Tempest Fitzgerald

*The morning's break gave light to a night of restless sleep and little of that. Sitting with a deep crease of concentration playing her browline, the Surgeon waited for the deliverance of foggy train of thought in hopes that the dark liquid being heated nearby would give some relief. Armand came to the rough hewn table's edge, setting down the China pot and two cups before taking a seat across. He knew the expression knitting the face afore him, years had given him knowledge of such. Pouring the fragrant darkness into the awaiting delicate emptiness, the long time companion sat back, waiting with ever patience for her to speak. Glancing to the proffered cup, Tempest broke from her musing to offer a word of gratitude. One cup consumed and another filled, she broke the silence that hung in the air,* Armand...Would you be so kind to send word with one of the gentleman outside that I am in need of the Captain's audience when he is at liesure. *A silent nod of aknowledgement was all that was given, as the Steward left the table and circular room for the freshness of dawn's air...*

...And the other on a soap bar.

A grand time had

Ball Sports

*Stepping further from the late afternoon shadow cast from the high walls behind, the heat of the the sands below raise in temperature to near discomfort. Quickening pace, the Surgeon nimbly pads to the relief of wet touched sands ringing the shoreline. A quick flash of silver races with the recede of water's course, a small school of tiny fish running with liquid retreat. Gleening the expanse of palms to the right, the decerning vision stops to focus upon a brief haze rising from clay pipe. In comfortable sprawl, the near distant figure of the Master Gunner is centered on. The instructions given echo through her thoughts, one in particular stands forward..."No intake of tobacco until otherwise advised..."* Bloody hell... *She starts to move toward where the Master Gunner sways in the strung hammock, then decides against it and calls through cupped hands...* Mister Petee! You are here by released from my care. I shall make no further effort, nor have my reputation smeared as a physician by the after effect of improper heeding of my instruction. I shall inform the Captain of your release, do as you wish. *Abruptly turning on heel, she returns to the fortitude. Armand shakes his head as the relay of announcement reaches his hearing. Standing back as she passes, the Frenchman shrugs his shoulders with a shake of head then follows in her wake.*

(oops)

adage

It appeared that things had calmed outside, the acrid smell of spent powder no longer hung the air. Curiosity had urged the Surgeon from the temporary lodgings into the brightness outdoors. A strong onshore breeze had whipped up since her earlier time on the ramparts and the demise of the fine bone China cup. Sniffing the air with appreciation of flora ladden quailities, she stepped from the secure walls to the powder sand beyond. The scene in view looked much the same from the early morning, although a mental note was made of the change of angle that the ship currently rested at. Here and there, scattered about the line of palm shade, various crew members could viewed in subtle states of repose. A hushed brush of disturbance sounded from behind and with a quick rear glance over shoulder, she noted Armand's catlike movement to stand at her side...

Really? Do continue....

I beg your pardon!

heave and go

The morning's passage had left the Surgeon restless, causing a stirring in her soul of aggitation while she paced the tower's lower floor. Her Steward watched in silence from the table off to the right, one are casually draped over the wooden back. Ridgid step, to an fro as if determined to make a path of indention in the cobbles that floored the circular lay of walls. "It is that feeling of confinement...?" He offered. A hesitation in pace signified the statement. Her center of vision turned to take in his relaxed stance, the pacing disrupted. "Oui...I would have to give you credit for keen observation." "I thought as much...But, reconsider that this calm means that things are well, oui?" The Surgeon's brow furrowed then smoothed. "And to that, I would be a fool to confess boredom..." Unstopping the bottle of porter that lay on the table's surface, Armand filled the emptiness of crystal and held the goblet extended in offer. A hint of smile played over her expression as she stepped to receive the fine line of vessel. "Merci...Perhaps some fresh air would do the trick, a stroll to eliviate my wander lust...What I would give for a mount and short round of steel and ball practice. Surly such a distraction would ease my ill...." Palming an apple taken from a bowl nearby, the Frenchman glances sideways secretivly before casting it to the air. The rotation is knocked off course with the swift cleave of duhb. Armand chuckles as the red fruit drops to roll on the floor to the left. "I see you have not lost your touch, mademoiselle...."

Bluff Bow admiration

bilge pump

tinder

General Public....(Unlearned, unknowing, unquestioning....Sheep)

False Speakers

Soothe Sayer

*Rising early to the serenade of sea birds questing morning meal, the Surgeon groggily viewed the darkened suround of temorary lodgings. A sudden desire for morning ritual made itself known and glancing to the placid expression of her Sterward asleep by the far wall, decided to manage the craving herself. Having changed into fresh linen and coffee secured, she paced the rough stairs upward to reach the ramparts. Unadorned feet feeling the subtle variences of cool surface that lead to the far view offered above, she smiled with mild delight in acknowledgement of skillfull gull swoop and dive. Leaning into the wall, vision scanning the sands below and sighting Sandpiper's quick aft bob balanced by minute legs speeding the shoreline in a game of tag between water's advance and retreat. In the near distance, a sevice boat bumped gently against the Galleon's hull in consideration of wanting release. Raising the delicate china to intake of deep brown paradise, the Surgeon closed her eyes in appreciation to such decadence. The moment short lived, cut off by the sudden roar across the water as one of the gun's let the world witness its existance. With a jump of startled manner, the delicate cup was released from hold, droping to bounce the wall's edge before plunging to the sand below in ruptured bearing. Regaining composure with irritation, the pinched expression looked upon the waste of broken corpse. Emitting a heavy sigh and shake of head she returned the path she had taken to obtain one of the departed's brethren, whispering,* Damn the luck...

The Oracle of Delphi

The Moerae (The Three Fates)

" Tall Cool One " Robert Plant

White Buffalo Calf Woman (Lakota)

Awesome movie!!! Loup Garou... ( I agree with whole heart. Beatifully shot, choriographed, plot, costuming...Love it I do, dubbed or not.) Skin Walker

Les Pacte Des Loups (The Brotherhood Of The Wolf)