drunken pirates
#1
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Word count: 392




Jimson stood near the shore of the Lunenburg harbor, looking out at the assortment of boats with one hand on his hip and the other resting on his staff. The warmth of the early afternoon sun was tempered by a briny autumn breeze. He thought that the ocean was beautiful, though he preferred the unmarred stretch of a natural beach to the harbor, cluttered as it was with piers, boats and cables. It was a sight to see, though, and he imagined a time in decades past, when the harbor would have been a bustling port, humans crawling all over the boats. The Pyrenees had a difficult time imagining the humans themselves, though; in his mind, it was canines in optime form that traversed the vessels, loading and unloading cargo, pulling on cables and cleaning the decks and so on. He could almost smell the strong scent of fish that he was sure would have permeated the air, once upon a time.

But now, the harbor sat empty, the only movement that of the boats gently rocking on the swells of the ocean, the only sounds those of wood creaking and seagulls calling. Suddenly, an idea hit him, and he grinned before looking more closely at the old vessels. Jimson began strolling down the coastline, eyeing the boats until he found one that suited him -- a little old trawler, still fairly seaworthy, though the deck had a good bit of rot set in and the dog was pretty sure he didn't want to see the condition of the wood beneath the coating of algae and barnacles that blanketed the hull. It was still floating, though, so that was something. It had what he needed to pilot it alone -- it carried an old motor, useless with age and lack of fuel, probably, but also a sail and a set of oars. It was barely more than a canoe, really, though big enough that he wouldn't be able to use the oars by himself; he'd have to depend on the sail for that. Setting his staff down well away from the water, he lowered himself to the pier and slipped into the lapping waves. Holding himself steady against the hull of the boat as he tread water, he began to use his hand to scrape away at the grime on the hull.




Table credit Raze.
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#2
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Sorry for the wait. He’s a bit emotional.

Little time had passed since Ayita’s departure, and with her it seemed like a large piece of his heart also. The seigneur looked as though he hadn’t seen good sleep in forever, bags hung beneath his eyes from the long nights of silent tears. His life was a torrent of major confliction and severe confusion. Not that he actually helped the pack in any way before but now he felt utterly lost. Kable was a grown man and supposedly fully matured; yet he wanted to go find Amaranth, cry on her shoulder and hold her tight.

The male moved down the tiered stair case to the first floor. Looking around him he couldn’t believe the damage he done to his own home. It was a wreck, doors torn off their hinges, holes in walls, cabinets decimated and so much more. All the emotion he felt as of recent he took it out on the inn. The building he done so much work on was in worse condition than when he started. He was so torn that he didn’t want to bother fixing it, he only wanted to leave it be.

Out on the porch he rested on the rickety railing, red eyes peering over the blue ocean. His sights had been caught by someone In the water at one of the small boats. Who is that, and what are they doing? He leapt over the side of the balcony and walked down the path to the docks. Minding his footing he moved swiftly across the creaking boards. Standing there in silence the husky male watched him work away on the water craft. He wondered what exactly it was the intriguing looking man was doing. He may or may not have already noticed me. These seagulls are obnoxiously loud. Hey there. Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing? He asked, an honest inquiry.



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wc: 314


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#3
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Word count: 329 // Sorry for the wait! :/




The grime which encrusted the hull of the boat was proving to be harder to remove than Jimson had initially thought it would be. After spending several minutes scraping at it with his hands -- his claws were too narrow to do much good, and he didn't want to gouge the wood -- he paused and stared at the stubborn algae, biting his lip as he thought. He cast his gaze about, looking for something that might make the endeavor a little easier, and it landed on a nearby boat whose outer hull looked like it had taken a beating right above the water line. The big dog swan his way over and pulled a piece of loose wood away from the beaten hull, before returning to the original little trawler. He grinned as he began scraping at the hull with his makeshift tool, taking off large swaths of grime. He would still need something stronger if he wanted to pry off the barnacles, and he would eventually need something with which to scrub, but this would do for now.

Jimson had picked a spot to being at random, and moved his was gradually toward the dock as he worked away at the grime above the waterline. So intent was he upon his work that the approach of the dark wolfdog escaped his notice until the other male spoke. Jimson jumped just a little, startled, before giving the stranger a warm smile. He pushed away from the boat and grabbed hold of the dock, laying his piece of wood down and looking up at the coal and ash male. The question seemed to have been one of genuine curiosity, not accusatory at all, and so when he spoke, Jimson's tone was genial. "Tryin' to assess th' damage, mostly. Got it in m'head I might take 'er out fishin', eventually." He rinsed the grime from his right hand off in the seawater before offering up to the male. "M'name's Jimson."



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#4
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OOC:Big Grinon
't be sorry. I myself am not one of the quickest repliers Sad I have noticed the over load of wonderful avatars you're doing for people so I don't blame you in anyway. They're quite nice actuallySmile

The husky male watched with interest, the large male worked diligently on the raft. Whatever he was doing he had been using a piece of wood to aid him in the process. The warmer days were done for the time being, the water certainly wasn’t intolerable; just not as nice as it would be on a hot summer day. The Pyrenees turned around and explained what he was doing. The boat he’d set his sights on was a small one made comfortably for two. It was in better shape than some of the others though, if it needed any sort of work it wouldn’t be too big a problem due to its size. In a greeting he introduced himself and extended out sopping wet hand. Well Jimson, I’m Kable Catori. It’s nice to meet you. He returned, taking his hand firmly and giving him a good shake.

The Catori sat on the edge of the dock hanging his feet in the water. He smiled; it seemed like Jimson knew how to have a good time. It was a decent day to be on the water and an even better one to be fishing. Did you recently come here to the court? I don’t remember seeing you around before. Lately he had been neglecting the pack, keeping to himself. It almost seemed as if he were avoiding his friends, family and everyone else. Finding his place in the court was pretty important now more than ever. He couldn’t help but think that he was growing more distant by the day. The interaction with the new guy was welcomed; it took his mind off his mother for the time being.




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wc:200+


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#5
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Word count: 300 // Thanks! :3



Jimson absolutely loved being in the water. Even on a somewhat cooler day like today, when the salty water might have been a little uncomfortable for someone with thinner fur, his thick, massive white coat kept him plenty warm. The water was also one of the very few places that the great dog could feel almost graceful; he was able to be buoyed up by the gentle waves, the water taking on most of his considerable weight. While he was by no means outright clumsy out of the water, on land it was often a challenge for him to move quietly or without breaking things.

Jimson smiled as the male took his hand and gave it a shake -- he had a good, firm handshake, and that always said something positive about a man -- that he had confidence, if nothing else, and confidence was half the formula to getting things done in this world. "You 's well, Mister Catori," he returned. As much as Jimson loved the water, it was a little awkward carrying on a conversation with the male while Jimson was in the water and the other was out, and so he hoisted himself out onto the dock a little ways away from Kable so as not to splash him. The Pyrenees refrained from shaking himself, but ran his hands along his limbs and torso, squeezing out what excess fluid he could before taking a seat next to the monochromatic male and dipping his own feet into the water. The dock was low and Jimson tall enough that his legs were submerged almost to his knees. He nodded at Kable's question. "Yeah, I just been here a couple weeks," he drawled. "Cour des Miracles's been verreh accommodatin'." He gave Catori a sidelong glance. "Y'know much 'bout fishin'?"




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#6
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WC:: OOC:: He’s a bit emotional.

Jimson climbed out of the water and onto the dock before carrying on with their conversation. The Pyrenees rang himself out and took a seat next to the husky male; the water reached higher up his legs. Kable suspected that he was recent to the court, only because he had no idea who he was. Though he still didn’t know everyone’s name he’d at least seen everyone once or twice before at meetings and such. His comment about the pack being accommodating made him smile lightly, it really was a nice place, full of some pretty amazing and compassionate canines.

The larger male’s question caught his attention. Fishing? I know a little bit about it. Anybody who spent any time at the Lunenburg port knew something about boating or fishing. All over the docks and amongst the ships there was an overload of fishing gear. Throughout the port there were fishing poles, hand lines, fish nets, lobster traps, crab pots and other items he couldn’t identify. Some of the stuff left behind by the humans was absolutely astonishing. Are you planning on going fishing Jimson? The idea excited him, causing his bushy tail to flick behind him. He hadn’t fished with anyone else before. There were a few other vessels ready to sail with gear to boot.





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wc: 200+
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