Old Routine

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artymon I\/
LEP Commander
Posts: 2008
Joined: Thu 9th Feb 2012
Location: Beyond time and space

Old Routine

Post by artymon I\/ » Tue 21st Jan 2020

Just a snapshot. Don't read too much into it.

Language warning.

~~

It’s about midnight when my rustling has finally awakened you.
The crinkle of aged leather. The clank of scarred metal.
All caked in sweat and blood. Some of the former mine. Most of the latter theirs.
“What are you doing?” you yawn, on asserting it’s only me and not some garden variety burglar.
Then again, even then you’d likely tauntingly yawn in their face.
You always did like a good challenge.
So do I.
It’s why we’ve managed to survive as long as we have, love.
Were I in a fair state of mind, I’d have been able to appreciate that. In the current moment, I’m not even sure if I was thinking at all or simply acting. Following the old patterns.
“He’s got her,” I frantically explain, unable to articulate much more. Where the bloody hell has my black powder gotten to…?
“What…? You’re not making sense. Per usual,” you add. Were the room sufficiently lit, I’d be able to make out your wry grin. I know it’s there all the same.
After so many years together, there’s not much we can hide from the other.
In pale blade of the moon, a silver curve glows in the darkness between us. It follows my left wrist. Curiously, you examine the silver curve, still wondering if this is just some kinky roleplay.
“She’s been taken, I dunno how – ”
Finally comprehension dawns.
Your eyes widen in horror, the smirk slides off.
“Her…you mean…? Wait…not…him?”
“Aye.” My head bobs, somewhat more frantically than I’m willing to admit as I scour about for trinkets I’ve missed.
You stretch an arm out, fingers curling atop the hook.
“Look…Rachel and Liam can handle it, surely…”
I shake my head.
“I can’t take that risk. This is all my bloody fault.”
Curiosity steals back your eyes, scrunching lines upon your face.
“What do you mean…?”
“The map. She saw the map.”
You draw a sharp intake.
“And he thinks she can replicate it?”
“….or worse, take him to the source.”
“F u c k,” you swear, the obscenity slipping from your lips like a boat on a glassy ocean.
….I’d be committing an untruth to not disclose the odd jolt of attraction it gives me.
Perhaps to scientifically dissect, your simply obscenity is a manifestation of the f u c k you’re willing to give and the fact you are willing to give said f u c k denotes that you believe in the cause.
Naturally, I don’t have time to sift through this like some faux philosopher.
“Exactly,” I agree, shrugging my weapons belt over my shoulder.
A gift from our wedding.
The joke was that it would never be needed.
I think the joke was on you for ever thinking such a thing.
Or mayhap you were wiser than you let on in selecting it as I’ve utilized it a number of times since.
The belt holds everything a pirate needs: spot for the cutlass, holster for a flintlock, a few vials for blackpowder, a pouch for any small trinkets gathered along a given quest, and most importantly: the flask holder.
I fill all these slots save the last.
The very idear of her falling under duress due to my inebriation is an unacceptable risk.
Instead, I shrug into my leather greatcoat and feel….heavy. And hot too. Bloody hell, did I really spend ten years traipsing exotic locales in this? I remember feeling a lot taller.
“Well then I’m coming with you,” you assert, brushing past me to rummage in the closet for your own gear. Jacket. Whip. Satchel.
I sigh and want to object, but know in a reverse scenario, I’d be no different. All the arguments I can make – age, mental status, physical stamina – all are stakes you can just as easily twist against me.
Pulling on your hat, you look over at me.
“You used to be taller in that,” you comment.
Despite it all, I somehow muster a grin.
“You, love, are what they term a Jerk.”
“B i t c h,” you reply with no hesitation. Then, growing serious, “Right Hook, let’s go save our granddaughter.”
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The last step in any journey may be the first step of an even greater adventure.
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