ladynewcastle-blog

[ladynewcastle-blog]

“I’m sorry, I lost you a long time ago. What did you say?”

[ladynewcastle-blog]

God, this is not going to end well for us.

"Seems as though one of the kingdom’s about to act. Some are prepared to look for the princess."

[ladynewcastle-blog]

It will only be calming to some extent, and this time is clearly not the case. We might need to prepare ourselves for it sooner rather than later. I'm assuming you knew that already, though.

Silence can be calming or worrisome depending on recent events.Right now it seems to be the calm before the storm, or however that saying may go. At a time were the pirates still have the mermaid princess, something unfortunate is likely to happen. 

[ladynewcastle-blog]

I know, hence why I am unsure about whatever the point is at the moment. If she was to be killed, we would've found her body already. And starting with such clumsiness sounds even worst than the first option for us. 

"Even if they do let her go, I don’t think they would forgive something as offensive as kidnapping their princess so easily. With the bloody history between pirates and merpeople, it’s certain that they’ll get revenge and the pirates will repay it twofold. Then it’ll just escalate into a war."

[ladynewcastle-blog]

Intense? What do you mean?

"Yeah, it’s gotten a little more…intense since you left.”

[ladynewcastle-blog]

This will soon turn into a war, whether they let her go or not, I believe. 

"I’m not quite sure myself, but I think it’s still revolving around the kidnapped Merprincess.”

[ladynewcastle-blog]

I don't mind silence at all actually. This time, however, I can't help but think it's not a good sign.

Tension often leads to silence. Though it hasn’t been this silent in a while, so I agree that it’s rather unsettling.

[ladynewcastle-blog]

[ladynewcastle-blog]

Camille Newcastle + moodboard -- it’s hard for the dreams when the city’s never sleeping

[ladynewcastle-blog]

Still? God, even I am getting annoyed with that and I have missed the past week.

"Well, factor in the missing princess and her pissed off brother creating troubled seas, a lot is, Camille."

[ladynewcastle-blog]

This silence is unsettling, what the hell is happening in this town?

[ladynewcastle-blog]

Your work, surely. Mine has been done perfectly without the need to look like a homeless person. What were you even doing? You're welcome, though. The dirt on your face looks adorable.

Thanks for the compliment, Newcastle; this is what you look like after a long day of what some of us call work.

[ladynewcastle-blog]

Mm, do you approve of the people's anger towards what the merpeople have done? I'm hardly trying to justify what has been done to you or your family, but I'm sure you know about attacks too, miss. My point isn't about who you've smelled, I assure you, I could care less.

Now, now, no need to be so rude, darling. Look at you, you're important enough for some people to know you're name, and you were the one to get to their lowest. I am one of those pirates you are so angrily talking about and I am also one who has no desire to destroy your peace or species. So breathe, threats don't scare as much as you would think, coming from a princess or not.

My anger is toward every single pirate who would approve of what he’s done to me, and as a result, to my family as well. I see absolutely no point in doing something as ridiculous as smelling every one of the pirates ordered to guard me just to see if they’ve bathed recently or not, especially seeing as there’s already a ninety percent chance that they haven’t. And, with that being said, I’d also prefer not to get that close to them in the first place.

It doesn’t ring a bell, no, so I’m guessing you aren’t important enough for me to know your name. My name is Sophia Wren, and I am nobody’s plaything. Say that again, and—and so help me, I’ll find a way to make you regret it.

[ladynewcastle-blog]

God, did you fight an army just to get here? You look like a mess.

[ladynewcastle-blog]

I have yet to understand your point. Your anger is towards Alexander, not the lot of pirates I am more than sure you haven't smelled. Hence my question about your judgment.

Camille Newcastle, but I fear the name won't ring a bell. I'm assuming you're the new plaything. Your people is looking everywhere for you.

I—I’ve yet to be shown otherwise, so. Alexander Barrett is the worst of the entire lot—honestly, that man must enjoy bathing just as much as he enjoys gifting others with things like kindness, and common decency.

And—I have every right to be judgmental. I’ve been kidnapped, for Neptune’s sake. Now, I—who are you, and why are you in my room?

[ladynewcastle-blog]

Camille wasn't known by having any lovers or passionate flings, for most men she lured into her room were often helplessly subdued to her will before hands were laid on her, she had her share of people she had been intimate with once upon a time. All people she was more than sure to be impossible to see again, something the brunette appreciated above most things. Relationships seemed to drive people to madness and she had no desire to give in to such a fate when it could be avoided, an opinion the eldest Grace seemed to share. For that reason and many others, when her encounters with Elijah stopped being only platonic, it surprised both, even if the worries were pushed aside by heated kisses and muttered words that held no promises other than the ones meant to be kept for a night, that night alone. Camille wasn't in for a future, but there was something particularly relaxing about sharing a bit more than sex. --They were friends above all.

At the moment, she wasn't sure if it was possible to still call themselves friends, all things considered. A year passed and many things changed, she worried that opinions and previous visions had become obsolete to the point where they wouldn't be able to find the common ground they once stood him. Camille was willing to try nonetheless, determined to set worried aside and make sure none of them showed in her gracious smile to him. There was no room for concerns when nothing more than a couple of sentences had been spoken.

Camille didn't fail to notice the way his eyes moved back to his word and the pride that filled his gaze. Jokes aside, she could easily point him as the blacksmith she knew and  his dedication to the work of what it seemed forever would never be put on the stand by her. He had his flaws, much like everyone else, but work wasn't a part of it. A smile tugged at her lips, one she directed to the taller young man, followed by a single nod at the sound of his voice thanking her for the compliment. 

Watching him, the pirate tilted her head to the side and kept the smile on her features, the only sign that she had listened to his teasing being her recently narrowed doe eyes. "Short and still able to kick your ass in a minute, Elijah. Watch your mouth, I may have been away but I'm still way faster than you," she pointed at him playfully, fighting the laugh that bubbled in her throat. "I'm not that short and I'm surely not to blame for you being a tower."

For a moment, she stopped. Camille couldn't tell him the whole truth, for Avery's sake and her own, for she had no clue how Elijah would take in the fact that she was and had always been a pirate. It pained her to have to hide something of the sort, but things were strange already without a revelation that could cost her their friendship. She cared about a small group of people, Elijah included, and if she could prevent the loss of any of them, that was exactly was she would do.

"My father was determined we needed some time away from here, I couldn't tell him no. There's too many things here to hold me back, many memories that I wished to forget and couldn't while being here constantly." she started, running a hand through her hair before pushing a few swords aside so she could sit on the table. It was foolish to give even the slightest detail, but the truth was that her decision hadn't been solely based on Avery's need to go or her eagerness for adventure. She only hoped he couldn't read through her. "We've traveled, seen new places, met new people... I can't say it was always fantastic, we had some rough times to say the least, but it was good overall." The memories had faded and her pain wasn't as great as it had once been, she wasn't as fragile at heart now. "I am sorry about the absence of a warning, though. It was all so rushed that I could barely think of saying something." She smiled softly, exhaling a soft breath. "What about you?"

Memories Of The Past ; Camille & Elijah

Elijah Grace wasn’t the sort of man to stand in silence; he much rather preferred to fill a room with warmth and laughter, with conversation and positive energy. He was by no means a shy or introverted individual—when Elijah Grace entered a room, he made sure his presence was known. So to stand here in front of Camille, in front of someone he had once considered a friend and had been intimate with at one point in his life, and not be able to say anything at all? It was…strange and unusual territory for the eldest Grace. Then again, sleeping with anyone he had maintained any semblance of a relationship with prior to said sexual contact was next to unheard of for Elijah. He didn’t date women he slept with; he didn’t have girlfriends or friends with benefits or even close acquaintances. No, no, Elijah thrived almost solely on one night stands with girls he wouldn’t remember and with addresses he wouldn’t write to or call upon. He was very much a player in that sense, finding that it was more difficult to invite a woman to warm his bed for an evening rather than a year; that it was easier to get drunk and let out his stress physically than to deal with his anger and pent-up aggression emotionally.

Very few people understood it, but Elijah’s fear of commitment was also directly related to the trauam he’d endured in his lifetime. When he felt eighty years old on the inside, he didn’t particularly feel like going through the motions of what a nearly thirty year old man was expected to do. Marry. Have children. Get a steady job and try to work his way up the ladder. No…Elijah much preferred the grit and grime of his blacksmith trade; of coming home to his baby sister during the week days and spending evenings at bars and galavanting with women whose names he could scarcely remember.

That was what was real to Elijah. That was how he wanted to spend his life.

"Thank you," he managed quietly when she complimented him, his eyes flickering down to rest on her hands as her fingers traced the intricacy and craft of the blade he’d been working towards producing. It was no secret that Elijah took a great deal of pride in his work, and it was displayed in the care he put into each and every piece of work he produced. Many would disagree, but to him, being a blacksmith was like being an artist. Each blade, each piece of armor, each weapon…it was produced for not only efficiency, but style. Beauty. Grace. Camille could see that. Many others couldn’t.

When she commented on his height, Elijah snorted and rolled his eyes, smirking as he pulled the blade away and set it on his work table in front of him. Leaning forward, the young man rested the palms of his hands on the edge of the work table, quirking a brow in Camille’s direction as she finished speaking.

"Or maybe you just got shorter…what are you down to these days? 4’11”?” A joke, of course, and he figured she would recognize it as such. Sighing, he reached for a rag and cleaned some of the metal residue and paint off his hands, gazing up at her through his eyelashes, head bent and face drawn.

"You could start with where the hell you’ve been for the last handful of months."

[ladynewcastle-blog]

That’s rather judgmental, don’t you think? Not ever single one of them smells.

The fact that pirates as a whole seem to smell isn’t exactly helping things in the slightest. Perhaps this is why they spend all of their time aboard their ships—they’re allergic to water, and thus, bathing, as well.