#( ✧･ﾟ- dylanofblue )

[mikaelabennett-blog]

She stopped to admire the warehouse, in just one day it had been transformed into the Haunted House setup that Dylan was in charge of. Mikaela couldn’t deny that she was very impressed by it, but more important than that, she had ended up saying yes before even realising what had been asked of her. An exhale left her lips as she stepped through the doors, a shriek soon escaping her lips as someone jumped out from the shadows at her. Instinct took over and Kaela had pulled her bow from its pouch on the back of her cloak and swung it. A loud what the fuck Kaela was yelped as the person had to barrel roll out of the way to avoid being cracked over the head and Kaela shouted out an apology. She kept apologising as she slunk past the zombified pirate and edged further into the Haunted House in search for Dylan. It felt like she had gone halfway into the warehouse before she found him after having the shit scared out of her multiple times. ‘’Aw jeez, Dylan. I’m not sure I still want to do this. It’s bloody creepy in here.’’ @dylanofblue

[tridentsking-blog]

--- salt flakes — solo

IC DETAILS: Roman has just arrived upon the island and is inspecting his ship, heading to his private quarters and keeping his shoes clean.

OOC DETAILS: Basically Roman is just thinking about decking out the Trident even further, and has some very interesting plans for those with royal blood in their veins.

Roman had often thought about changing the colour of the sails.

The classic weathered cream was unoriginal, and did not instil fear in the hearts of those they met through the waves. Sails stained with the blood of the crew’s victims had been an idea-- one he had discarded soon after. Blood dried, and would darken to a dull brown after time. It had been such a promising idea, but he could do better. He knew he could do better.

The Trident was a beauty, and he, as the king of the oceans he surveyed was truly the only one fit to captain it. Two exceptional creatures that would be bound forever. His precious ship, his ever sturdy companion deserved the absolute finest in treatment, from sails to cookware.

Placing a hand against the hull, he began to run his fingertips over the intricately wrought metal reinforcements that had been woven into the wood that had saved his life countless times. Seemingly in an act of affection, Roman brushed away a small pocket of salt that had collected in one of the nooks of the of the decorative spirals that contrasted in a small difference in the inky shades.

The salt flakes fell where he did not expect; upon the top of one of his oxford shoes. One half of his favourite pair, It had become a habit to keep his belongings pristine and clean, with as much care for his attire as he did his Trident. Humming a small tune, seemingly unbothered by the inconvenience, he bent down to sweep it once again from a valuable possession he owned. After the specks had been dealt with, he then rose and, ensured no salt clung to his fingers and straightened himself; flattening out any wrinkles in his clothes so as to ensure he looked as impeccable as he rightfully should.

He did not look like a pirate in his expensive suit, gold cufflinks inlaid with roughly cut painite stones held the sleeves snug against his wrists save for where he wore his watch. For all intents and purposes, Roman Tulach presented as a very wealthy businessman.

But appearances, they had always been deceiving.

Underneath his crisp clothing and expensive accoutrements lay a man who prided in the empire he had built for himself and his family. A man that many called monster. Roman could not help the malicious grin at the thought. Unlike those they had stolen from their warm beds, he had earned his greatness and had never once displayed regret for any atrocity. Not even for the princess he had demanded dead.

Perhaps his own pride of what he already had accomplished would his downfall, but Roman had always been smarter than the media who spoke about him did. Looking as he did now, he could walk into a bank, retrieve money and leave without a single person realise he looked so familiar.

"Black sails. Yes.” His murmur was only heard by himself, the sudden jump from topics within his head that so many found jarring not fazing the pirate king at all. He would speak with his crew about new additions and changes to their vessel. Improvements could always be made, and in chasing that perfect ship in one such as The Black Trident, Roman was careful and calculated every single decision regarding even the smallest changes aboard.

It had been a while since he had last laid eyes on his beauty, Because of his love for The Black Trident, while he had been away he had expected nothing but excellence from those he had tasked with being left in charge.

His children: beautiful and temperamental Isabella; reckless and outspoken Miles; loyal and curious Dylan; anger-fulled and wily Emerson. And then, of course, his crew: Zyra, John, Leland, Ronan and Jack, When he left, Roman made it very clear that their responsibility to manage the people was vital when he is/was/and will not be, and he expects to hear that there is not even a weapon missing.

The people he bestowed trust upon to control their herd of royalty when he did have reason to depart from the island, and of those, are were allowed into his innermost circle of companions.

There was much to survey now that he had returned. And he wanted to ensure that no pirate had slipped up, lest they lose something... important. Royals, however, would suffer more deeply for any breaking of the rules upon the centre of his watery kingdom. But first, to retire to his quarters, and then, after rest, to meet with his trusted council. Swiftly departing from the docks, his hubris became to swell as not many seemed to want to stand in his way, Perhaps it was that he exuded such a power that they knew he would not be merciful toward harassers or those who had questions about him.

Or perhaps, and it was more likely than the alternative, they could recall his face. Though he rarely made appearances to the crowd of people living on his island, when he did, he demanded all eyes to fixate on him. And at first, he had even wanted to remain more mysterious. After all, how could the enemy spill his blood with little information on Roman? Though he still enjoyed pulling the strings of his game from behind the scenes and it delighted him very much to be the puppeteer that the world’s fate rested upon, he had spent so much time simply observing. It was not wrong to want to join in; it was not wrong to want to refresh the minds of his prisoners that any step out of line would not end well; and it was certainly not wrong to loom over and deliver an unspoken reminder to those who might have been beginning to feel safe in their beds at night that they were at his every whim.

Once he had reached his house, not needing to look as the paths were so familiar, Upon entering the space, Roman could only try to hide a grin. Oh yes, there were many awful events to come soon enough. Retiring to his private space, he began to feel at home once again and relaxed back into his chair. 

Ah, the beauty of scheming. He had been itching to find new ways to play with the princes and princesses who truly thought someone would rescue them. It would not just be on Roman’s orders this time, however; the pirate king, had many, many games he would so very much adore and savour to conduct. There were so very many entitled brats upon this island, of course, and the opportunity to pick one, or several, out for what he had in store for those he could choose from. But, in an effort to keep the brats under the impression that they could have a chance at going home, until struck with inspiration, Roman would spend his days watching the inhabitants closely, and with great interest. Time would tell who would suffer at his hand, or the hand of others.

Stretching back in the chair, he felt a warm, fuzzy and pleasurable sensation run through his system at the thought of his schemes yet to fully bloom. There was still so much more that needed to be done, but his’s allies’ success rate has been far better than Roman expected. Those tasked with swiping such high profile people without a clue left behind could almost expect a larger share in treasure-- for their troubles, of course. And everything seemed to be falling into the right place at the right time. Good. Very good. Exhaling slowly as Roman let the tension in his muscles release, he gladly sunk into the plush cushioning,

No matter how briefly it the feeling through his body persisted, Roman would savour it; for the first time in a long while, the pirate king was truly content.

( @neptunesbelle​, @miles-tulach​, @dylanofblue, @unabashedlyzyra, @johngibbcns, @chefrosier, @ronanxludolf​ & @jackatsea​​ )

[edenofmonaco-archive]

♔ || @dylanofblue || ♔

Murdered. Someone had been murdered.

The word echoed like a bell through Eden’s mind, and indeed throughout the crowd surrounding her she’d it from every direction as the news first began to spread. Whispers turning into full voices and even a few panicked shouts. She felt a pang of that same panic wash over her as she began scanning the crowd, which was beginning to splinter and break in no semblance of order. She didn’t know why—she wasn’t in any sort of head-space to question it, really—but the first person she felt she needed to find in the brewing chaos was Dylan. Not only was he the pirate tasked with watching over her, he was also a Tulach. And if anyone was going to have information, especially the kind which might ease her mind even somewhat, it would be a Tulach. Then there was the uncertainty of exactly who had been murdered...followed by the dreadful yet inevitable thought of “What if it was Dylan?”.

For the first time that evening Eden found herself cursing the heels she’d worn to the masquerade. Though they managed to carry her at a fair pace as she weaved between bodies and around skirts as equally full as her own, they were unsteady. As she rounded a decorative column, far too quickly for the shoes in question, they failed her at last. She felt her body tipping fast towards someone directly in front of her, but by some miracle she managed to catch herself on the column with one hand. But not without her other hand coming to land on the unassuming person’s shoulder. Breathing heavily from scurrying across the ballroom, she straightened herself up as quickly as she could, her gaze flying up to meet...Dylan’s.

Eden said the pirate’s name breathlessly, blinking at him a few times. Then, the relief of having found him—and having found him alive—hit her, and without hesitation she threw her arms around the pirate. “Thank god you’re okay...I heard someone was killed and I didn’t know who and—and I thought what if it was you and—” Eden stopped herself before anymore words tumbled out of her, finally releasing the pirate and taking a step back. “Is it true? Is someone really...?”

Dead?

[noahgraves]

☂️ Something your muse wants to protect.

“ @harleyism @jacobtulach @claire-darby @dylanofblue...”

Oh, something?

My record player.

send me a symbol! →

[edenofmonaco-archive]

Blab, mwah, similar

Blab: Three secrets I’m keeping. 

“One: I occasionally swipe scraps of fruit from the kitchens to feed an adorable monkey that lives in the jungle. I’m surprised it hasn’t followed me back yet. Two: The pirate watching over me is super cute? @dylanofblue​ Three: I’m pretty sure I’ve officially entered a dry spell…”

Mwah: Three people I’d like to kiss.

“Secretly…Mia, Cleo, Samson…”

@emiliaadley​ @theaussie-scoundrel​ @samsonmorales​

Similar: Three members of the same sex I find attractive.

“I mean I’ve already mentioned two of them, but there’s also Mira, Laela Rossi, and Belle Tulach…like wow.”

@swedish-mira​ @laprincipessalaela​ @neptunesbelle​

Get a confession from Eden!

[noahgraves]

♞

♞ for something that my muse wants to do

“Honestly? If we’re going to be here awhile, I’d like to work on some upgrades to the Blue Moon.”

@dylanofblue @claire-darby

send me a symbol! →

[noahgraves]

☢️

☢️- For a controversy or scandal they have been able to keep mostly under wraps

Noah’s a Tulach, sort of. He doesn’t consider himself one, though, and he doesn’t acknowledge any of the Tulach captains as his cousins or interfere with their business.

@jacobtulach @neptunesbelle @miles-tulach @dylanofblue @ragingemerson

send a symbol, get a secret! →