Wolf Play : The White Tide | Pirate RP
05:26:43 i can smell you
No upgraded account*
05:26:24 i can smell you
Hold on, let me see the default palettes using my own jacked up eyes and show someone. I kind of just cope lol
05:25:48 Spider
9? I got 0
05:25:16 i can smell you
Like the normal/light/dark settings that can be switched on an off on different sutes or on your mobile device
Maybe a tiny tweak to the default palettes if that was also their point /positive not mean
 Cypress Road
05:25:10 Cy, love
Yall I got 9 chickens
05:23:35 Vah is banned

Biggest IPad screen you can get. I think it's called the 13in. now but when I got it it was the 12.9 in.
05:22:28 ET
Awh man </3
I don't think I'll ever get used to it, I'm a graphics tablet loyalist for LIFE, I swear.

Oh man, how big? :0
05:21:53 Chior, Jax
okay but what if we need a dark mode thats not a pallette? Just cause not everyone can get premium
05:21:29 Vah is banned

Oh it takes so long to get used to it, let me tell you--

I then made it more difficult for myself by buying a bigger screen LOL
05:20:58 ET
Thank you! :D
I'm still not used to drawing on an iPad so my art looks so different on it LMAO
05:20:25 Vah is banned

Ooooh that sketch looks good already!
05:20:11 evebot
I could be wrong, but I think Venn sells a dark mode palette
05:19:30 ET
Chainsaw dawg gonna get some art
05:18:51 i can smell you

Im not a chicken guys
05:18:48 Chior, Jax
Still not a good eanough dark mode
05:18:28 i can smell you
Eve consider a dark mode for us night time silkies

Never mind I forgot we had default palettes to choose from too
 Cypress Road
05:16:40 Cy, love
Me too considering there was a good hot moment I didn't think I was gonna be able to. I wasn't sure my parents would allow me to.
 Mandalorian Magic
05:14:28 Star Wars Forever
I looked it up. I was right about Josh Gad!!! I knew it was him!!! Omg I have to tell my dad I saw him!!!!
05:14:07 Chior, Jax
I think we can all afree on that
05:14:04 i can smell you
HorseEden Palettes: photomanipulated rog coding paradise
Wolf Play palettes: thousand of eye deaths in australia alone


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The White Tide | Pirate RPNovember 21, 2023 11:36 PM

Posts: 1300
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Noé Faustino

Sailor // Male // 33 // Mentions: Marcos, Gore (ind), Aziz (ind), Captain Spork (ind)

Noé was halfway across the deck to pop down to his quarters when he saw a slightly disheveled-looking Marcos emerging. Aziz was yelling around about a piece of seaweed on the deck, and Marcos went over to take care of it. Nobody but Noé was close enough to hear Marcos grumble. Noé flashed him a grin and a wink, knowing what it was like to be bossed around on this ship. “Captain Marcos,” he greeted cheerfully, slowing to a halt. “Well, the bilge rat’s finally up. Trying to get some beauty sleep? Bad news, it’s not working. Sleep all you want, your face’ll still look like a crosseyed anchovy.” This was his typical greeting, and he said it in a perfectly friendly tone. He gravitated towards the side of the ship, not wanting to get involved in whatever Gore, Aziz, and Captain Spork were talking about. But now that the captain and first mate were distracted, Noé felt safe staying on the upper deck. He stowed his woodcarving knife in his sash, and his figurine in his trouser pocket. He hefted himself back up onto the bulwark near Marcos. “Sure working themselves up, aren’t they?” he asked conversationally, nodding his head towards Aziz, Gore, and Spork.

Noé paused for just a moment to eavesdrop on the conversation happening between them, enough to get the gist of it. He let out a small laugh. “Finally decided something, it seems,” he said, referring to Captain Spork. Whatever this plan was - and Noé had gotten the general idea - it didn’t sound half-bad. Or maybe that was just Noé’s usual way of looking at things. It did, however, sound like it was going to be a lot of hard work for the crew. “We’ll be doused in brine and sweat before this day’s through.” Noé knew he was more of a brute force type than Marcos, and he didn’t bother trying to keep the goading tease out of his voice. He leaned to the side, nearly throwing himself off balance, and reached over to scruff Marcos’s hair rather too hard. He seemed only moments away from putting Marcos in a chummy headlock, and he might have if he could’ve reached him properly. “Still got the foot?” He was talking about the rabbit foot he had given Marcos, as he’d given everyone trinkets for luck.

There was no reason for Noé to worry about people. He was sure of it. And he didn’t worry. But now and then during the night, he would think just for a moment of the men at the bottom of the ocean, now bones stripped of flesh, lying beside the tokens he had given them to protect them. Still leaned forward, Noé glanced at Marcos. The two had always gotten along, exchanging insults and bickering like brothers. Noé had a million little tokens strung up on necklaces, chains, tied to his sash. He glanced down at his chest. There was a cord with a simple hansa hand token on it, and he lifted it over his head to toss it to Marcos. “There. Bit of good luck, in case the rabbit doesn’t do the trick,” he said, grinning. “It’ll add a spot of shine to distract from your face, too.”

The White Tide | Pirate RPNovember 22, 2023 12:24 PM

Posts: 22217
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Nyoka Ophiuchus-Pachu'a Wright-Eiriksson

30 // Sailor // Male // He/They // Mentions: Gore, Spork, Aziz & Noé

The redhead male was nestled high above the ship - he had taken a spot in the crow's nest ; one of his better known napping places amongst the crew. Not many had the agility or will to climb up the ropes to even get in the nest - part of the reason he found himself napping there more. The top of his boots were the only thing that could be seen as it rested on the edge of the fixture and he was slouched inside the barrel like post. His hat covering his eyes, and hands clasped together softly in a relaxed manner - that's when the sounds of chatter caught his ear and he blinked slowly as he took the hat off his face. Squinting his eyes at the sun's brightness, and he gave a low grumble. Had he fallen asleep within the Crow's Nest again? And he slowly took the time to stand up, and stretch himself, much like a cat waking up and doing something similar. And he leans against the edge, and a neutral expression crosses his face as he notices the growing crowd on the top deck of the ship. Interesting, he thought to himself, as he rested an elbow and arm on the bucket and the hand on his cheek, just observing those down below. It seems the crew were finally gathering around and bustling, a small hmph noise escaping him as he noticed the Captain and First Mate making their appearances and then the Sailing Master & Noé - that cheeky bastard. "Huh," he said to no one in particular, this should be an interesting crowd - he thought to himself. His eyes looking intently at the crowd. And he was quite in fact, correct - the interactions were amusing.

Such interesting creatures we humans are, he mused to himself silently, as he tilted his head for better observation. He could practically feel the jitters rolling off in waves from both Gore and Spork - their nervous body language and quite musings have them away. Tap Tap Tap. His fingernails falling against the wood in an unamused nature, this was disgraceful in his opinion. Though he couldn't blame Spork as much, the man had practically been thrown the position without warning and at the worse time to boot. He didn't pity the older male, with so much tensions - the new Captain better worry about much more than his reputation with the crew than some sirens. His moment of weakness could be exploited and used to start a mutiny which would be a whole different type of disaster. His eyes narrows at Gore's fidgety behavior, it didn't help the situation, nor the Captain - he didn't particularly care about ship politics nor squabbles; however he did notice the quick change of attitude as the First Mate, Aziz, came into the show and possibly saved the Captain from a disaster. Interesting, was all he could think as he laid eyes on the Sailing Master, his gaze lingering as he softly hummed to himself softly.

Now, the First Mate was someone that he somewhat respected, and he decided that he better get down there before she yelled at him for napping. And he didn't want to add more to her nerves, and yes he knew her secret - and he really didn't care that she was a woman. His mother was The Medusa, a fearsome woman pirate that raised him on the sea practically, and would slit a man's throat in a heartbeat if they disrespected, disobeyed, or dare to betrayed her. But that was getting off topic. He could see Aziz trying to take control of the situation and he slightly rolled his eyes at her mentioning the need to clean one piece of stray seaweed. So nit-picky, he thought with an internal scowl, but then Marcus came and took it away - but it was clear he was annoyed by the task as much as anyone else would've been. The deck was already for the most part clean and there was quite literally nothing to do as they were anchored. and he gave an annoyed sigh, and decided it was best to descend from his perch on high. And so instead of using the netted rope to climb up with - he chose a singular rope and with grace took the plunge downwards ; letting gravity doing most of the work as he swung down below, and then he let go of the rope and steeled himself as he skidded to a halt against the deck - and he caught his hat and placed it atop his head for flair. His mother would've appreciated the dramatics, and he had always managed to get her pulse racing whenever he was around ropes. She cursed the day she had taken him to that traveling group of performers - they had an interesting performance that included air defying stunts that left him speechless and he had practiced all he had seen for as long as he was on his mother's ship.

He causally put his hands in his pockets, and wandered over to Noé and Marcos - and looking at the other man with a blank expression, and then he spoke, "You look like shit, you good Prescott?" He said bluntly, not before raising a brow and curiously eyeing him - the slightest hint of a worried expression on his face and then he noticed Noé and he gave a polite nod to him saying, "Good day." And then turning his head slightly to observe the "higher ups" congregating - his eyes narrowing slightly before returning his attention to his comrades. And he covered his mouth at a poorly concealed yawn, even the bags under his eyes would become noticeable if he didn't do the wonderful thing that women did in powdering their faces, and he was quite masterful at it. His blink was lazy as he grumbled softly to himself about the "bloody sirens keeping him awake with their screeching" . To take the topic of him he looked and said.

"Anyone know the plan for today or are we still coming up with one." He crooned with a bored tone

The White Tide | Pirate RPNovember 22, 2023 12:53 PM

Salt Shaker
Posts: 581
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Gore | 34 | He/Him | Sailing Master | M: Spork, Aziz

First - utter confusion. Well, he shouldn't be shocked, it's Captain Spork after all, and he has a history of throwing caution to the wind. But if Gore's jaw wasn't usually tense with discomfort, it probably would have dropped as fast as the anchor did.

Just-- just detach the whole anchor? That practically spells death for a ship! Well - there's a slim chance the boat will be completely unscathed, but the White Tide definitely isn't the youngest thing, and he can't imagine trying to drive it into any port when it can't stop! Is he really suggesting something that will result in a shipwreck?! Gore knows he isn't in charge of the whole boat, but he's the master sailor, and he doesn't want to see the old thing die! Surely there must be a better solution they can cook up before the day's over?

"Now wait-" he starts to speak, but Aziz suddenly cuts him off. "Hold on-" again she butts in, and Gore feels his temper flare for a second... until she hears what she's saying.

Oh, she's way too eager about this plan. Suddenly the despair that his own captain would be willing to slam the whole ship onto shore at some point isn't so bad, and the anxiety that had previously been at the tips of his fingers becomes a wave of cruel delight. Hearing her get so wound up so quickly makes Gore grin, a mean sneer crossing his features, if he was even capable of those. Maybe he could be if it meant trying to stomp on Aziz's glorious plans that she runs wild with. He never knew he could be so petty.

"Now what about when we finally reach a port?!" Gore finally gets a word in, having to raise his voice to a very rare shout of his to try to get her to let him speak. He's a bit taken aback by the own sharpness of his tone for that second, probably more than they would ever be, but he's stiffened so much in that moment that he doesn't show it.

"...Sorry," his eyes go back to Spork, feeling an urge to explain his sudden loudness, but not wanting to disrespect the first mate... as much as he thinks she deserves it, he still is aware of his place. "It's just that, well, what happens if we do get away? I suppose if we have to let go of the anchor we can, but... but we'll probably abandon and wreck the White Tide herself when we have to land anywhere."

And then we'll be boatless, as well as treasureless, as well as 90% of the crew-less, he finishes in his head. Gore has never fit the brutish mold of the White Tide's typical pirate, but even he feels a sting of grief as their edge and undefeatable reputation truly crumbles around him. Childish, yes, but the White Tide has been his home forever, he barely ever leaves it. This houses so many valuables for he and Arthur's hobby of creature documenting, and it has Pov's cozy kitchen, and the ship's cat Masha, and all of Gore's star documentation from most of his lifetime -- even if there's the obvious solution of dropping lifeboats and abandoning it, there will be many things that just won't fit on the rafts along with the remaining crew. And who knows if the valuables will even be intact if he goes back to look for them after the wreck, not even mentioning the cozy rooms he won't be able to spend his time in anymore. For once Gore feels the actual weight of having his whole adult life and identity be tied to a big stupid boat. It makes him feel a bit embarrassed actually at how attached he's become to it, but really, when you've spent decades of your life on the same ship, how could you not feel some grief at the idea of letting it go?

Edited at November 22, 2023 12:54 PM by Salt Shaker
The White Tide | Pirate RPNovember 22, 2023 02:14 PM

Space Man
Posts: 1314
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Spork H. Sully | 34 | He / Him | Captain | Mentions: Gore, Aziz [direct]

Having presented his plan, and proposed that others spitball ideas if any, Spork turned his attention to Aziz as she chimed up about her support. Spork's cheeks flushed with colour, prideful that his absolutely wonderful first mate, right hand, hardest worker Aziz loved his plan. Even if it had quite some unfilled holes in it, but what worry does he have for those empty holes right now ? None, he's too busy soaking in the praise.

Aziz's excited voice was all Spork could hear, not catching at all the interrupted voice of Gore who couldn't chime in his two cents while Aziz presented the plans next steps for action. Spork nods, very much getting into this plan that he started and Aziz is finishing. "Excellent thinking as always, Aziz" Spork compliments, feeling he should return her previous comment of support with something just as fitting. "I like this. I'm sure it's heavy as hell but fuck it we're the White Tide, nothing's too heavy for us" Spork boasts, his pride showing as well as extending it to involve the whole crew-- err what remains of it, that is. Rest in peaces to the lost.

Spork's attention was quickly turned to Gore, who let out a shout as rare as a white whale. Spork's expression dropped, going from cheery to blank and serious. Serious expressions aren't really Spork's thing, but at this moment it was. He upheld this blank expression for nothing more than a long second or two before returning to his usual expressive self. "You...." Spork starts off in a low voice, stepping closer to Gore, "are right, I hadn't really taken it to consideration" Spork says, resting his hands on the taller fellow's shoulders. Spork shakes Gore a little, and moves to stand next to him, his arm resting across Gore's shoulder. "This guy, what would we do without him" Spork says, partially jesting.

Upon hearing Gore's apology, Spork leans in and in a hushed tone says "don't worry, just talk stars later and you're more than good." He lets out a bit of a toothy smile, his attention momentarily turning to Aziz before focusing on Gore again. Spork lets his words sit in, giving a small nod. "See, in our excitement," he starts, gesturing to Aziz as well, "we hadn't thought of that. Main priority is getting out of this shithole. But you're right. Can't port without that bad boy down there." Spork turns to face Aziz. "I think it'd be best the two of you work it out, I think. See if we can possibly, in some way, make a replacement that will at the very least let us port long enough to actually replace the lost one those singing shrieks down there won't let go of." Of course those on ship longer would be sentimental. Shit, even Spork would feel a little bad if the ship was destroyed after they gained a daring new tale about surviving sirens. Besides, what would he be captain of if all got lost ?

Spork slides his arm off of Gore, adjusting his frock coat as he grabs the cuffs of them. "I like the anchor idea. Aziz does too. I hope to see that it works out, but only if we can really pull off a homemade replacement. Sail master, first mate, don't let me down now, alright ? Exhaust your options before telling me I thought up the impossible. Work someone else too if need be. Work the whole damn crew for all I care. But I want to see it that we get something good out of this" Spork says, his expression more serious than cheery this time around. For once he has an opportunity to show them how lucky they are he took over, and he wants it to really count. "The White Tide has to survive this."

The White Tide | Pirate RPNovember 24, 2023 10:26 AM

Posts: 24912
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Marcos Prescott | 29 | He/Him | Sailor

M: Noe and Nyoka (dir) + Aziz, Gore, Captain (ind)

Marcos did not have time to make himself look better this morning— this afternoon, technically— and it showed. It was not like he did not care how he looked or anything, but with all the death surrounding him, Marcos felt like he was being eaten alive and it was crippling. He had not even checked the mirror today for fear of how he looked. Let’s just say he was not exactly a sight for sore eyes. His eyes had bags that could hold a shilling, his face was still red after waking from a cold sweat, and his usually luscious hair was tangled and slipping from its tie. Marcos had no clue he even looked bad in the slightest until Noé showed up.

Marcos was quiet after Noé threw his usual insults, not responding with a quick quip for once. Marcos looked Noé over, head-to-toe, and arched a brow in silent judgment. Silent judgment was Marcos’s favorite way to communicate with people.

“If I look like cross-eyed anchovy, you must be its even uglier mother,” Marcos replied with a grin and scoff. That smirk fell as he twisted Noé’s ear with a slight glare. “And quit your yappin’ about ‘Captain Marcos’ with the Captain right over there. I don’t need Aziz after my arse more than usual today…” Marcos released Noé with a huff and folded his arms. Well, it looked less of him folding his arms and more of him hugging himself to the point of cutting off circulation. His jaw was just about as tight as his grip and he looked past Noé at Aziz. Marcos had dealt with his fair share of flogging from another overly eager first mate, he didn’t need more scars, more whips, more anything right now. Marcos was not paying enough attention to what was being said, only looking over each individual. Christ, the more he thought about it, the more he realized any one of them could have died last night and it would have been his fault.

“Finally decided something, it seems.”

“Huh? So they have a plan?” Marcos could not help but laugh bitterly. “Only took them how many deaths?” Any humor in his face left him as he huffed angrily. “It better be a damn good plan.” Marcos looked around the boat briefly and seemed to smirk slightly as Noé mentioned the work, a slight improvement in his mood occurring as he received a new opportunity to pick on Noé. “What? Is someone afraid of a little work?~” This was when Noé decided to be a prick. Noé leaned into Marcos, Noé’s weight alone nearly toppling them both over as Marcos was thrown off guard, and started ruffling his hair. “Oi— You— Noé!!” Marcos finally managed to shove the man’s hand off of him. Marcos’s cheeks were red, either from anger at Noé’s idiocy or embarrassment from being treated like someone’s little brother to be picked on, but it was near impossible to see as his hair had come loose from its tie and his current bangs covered his eyes. “Asshole… And yeah, I do.”

Reaching into his shirt, Marcos pulled out the rabbit’s foot necklace as well as his mom’s beaded one, showing them both off as proof. The beaded necklace was worn with time, once vibrant colors now holding different shades of brown which made the rabbit’s foot look well-cared for. As Marcos looked away from his own necklaces, he looked up in time to raise his bandaged hand and catch the new necklace.

“Oh wow, I’m sooo flattered,” Marcos replied with a chuckle as he looked it over, using his free hand to push the hair out of his face. Though his words carried heavy, anchor-heavy sarcasm, he was genuinely thankful. As much as he wanted to study the necklace further, he was holding it in his bandaged hand. Marcos could not stand to look at his bandaged hand. Wrapping the necklace around his wrist like a bracelet, Marcos scoffed. “For all the bad things you say about my face, you always seem to keep talking about it, Noé. But thanks for the necklace, I guess.”

Before Noé had the chance to gloat about getting Marcos to thank him for once, Nyoka, from atop the crow nest, swung down from above and landed against the wooden deck, the sound of their boots catching Marcos’s attention. Grasping his hat flawlessly from the air before strutting over with the heels of his boots clinking against the floor, Nyoka made Marcos scoff and shake his head.

“A bit dramatic, wouldn’t you say?” Marcos chuckled with an arched brow as he cocked his hip and looked the other up and down, ignoring whatever comment Noé might be making. That was when Nyoka, a childhood friend of Marcos’s, decided to insult his looks. Well, it sounded less of an insult and more of a statement of facts. “Ouch, a bit rude, wouldn’t you say?” Marcos looked away from Nyoka and bent down to pick his hair tie off the ground, quickly tying his mane back. “I blame it on Noé. He’s ruining all my good looks by rubbing off on me.” Once Marcos finally tied his hair back, he had the confidence to look back at Nyoka. "I wasn't paying attention, but pretty sure fish-breath over here-" Marcos said, jabbing Noé- "heard everything."

The White Tide | Pirate RPNovember 25, 2023 01:31 PM

Posts: 1300
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Aziz Rahima bint Mazin

First Mate // Female // 30 // Mentions: Gore, Spork

Spork matched Aziz’s delight at finally having a plan. Though she was certainly full of genuine happiness, she didn’t totally let herself go, still keeping her constant undertone of pride. She didn’t want the captain thinking she was a mindless fan, sitting at the side of the action cheering. No, she was an equal, a co-conspirator in the throes of concocting a clever plan. Even with her previous captain, who she had respected immensely, she certainly hadn’t felt like an equal. But Spork treated her like one. Maybe it was because of his general incompetence, yes, but she had never been treated the same as a man, and it was that wild thrill that cemented her loyalty to him despite everything else. Even despite him getting the position she’d been working at for years. He was complimenting her now, and she puffed out her chest and tilted her chin up, flashing him a prideful smile. She had the same general mentality as him: this was her crew. Sometimes they frustrated her, but they were hers, and fuck it indeed, they could absolutely do the job of about a dozen men with half the number. Because they were the White Tides.

Then Gore piped up, Aziz was sure, just to have something to say in this conversation between two important people. He practically shouted at them, and Aziz turned to him with eyebrows raised. “Gore, now, no need to shout,” she told him, giving a sideways smile to Captain Spork as a way of laughing at Gore’s outburst. Gore was raising some concerns, and though Aziz was disinclined to listen to him, she allowed a moment to contemplate what he had said. Maybe he had some good points, but what was more important, their crew or their ship? Aziz loved this ship. It represented something to her. It was a real home, and it felt like part of her, part of the crew. What were the White Tides without their beautiful ship gliding up behind a merchant ship, striking terror as pirates began to swing onto deck for a raid? But then, what were the White Tides without any pirates to swing onto the ship to begin with? Aziz would have said this, but Captain Spork was speaking now, and she would never interrupt him.

You are right, he said to Gore. Now wait a dog-eating minute there! Aziz’s thoughts chorused. Was Spork so easily swayed by Gore’s argument? Hadn’t Aziz said she liked the plan? But Spork apparently valued Gore’s opinion more in this matter. This guy, Spork said. What would we do without him? Aziz’s hair seemed to stand slightly on end, or maybe it was just a ripple of indignant energy. All the same, she didn’t want to disagree with the captain, and she knew that each crew member had value on the ship - maybe just not as much as Spork was making out right now. She gave Gore a tight-lipped smile, trying to seem friendly and failing miserably. Maybe part of her knew there was no reason to resent him now, since all he was trying to do was help out. But just a second ago, she’d been the most important person in the world to the captain, the star of the show. And now it was Gore who was basking in the glory of the captain’s praise. Captain Spork’s opinion of her mattered more to her than anyone else’s. She kept her smile on, though her eyes held an odd gleam, as Captain Spork kept talking. But as he suggested that the two of them work it out, she straightened up slightly. Good. With only her and Gore working together, the hierarchy would soon return to normal. She wouldn’t have to be angry at him anymore. The task was more than daunting, but Aziz pushed away any doubts. She was the only one who could do this right.

“Yes, captain,” said Aziz with a genuine charming smile, the kind she sometimes used to get things for free at the marketplace. When Captain Spork left and she turned back to Gore, though, she was quite serious. “Alright, Buckley,” she said, though she didn’t sound upset. She was happy to take control again and remind him who was First Mate on this ship. Without Captain Spork to impress, she wasn’t going to be quite as hard on Gore. “We’ll be needing a makeshift anchor, as the captain ordered. There should be at least a few things heavy enough on this ship.” She paused to reflect for a moment. “We should have extra chains on the ship. We can lash some of the cannonballs together. Worst case scenario, we have the actual cannons. They’ll be difficult to move, but as Captain Spork says, we’re the White Tides.” She paused once again, looking at Gore with an expression that was hard to read. “Unless you have another suggestion?” This was her way of opening up to advice, though she didn’t exactly sound open - it sounded rather like a challenge. She had never been great with tone, and she didn’t notice how she came off. Maybe she was still a little peeved at Gore over him butting into the plan, but now he was being asked for suggestions. Not that Aziz really needed them, of course.

Edited at November 25, 2023 07:27 PM by Freedom
The White Tide | Pirate RPNovember 25, 2023 04:59 PM

Posts: 1300
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Noé Faustino

Sailor // Male // 33 // Mentions: Marcos, Nyoka, Aziz (ind), Gore (ind), Spork (ind)

Noé nearly thought Marcos wasn’t going to reply when he took a moment. The grin he cracked was half relief, half teasing as Marcos shot back with his spitfire wit. Thank God. Noé had his optimism to keep him going on this ship, but he couldn’t stand watching his companions lose their senses of humor. Noé’s grin widened as Marcos caught him by the ear. He didn’t bother trying to get loose, though he did hit Marcos on the arm none too gently in a show of putting up a fight. When Marcos let go, Noé rubbed his ear as though it hut, which it really didn’t. “If I’re your mother, I’d’ve tossed you overboard the minute I got a look at you.” Noé cast a sideways glance at Captain Spork, who was still engaged in conversation with Aziz and Gore, and added in an undertone, “Captain Marcos.” At least he had the decency to lower his voice slightly, but he did often delight in getting his crewmates in trouble. Not a lot of trouble - just enough to give him a good laugh. He saw Marcos looking at Aziz. “Got her pants up her ass tighter than usual today, huh?” he said. “Sorry - his pants.” Noé wasn’t stupid enough to say something like that in front of her, but she wasn’t listening right now.

They switched conversation to the plan Spork, Aziz, and Gore seemed to be brewing up. Noé could hear the bitterness in Marcos’s voice, but made no indication of having noticed. He didn’t respond to Marcos’s comment either. He always avoided these topics, the things that made people angry or felt serious. Immediately after, Marcos was right back to mocking him. “What, is someone afraid of a little work?” Noé chuckled in response, not saying anything to defend himself. Everyone here knew he avoided work like it was the plague, and he didn’t care to defend himself. As long as nobody complained to the captain or first mate, they could make fun of him all they wanted. He was, though, quite happy to get immediate revenge by scruffing up Marcos’s already disheveled hair. Noé let out a booming laugh as Marcos protested loudly. Marcos finally managed to wrestle Noé’s hand away from his hair. Noé looked immensely delighted at being called an asshole. He nodded in approval at seeing Marcos pull the rabbit foot necklace out. Noé scoffed as Marcos said, “For all the bad things you say about my face, you always seem to keep talking about it, Noé. But thanks for the necklace, I guess.”

“Hard to shut up about your face, I’ll admit,” said Noé, tapping his foot against the wooden side. “Can’t look away. It’s like a-” Noé cut himself off. Marcos wasn’t listening, and Noé was distracted by the grandiose arrival of Nyoka, all flair and pomp. He watched, doing his best not to look impressed. Well, there were one or two perks to working hard at something, he supposed. He fancied he could learn something like that if he had the time or inclination. As Nyoka strode over with an insult at the ready for Marcos, Noé laughed aloud, his eyes still on Nyoka. Whatever Marcos was saying, Noé didn’t hear it. He was focused on the mess of ginger hair and beauty marks walking towards them. Nyoka greeted him rather formally. “Good day,” Noé copied in an exaggerated version of Nyoka’s voice. He gave an imperious look, the corners of his mouth tugging up nonetheless.

“You’ve disappointed us, Nyo. We were hoping you’d fall flat on your face and break something - something that doesn’t heal so easy.” He heaved himself to his feet, balancing on the bulwark with his arms out. He watched Nyoka out of the corner of his eyes, walking a few paces along the wooden bulwark railing. “You never had any good looks, Marcos,” he said cheekily. Then, to Nyoka, “But, blubber-brain tells the truth. Heard the whole thing. Something I’m good to have around for, huh?” He brushed his hair back, taking a small pause before he said, “Looks like we’ll be taking the anchor off. Right off, chain and all, I suppose. Sirens won’t have something to hold onto. Then we can sail off into the cheery red sunset. Shame it’ll have to be with Nyoka. Sure you don’t want to take a lifeboat and shove off to the island? Lovely this time of year, I’m sure.”

Edited at November 25, 2023 05:00 PM by Freedom
The White Tide | Pirate RPNovember 29, 2023 06:23 PM

Salt Shaker
Posts: 581
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Gore Buckley | 34 | He/Him | Sailing Master | M: Spork, Aziz (dir), Nyoka, Noe, Marcos (ind.)

The only way to describe how Gore moves when Spork shakes him by the shoulders is like a bobble-head, stiff and wide-eyed with only his skull nodding up and down for the duration of the shake. And then there's Spork's arm around his shoulders for a moment, and for those few seconds, Gore thinks this is the most uncomfortable things could get - until he's assigned to figure everything out with Aziz.

He almost wilts like those doomed flowers she brings aboard, but he'd never let it show.

He really should be used to her by now. They've shared the same boat for years. He's a ""higher up"" apparently alongside her, yet Gore has never really felt like he was really included in their small council even if the rest of the crew seemed to view it that way. But you'd think, during all those years, Gore and Aziz would have reconciled. Sometimes he wonders what's going so wrong for them to butt heads so often, but then she opens that mouth with a voice even more wretched to his ears than that screaming parrot on Spork's shoulder, and all notions of peace and love vanish as Gore is reminded why, exactly, he's never extended the olive branch of friendship.

But he'll give credit where credit is due, and as Spork abandons him here and Aziz immediately rattles off a million ideas, Gore only finds himself nodding in agreement. There's not much else to add. He's not sure how long a makeshift anchor will last if at all, but it's their last option, and at least it's an option. That wasn't something they had a few mere moments ago. And really, there isn't much else to add when Aziz already listed most of the heaviest things on the ship.

When she asks for suggestions, Gore's eyes finally dart over to the small group at the edge of the boat. They don't seem to be doing much, and misery loves company.

"Maybe ask some of the others to rally up any non-essential heavy things they can find," he says with a shrug of his shoulders, knowing his suggestion certainly isn't the most groundbreaking, and definitely won't make her view him in a new admirable light. It's funny how he seems to go so rigid around her and holds his tongue as though she poses any real threat to him. He's a whole foot taller than her, and he'd be lying if he said there weren't a few times he went to sleep blissfully dreaming of picking her up by her waist and just plunking her overboard like she's the new anchor... but he wouldn't. Lack of a spine or basic respect for their barely maintained social order, he's not sure. Or maybe he just puts too much effort into being nice and agreeable for his own good. Really, being polite with her has gotten him nowhere, maybe... well, next time someone mentions mutiny to him, Gore might not be too loyal to the other two "higher-ups" he's spent his life working beside.

But now is no time to silently conspire against the crewmate right beside him, so Gore pauses to give her a small, blank grin while he waits for her input.

The White Tide | Pirate RPJanuary 18, 2024 07:41 PM

Space Man
Posts: 1314
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Spork H. Sully | 34 | He / Him | Captain | Mentions: Crew [ind]

The captain gives a quick grin to his first mate and sailing master before turning away from them. He's done his part for now, being the brains that is. Silly crew, where would they be were it not for him and his ideas ? Not far, that is. Well. Maybe not here in the sea with sirens. But that's not his fault per se, how would he have known it'd end up like this ? Hm. Let the pondering be for another time.

Spork heads back towards his quarters, turning once more to witness as his right, and left, hand men approach the few members of the crew that are currently awake and doing nothing useful. Not that Spork minds nothingness, some days you need a lil break, but today is to be a busy day. Hope the lot of them are ready for that. With a sigh, Spork enters his quarters. Closing the door behind him, he sits down behind his desk. Today will be good. Tomorrow will be better. His idea surely will prevail— or so he hopes. If it doesn't, it won't be his fault. Not at all. It'd be outside his hands. Though.. he can't blame his crew if they can't pull it off. The best of ideas are never easy to make reality, and this is not exempt from that.

Biscuit makes more sounds, her usual squabbling, however Spork isn't up for her chatter at the moment. He takes her in his hands and lets her settle on her perch. "Stay there birdy, I'll get ya later," he says as he scratches her chin before returning to his desk. Eyeing his map, before landing his sights on his telescope, Spork reaches for the hand-me-down from the former captain. Picking up the telescope, Spork examines it as he wonders about things. What to do... where to go... things like that. Some of which were relatively incoherent were he to attempt to put them into words.

This daydream of his took a decent 20 minutes, a 20 minutes he hadn't realized passed so quickly whilst lost in his thoughts. Spork sighs as he slides down in his chair a bit, fiddling with his buckle after setting down the telescope. He likes the smooth texture of the metal. After some time, he grunts as he sits up and pushes himself off of his seat. Grabbing the telescope again, Spork exits his cabin. Maybe he can, for once, actually use this thing. He hasn't touched it prior out of fear of breaking it, since it's relatively pretty and he's grown attached to it. Materialistic much.

Spork makes his way to the quarter deck, and extends his telescope. Putting it up to his eye, he moves it around. His gaze lands onto the zoomed in visuals of Noé, Marcos, Aziz, Nyoka, and Gore. Seemed to it that three of them were having fun. Spork let out a chuckle, shaking his head lightly. He changes direction and looks onward to the sky. Barely a cloud in sight. Shame, since Spork would've loved to see how they'd look through his telescope. Putting it down, Spork compresses the object and sets it in his pocket for safe keepings. Leaning forth on the railing, listening to the gentle creak of his weight, the young captain looks out to sea. It's dead silent, not a living creature in sight. His facial expression matches the sea, blank and quiet as he watches the waves and the shimmering of the water in reflection of the sunlight. One could argue he looked sad. Not that he was. Nothing to be sad over. Would be nice to see a whale tail or a dolphin jump though.

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