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The Captain was dead. Her demise also brought about the dissolution of her vice grip on these outlaw ships, and the three formidable women who’d murdered her were ready and willing to step into the vacuum left behind.
Of course, the great majority of the pirates had little choice as to whether to follow the terrible triumvirate -- most of them were, by now, enslaved to Hela’s will, mere skeletal shadows of their former self. Though Azula could see the draw in employing a bunch of zombified servants, it struck her as an altogether dull avenue of conquest. She much more enjoyed bending the weak minds of the living to her will through pure terror and manipulation. The amount of power she felt wrenching someone from their former allegiance into her service was… delicious.
Her doubts remained about Hela and Rominia, then. Their tactics didn’t suit her; Hela’s knack for outright domination and Rominia’s brute force. She preferred a more twisted game than either woman did. It didn’t help matters that on top of her concerns about their styles, she just didn’t really like either of them.
“Azula. Azula.”
The fire princess looked up. The plate of food before her sat mostly untouched, sloshed around a bit from where she’d been nudging it around with her fork. Her companions insisted on relentlessly boring her with whatever mundane topic they deemed worthy of discussing, so she found a new hobby to pass the time. Now, however, Rominia glared at her expectantly.
“You with us, princess?” the dog asked, the title more of a dig coming from her gaping canine maw than the respectful acknowledgement it should have been.
“Honestly no,” Azula rolled her eyes and shoved her plate towards the warrior. “Here, table scraps for our mutt.”
She stood from her chair, striding toward the door. The trio of women had holed themselves up here, in the cabin of one of the few ships in the harbor left capable of sailing. Azula had incinerated quite a few during the scuffle with the Captain, and the ones that hadn’t met her flames had been punctured by Hela’s necroswords beyond usefulness. This vessel, the Obsidia, had barely withstood, and now their motley crew of patchwork pirates busied themselves preparing it to cast off. Hela had grown quite bored quite quickly with their surroundings, and insisted on seeking out friendlier shores.
“You won’t find any shores here,” Rominia had warned.
“That’s alright,” Hela had sneered. “I already have a destination in mind.”
Now, the mysterious map the Goddess of Death had procured from the shredded bits of the Captain’s corpse splayed across the circular wooden table the fire princess’s two companions huddled around. In the corner, scrawled in shamefully bad handwriting, a simple note: ‘Tia Dalma’s Shack, seek the witch out to gain fortune’s favor.’
What did that even mean? ‘Gain fortune’s favor’ -- what a bunch of bullshit. Azula thought it was evident from how they’d surgically slaughtered an entire pirate coalition that fortune was already heavily favoring them, and if she were being completely truthful, the idea of adding yet another witch to their coterie utterly repulsed her. Hela herself was already growing tiresome to the teenager, why the hell did they need to seek out some other hag that would no doubt be even more of a pretender than the so-called ‘Goddess of Death’?
Of course, she’d been outvoted. The old woman’s release of Rominia had placed the dog firmly outside Azula’s camp, and although the fire princess viewed the mercenary’s opinion as negligibly important, Hela seemed to give it enough weight to tip the scales.
“Azula.”
The old woman’s voice reached her ears as her fingers wrapped around the brass door handle. The sun’s rays peeked through the windows of the cabin, but it was still relatively dark, save for the parts illuminated by candlelight. Her blue flames danced on the wicks, giving the room an eerie, sapphire glow that, thankfully, still flickered low enough that the princess’ deep scowl was hidden from her companions. She stood still for a few moments, awaiting Hela’s inevitable rebuke, altogether seething beneath the surface about how control of this whole situation kept barely slipping from her grasp.
“You can’t leave, dear,” Hela grinned. “Didn’t you say you’d had experience captaining a ship?”
Azula’s interest piqued ever so slightly before Rominia barged into the conversation.
“She’s a child,” the wolf barked. “Surely you aren’t -- ”
Those words barely escaped the enforcer’s lips before a blade wreathed in sapphire flames split cracks into the table. Fire spit up from the crevices of the wood, and Rominia shoved herself back, almost tripping over her chair as she stood up and placed a hand on the hilt of her hammer. Azula’s fingers curled around the Captain’s sword, burning bright in the cabin’s low light. Her hazel eyes glared daggers into the warrior's face. If looks could kill -- well, Rominia certainly would put up a fight, but Azula wouldn’t make it easy.
For her part, Hela remained in her chair, perfectly still, unflinching. It infuriated the firebender, but she let it wash off her.
“A child who captained some of the Fire Nation’s greatest, most powerful warships,” Azula bit back, turning her face to look at Hela. “A schooner like this is nothing to me.” Inside, she cursed herself; why in the world did she care at all about this bitch’s approval? Why was she letting the raven-haired woman keep her spindly little fingers dug in so effortlessly?
Rominia didn’t reply, but simply turned to Hela, her benefactor, for the decision. The goddess gave Azula a once-over. She observed the princess with the same curious glint she always did, ever since she’d released her from the brig of that first, awful ship. Azula didn’t like it one bit -- she hated the prying eyes of adults, always watching her like hawks, expecting her to screw up. She knew they judged her for her youth, but the fools were always mistaken.
“I’ll get us to the hag in the shack,” she crossed her arms, “and then I’ll teach her some proper penmanship.”
Hela smiled further, and nodded. “Well, then, princess,” she clapped her hands, “we’d best get a move on.”
Of course, the great majority of the pirates had little choice as to whether to follow the terrible triumvirate -- most of them were, by now, enslaved to Hela’s will, mere skeletal shadows of their former self. Though Azula could see the draw in employing a bunch of zombified servants, it struck her as an altogether dull avenue of conquest. She much more enjoyed bending the weak minds of the living to her will through pure terror and manipulation. The amount of power she felt wrenching someone from their former allegiance into her service was… delicious.
Her doubts remained about Hela and Rominia, then. Their tactics didn’t suit her; Hela’s knack for outright domination and Rominia’s brute force. She preferred a more twisted game than either woman did. It didn’t help matters that on top of her concerns about their styles, she just didn’t really like either of them.
“Azula. Azula.”
The fire princess looked up. The plate of food before her sat mostly untouched, sloshed around a bit from where she’d been nudging it around with her fork. Her companions insisted on relentlessly boring her with whatever mundane topic they deemed worthy of discussing, so she found a new hobby to pass the time. Now, however, Rominia glared at her expectantly.
“You with us, princess?” the dog asked, the title more of a dig coming from her gaping canine maw than the respectful acknowledgement it should have been.
“Honestly no,” Azula rolled her eyes and shoved her plate towards the warrior. “Here, table scraps for our mutt.”
She stood from her chair, striding toward the door. The trio of women had holed themselves up here, in the cabin of one of the few ships in the harbor left capable of sailing. Azula had incinerated quite a few during the scuffle with the Captain, and the ones that hadn’t met her flames had been punctured by Hela’s necroswords beyond usefulness. This vessel, the Obsidia, had barely withstood, and now their motley crew of patchwork pirates busied themselves preparing it to cast off. Hela had grown quite bored quite quickly with their surroundings, and insisted on seeking out friendlier shores.
“You won’t find any shores here,” Rominia had warned.
“That’s alright,” Hela had sneered. “I already have a destination in mind.”
Now, the mysterious map the Goddess of Death had procured from the shredded bits of the Captain’s corpse splayed across the circular wooden table the fire princess’s two companions huddled around. In the corner, scrawled in shamefully bad handwriting, a simple note: ‘Tia Dalma’s Shack, seek the witch out to gain fortune’s favor.’
What did that even mean? ‘Gain fortune’s favor’ -- what a bunch of bullshit. Azula thought it was evident from how they’d surgically slaughtered an entire pirate coalition that fortune was already heavily favoring them, and if she were being completely truthful, the idea of adding yet another witch to their coterie utterly repulsed her. Hela herself was already growing tiresome to the teenager, why the hell did they need to seek out some other hag that would no doubt be even more of a pretender than the so-called ‘Goddess of Death’?
Of course, she’d been outvoted. The old woman’s release of Rominia had placed the dog firmly outside Azula’s camp, and although the fire princess viewed the mercenary’s opinion as negligibly important, Hela seemed to give it enough weight to tip the scales.
“Azula.”
The old woman’s voice reached her ears as her fingers wrapped around the brass door handle. The sun’s rays peeked through the windows of the cabin, but it was still relatively dark, save for the parts illuminated by candlelight. Her blue flames danced on the wicks, giving the room an eerie, sapphire glow that, thankfully, still flickered low enough that the princess’ deep scowl was hidden from her companions. She stood still for a few moments, awaiting Hela’s inevitable rebuke, altogether seething beneath the surface about how control of this whole situation kept barely slipping from her grasp.
“You can’t leave, dear,” Hela grinned. “Didn’t you say you’d had experience captaining a ship?”
Azula’s interest piqued ever so slightly before Rominia barged into the conversation.
“She’s a child,” the wolf barked. “Surely you aren’t -- ”
Those words barely escaped the enforcer’s lips before a blade wreathed in sapphire flames split cracks into the table. Fire spit up from the crevices of the wood, and Rominia shoved herself back, almost tripping over her chair as she stood up and placed a hand on the hilt of her hammer. Azula’s fingers curled around the Captain’s sword, burning bright in the cabin’s low light. Her hazel eyes glared daggers into the warrior's face. If looks could kill -- well, Rominia certainly would put up a fight, but Azula wouldn’t make it easy.
For her part, Hela remained in her chair, perfectly still, unflinching. It infuriated the firebender, but she let it wash off her.
“A child who captained some of the Fire Nation’s greatest, most powerful warships,” Azula bit back, turning her face to look at Hela. “A schooner like this is nothing to me.” Inside, she cursed herself; why in the world did she care at all about this bitch’s approval? Why was she letting the raven-haired woman keep her spindly little fingers dug in so effortlessly?
Rominia didn’t reply, but simply turned to Hela, her benefactor, for the decision. The goddess gave Azula a once-over. She observed the princess with the same curious glint she always did, ever since she’d released her from the brig of that first, awful ship. Azula didn’t like it one bit -- she hated the prying eyes of adults, always watching her like hawks, expecting her to screw up. She knew they judged her for her youth, but the fools were always mistaken.
“I’ll get us to the hag in the shack,” she crossed her arms, “and then I’ll teach her some proper penmanship.”
Hela smiled further, and nodded. “Well, then, princess,” she clapped her hands, “we’d best get a move on.”
Quest: In the Heart of the Sea
Azula, Hela, Rominia
Post WC: 1037 (according to Google Docs)
Thread WC: 1037/20000 (according to GDocs)