SHIPHAND GRACE SPARROW ☼ D4 {FIN}

All the rowboats in the paintings
They keep trying to row away
And the captains' worried faces
Stay contorted and
Staring at the waves

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appearance

They’ll keep hanging
In their gold frames
For forever, forever and a day
All the rowboats in the oil paintings
They keep trying to row away, row away[/i]

[/center]There's a pitter-pattering - well, more of a loud thud thud thud - from the main deck above the sleeping quarters. Excited footsteps dash about with shoe-clad stomps, hiding pale little feet. An ensemble of "Yo ho, Yo ho!" is barked amongst the racket from a beaming smile to compliment the squinting blue ocean eyes and a little hand to shield the youngest Sparrow Pirate's eyes from the glaring sun and the wind. A gull swoops down over the deck, spindly legs chasing it across the wooden surface with spindly, freckle-dotted arms clasping above a head of wild red hair. She'll catch it one day.

As Grace flings herself around the yacht, past the main sails and the jib and over the coils of rope, her baggy, too-big clothes billow around her arms and legs, fabric rolled up into scrunches to fit her lean little body. A tune fills the air against the creaking of the wooden ship scratches at nearby ears, toes now jumping up to climb the ladders and stand on the wooden planks as she makes her way up, up, up. "Yo, ho, haul together, hoist the colors high. Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die." The littlest Sparrow Sister recites the old song from many years ago, sung from the docks and moored boats by beggars and sailors alike. But this sea-dweller is no sailor.

"The king and his men stole the queen from her bed and bound her in her Bones. The seas be ours and by the powers where we will we'll roam!" she chants, fiery hair billowing in the wind under her hat she stole off a ship many months ago like the sails in the sea breeze when her sisters set off in search of new places, new faces. Quick little hands grip sails, ropes, chain - anything and everything she can find to act as a foothold as she hurries over the bounty collected from the last raid, her trusty telescope lodged in it's carrier case at her left hip. "Some men have died and some are alive and others sail on the sea – with the keys to the cage... and the Devil to pay we lay to Fiddler's Gre-!"

"GRACE!" a moody voice yells over the morning sunrise from below - it sounded like Ophelia. "Shut that racket up right now!" bellowed the Black Pearl's captain. Gracey laughed - throwing her freckled head back in glee. "The bell has been raised from it's watery grave - do you hEAR IT'S SEPULCHRAL TONE!?!" A mischievous smirk aligns the song, raising her voice as she darts along the port side. The mischief maker dances on planks thinner than her feet, tiptoes poised and arm outstretched, swinging a thin little sword as she fights off bandits and sea serpents of the deep. Stumbling forward as her hands grip at hunks of cloth in an attempt to hoist them up her arms and legs again, she presses onwards up the ship's decks. "WE ARE A CALL TO ALL, PAY HEAD THE SQUALL, AND TURN YOUR SAIL TOWARD HOME!"

"GRAAAAACE! SHUT UUUUP!" scream her sisters. Clearly they did not appreciate the morning air like she did, drinking in the sunrise as the orange colours shimmer against the waters edge like her hair in the light. Sometimes she would shut her eyes before she went to sleep and pretended she would wake up the next day: her hair as the sun in the morning, pale skin illuminated underneath flickers of blinding light, eyes the ocean and limbs the anchors that held everyone down at the bottom of her floors. Cackling, her eyes lined with orange lashes shut tight and gripping a rope with red knuckles flushed from the cold, she swings from the highest point of the ship and swoops past the mast, brown shoes skirting above the wood as would a bird's wings as it searches for food against the crystal mirrors of the ocean. The thirteen year old waits, times herself carefully, before flying through the air and landing on her feet with an almighty thud - right above the sleeping quarters.

"Catch me if you can!"Grace cackles, weaving as fast as she can through the barrels her tiny body could just squeeze in to (the perfect hiding spaces for general Gracie mischief) up the boat again, collecting their groans as bounty of her own. Some day, she'll fill her chest not only with stolen hats and hours of sleep - but with treasure worth far more than gold.

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personality

First there’s lights out
Then there’s lock up
Masterpieces serving maximum sentences
It’s their own fault for being timeless
There’s a price to pay and a consequence[/i][/center]

"Captain Gracie Sparrow, at your service! Ready to loot and scoot whilst you get off scotch-free!" the little girl in red bows to the astonished, wide-eyed faces of the ship they had just set foot on - now tied up to the mast with their mouths glued tightly shut. They gawk at her, as if to as how on Earth a little girl could commandeer such a ship, such an expedition, such a raid?

And the truth of the matter was that - as much as she wished she had done so - she simply couldn't.

Standing up straighter, she places her hat back on her head. asking "Now, if you don't mind - could you please point out to me where the juice is held?" just in time for Ophelia to shove her hat right over her eyes and shuffle her little body out of the way. "Move, Grace - and give me that back" her eldest sister snaps, snatching away the Captain's hat the littlest Sparrow ever-so loved to steal. Fuming and tight-lipped, cheeks flushing with embarrassment and anger, she groaned and stomped off. Fists clenched, the soles of her shoes scuff against the foredeck, rooting through the new bounty as her sisters search the rest of the ship. All she really finds is boxes of fish, shells - a few pearls which she sneaks into her endless pockets dotting her coat with a smirk. Selling these behind the other's backs would be an easy task. Sulking, the thirteen year old snuck past the moving figures of the Black Pearl's crew until she reached cages of animals piled high and tied down with ropes, fresh from the Capitol breeding grounds.

"Oi! Girl!" something squawked from one of the cages, almost causing her to jump out of her boots altogether. "Over here! Over here!" it yells, the source flapping it's brightly coloured wings to signal from it's cage. The parrot shuffled slightly as the girl's eyes widened, clawing at the small little bars with delight. "You talk?!"

"You talk?! You talk?! Yes ma'am!" barked the parrot. "Let me out! Let me out!" it insisted, fluttering it's red and white feathers. "Alright, alright, be patient!" Grace mumbled, fiddling with the cage until the door swung open. Swooping out of the cage, the bird flew around her head for a moment before landing on her shoulder, nibbling her ear affectionately. "Thank you! Thank you!"

The mischief maker giggled. "'S'alright. Just stay quiet, I'll have to smuggle you past my sisters" she whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. "Mischief, mischief, smuggling!" the parrot laughed as he fumbled under her coat, burying itself in fabric. Grace knew in that instant that she'd found a bounty far more precious than jewels and gold. She'd found a friend.



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history

They’ll keep hanging
In their gold frames
For forever, forever and a day
All the rowboats in the oil paintings
They keep trying to row away, row away[/i]
[/center]

The first time they'd raided a boat, Grace had been told to stay on the deck and stay out of everyone's way. So, naturally, she did the complete opposite.

She was eleven years old, too young for anyone to think she had the brains or skills for piracy. Well, Grace Sparrow was not going to let anyone boss the future Captain of the Black Pearl around any time soon. Sneaking onto the boat and avoiding prying eyes (which was what she did best, after all) in one quick leap, she landed gracefully get it lol on the bow and got to work. Throwing bag after bag of food onto their own ship, soon enough she'd collected enough supplies to last them for at least a month.

Grace remembers what it was like to watch the food dwindle away in her home. With 4 mother-figures all scrambling to keep the Sparrow Sisters together and alive, she'd gone more than a few days without dinner. Days became weeks, weeks stretched into months. At least on these ships, committing crimes meant you saved your sisters lives. She'd never met her real mother, becoming excruciatingly jealous of the other girls and pushing them away. Grace didn't want anyone to fill the empty gap in her head, in her life. She'd raise herself, because Grace Sparrow did not need a replacement Mom. She didn't need anyone.

"GRAAAAACE! GET OVER HERE!" a voice belonging to the Captain yelled from the other boat. Gulping, she twirled around and beamed, as if nothing was wrong, and hurried back to the Pearl as fast as her little feet could carry her. "Yes?" the red-head blinked up at her sister innocently.

"I - told - you - to - stay - here!" she groaned, throwing the juice bottles overboard with each word. "No! Not the juice!" Grace flailed, trying to stop her sister - but alas, it was too late. Once again, her sisters had triumphed over her in the never-ending battle of 4 to 1. "Hope you learnt your lesson - next time, we'll throw more of it over."

"But why is the juice gone?" Grace wailed desperately, storming off to her cabin in defeat to complain to Parrot. If her Father was here, he'd let her keep the juice.


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