i stole the prince of wales

[Anathra Síle]

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No, don't sleep tonight

loooooove. S.S. Queen Anne's Revenge. THEIR HOOOME...-boring post.



I'm hurt and ready for fire


The enormous ship the lay collided against the beach wasn't really eye candy on the outside, but once you discovered the way in (and she and Z had indeed done so,) the place was quite wonderful. It had a mysterious quality that the city no longer held, and it was much easier to believe in a place such as this that humans actually existed. The rooms and the furniture, the trinkets and the plethora of other unknown items that lay strewn across the rooms and hallways. As a bonus, there were human places inside the human ship. Places where humans used to mingle, eat, and who knows what else. The entire place was like a little piece of the storybooks she had read so long ago as a puppy, and when Zacor had decided this would be the place they would settle into, she was overjoyed. She could now explore without leaving home, technically.


He had chosen one of the larger cabins, complete with a [mostly] intact bed and plenty of space for other things. The rest of the furniture in the room (a chair, a small desk) had been scavenged from other rooms, as the ones they had found in the current one had been smashed. The glass lights that hung from the ceiling didn't work, but Anathra had since found plenty of candles. The room also was rusting in one corner, which actually was an advantage as it allowed a bit of natural light to filter in during the day. Anathra lit a couple of candles on her way in, dropping her pack softly on the ground and sighing. Zacor had been here, not too long ago, but was gone again. Ah, well. She'd drag him out on the beach whenever he came back. She was hungry. The crimson girl wrinkled her nose, flopping unceremoniously on the bed as she waited for Zacor to come back.

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[Zacor Sian]

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STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES
Oh hai Jes. I r making posts at snail's pace.


BUT BUDDHA RESTS INSIDE ME
It had to be said: the antiqued hull of the abandoned S.S. Queen Anne's Revenge and the damp, sticky sand of Thunder Island were a far cry from the the rolling green hills and pretty little townhouses of Eidolon in Wales. But as there had been slaughter with rusty daggers behind the doors of the townhouses, and ritual sacrifice in broad daylight on the hills, the lackluster accommodations of Lightning Bay could be easily overlooked. Better yet, to Zacor, they hadn't even registered. He didn't see his new home with Anathra for what it wasn't; instead, he saw it was for it was. It was an amoral place, and therefore better than the immoral Eidolon. The history of the island held no wrongdoings in need of being made right; there had been no maidens raped or young boys killed in the name of Pagan gods, and although one man or another might have met his end here, that was all right, because it had not been at the will of the wicked and corrupt.


This was a nice place with salty air, a place where you could sit with your arms crossed in Buddhist zen, and only that piquant air would remind you that you were still alive. However, it wouldn't be long now before high tide, and the former Sian prince didn't want to be stuck across the sand bar, in some place even less familiar than the ship already was. He and Anathra had only just arrived here, perhaps a day or two before, and he had yet to learn all the intricate details of the deserted cruiseliner's every nook and cranny. There were spiderwebs yet to be known and chests full of human relics yet to be explored. Now was not the time to become stranded, especially considering how little he knew of the rest of Nova Scotia. He needed to get back to Anathra, who knew a lot more of the former country's landmarks and lore.


The time for sitting in the sand at perfect ease with Buddhist zen had been over for at least ten minutes as Z neared the end of the sand bar, kicking aside small pebbles and shells as he approached the ship that was now just a few strides away. When he reached the dirtied giant, he crawled inside its opening and began working his way through the wild maze of rooms until he reached the cabin he and Anathra had chosen as their own. After a bit of redecorating, it had become a homey little place. He smiled as he caught the sight of the pretty redhead sprawled out over the ancient bed and for a second, he contemplated moving his own reddish locks out of his face to get a better view. In the end, though, apathy got the better of him. "Hey," he said with a weak smile. He was an anti-social thing, unsure of where to go next. His conversations always started out this way (if they started at all), but with Anathra, they were starting to improve as words wore on.


She had saved him from Eidolon, and someday, he was going to have to thank her. But the time for that was likely a bit far off, and it certainly wasn't now.

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[Anathra Síle]

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I NEVER

NOTICED
Y hallo thar. I ded indeed lyk ur postz.

YOU WERE ILLEGAL
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Anathra lay across the bed haphazardly, not caring if Z walked in on her lying about like she was a child who just finished a temper tantrum. The day before, they had piled the bed with all the most-intact pillows and blankets they could find, and it was too easy to sink into the soft reprieve and close one's eyes. The shades of the blankets varied, from dull earthy tones to colours that matched shades that her hair had been. It didn't matter if it matched or not. It was something that humans had always seemed anal about, at least in books. This had to go with this. No, not that one; it didn't match. It was a bed, for Goddess' sake. The small girl sighed and rolled over, flinging her arms behind her head as she sank into the plush and closing honey eyes. Just a little rest. A nap couldn't hurt. Nope.


Eyes slitted open as she heard the door creak, head tilting as she felt muscles coil. The scent of Zacor made it to her senses before his form did, and she relaxed. Ana stretched and sat up as he closed the door, watching with a slight smirk as he peered at her through the curtain of his hair. It struck her as odd that Zephyrin would choose such an anti-social thing for his heir. He had never been bubbly outgoing himself, but he had been charismatic. She remembered her uncle as one being able to persuade with a soft glance and a lying tongue. But never mind that. The little Eidolon girl and the prince of Eidolon were like Ying and Yang, but she didn't mind much. She could always work on his social skills. Whether it made him uncomfortable or not.


Ana slid off the bed, making her way over to the male in a lithe dancer's step. Arms were flung around his torso/chest gently, as she couldn't exactly reach his neck. Well, maybe she could, if she stood on her tip toes. Ahck, Ti Mor hydwf! She frowned up at him mockingly, faking repine as she wrinkled her nose. A innau cael dim gweledig Ti y ers meitin! Again the frown, but it was still only in jest. She turned the rough, difficult language into a lilt. Anathra knew he probably had been exploring, or maybe just meditating. She never knew with Zacor.

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