Tudor MercWench Smith

Tudor slummped in her chair, taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Armands confused words ringing in her head. "I know . . ." She said slowly and steadily after a decent pause. "And that is why I react this way. You had told me. You must do what you need to do, and I know that. . . " She paused again, taking a shakey breath. "So I hate myself being blindsided by this, for being surpirse. For wanting to yell and scream at you, and haul off and slap you again." She shot him a quick apologetic look for her misbehaviour in the past, and a silent promise that even though the thought had entered her mind, she wouldn't act on it. "I hate myself . . . for caring so much whether you go or stay; for wanting to get down on my knees and beg you not to go; for wanting to break both your feet, so you can't go anywhere; for wanting to convince you to stay by seducing you . . . again." She added a bit of a cheeky grin and eye roll to the last statement. "For wanting to run to my room, grab my bag and follow you to the ends of the earth; for feeling that from the moment you leave, a part of me will be missing, that I will have no point here . . ." She paused again, but not long enough to let him respond. "I know that you need to leave. And I know that my worth and my survival depends on no man - but that doesn't stop me from feeling it. And that is why I asked what I did. That is why I don't know how to react." She finally looked up to him for response.

Now taking requests for any Irish Dance performance for your view . . . eh . . . pleasure I suppose (aside; William, get them drunk so they think I am a good dancer!) Shall it be a soft or a hardshoe number!

Tudor just continued to blink, her eyes level with his, but not seeing. Opening her mouth once or twice to try and form some kind of statement, but no words came, even though there were a million running around in her head, but only action, purely instinctive action was the only command she followed. "Retreat." She sighed so quietly some might have not noticed the word in the breath, then ducked under his arm. His hand quickly flicked around her wrist, and the whiplash of her movement being stopped seemed to jarr her out of the vacant mindframe she had held. She turned to look at him. "What?" She asked, sheer confusion in her tone. "How am I to respond to this?" She asked, almost more of herself. Her tone held no anger, nor resentment, nor even hurt - although all were felt in turn. She just simply asked, for she had no idea what reaction was required or best.

As any good soldier does when suffering from a surpirse attack, Tudor closed her mind to the carnage and planned retreated. Not allowing her mind to race to the million places and questions and shadowy corners that it wanted too, Tudor just blinked twice and started to walk away, beating her retreat, but it was useless . ..

As soon as I get some, I shall post them LadyB . . . can never get me hands on Da's digi camera. But roomate and I plan on doing a photoshoot of sorts soon

Tudor smiled. "Productive." She said She nodded, her curls, messier then normal, bouncing. "Purchased all the supplies I needed, and some more to hold us over," She said, going over the day's trivial events, sense there was something else to be said, but biding her time. "I found a stray too. A young girl . . . trying to pick my pockets. Don't quite know where the captain will decide she will be of most use, but she has sailed before, and seems the determined sort. Reminded me a bit of myself a long time ago, I suppose." She said, the last remnants of her silent thoughts exhibiting themselves. "And other then that, the day was sheer mass pandemonium and chaos," she chuckled. "But that is to be expected."

^Is compiling a cookbook of uber-yummy sounding recipies that he likes to serve in the Tsunami Kate . . .

She heard him approaching, no matter how silently he tried to tread. He remained quite, and seemed hesitent and Tudor smiled to herself. His inscruitability was starting to frustrate her less and amuse her more with every hour. "Good evening Armand." She said as soon as he was close enough to hear her hushed tones. She silently laughed as he froze in step, startled to have had his approach noticed, and she quickly turned her head to look over her shoulder and shoot him a cheeky grin.

It had been a busy day all around for Tudor. As soon as she had returned from adventures ashore, it had been non-stop errands, and running around the ship to see to diffrent things. She was so busy she was aware of the chaos going on around her, but didn't feel inclined to pay attention to it. When she finally had collapsed on her small, narrow bunk, it was with a long sigh of relief. Even as thin as the small straw matress was, it held comfort for her. For a few moments at least, until her mind refused to shut off, as was nessicary for sleep, and ever plank of wood under the matress started pressing painfully on her shoulders and digging into her spine. Sitting up with a groan, Tudor frustratedly rubbed her hands over her face, wrapped her threadbare, grey wool blanket around her shoulders in a cape-like manner over her slops and chemise top she wore. She knew there was most likely a chill in the air top-side. She gained the weather decks quickly, her bare feet silently covering the wood planking. She stopped by the rail, and looked out at the stars and glowing moon that hung low in the sky, allowing herself a rare moment of speculation.

Right so, back in November I made the simplicity patttern for myself, for my new winter coat. Did it in wool, which I got a deal on - didn't spend more the $70. Got great looking buttons off ebay. . . looks fab if I say so myself. I liked the pattern, execept the cuffs were crazy. I also decided to add pockets to mine for functionality, but that wasn't hard. I wear the thing all the time now. It's so much cooler then a boring old trench coat - especially on Hot Topic excusions.

Seriously!! That is the only part of that movie that made me cry. I had brought along half a rainforest's worth of tissues because everyone said it would make me cry. There were guys crying more then me! I could handle the blood and gore with barely flinching - but that scene with Mary killed me . . . but yeah . . . the christian dogma thing would definitly add a diffrent twist to it . . .

fair pont that too Lady Seahawk . . .

Again . . . Am I the only one here who liked passion of the christ? . . . . . . wow . . . why is everyone looking at me know . . .

I joined

Am I the only one who read this and went "Hey, that movie sounds pretty damn cool"? . . . just curious . . . although, maybe it helps that I love subtitled movies

*sniff* can I get a cup of tea? Please? *hack* *wheeze* *snot*

{editied for plot's sanity's sake}

With a quick bobbed curtsie, Tudor turned out of the room and led Callie down into the galley. "Here, get some food. Maybe make yourself useful to the cook, or something. Captain's busy at the moment." She said, pointing Callie in the direction of the galley door, then heading back for the deck, a million tasks running through her head.

Callie's pulse quickened as she was led by Tudor to the docks where the ship was docked. "Welcome to The Watch Dog." She said as the approched the ship. "Maybe if you ask very nicely, the Captain will give you a position. Soon, all the small party were on deck, the crewmen going their ways, and Tudor leading the younger girl to the ward room, in search of the captain.

raisin bran seems to be me brekkie of choice these days . . . so a bowl of that sounds good right now . . . heavy on the rasins, light on the bran . . .

"I think that severly lowers your options then, doesn't it?" Tudor said with a quirked brow. "WHY THE HELL DO YE THINK I'M STEALING STUFF!!" She yelled frustratedly, then added in a more mumblish tone. "Or trying to anyway." A look akin to a sulk crossed her pointed features. Tudor had to repress a smile. She had an idea, and catching the lad's eyes through the window, and motioning for them to come outside, she looked back down at the girl. "What's your name?" "Callie . . .no wait, you probably want me surname - that's Moore." "Well Callie Moore, what do you know of work aboard ships?" She said, and started walking, still clutching Callie's hand and motioning for the powder monkeys to follow. "Five years in the navy - where the hell are we going? - before they found out I was a girl - then the past year I've been a . . . uh . . . coin collecter on shore here." Tudor didn't explain, just continued her path down to the docks and back to the Watch Dog.

"You're not a very good pickpocket, y'know" Tudor said looking into the freckled face before her. The would-be fingersmith's face tried to look innocent. "I'm not a pick pocket." "Oh, right, sorry, my mistake." Tudor feigned an apology. "Here I thought you were cause you had your hand in my pocket. But obviously I was mistaken." The shaggy, dirty-blondish hair was laying tousled under an old, beat up navy sailor's hat, that looked like it had died - several times. Tudor smiled. The mismatched bits and pieces of a navy uniform couldn't hide the pickpocket's true identity. "If I were you little miss, I would look for a diffrent job."

The market just past the docks was swarming with activity as Tudor, followed closely by Hingerty and Woodington, wound her way through the booths of merchants. The market was a wash of colour, sound and smells, silk merchant's wares fluttering in the breeze like flags. The pot-maker's booth echoed of clanging metal. She quickly pushed past the throngs of people, into the small mercantile store hidden behind the sea of humanity. With quick alacrity, she made the purchase of several sheafs of parchment, a bundle of new quills and several pots of ink to last the ship until their next supply stop as well as a good sized sack of rock candy for the powder monkeys to fight over, leaving Hingerty and Woodington to peruse the merchandise at their own lesuire. Feeling the need for fresh air, she stepped outside the door, always watching through the window as to not loose sight of her crew mates. She watched the crowd surge, enjoying watching the busyness of life in a port town. Then she felt the slightest of tugs on where her coin pouch was attached to her belt. A tug that wouldn't have been noticed, if you were blithering drunk. With quick reflexes, Tudor's hand whipped around and grabbed the narrow wrist that was digging in her money, before the wrist's owner had a chance to run like hell, and pulled the slight form around to face her. "You're not a very good pickpocket, y'know."

As soon as the new guns were safely stowed, Tudor found the Captain on deck, to report. "The new armaments are aboard sir. Although the aquiring of them was handled entirely by his aide, the Don sends his regards." She said, to which the captain nodded and thanked her for her assistance. "Do you have any other orders for me, sir? Because if you do not having anything pressing for me to attend to, I was going to ask permission to go into the market while we are in dock. There are some clerical supplies that the Ward room is in sore need of."

Tudor reapeared in the ward room bearing a fresh pot of coffee and the tray of requested food, fresh and steaming from the galley. "Here's the extra food, sirs . . ." She said, setting down the food in best serving wench fashion. She then paused. "Only three extra guns, Captain? I would think at least four. And I agree, English are better." She couldn't resist putting her two pence in about the guns.