steam rising from the gravel on the road
#8
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I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
     It was genuinely gutsy of her to sail about these shores, but she had spent a large portion of the last few months finding a few key locations in the rugged landscape, for both her traps as well as her boat. Not without a few bumps and bruises, to the boat and her own body, but the result left her small vessel nestled comfortably on between two sloping rocks that were protected by one of the many miniature islands only a small ways offshore. A year at sea had taught her a number of things, but she hadn't expected docking to be one of the most useful ones.

     "Incredible treasure," she confirmed with a slow, knowing nod. "Crusty rabbits of the sea," she noted, remembering a similar euphemism written on a number of tins she had found stored in homes, containing fish of some sort. "They're plentiful in these parts, and far more entertaining to cook up." The scream had startled her the first time she had cooked a lobster herself, but the ordeal had become a slightly morbid, but entertaining game to her. It wasn't like they didn't fight back at her, anyway.

     As if suddenly remembering that there was such thing as manners and names, Poe suddenly rolled a hand out to Nikita with a toothy smile. "I'm Poe D'Angelo, by the way. Pink Pirate Bootypants on the high seas, but just Poe by land." Where she pulled that one from, no one knows.

oh, no don't close your eyes

Table by Tammi!
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