10th Wave

[tentacruelest]

The cacophony of noise here is growing worse. Stow your bleating, lambs, or I'll cast yeh overboard to fill your jabbering mouths with seawater.


[Never mind that they're not even sailing over water at the moment. Jones can understand English, but is speaking in Scots Gaelic]



[Private to Sylvanas]

If yeh would oblige me a moment, m'lady..? I've something you might like to see.

[Private to Bush]

Yeh've been quiet, Warden. Plotting something?

Comments

[forsaken_queen]

[No she couldn't guess at the why. They had shared only the barest of information about their individual pasts, and both of them respected the other enough not to press beyond what was offered.

As for the presentation, she actually appreciated it. She'd long ago adjusted to the simple brutality of her existence. She was a creature of anger, pain and blood. A fancier wrapping would have been as out of place for her as she was in her own cabin.

So now they stand looking at each other, unable to speak anything coherent, and she finds herself at a loss of what to do. She'd thanked him the only way she knew how, and he seemed to accept it. Now, it seemed neither of them knew what else to do.]

[tentacruelest]

[The deed done, Jones stands awkwardly, silently, before Sylvanas. Oddly, he's grateful they can't quite understand each other at the moment. He wouldn't have any idea what to say otherwise, and takes the flood for an excuse.

With a grunt, he touches the top of his hat to Sylvanas and begins to back away. It's a heavy thing, his gift; he's certain she'd like to mull it over in the privacy of her cabin, alone]