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[Haytham & Edward - for Em]
Dec. 4th, 2013 04:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackdawsShowing up in an unfamiliar land and being told there was no way to leave was a shock to the system for Edward. He'd roamed the town, asking if anyone knew of the nearest port -- how far away from here was Jamaica, Cuba, Florida, Yucatan? Did they know of the Caribbean sea at all? Each question only got a blank look, and the people of the town carried on their business as normal, used to seeing strangers show up out of thin air.
Taverns were always a good source of information, so it was there he went next. What began as an information gathering session was a terrible idea. The more he heard about countries and kingdoms and empires he'd never heard of, even some conversations he thought mentioned magic, it was beginning to sink in that he was in a whole other world entirely. He gulped down his ale to ease off some of the shock of it and help clear his head while he thought of what to do. (Or at least, that was what he told himself its purpose was.) No Jackdaw, no crew, no open ocean, and with most of his money left aboard the ship... his fortune was gone. Unless this was some very terrible, very realistic nightmare, he was ruined.
Inevitably as the tavern filled up, the night wore on, and he became more surly, he glared around the bar for a fight. Choosing an enormous man with fists the size of cannonballs who could only be a city guardsman off duty, he strode over and kicked over his table, then seized the man by his uniform's collar.
"I've had enough of this shite, mate. Joke's over. I won't ask again -- how do I leave here?"
The ensuing fight saw Edward soundly thrashed by four guards, picked up, and thrown out onto the street in the dirt. Edward cursed loudly, though his ego was more bruised than he was. "Is this how you treat all your guests, or is it because I'm a fucking Welshman?" He rolled over, trying to get to his feet, but the ground and his limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate together. "You don't even know what a Welshman is, do you, you mad lot!" Laughing to no one save himself, he spat blood onto the tavern steps.
Chances were, he would be mad too before long.
Taverns were always a good source of information, so it was there he went next. What began as an information gathering session was a terrible idea. The more he heard about countries and kingdoms and empires he'd never heard of, even some conversations he thought mentioned magic, it was beginning to sink in that he was in a whole other world entirely. He gulped down his ale to ease off some of the shock of it and help clear his head while he thought of what to do. (Or at least, that was what he told himself its purpose was.) No Jackdaw, no crew, no open ocean, and with most of his money left aboard the ship... his fortune was gone. Unless this was some very terrible, very realistic nightmare, he was ruined.
Inevitably as the tavern filled up, the night wore on, and he became more surly, he glared around the bar for a fight. Choosing an enormous man with fists the size of cannonballs who could only be a city guardsman off duty, he strode over and kicked over his table, then seized the man by his uniform's collar.
"I've had enough of this shite, mate. Joke's over. I won't ask again -- how do I leave here?"
The ensuing fight saw Edward soundly thrashed by four guards, picked up, and thrown out onto the street in the dirt. Edward cursed loudly, though his ego was more bruised than he was. "Is this how you treat all your guests, or is it because I'm a fucking Welshman?" He rolled over, trying to get to his feet, but the ground and his limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate together. "You don't even know what a Welshman is, do you, you mad lot!" Laughing to no one save himself, he spat blood onto the tavern steps.
Chances were, he would be mad too before long.
