Tweak

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Tweak says, "Grrr. Argh."

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тнє ¢αρтαιη ([info]piracy) wrote in [info]theconsolelog,
He'd gained a reputation on this beach already, hadn't he? Well, that was no surprise - being the dashing rapscallion that he was. The days thus far, since arriving, were filled with exploration - he had a desk now, one he'd put together himself, and sketched his maps by candlelight. The plank holding those candles was driftwood, and he'd gathered a collection of that too - he liked the ridges and the grooves that swirled and curved with the shape of the pieces, the wood flowing almost like water itself. Years adrift in the salty brine had changed the color - he loved the sea so much he longed for the gifts he found along the beach, wood and shells and stones, to tell him their own tales of storms and waves.

A large hammock was Killian's bed, it hung from the ceiling - planks beneath for the base, and pillows and blankets for comfort, though it wasn't like he spent much time sleeping. The chess pieces that were reminders of Alice - the white knight and the black rook - remained perched on the windowsill. He was at his desk when he heard the, erm, polite knocking - and he could only chuckle as he went to answer.

"Look who it is," his accent curled around the words, as he opened the door and showed his guest inside. "Kelly, I presume? I'll just go ahead and pour you a keg, then." He had rum, aye - there was a bar in the sitting room, stocked with plenty of drinks he'd traded for fruit he found along the beach or killed those giant crabs for, or whatever else. The local wildlife wasn't particularly friendly, but tasty. And extermination curried favor with the residents so it was a nice system for now.

He motioned with his good hand toward the seating, "Make yourself at home." Where his left hand ought to be there was a gleaming hook - his gloved prosthetic had arrived with him too, but he didn't wear it much now. It wasn't as useful as a weapon.


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