3rd Wave

[tentacruelest]

[Jones is a deep, deep sleeper but he wakes with the sunrise. Each day is a new, hellish experience on the Barge but he scowls and stomps his way through them regardless.

Imagine his surprise when this morning he opens his door - releasing a small flood of his usual seawater, which, thanks to Maintenance, is contained by a make-shift dam - and spots children running about.

Not the handful of children he knows to be part of the Barge. New ones. And smaller people are easier to bully than full-grown ones.

Resolving to go about his day unbothered by the mechanics of the Admiral, Davy instead storms his way to the mess hall, literally using his claw to forcefully swat aside anyone smaller than four feet]


I'll thank whoever remains their true, full size to keep the vast majority of whelps under control. I've a mind to toss them over the side one by one; no ship is in need of this many cabin boys. No navy is.

Mind your brats. Or I will.

Comments

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Then you don't mind when people on land are smarter than you.

[tentacruelest]

I am well aware there are those who are smarter than me.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Good. You'd be hopeless if you were that dumb.

[tentacruelest]

[Talking with Arya is frustrating and exhausting; at last, Jones sags his shoulders in defeat]

Enough, child.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[She is counting that as a win. Sorry, Davy.]

I'm not a child, I'm practically a woman grown. Why is your face like that?

[tentacruelest]

A woman is not much better than a child.

Because it is cursed to be.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

She is when she can fight like a man.

[That seems like a legit enough explanation.] How do you uncurse it?

[tentacruelest]

Can she fight like a man?

When I once again begin to ferry souls to the afterlife.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Better than some men.

Then I guess you're cursed till you graduate.

[tentacruelest]

Better than crippled, blind men?

I have been cursed for generations. It's preferred.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Camel cunt.

You prefer to have - whatever - on your chin? [Spoken with an air of are you nuts]

[tentacruelest]

Think of another insult, girl with no face. Yeh've used that one already.

I prefer not to be commanded to ferry the dead.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

But it's a good one.

Who commanded you?

[tentacruelest]

I am of the sea. There are no camels within hundreds of miles. It is not a good one.

Name your pick of them, there were many. The most hated of which tended to be a slight English lord.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

There are camels where I came from. [Which clearly matters more.]

Lords always give commands. Most of them shouldn't be followed.

[tentacruelest]

You are not trying to insult yourself. A proper insult is one that cuts the recipient to the quick because there is a grain - or more than a grain - of truth to it.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

I learned camel cunt from sailors. [Which is sort of like her asking what would be good.]

[tentacruelest]

Then they hadn't the creativity you'd give a shark.

The game is simple. You spot flaws and yeh attack them. Same as you would with a sword.

For example, if you were any sort of feminine creature you'd burst into tears if I decided to call you a weedy, urchin-snouted stringy-haired barnacle of so little consequence you wouldn't be worth the trouble of sheering off the side of my ship.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Okay, she laughs at that. And at t his point isn't sure if she likes him or hates him, go figure.]

Good thing I'm not any sort of stupid feminine creature, then.

[tentacruelest]

No; I can't sense a lick of femininity about you.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Good.

[tentacruelest]

Worked hard to scourge yourself of your own parts?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

The only part I need is my sword.

[tentacruelest]

So yeh can do without your head, your heart, your kidneys?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

You're being stupid again.