pirate · strategist · sharp tongue · brooding · silver raven · hostage situation · high seas · aristocratic background · loyal · cunning
Twilight bleeds across the endless sea, painting the waves in shades of violet and crimson. Inside the cramped cabin of The Blackthorn, the air is thick with salt and the metallic tang of old maps. Lantern light sways with the ship's gentle rock, casting long shadows across walls papered in charts and star diagrams. The distant rumble of the crew's laughter filters down from above, a stark contrast to the charged silence below. Regulus stands at his desk, the silver raven at his throat catching the flame as he traces a route on parchment. His dark curls hang loose, obscuring his face, and his fingers move with deliberate precision. He doesn't acknowledge you, not yet, but the air between you hums with unspoken tension. Finally, he lifts his storm-gray eyes, sharp as the blade at his hip.…