ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-06-17 17:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, hazel levesque, killian jones (captain hook) |
Who: Killian & Hazel
What: Showing off the Jolly Roger, some swordsmanship
When: Laaast Friday, maybe?
Where: Captain Hook's vessel
Rating/Warnings: Low!
Status: Complete
Even if Killian received the Jolly Roger in parts, she was indeed a glorious sight - made of enchanted wood, a forecastle and a sterncastle, the helm atop the quarterdeck. The gun deck there beneath the ship's main deck, actual gunpowder stored in magazines - far away from the galley, where there were the barrels of fresh water, nearby the crew’s quarters, the Captain’s cabin, and let’s not forget the huge wooden rudder that steered the ship and the winch that raised and lowered the anchor. Hemp ropes, sails made of rough canvas, the mast; the ship was beautiful and glossy, a gorgeous ginger colour. He’d rented space in a private marina to keep her secure, something that was expensive but worth it - of course, the dock manager didn’t really ask why one day there had only been part of a ship and the next day the whole thing. Best not to ask questions you didn’t want the answers to. He drove any visitors out to the marina in his Mustang, all too proud to show off his very best lady (Regina notwithstanding, of course). Hazel was one of the first - he wondered how her sea legs were, if she had the sea in her blood. Not everyone did. For Killian though, even just stepping onto the gangplank and walking up on deck invoked all these memories, in his mind’s eye - he could hear the slap of waves against the ship, rocking and lulling, Liam and the sound of his laugh, shiny gold buttons, a compass, glittering treasure, swordfights, the taste of fresh shellfish. That was all him, in another life. Seemed rather extraordinary sometimes. “Well, here we are, love. Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger,” he was practically giddy, with his toothy grin and kohl-smudged eyes that crinkled at the corners - the sword he’d received was in its scabbard on his hip, the blade a beauty in its own right. “I’ve been waiting awhile to say that.” Hazel did not have sea legs. In fact, she was very bad at being on the sea. She just didn't know that yet. The dreams hadn't showed her all the glorious hours of vomiting that happened while she was on the Argo II. To be fair, a lot of that was because the seas were not calm. The Jolly Roger looked nice, though. She'd never known that much about boats except that the tiny one in her dreams was not very nice. Neither was the shack that they'd lived in. She had her sword attached to her hip as well. She wasn't all that tall, only just over 5'3", but that hadn't stopped her from being the girl with the Spatha: a sword meant for cavalry soldiers. She'd refused to use anything else, though. Even if it was more difficult to weild than anything else. She admired that about her dream self. She didn't back down from things. The difference from most swords was that it was made of Imperial gold. She walked up onto the ship, looking around a little. She felt a little queasy, but she tried not to show it. She didn't want to do something embarrassing like throw up when nothing was even happening. She bit down on her lips in an effort to keep herself from asserting that her name was Hazel. She felt strange about nicknames. Her dad gave her more than enough that she usually preferred for people to use her real name when she was around them. The only other person that she hadn't really minded cutsie nicknames from was Sammy, but he was her best friend and the only boy she'd ever kissed. He was forgiven for a lot of things...even disappearing off the face of the earth. She'd wanted to look for him but feared she'd learn something she didn't want to know. "I can only imagine." She looked around, trying to focus on anything other than the queasy feeling she was experiencing. There was an underwater tunnel a little ways away. It was probably nothing. There was metal further away. She closed her eyes, letting herself focus even more before she decided this was probably making her seem a little weird. "Sorry. Just trying to...ground myself a little." To be fair, Killian called everyone something or another - the nickname was simply a part of his lexicon, given where he was from (a common way to refer to strangers as well as friends), and if he had a daughter it would be even worse. But if the lass didn’t like it, he would refrain - sometimes he had manners. She seemed like she was about to upchuck anyway, he wouldn’t make it worse. Perhaps there wouldn’t be much piracy in Hazel’s future - that was alright, it wasn’t for everyone. “Do you sense something?” he asked, one of those black brows quirking upward curiously. Because it couldn’t be actual seasickness - they weren’t even moving. “A few things. I'm still working on figuring it all out. I'm a walking, talking metal detector. Well, there's also gems. Basically if you have any pirate treasure, I can probably find it.” She shrugged slightly. “I wouldn't take it, though. Finding riches comes with a curse on my end and I'm not willing to cause anyone else trouble for the sake of greed.” Unlike her mother. Both in the dreams and out of them. “At least I have the choice here.” She looked off to the side. “Also I can sense tunnels now. There's something a few feet ahead, but I don't think it's man made and it's not very long, so probably something made by something here.” She hoped she didn't sound like she was bragging or boasting. She was just talking through things to distract herself, which seemed to be working. If the ship started moving, she’d be in trouble. “It's a little strange to just be aware of everything, but Regina let's me come practice at her house sometimes and I'm hoping I'll get a handle on it eventually.” Pirate treasure, those were the magic words - but Killian had received quite the bountiful haul from his dreamworld, what with the Eye of the Storm transferring to this world. The glittering, rare sapphire was worth more than he could possibly fathom - and he had no particular sentimental attachment to it, and therefore no qualms about selling such a precious jewel. So normally, knowing a plundering bloodhound would be useful - but he’d also had enough of the ill effects that came from messing with things that shouldn’t be messed with. Sacrificing his life to obliterate the Dark One’s curse was all he needed. “The ocean holds many secrets,” he said, wandering to the helm of the ship, hand fondly on the spoked wheel. “She’s a mysterious sort of wonder. Anything else you sense? Just for the sake of practising. Eventually, that connection to the earth will become second nature for you, I imagine. You could even use it to help out oceanographers,” the Captain winked. Hazel was glad that he didn't treat her like some strange person. Also that he didn't ask her to locate any buried treasure. But she supposed that since he was dating Regina, he wouldn't find her to be overly abnormal. She followed him as he walked to the helm, studying the newer parts of the boat that she couldn't see before. Most importantly, the wheel. When she closed her eyes and focused, she didn't notice anything in particular on the ship. “My friend Per…” She frowned a little. “This boy I know in the dreams. I don't know if we're friends here. But he would be a better help with the ocean. I'm just cursed treasure and underground tunnels right now.” She rested her hand on the top of the sword hilt. “And the only precious metal I can sense close by is my sword. But it's possible there's stuff pretty far down. It's just I can't sense it yet.” She turned her attention to Killian. “Do you have any abilities outside of general pirate stuff?” “Perhaps it will come. And perhaps if we ever need a bunker, we’ll call on you to tell us where the best place is.” Oh, he was teasing - mostly. Because having a bunker in Orange County didn’t seem to be a bad idea at all, what with how often things went wrong. The question made him chuckle a little, as he watched the ripple of the sea waves - calming, for him, for the likes of a sailor who knew the sea as his first love. An unrequited love, mind you; there was always something a bit hollow about living a pirate’s life. He used to have an abundance of dark magic crawling through his veins, but the power wasn’t worth the price. Not in the slightest. “Survival, mainly,” Killian responded. “Not sure how I do it, but it’s the one thing I’m exceptionally good at. Besides swordfighting, of course. Now let’s see yours - “ He drew his blade, and while it wasn’t gold, it was obviously custom-made for him and as sleek and deadly as its owner. “I really hope that we don’t need a bunker.” But then she remembered the Stormtroopers attacking. She hoped there wouldn’t be a lot of incidents like that. She guessed it was only a matter of time before she found out just how bad it might get. She nodded at the answer. Nothing particularly magical, then. She wasn’t sure, though. Some people had magic and some didn’t. She was still trying to decide if her abilities were magic or something different. When he pulled out his sword, Hazel studied it. It wasn’t Imperial gold, but it was definitely good craftsmanship. From what she knew of swords, which really was only a little bit. In the dreams, she knew a lot about everything in the camp. At least fighting and how to wield a sword. Her scabbard was down to her ankle, so when she pulled the sword out, it was something she did carefully. It was your typical Roman cavalry sword. Hazel just happened to be an atypical cavalry sword owner. She was fairly short and she had neither horse nor pegasus. “It’s Imperial gold, but there’s not really any of that here. At least not that I can tell.” Killian’s sword held great sentimental value - it wasn’t the gold-hilted sword he’d once had, but instead this one was sleeker and had belonged to Milah, one of the greatest pirates he had ever known. She was also his former lover, and she’d received a burial at sea after she was murdered - he’d simply kept the precious blade, was all. It was set back down so he could examine Hazel’s weapon. “It’s quite beautiful,” he spoke, accented words expressing his appreciation. “Show me how you hold it, show me your form,” he added as he stepped back to give her space, the retrieved his sword once more - perhaps they could get a bit of a friendly duel going, something simple. Though he mostly just wanted to see a few of her moves, to assess where she was at. Hazel's sword just represented a great stubbornness. She'd been teased and cajoled because of her choice in weapons since the beginning. People were constantly telling her that she shouldn't use the sword she'd chosen because she didn't have a horse or Pegasus, but she ignored them. It just made her more stubborn and kept her from getting any other sword. She felt that stubbornness working its way into her the longer she had the sword with her. No one would make her give it up. No one. Well, maybe the police, but she would definitely fight that or get her dad involved. There was a smile at Killian's words and she nodded. "I'm pretty attached to it." And now came the part where she tried to figure out the correct stance as she held her sword. Fighting styles were different when it was on land. It was harder to weild because it was bigger, but she would try. She stood, feet apart to give herself a solid base, and then she lifted it. "It's a little more difficult with close combat, but I've done it in the dreams." She gave herself enough space that Killian wouldn't get hurt by accident and tried to swing it the way she had in her dreams. "I need more of my Roman fighting skills," she stated, a hint of disappointment to her voice. “Not bad,” the Captain observed, leaning against the edge of the deck to watch Hazel hold the beautiful weapon. “It should be an extension of your arm, first and foremost - no matter what type of sword you’re wielding, that’s just how it is. The more the sole of your foot touches the ground, the more strength will be behind your attacks.” Maybe with one hand, it didn’t seem like he could effortlessly go through the motions, having perfected the art of swordsmanship, but he’d studied hard - he’d practised quite a bit, even starting when he was a young and fresh Naval officer brought into the King’s service after what felt like a lifetime of servitude. He’d shown a lot of promise, Killian Jones had. So when he drew his sword, the movement was lithe and graceful, almost poetic. “Extend the sword, not your arms - you’ll get those Roman fighting skills back if I’ve got anything to say about it.” After all, who knew what would happen? It was important even those who had extra powers knew how to use melee weapons, just in case - or at least, Hook rather thought so. Hazel brightened a little when she was complimented. 'Not bad' wouldn't be a compliment at Camp Jupiter from what she'd noticed, but here it was. As far as she was concerned. "So basically, think Sweeney Todd?" There was a pause before she added, "At last. My arm is complete again." Maybe she wasn't particuarly normal, but she blamed a lot of other people for that and just sort of accepted it at this point. She listened to the other things that Killian said, though. The soles of her feet should touch the ground, she should see it as an extension of her arm. A very shiny extension. She watched as he drew his sword again, eyes focused on the way he did it. If there was anything she did, it would be practice. She may not want to be a soldier for the Roman gods and goddesses, but that was because she wasn't really given a choice. Here, she didn't have anyone who told her she wasn't allowed to show fear or weakness while she tried to figure all her powers out. Here she got her abilities and people showed her how to fight and if she showed a hint of uncertainty or weakness, no one threatened to swallow her whole. "Thanks for helping me." Hazel lowered her arm, inhaling and exhaling before lifting her sword again, trying to think of it as an extension of her arm and less separate from her arm. “Aye, of course,” Killian grinned a bit, coming nearer to assess the stance and give suggestions if need be. “...I’m not certain who Sweeney Todd is though,” he was loathe to admit but this pirate was just a little what the fuck about pop culture references. Kind of like his dream self as well - such an outsider in a modern world, attempting to find his place. He twirled his sword, letting the blade of his touch hers - one of those fancy maneuvers - before retreating. “I suppose one of my other pieces of advice would be to always go for the person, not the sword. Remember that you’re dueling to cut someone.” Sometimes it was all about mock dueling, a fake fight, but in a real one? You were out to win - and ultimately to win with honour, grace, and precision. “It’s a rather lovely dance though, the dance of swordsmanship. Or swords...womanship, in this case.” "Maybe one day I'll have to explain it to you." She knew her dream self wouldn't have any idea about pop culture or really anything past what she'd experienced. But here, her dad was a movie director and so she wasn't as sheltered from the world and she'd also grown up in the world that she only had a chance to familiarize herself with when she was brought out of the Underworld. "Or show you. Mostly because showing is easier most of the time with these things." Hazel was kind of amazed by the way that Killian handled his sword. She'd seen people with that skill in her dreams, known that she was pretty good at fighting in her dreams, too. It was one of those things that she couldn't help being impressed by. She was also impressed by Percy and Frank, but there were different reasons for that, too. "You'd make a good Roman," she commented idly. "They would probably say something like that." They'd also remind you that you should win and that mercy wasn't really a part of fighting. She guessed she could understand that. The other person probably wouldn't be kind. "I don't think swordsmanship is technically swordswomanship usually. Unless that's something people have fought you about before. I just want to be able to fight in case we get attacked by crazy things again. A sword is better than a big stick." “Would I? Suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” the Captain laughed, a smooth rumble of sound. His accent could sometimes err on the side of posh - many who came from Belfast fooled you in that way, when their homeland was anything but peaceful and serene. More like dark and gritty, very noir. “Stick with me, love, and you’ll be able to fight - it’s always a good idea, to have those skills. It’s also a good idea to be well-rounded.” They’d get attacked by crazy, mad things again - such was the nature of the beast here in Orange County, where they’d chosen to settle and make their home. “Would you like to see the rest of the ship?” he asked, sheathing his sword for the time being. “I’ll give you a bit of a proper tour, of everything above and below deck. Maybe if we’re lucky there will be authentic hardtack in the galley.” That was a joke. There was nothing lucky about having to eat something so bland and so hard that you had to soften it by dunking it in water or milk first so the larvae floated to the top and could be easily skimmed off. Ah, a pirate’s life. "Considering our camp basically manufactures kid soldiers, yeah." She looked at him for a moment. "Only I'm kind of hoping you're not entirely Roman. Mostly because of what I remember from the dreams." Still, the Romans could appreciate someone that went for the person and not the weapon. Then again, people were weapons in their own right. She'd seen her fellow campers fight. She'd also seen them set up and take down a camp. They were nothing if not efficient. Hazel decided against pointing out that the only people she could ask for help outside of him were probably in her dreams. Percy was not getting asked because she'd been dreaming about him for a while and she didn't want to explain that. It would sound really strange. "Well, I'd like to learn how to defend myself. I don't really think that it's a good idea not to be. I'm just glad it's my choice to learn now." It wasn't something that she had to deal with because there wasn't another choice, really. It also hadn't involved a wolf that would eat you alive if you showed weakness. She was glad for that. The question brought a moment of hesitation and she sheathed her sword before nodding. "Sure." She had no idea what hardtack was, though, so she didn't know if that was lucky or not. "What is hardtack?" “That’s one of the good things about this life, I think. We have choices here, that we didn’t get before. And sometimes people become what they dream of, something they didn’t ask for - like how I lost my hand, for example,” Killian held up the prosthetic, which looked almost robotic and sci-fi, compared to the crude old-time feel of his hook (which he didn’t wear in public, not very often). “But they, we, can choose how to handle it - no sense in making the same mistakes twice, right?” He wasn’t going to become a pirate hellbent on revenge and running on an empty, hollow heart - completely alone and no use for people, not close to anyone and standing at the helm of his ship alone. Killian chose not to be that person again - perhaps Hook was always going to be a part of him, but those dream actions didn’t define him. To the galley it was! “Hardtack is essentially a cracker that lasts forever and can withstand anything,” he laughed. “Very common on the pirate’s diet.” But he’d show her, he’d show her everything - and who knows, perhaps Hazel had a little bit of a rebel pirate within her as well. Sometimes a little drop of stubbornness was all it took. |