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Posted on October 11, 2013 at 02:23:44 AM by
 Killian tugs the stiff collar of his greatcoat up higher to hide from the judgemental side-eyed glare being fixed upon him by his disgruntled navigator. Recognizing a cold shoulder, Jack Scarlet’s frown etches itself a little deeper into his young face. ”I’m not confident in this intelligence of this plan, Captain,” he voices at last. Though his stance carries the natural cocky indifference of a pirate, his face is tight with unease and there’s a subtle twitch in his jaw that betrays his outward willingness to obey orders. He will, though, because he is a trusted comrade and because there is no end of the earth Killian can go where he will not loyally follow. Killian flashes him a roguish grin. ”That’s because there is none, my good fellow,” he says brightly. He tries to slap a friendly palm to the younger man’s shoulder, but is caught promptly round the wrist by Jack’s large hand. The pirate raises his eyebrows questioningly, but only receives a heavy sigh in answer as Jack begins to fix the awkwardly bunched dress cuffs as if it pains him that Killian can’t cloth himself properly. Attention to detail is one reason why Jack is the man he’s chosen to accompany him tonight. He can’t afford an oversight of even the smallest detail if this rouse is going to work. ”But when has that stopped us before, eh? A life stifled by fear is no life at all.” ”It’s the ‘no life at all’ part I’m worried about, sir,” the navigator retorts grimly, finishing his tidying with one last smoothing of fingers along a fold crease. ”It seems like a very big risk for a very small reward.” Killian bristles at this, jerking his arm away and shrugging his coat collar up once more in deflection. ”Not to me it doesn’t. Do not make the mistake of undermining the importance of this endeavor,” he says, a warning resonating in the quiet of his tone. ”You have not let me veer off course in my ventures thus far and I doubt you’ll start now. You are part of my crew, Jack, and I would gamble my life for you gladly. But you are not who I would deal my soul for. Have a care with your flippance.” The younger man stares at him a long moment and Killian meets it this time, blue eyes burning. Cracking under the intensity, Jack ducks his head in a nod of apology. Killian Shaw isn’t possessive about much, but what he deems important enough to claim as his own, well - Jack has seen what happens to men who challenge or belittle his claim. ”Very well, Captain. Let us go and court this Lady Fate of yours. I hope for both our sakes she isn’t a mistress of doom,” he says rather unhappily. Killian laughs, clear and delighted. ”Not doom, mate,” he beams with a waggle of his brow. ”Ravens.” And with that he marches off lightly in the direction of the castle’s waiting glow. Jack rolls his eyes, not at all encouraged. ***** By the time they reach the grand ballroom, Killian has half a mind to do Arthur the courtesy of informing him his security is severely wanting. This is the second time in so many months he has infiltrated the castle with little problem, this time with a fellow pirate in tow. They don’t even encounter their first guard until the inner north wall and even then the man is so much less than daunting. With a pike in one hand and a turkey leg in the other, the guard stutters a chastisement about guests wondering about unchaperoned. He’s quickly placated by a smooth talking Killian, who uses his knowledge of the castle layout to spin a tale about wanting to show his visiting nobleman friend the tapestry of the obscenely busty milkmaid hanging in the scullery (it does indeed existence, though Arthur may be unaware of it.) This makes the guard blush shyly (since he too knows exactly what Killian is talking about) and he ushers them on their way with instruction to return to the party. Jack walks beside him through the halls, pensive and silent. He’s meditating, Killian knows, about how to best play the upcoming facade. They are aristocrats tonight and must not be suspected of being anything less than nobility. Their fine clothing is genuine (if not stolen), their speech patterns have been altered, even their manner of walking has been tweaked and played to blend seamlessly into the throng of courtiers amassed for the King’s party. It’s not too hard of a role for Killian, as he once belonged to the King’s innermost circle, a trusted soldier and councilman. Slipping into that old role is unsettling, but at least familiar. Jack however, has never set foot in a castle before now and has known nothing but the rough life at sea. Luckily, Jack Scarlet is also most likely the finest actor currently in Shaman. His ridiculous attention to detail allows him to forge almost any persona or role with painstaking accuracy. Killian has seen him impersonate female whores and gruff money lenders, from clergy to kings and each and every time Jack Scarlet disappears and a identity takes shape before his very eyes. So Killian doesn’t bother trying to fill the tense silence as they stride closer to the lion’s den. It’s rude to break a fine actor’s focus before the big show. At the cusp of the doorway, they pause, the candlelight reflecting off a hanging mirror to cast everything before them in garish brightness with only dark shadows behind. Jack gives him a brief questioning glance and Killian returns it with the smallest of nods. ”On with the show.” And like a switch being turned on, Jack transforms into a pompously charming courtier. With a wide beckoning smile and devious eyes pinpointed directly at the nearest group of ladies, a completely different man steps forth into the party then the one Killian brought in tow. There’s an exhuberence radiating from his face, made all the more handsome with that constant grin. Tall, blonde and dashing, Jack outshines Killian with ease - which is the whole point of the plan. As people flock to Jack’s magnetic persona, curious and eager to latch onto to the mysterious and exciting newcomer, Killian is passed over and left to scan the room without rush or fear of being noticed. Jack works the crowd with his social magic, charming and delighting each and every courtier, all the while moving subtly around the great room so Killian, in his shadow, can continue his search. But it’s not going as smoothly as he’d hoped. Fifteen minutes pass, then twenty, and still no sign of his quarry in the moving waves of the crowd. The royal table is set up, but all the chairs are currently vacated. Both a blessing a curse. If Arthur is mingling with the masses, he won’t be easy to keep an eye on. Killian has no desire to be put into the stocks tonight if he should be recognized. But if the royal family have down from on high, approaching one of them face to face should be easier. If they can be first be found. Killian frowns, accepting a goblet of wine from an offering servant and casually glancing over the rim for what he seeks. There. Finally. He cranes his head around a laughing couple who passes to block his view, just biting back the snarl that threatens to curl his lip. No, it’s her. Even from the back, he’d know that mane of dark hair, that slope of the neck anywhere. He straightens, sucking in a breath and quickly darting his gaze left and right to clear for any impending complications in the forms of kin or guards. Jack, despite being immersed in conversation with no less than 5 giggling, simpering ladies of the court, noticing his shift of gaze and follows it. When he spots Morgana, he cuts his gaze back to Killian and understanding lights his face for a split second before the courtier grin falls back in place. On cue, he manuvers his band of swooning ladies closer to the dance floor, chatting and charming like it’s second nature. Killian follows at a safe distance, using the small group like a shield. When he thinks he’s close enough to cover the remaining space quickly enough, he breaks from the edges of the pack and makes a beeline for Morgana. In a delightfully fortuitous chain of events, Morgana’s dance partner (who he believes to be her brother if he remembers their last encounter in this castle correctly) leaves her side to dance with the wisp of a girl he recognizes from the battlefield. Leaving Morgana momentarily free and alone. He’s on her immediately, all but pouncing as he strides up from behind to encircle her slim waist in both hands and spin her in one quick motion into his arms. Every cell in his body sighs at the contact, and this this is what he’s been craving, what he’s been dying without for so long. She’s warm beneath the silk of her gown and it seeps through to burn his hands and Killian wonders how he’s survived so many years cold and bitter without her warmth. ”One dance, love,” he murmurs pleadingly into her dark hair, trying to suck up the smell of her so he can remember it when she puts him in a jail cell to rot for the rest of his days. He smirks, because even dressed a nobleman he’s still a pirate, and adds, ”And then I’ll let you do with me as you see fit.” Captain Killian Shaw If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity
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Replies:
- cause after all this time, I’m still into you - By m o r g a n a October 12, 2013 at 02:14:36 AM
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