kirktastic | [We Interrupt Your Usual RP to Bring You... International Talk Like a Pirate Day!]

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you are a pirate!

[We Interrupt Your Usual RP to Bring You... International Talk Like a Pirate Day!]

It was morning on the Enterprise, and it came with the slow creaking of wood deck around him, swelling in the heat of the morning, the sound of waves against the sides of the ship. Definitely a damn good way to wake up.

Even better was waking up between two warm bodies, one pressed to either side of him. On one side was his cabin boy, a young buck with a foolish head but a pleasing face and tongue. On the other, his first mate, a smug, stoic, uptight, ridiculously intelligent bastard who he had finally talked into ...sharing his bed. At least in the physical sense. He'd won the argument that the captain's bed was the most comfortable place on the ship, but anything beyond that was met with a pointed look and a reach for the sword hilt.

It was a damn good life here on the Enterprise.

He was Captain James T. Kirk of the pirate ship Enterprise, the most feared name on the open seas. He ran his crew with a mixture of charm, command, and the point of his sword. He was a good swordsman, a better brawler, and decent with a flint lock.

[OOC: This will be the ONLY pirate thread everyone, no multiple posts on multiple journals! Post just in here for this! Today only!]

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My turn. Kirk slipped in fast, blade coming free arm coming around his stomach as his other arm crossed above it. He used the down swing of his blade to try and hide the draw of his dagger on the other side.

Out of muscle memory, he brought the rapier up in a parry, even as he saw the hand reach across for supposedly another weapon. The cutlass would do more damage in its present form. But he could try to parry it with his own, yes--

A little too late. His own dagger drawn from his right hip, he pushed Kirk's off to the side, but it glanced his side, cutting through his shirt and skin. Spock leapt back, putting distance between them once more as green blood began to spread along the shirt from his wound. Silent, hearing the rain begin to fall harder around them.

Vulcans. Strange people from the north with their thick, green blood that made people whisper prayers of protection and curse them as demons from the deep. He pressed his advantage immediately, his own thin blood staining his shirt and creeping along his side. The pain was ignorable - for now. He just hoped it wasn't too deep. He came swinging in, refusing to give the stranger any refuge.

Kirk rushed far too much swinging the cutlass like that. The true edge of his rapier caught the broad steel, and slid with the grating sound of metal against metal until only the wire hilt of the rapier protected his hand from the cutlass. The same happened with the daggers, clashing together, practically grinding--

And then the rain became a real factor. His footing slipped on the wet stones, cutting down what advantage he had in strength. As Spock attempted to regain his stability and stance, he was forced back. Until he met a wall.

Kirk forced his greater weight against Spock, their bodies almost touching as he forced his arms to press against steel. One slip either one and one of them could be dead...

Spock shoved back against him, adrenaline and indignity fueling his already superior strength. Getting him away--always needed more distance--and disengaging their blades, he took the opportunity to thrust the rapier forward towards Kirk's chest.

They needed to end this soon, now. He was hungry, tired, wet, and bleeding. Generally not how he wanted to end his evening.

It took every bit of speed to whip the dagger up and bring the point of the rapier just past him, enough that it sliced his shirt but didn't skin. Kirk growled and jumped back, moving just out beyond a pool of light, standing in almost complete shadow - watching.

The rain was a downpour, now, falling over the port city in a thick sheet, isolating them from the rest of the town, dimming the already faint light from the evening lamps. The rush in his ears had to be more than his own heart pumping.

Spock shifted his stance, took a small step forward, and thrust the the blade once, twice, though less to kill him and more to investigate.

Step. Step. Steps hushed by the down pour as he dodged the thrusts. He circled slowly, determined to get behind the Vulcan or at least to his blind-side. He had every plan in his mind to knock the bastard out and take every thing from him, including that pretty rapier.

He could see and hear him just barely, but sharpening his senses anymore than they were was out of the question. The rain was deafening with distant thunder and light reflected off all the wrong places because of the water, muddling his awareness of the surroundings. His grip tightened on both his weapons as he watched, waited.

He couldn't wait for him forever, though. Neither could he turn around and walk away.

A chance lunge.

A foolish chance.

Kirk was in there a second later, kicking out Spock's knee even as the cutlass came swinging in and curving around the rapier, pulling it from Spock's hand and sending it to the side.

Within a split second, the end of that cutlass was at Spock's face, its golden haired owner panting, glaring darkly at the man at his feet.

From his position, held still on one knee by the blade so close, Spock returned to the glare.

The dagger was still gripped tight in his hand. The man was going to kill him anyway, so what harm was there in one last move? He brought it up to clash with the cutlass, to push it away. If he could get rid of the other dagger somehow, maybe get his hand around that delicate human throat...

The movement of the dagger made him twitch and he jerked forward, the edge of the point of the cutlass slashing through Spock's cheek as he keeps moving forward, the tip of his dagger going for Spock's throat. "YIELD!"

The slash across his cheek made him inhale sharply, the ice cold pain of the cut emphasized by his defeat. Spock said nothing to his demand, but simply tossed the dagger aside. His gaze dropped to the ground.

"...excellent fighter," Kirk licked his lips, his hair falling into his eyes and dripping, "Good at mixin' cards, a right shrewd bastard. A Vulcan out of his country? Yer like a lost pup." He walked slowly around to put his foot down on the rapier, but lowers his own cutlass. "But a damn fool ta give up wealth and excitement and a sure place on one of tha most feared ships in all the seas."

He snorted and sheathed the cutlass, then turned, starting to walk off into the wet night.

He shifted to sit back on his heels, silently hunched over, as he stared down at his fists on his thighs. He could barely distinguish the blood rolling down his face from the wound and the water dripping from his hair, though one was somewhat warmer than the other. He could see it drip, though, a large green splotch on the back of his hand.

He had nearly forgotten the amount of days he had been wandering away from Vulcan, but it all bled into one unaccomplished haze. It wouldn't make a difference if that aimlessness were centered on a ship out at sea. Wealth was unnecessary except for basic needs. Excitement, on the other hand...only now was his mind and blood starting to calm.

"Wait, Captain." His voice loud enough to just get over the rain.

Kirk stopped as he heard those words, and he looked over his shoulder. With the play of light and shadow over his body, he looked like a demon in the night more then a man. "Yes?"

Slowly, ignoring the pain in his side and the persistent hunger, he pushed himself to his feet. Just standing, not making a move for his discarded weapons. "May I join you?"

"Join me." His voice was blank, brows up. "Why in the name of Davy Jones would I let ye on my lady after ye insulted her?"

He spared a moment to check the wound at his side, a tentative touch of his fingers that came back tinted with green. He looked up to arch a single eyebrow at the captain. Still offended by his comments, when the ship itself, he was sure, wouldn't care...

"It was a premature statement based on my initial disinterest in you." He had another goal in mind, however shortsighted it was. At least it might lead him somewhere, further from Vulcan than at present. "I apologize."

Kirk's fingers flashed to his side, shoving the palm into the light where his own slick blood could be seen. "Says the man that tried ta kill me."

He could not help feel the swell of pride at having at least making a mark on his opponent. It did not show in his expression, of course.

"There is no reason to refuse on those grounds," Well, there was, but he preferred to just keep talking. "I have already attempted to kill you once, and I believe it would be useless to try again."

Silence from the captain as he stared at the other man. Finally, when he had decided on something, he dropped his extended hand. "Swear on it. On your honor." Vulcans not only had honor and lots of it, but believed in that honor.

He stared at Kirk, disbelief creeping onto his face along the edges of his eyes. He knew about Vulcan customs, he knew how to play on it, had even assumed that Spock still had something to swear on even though he had frequented the same den of debauchery as Kirk.

Which was more faith than Spock himself had put in his own honour since leaving Vulcan. Well, now was the time to prove he wasn't some disgraced vrekasht (), no matter what they had said to his back as he left.

Spock dropped to one knee before him, once again ignoring the pain at his side, the wet and hard ground, and the instincts that screamed at him for putting himself in such a dangerous position for the second time in one evening. His head bowed, "I swear on my honour, Captain, that I shall not kill or attempt to kill you in any fashion, and my allegiance is bound to you alone." He hesitated. In Vulcan, there was a phrase that usually rounded out the oath, to exhibit its honesty, but he was unsure how to translate it without implying a literal meaning. Defeated in most, if not all, aspects, he just said it. "You may...dispose of me as you wish."

Edited 2009-09-21 03:59 (UTC)

Kirk wasn't expecting that much, but a certain pleased smile came to his lips. He reached down with his bloodied hand and drew his fingertips across the pale throat, smudging it with blood, like an alpha. "Certainly not going to dispose of part of my crew."

He gestured for Spock to get to his feet, giving a lazy grin. "My name is Kirk. Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise." He offered that bloodied hand, knowing Spock's own was just as bloodied, but the rain is starting to wash it away.

Re: Two Sharks and Spilled Blood [Flashback]

cso-spock.livejournal.com - 2009-09-21 05:34 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Two Sharks and Spilled Blood [Flashback]

kirktastic.livejournal.com - 2009-09-21 11:26 (UTC) - Expand

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