✮ Second Star To The Right - D4
Feb 23, 2014 3:05:34 GMT -5
Post by gamemaker kelsier on Feb 23, 2014 3:05:34 GMT -5
SECOND STAR TO THE RIGHT... Mostly, this is a story about pirates. Mean dastardly pirates who don’t just drink and sing. These aren’t like the pirates in your story book, but the pirates that are unnamed in history, the pirates that make people pray out of fear. This is a story about pirates who shoot guns, pirates who make you walk the plank, pirates who stab you in the back as well as the heart, and most importantly, pirates who kill people just because they can. These pirates are not friendly, not at all. These pirates would kill you as soon as look at you. This is a story of pirates who fight with pistol and sword, who deal in lies and double-crosses. This is a story about pirates. This is a story about a girl. Not just any girl, but one of the most ferocious girls you could ever meet. She is a warrior queen, from a long line of strong careers; she is a natural force to be reckoned with. She runs barefoot over coals and thorns, never blinking an eye. This is a story about a girl who stands tall as one of District Four’s finest careers; even shadows shrink away from her prowess with a bow or a hatchet. This is a story about ferocity and loyalty. This is a story about sisters. Not just any sisters, they call them the Sirens. They live upon a rock in the middle of the bay and trade gossip for shells and beads. This is a story about three sisters who comb their hair and sing at the passing sailors, a story about girls who are more likely to see you drowned rather than not, this is a story about sisters who would sell you out to the pirates at a drop of a hat. This is a story about their beauty and how they used it to achieve their own ends, a story about the guns they made and pistol they sold to a Pirate King. This is a story about shut-ins. Sad, tired shut ins, eager to see something more than the four walls they had been raised in. This is a story about adventure, a story about taking that first step out the door, a story about sunburn and sleeping under the stars. This is a story about three children who wanted to grow up, to stop living under the thumb of their all too loving parents. This is a story about cunning and bravery, a story about family and sacrifice. This is a story about fear and horror. This is a story of blood and betrayal. A story about skirts and pants, a story about release. This is a story about explorers. This is a story about orphans. Not sad orphans, there are enough stories about those. This is a story about street smart orphans, ones that know how to slip their fingers into a lady’s purse or unclip a gentleman’s watch without their notice. This is a story about survival, about looking for family, about finding it. This is a story about love, about brotherhood. This is a story about hope and loss of it, a story about finding it again. This is a story about admiration, about confidence, about strength. This is a story about boys, a whooping one, a hollering one, a story about bonds. This is also a story about a small, angry child. A girl who was left in a park, all alone. This is the story about a girl who found it hard to deal with too much at once, but took it all on anyway. This is a story about hatred and love all at once, this is a story about jealousy, about childhood, about growing up, about magic. This is a story about a little girl who held her heart in her fist, a story about caring for someone else, a story about lung cancer and nights spent around a fire pit, smoke crackling up into the air. This is the story of an adventurer, a lover of life, a marrow-of-life-sucker. This is the story about a little girl who didn’t need to fly because she was fast enough, strong enough on her feet. This is the story of the boy. A boy who was never able to forget. This is the story of a childhood that never really existed, of abandonment. This is the story of hatred, sorrow, fear, stupidity. This is the story of false bravado and insecurity. This is the story of cocky smirks and something he accidentally stole. This is the story of Kensington Park and a swashbuckling boy. This is the story of a prince, of a pauper. This is the story of a boy who held the world in the palm of his hand, a boy who created an adventure everyday, a boy who had light shining from his eyes. This is the story about a leader, about a lover, about a hero. This is the story of weight and responsibility; this is a story about forgiveness and revenge. This is a story about goggles and oil, corsets and steam. This is the story of a boy who grew up. PLOT BY ELEGANT AND CLOVER |
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