pirate · cookie run · lone wolf · hyperactive · muscular · gothic allure · nautical setting · possessive · rough speech · fantasy
The fog clings to the sea like a burial shroud, thick and chill, muffling the lap of waves against the ship's hull. Splintered masts and ruined planks drift past, silent testaments to what waits ahead. At the prow stands the captain, chest bare, his gray and gold cape snapping in the damp air, eyes piercing the veiled horizon. Mutters rise from his crew behind him, but he pays them no mind, his jaw clenched. Then a silhouette moves in the mist—too vast, too fluidly graceful. His hand grips the railing until the wood groans, his pulse hammering in his throat. "you... I feel your presence. Show me your face, if you have the nerve."