CAPTAIN OPHELIA SPARROW, D4 :: FIN

( a g e ) eighteen.
( g e n d e r ) female.
( l o c a t i o n ) the high seas of district four.
( s e x u a l i t y ) heterosexual.
( o c c u p a t i o n ) swashbuckler, privateer, marauder... pirate, yeah.

you've got these little things
that you've been running from
you either love it or guess you don't
you're such a pretty thing to be running from anyone
a vision with nowhere to go

( a p p e a r a n c e )

The two Peacekeepers standing guard on the deck of the fresh-painted sailing vessel don't think too much of it when they see them coming, the group of redheaded, freckled girls huddled together against the sea wind as they shuffle along the docks. There are six of them, varying ages, but the oldest is clearly leading them, carrying herself with a steady confidence and snapping at the littlest one when she falls behind. The tide is just starting to come in and the vast majority of the workforce has gone home for the night, but it's not uncommon for a few stragglers to be hanging around in the dusky hour or so before nightfall.

"Evening, officers," the oldest of the band of girls says brightly, her voice a commanding, charismatic alto that calls attention to itself without meaning to. In fact, everything about her seems to draw attention, most noticeably her imposing physical stature. She stands at least a head above the other girls who can only be her sisters, at least a solid six feet tall and sturdily-built, strong-looking shoulders and lean musculature that all but screams "career." Not much skin is visible around the long trenchcoat that shields her from the whipping winds, but her face is pale and freckled with pixie-like features, full lips and a button nose, ocean-colored eyes with translucent lashes. All the sisters seem to share a similar complexion, along with a common denominator of flaming-red hair that waves behind them in the wind like flowing battle-banners. The tall girl's is thick, wavy, falling to just past her shoulders and whipping around her face as she leads her ragtag band up onto the deck. "Have the shrimp boats come in yet? We're looking for our father."

"Sure have, miss, dropped anchor about an hour ago," the younger of the two guards affirms, not-so-subtly sizing up the statuesque redhead in front of him. He's fresh from the academy, maybe two years older than her, tops, and she's quite pretty other than the air about her that quietly affirms she could put someone in a sleeper hold as easily as look at them.

"Hm, weird. He was supposed to be home for dinner but he never showed," the girl hums contemplatively, thin eyebrows creasing into a frown as she looks out at the choppy waves on the horizon. But then her focus seems to change, eyes focusing in on her surroundings as she points a bird-boned hand with delicate fingers but work-worn calluses on the skin to the sails overhead. "So is this the new schooner?"

"Yup," the older Peacekeeper nods, preoccupied with trying to get his cigarette lit against the whipping wind. "Fresh outta the dry dock. Gonna use it for patrols and rescue missions, far as I know."

"So it's pretty fast, then?"

"Fastest rig we got. Why're you so curious about it?"

The girl breaks into a brilliant, saccharine smile, a flash of crooked but white teeth peeking out from between wind-chapped lips as she continues surveying the schooners bobbing in the waves. "Well, if you want me to be perfectly honest, it's my intention to commandeer this ship, take to the water, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weaselly black guts out."

The two Peacekeepers break into spluttering laughter, the younger one grinning wolfishly and wrapping an arm around the oldest girl's shoulders. "Honey, you think six little girls can run this rig, you go right ahead."

"Glad to have your permission," she says with an angelic smile before nodding at another girl who might be the second-oldest. In a flash the both of them have shed their coats and yanked out wickedly sharp sabres from their belts, maneuvering lightning fast until they've got the blades held directly against the guards' throats. Nonchalantly, as if making an offhand statement about the weather, the tall one smirks and examines her ragged nails. "Don't be alarmed, gentlemen, we are taking the ship."

so tell me right now
you think you're ready for it?
i want to know why you've got me going
so let's go, we'll take it out of here
i think i'm ready to leap, i'm ready to live

( p e r s o n a l i t y )

"They'll have your tongues for this, the lot of you," the younger of the guards grumbles, straining against the expertly tied ropes that bind him, one of the younger girls watching him as the others busy themselves around the schooner's deck.

"Yeah, if they can catch us, which isn't likely since this is the fastest rig you've got," the tall girl says with an unconcerned wave of her hand, as if being ridiculously reckless is something she does every day. Her sword has been shoved back under her belt, her hair windblown and her stance defiant so that everything about her exudes an air of brash, careless abandon. That is, until the littlest redhead goes peering over the starboard rail, one hand clinging feebly to one of the rigging lines. Then the oldest sister's eyes harden, her face knitting into a concerned expression that speaks of a fierce protectiveness one might not assume she had at first glance. "Grace, stop that! Quit fooling around and go below deck before you trip your ass overboard."

Her tone is gruff, authoritarian, lacking any sort of tact or refinement but still so powerful that no one would dare not to heed it, and at her barked command, little Grace plants her feet back on deck and sulks off to the cabin, the door clicking shut behind her. Likewise, the rest of the sisters seem to fall in line with whatever she tells them, almost as if she's replaced their mother in terms of who calls the shots. It occurs to the young Keeper that maybe this is the case; after all, kids without one or both parents aren't exactly a rare story in a District where the sea has claimed so many lives. "So that bit about you looking for your dad..."

"Was a lie. He's dead," she says absently, tugging at the mainsail and waving the second-oldest over to help her.

"And you ate it up, didn't you, rookie?" his older counterpart snaps, out of view but very present with their backs pressed against each other by the tension of the ropes. "What did I tell you a million times; you can't trust a pretty girl -"

"Oh, I'm very trustworthy," she cuts him off, earning a half-surprised-half-disgusted laugh from both the hogtied Peacekeepers. "Just depends on how you look at it. Me? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest girl you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly... stupid."

She scoffs in disappointment when they look at her blankly, like she doesn't have the patience to deal with anyone else's stupidity, and with that the tall girl is off again, climbing up into the rigging like a monkey and shouting to her sisters below. "Move it, guys! Lillian says we got an hour before the next patrol comes through, and I want to be well out to sea by then."

A smaller, intelligent-looking girl, Lillian presumably, checks her watch before looking worriedly up into the rigging. "Closer to forty-five minutes, Ophelia, if you account for the head wind and the tide, so we might need to -"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm workin' on it, make yourself useful and start hauling anchor," the oldest, now identified as Ophelia snaps, preoccupied with her work up in the rigging. The authoritarian ring to her voice, the way the others follow her commands like gospel, it's all too indicative that she's the mastermind in all this, the fearless leader roping her little siblings into grand theft marine for cheap thrills. The idea of it makes the younger guard scowl.

"So, is this some kinda weekend project for you, attacking Peacekeepers and hijacking Capitol property?"

Ophelia's eyes narrow to a deathly, chilling glare, making her even more intimidating than she seemed at first as she tugs at the mainsail with unnecessary force. "I'm doing what I have to do. I'm not letting my sisters starve, and if that means stealing a boat, it means stealing a boat." There's a sort of fierce determination behind her eyes, an air of competitiveness that challenges the whole world to take her on inherent in her movements as she completes her work in the rigging and drops back to the deck with all the grace of a jungle cat, too preoccupied with the preparations and bustle of her sisters to notice her prisoners starting to wriggle slowly out of the knots that bind them.

"Keep her talking," the older Keeper whispers to his partner, fingers picking themselves raw over the tight knots in the ragged nautical rope. "And when we get out, no second chances. Kill 'em all."

i'm ready to go, oh, oh, oh
get me out of my mind
get me out of my mind
i'm ready to go, oh, oh, oh
get me out of my mind

( h i s t o r y )

"Thing I don't get is what stealing a boat has to do with your sisters starving or not."

Ophelia rolls her eyes and finishes casting off, letting the ropes that hold the boat to shore fall into the water and scurrying over to the helm "Of course you don't. Artemis, get up to the bow and pull in the jibs! Evelyn, Aurora, keep an eye on the topsails, we're working against a nasty headwind."

"You know your way around a sailboat," the younger Keeper observes, trying not to wince when his partner pulls too hard on the ropes at their wrists.

"Grew up on the water, didn't I?" Ophelia says with a shrug, expertly maneuvering the vessel out into the bay, the movement so smooth one would never know she was fighting the wind. "Mama died when Grace was just a tiny thing, so we were always out on the boats with Papa after school, helping him. We know enough to get by."

"You said your father was dead."

"He is. Shipwreck. Last month." at this Ophelia looks more than a little broken, her face crumbling for a moment before she replaces it with an even harsher look of steely determination. "We lived off the food in the house for as long as we could. Artemis and I tried to go out and get jobs, but no one's hiring. But there's plenty of ships floating around out there chock full of stuff. And that's how stealing a boat is going to keep my sisters from starving."

The young officer fixes her with a quirked eyebrow of disbelief. "Piracy?"

"Piracy," Ophelia nods, breaking out into a grin as the salty night air blows her hair back in a fiery banner. "Take what you can. Give nothing back. We all went to training, even little Gracie. Lillian and I swiped the weapons from the training center, and Ripred knows no one's going to see it coming. There's a decent living to be made."

"An illegal living."

"Semantics."

"You stole a Capitol ship!" the Keeper squawks indignantly, squirming against the loosening knots. "What's semantic about that?!"

"Commandeered," Ophelia counters, raising a pedantic finger while steering the boat out of the mouth of the harbor. "I commandeered a Capitol ship. Learn your nautical terms, I've seen mall cops with more knowledge of seafaring lingo than you."

The young guard fixes her with a glare that she doesn't even register, barking an order for one of her sisters to trim the topsail. "So what are you planning on doing with us?"

"Well, Ev wanted to kill you," Ophelia shrugs offhandedly, smirking at the horrified expression on his face. "You know the saying, dead men tell no tales. But I figure you didn't do anything to us, so I'm going to take you boys out to Coral Cove, drop you off somewhere that'll give you a nice, long walk back to Peacekeeping headquarters. We'll be way out to sea by the time you get someone after us."

"Good plan, sweetheart," the older Keeper blusters, the ropes around the two officers finally dropping slack. "Might have worked if you'd considered the possibility of us getting loose."

They dive at her with quicksilver speed but she darts out of the way just as quickly, drawing the sword from her belt with a patronizing pout and shaking her head. "Now boys, I'm trying to do you a favor here. I'm too tired for this whole violence thing, and honestly I'm not too inclined to get blood all over my ship."

"It's not your ship!" the younger of the two guards shouts, lunging at her again only to have her slip under his arm and dart back up to the rigging hanging there with a mile-wide grin on her face.

"You know, she doesn't even have a name yet. I'm thinking The Black Pearl. Pretty but dangerous, sound like anyone else we know? Oi, you girls like the sound of The Black Pearl?" Ophelia shouts, sounds of assent rising from her sisters, who have also retreated into the rigging.

"You know that with you all up there we can just take her back to shore, right?" the older Keeper drawls out in a laugh, reaching for the helm. "And it'll be an express-lane Avoxing for every last one of you brats."

Ophelia's eyes narrow as she looks at the horizon, and then she dissolves into a fit of giggles that seem very oddly-timed, considering her impending doom. "Hmm, just as well. The Cove's just over there. I was going to drop you off all tidy-like, but I guess if you're going to be a pain in my ass... well, I hope you boys can swim."

With all the grace of a gymnast she lets go of her grip on the ropes, dropping through the air and darting her hands out to grab the boom at the bottom of the mast where the sail is attached. The momentum sends her careening forward, a foot planted firmly in the center of each Keeper's chest that sends them both flailing over the ship's back railing, landing in the water with a resounding splash. They resurface just in time to see a tall figure perched on the aft of the ship that is swiftly sailing away from them, hair flying like a flame in the wind as she laughs victoriously.

"Gentlemen, this is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught Captain Ophelia Sparrow."

you've got these little things
you wanted something for them
you'll either get it or guess you won't
what does it really mean to get nothing from anyone?
there's a million ways it could go

( c o d e w o r d )
odair

so tell me right now
you think you're ready for it?
i want to know why you've got me going
so let's go, we'll take it out of here
i think i'm ready to leap, i'm ready to live

( c o m m e n t s / o t h e r )

( f a c e c l a i m ) alexina graham

( h e a r i n g ) BF5E06
( e m p h a s i s ) BF8C06
( m a i n ) 9C9C31
( f l a s h b a c k ) 79965C
( s p e e c h ) 558F87

( p l o t s ) part of clover's sparrow sisters plot

( s o n g ) ready to go - panic! at the disco... but come on, we all know it's this.

i'm ready to go, oh, oh, oh
get me out of my mind
get me out of my mind
i'm ready to go, oh, oh, oh
get me out of my mind