This was the last taste of land Killian would have in a long time. He was not savouring it, as he aimlessly shopped around the port. He longed to leave and continue the sucession he had started with his promotion to first mate.
There were no written rules in piracy about how to become a pirate. No book had ever told him how to do it. Whether he would see his Captain killed to get a hold of a ship, he did not know. Four years ago when he became the ships second in command he prayed the sea would take the dear Captain. He wanted the path cleared for him, simply and unearnt.
Four years had passed and he had seen his old Captain tested so much. The Captain had passed each test, but if Killian had been in command he would have failed miserably at every turn.
Four years is long enough for learning though and his soul itched for his own ship. He wanted to ride the waves his own way. His coin purse was nearly full enough for a ship. Unlike the rest of the crew his ambition had kept his expenses tight. One whore each port, a fresh supply of rum and some fruit to keep away the scurvy. Most men stayed out of the sunlight when the anchored, using all their money on women and betting in places that looked like dark, damp caves.
Killians taste in whores was specific, but once he had tasted their flesh they no longer kept their appeal. He never went back for seconds. The taste never quite reached the height of his imagination.
Outside a shop window he saw this shores conquest. Strawberry blonde hair, all straggled up in a bun and eyes a little too blue. An unsettlingly pure kind of blue. Coupled with the hair a few shades to light, she just looked like a washed out version of what he wanted. A sun-faded photo of the woman he dreamed about. And her taste, like all of them was too sweetened by the land. The woman he wanted was the ocean.