It wouldn't be as perfect as his Jolly Roger, with sails pretty as petals, solid enchanted wood in a ginger sort of color that reminded him of home and hearth, but it would do. The ocean called to him like a lover, whispered sweet nothings in his ear - of course he was going to build a boat, outside by his humble abode in a shirt that had seen better days and trousers rolled up to his ankles. He was working with planks that were no doubt veterans of the salty brine, planks that gave off the aroma of marine life and storms. Yet this boat would be seaworthy - a mast, a sail, nets bundled onto the small deck.
He was getting quite a tan while he worked, trying not to think of Alice and just barely accomplishing it. She was safe with Robin, that was what mattered - the Dark Curse had been broken, she’d defeated Gothel, things were alright. There was still the matter of his cursed heart to attend to but considering he’d just gotten sucked into a snowglobe, separated from her again, there was nothing for it. It might be best for her if she lived her life without him - without poisoned hearts and pain. The thought made him frown, though he remained concentrated on the skeleton of his boat - pausing only to take a drink of water, and rehydrate properly out here.