23: [Action/Video] Pirates

[dashboardlite]

Who'll make his mark
The captain cried
To the devil drink a toast
We'll glut the hold
With cups of gold
And we'll feed the sea with ghosts
I see your hunger for a fortune
Could be better
Served beneath my flag
If you've the stomach
For a broadside
Come aboard my pretty boys
I will take you and make you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

Obscenely loud music is blaring from one of the first floor parlors, and it possesses a remarkable nautical quality that borders on the fucking epic.  You might be wondering the reason for these festive tunes, curious resident.  If you happen to be peering through your communicator or walking down the hall, venturing into the nearest open door, your vision is assaulted by a swath of colorful fabrics draped over the furniture, from the ceilings, along the walls.  The alluring glitter of gold winks up at you from piles on the floor, and a bust of someone who looks suspiciously like Edward Teach is bedecked in jewelry and scarves.

The captain rose from a silk divan
With a pistol in his fist
And shot the lock from an iron box
And a blood red ruby kissed
I give you jewelry of turquoise
A crucifix of solid gold
One hundred thousand silver pieces
It is just as I foretold
You, you see there before you
Everything you've ever dreamed.

You might even see Dean Winchester, sporting an eyepatch and a large, plumed hat, lounging on a silk divan.  His jeans are tucked into heavy leather boots and he's wielding a flintlock pistol, cleaning the barrel with a chamois rag.  Pausing for one moment, he sets the gun aside and reaches over to pick up one of the gold doubloons scattered across the floor.  He then peels away the leafing and pops the chocolate money into his mouth, enjoying it with obvious relish.  Turning the music down as soon as it breaks to an instrumental interlude, Dean crosses his legs on the divan, getting comfortable.

He pulls out a hip flask, taking a swig and saluting the camera with his left hand - observant residents might notice that he appears to have only four fingers now.  Then he spreads his arms to welcome the adoring audience.

"All aboard, bitches."

Comments

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

.....What are doing?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Celebratin' pirate day, buddy.

[He lifts his goblet in a toast before taking a sip.]

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

What is pirate?

*He's on video, but he's lurking just outside the door.*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

A pirate's like...

[Good question.]

A really badass dude with a sword who goes around stealing treasure and burying it for later.

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Burying it?

*Okay, that makes zero sense. But Maskers won't question it because there are more important issues at hand. Hurrrr.*

Are missing a finger. Got in fight?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...you could say that.

[He leans in, deepening his voice and spreading his arms, adopting the position of The Epic Storyteller.]

Or you could say that I was captured by rival pirates and tortured for the whereabouts of my treasure map!

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*Okaaaaaay. Masky is gonna make the epic move from video to actually moving into the room. But he's clearly ready to bolt. You are being oh so strange.*

Rival pirates?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Yeah, rival pirates! You wanna hear the story?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

I ....

*He has no idea. You are being really weird and he doesn't know what to do.*

Buried you?

*Okay.. his brain isn't really functioning all that well right now.*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean makes a few theatrical, elaborate hand-gestures as he describes The Sordid Pirate Tale.]

The bastard captain crept up on me and drugged me!

[OOGY-BOOGY-BOO.]

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

.... Why?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Uhhh.]

...no idea.

But he was one evil sonuvabitch. He and his crew tied me down and tortured me for information!

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

What information?

*You now have an enraptured audience of one. Masky is sitting cross-legged on the ground looking up at Dean with something approaching rapt attention. This is probably the cutest a SlenderMinion has ever been.*

... Did you tell them?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

They wanted to know where I hid my treasure!

[Dean grabs for one of the small, fake swords next to the divan, and flails it menacingly.]

I told them I'd never talk! And I didn't...but they tried anyway. Hours they were at me, question after question, cut after cut - I nearly passed out from exhaustion, but I never gave in!

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Why didn't kill them?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Well I couldn't, at first - they had me tied to a post! But my loyal First Mate arrived and helped me to escape.

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

First mate?

*None of this is sinking in. None of it.*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[The story halts as he struggles to put this in layman's terms.]

Yeah, y'know, like...a...close friend.

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Oh. And saved you?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Yeah, the first mate saved me. Then we took on the evil captain together.

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

What happened to the captain?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

We, uh...we defeated him! And returned the ship to its rightful owner!

[METAPHORS. HE CAN USE THEM.]

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*He sits there silently processing all this. All he gets out of this story is that Dean was buried and drugged, he didn't talk, his friend saved them and they were on a boat.*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...you okay, little masked dude?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*He nods.*

Just trying to understand. Not used to talking.

*Well having people engage him in conversation anyway.*

Are okay now?