Call me Out

[dammitmasa]

Faded characters are currently inactive. Please do not call them out!

Ronon Dex Stargate: Atlantis chewie	Wolverine X-Men (films) lumberjackman	Jack Horner Fables originaljackass	Ganondorf Legend of Zelda dragmire	Xander Harris BtVS xandman
Gendry Game of Thrones bullhorned	Carver Hawke Dragon Age anotherstory	Iskander Fate/Zero conquershearts	Isabela Dragon Age sixthings	Tyrion Lannister Game of Thrones impathy
Avatar Wan Legend of Korra hadwanjob	Ling Yao Fullmetal Alchemist avaricious	John Stewart DC Animated brightestday	Samurai Goroh F-Zero hageshii	Hakoda Avatar: TLA hakoda
Lilly Pendragon Suikoden fortinto	Nathan Drake Uncharted selfnnamed	Will Turner PotC pirateblood	Zelos Wilder Tales of Symphonia wilderchoice	Arthur Pendragon Merlin (BBC) arturius

Full Journal List

code by cawaii
- Refer to the list above for an active muse. -
- To call them out, put their name in the subject line. -
- Prose or commentspam are fine! -
- Start with a scenario or give a prompt for one you'd like to see.

Preferences:
- I don't play for shipping, fluff, or smut. If it arrives naturally, I'll play it. But not as a starting point.
- In universe, AUs, crossovers, post-game, or other situations are cool.
- I will play prose or brackets, but definitely prefer prose.

Comments

[whitby]

Robin savoured her time alone. She stole it in seconds -- ignoring the rigging for a good long while in favour of stripping off her heavy frock coat and the light vest beneath. Left to only the light, grungy linen of her shirt, she found she didn't suffer from the cold. And she found her belly-wound better knit together than it had previously been. The woman laughed into the inky, wet darkness. I've done it! A Slayer, certain to die, had cheated death and lived still. Oh, how her Watcher would have cringed to hear it.

By dying and undying, by signing up with Captain Turner's crew, and by not relinquishing her birthright, she'd done what every pirate knew to do: she'd taken it all, and she'd given nothing back. Soon enough, Whitby expected she could writhe her way out of the Dutchman's grip as well. But until then? She would play the dutiful crew-woman, see to the riggings, and follow every order. Or at least be seen to be doing so.

With this in mind, the Captain's roared commands roused her from a self-satisfied nap stolen on a trestle of coiled rope. Her soft boots slid onto the deck and she popped up at the first sound of men being called from their berths. And oh, what a sight met her! Whirling maelstroms dancing among the sails. Playing games with the cloth and rope -- sometimes cheeky, sometimes violent. The storm brought the façade of life to her cheeks and a glint in he eye. Chaos excited her, so long as that chaos was not hers to tame.

Whitby -- formerly Captain -- slunk her way down to the main deck with a smug smile on her face. She paused to mock-curtsey at just about any sailor who dared stare a moment too long at this newly arrived soul. This new slave to the mast. Already, the grumblings had begun -- some crude, and some superstitious. Most negative, laughing at the thought of a woman hand. Robin found it unnecessary to prove herself, opting instead to make glaring errors and beginner mistakes. Let them underestimate her, and let her learn the lengths and breadths of the captain's patience. Learn whether he was a punishing man.

Currently, she was fastening a length of rope to an aft rail -- and doing it sloppily besides. A clumsy knot, bound to come undone as the storm continued to rage and pluck and flirt with the Dutchman's trappings.