Hello patient people! I'm very sorry for the update in which came way beyond my likened 2 week max posting period. Thank you for your patience, I was out of state attending to some family business and therefore I couldn't find decent time to work on this story! I originally wanted to add more to what is placed below, but I figured you guys waited long enough :P I think its appropriate to where it ends anyway. Hope you enjoy!
Consequences
Davenport Homestead: March 1774
The door was open.
Emma peeked from behind her own. The sliver of space she cracked from the latching had proven so. His door was wide open, seemingly empty and peculiarly quiet.
Her one grey eye surveyed the area. The hardwood landing before her was bathed in sunlight, particles of dust streaming ubiquitously from the balcony window. No footsteps were heard, nor the shuffling of meddling hands. She strained her sight and hearing, searching for the smallest traces of her counterpart's existence. She listened in, and came to find that Connor was apparently and most conclusively, absent.
Feeling somewhat safer, she looked down in relief. Her hand would seal the sliver she created back into the frame and she took a step back. An exhale was released, and she straightened her posture out. Then after keeping her eyes on her door for further study, she'd turn away and face the writing desk sitting directly to her left.
Upon it was an unfolded paper. It was white, creases exhausted and sides flat from the pressure of being stored away in a tight pocket. Emma's eyes caught particular notice to the ink on it's face, which inscribed her name in a fine print. The letter was from the man that lived beyond the open door across the hall; he had given it to her just the previous night.
She dared not open it. After what was felt at the party and what was attempted at her doorstep, she let the emotions belittle her curiosity. Anxiousness, excitement, and embarrassment all consumed her through the night, toying with thoughts about his actions; about his motives, his feelings. Even about hers.
All in all, she couldn't put herself to unfold that piece of paper. If he was as forward as he was in person, she perceived his words to come out even stronger. Though that thought was rather exciting, she couldn't bear the thought of such fervor unraveling along the parchment lines before her. This kind of admiration was totally new, and she didn't know what to think of it.
When he came onto her, she could feel the excitement. She was equally drawn in. It was all thrilling but terrifying at the same time, and she knew in those final heated moments that her place wasn't to be caught up in the hormones or spurring action. A legitimate romantic gesture between the two of them could spell disaster. What would become of it all? How the nature of things would change in that great Manor, considering her professional debt still owed to Achilles! Considering the civil essence of their partnership!
Giving in would not have been a good thing, she decided. She made that choice clear and now sympathy filled her towards him. He was eager, and she blatantly refused him. That had to have hurt, if not bring in a good quantity of shame. She could understand why he would not be behind his open door. She could understand his desire to not see her so soon, if not greet her at all in the next few days. For the most part, she felt inclined towards the same way, and wanted to keep hiding behind her door. In the scheme of futuristic and ongoing things, that plan would not do, but in the meantime, it suited her just well.
A certain fire burned in Connor's cheeks when he awoke the next day. He swore he could feel it smolder in its greatest capability, detecting it's waves radiate up into his head and down into the pit of his stomach. The humiliation sunk deeply in his core, and the rush of shame and regret filled his stirring mind. It would not take him long to realize that his actions towards Emma on the night before were completely inappropriate, and ever more so out of professional and civil character.
Mastering of one's self was a virtue taught to him amidst his upbringing. He heard the message repeated to him by Achilles in his combat training. As an Assassin, the skill is most valuable to obtain, as it could impose success on the direst of situations, including one regarding of survival. What he had proven to himself as of now was only that he failed the test of emotional control, and therefore failed pursuit of the most valuable skill. Without it, where would his course lead if not to destruction? To ultimate failure?
Because of these troubling thoughts, Connor departed from his home. He went out and remembered the request made by Faulkner the night before. His boots would lead him to the edge of the cliff behind the Manor, and there he would spot the wooden shamble of a ship he promised to restore and work upon. He would then continue along the rocky edge, making his way over to his destination by walking the grand crescent of the bay.
There was a trail to follow. It was lined by the rocky edge, but green with furrowing pine and oak trees. As Connor walked in the cool shadows, he decided to redeem himself. He replayed the image of her rejection to him frequently, and it sharpened a taste for corrective words. "I will apologize to her," he thought to himself. "and assure her of no more behavior of that kind."
Going before her would not be an easy thing to do. However it would be the right thing, and undoubtedly just. She needs the words just as much as he does, and the sooner the healing, the better for everyone.
He continued on his way.
For about an hour after she peeked behind her bedroom door, Emma remained in a chair at a window. She stared hazily out into the manor's front yard, simmering in thoughts of her current situation. Her mind went into tangents of things regarding the person of Connor, events of the party, and eventually thoughts of home. She entertained the possibilities of the future, and where it would exactly lead her in the next few weeks, or even days. Now in this time of discomforting events, she longed to return home more than ever. The problem became figuring of when exactly that would be.
In the midst of this silent contemplating, a series of knocks resounded in Emma's ears. After the first few raps, she turned her head attentively to her door and strained her hearing. She could tell that they were urgent, but rather distant.
As they continued along, she abruptly rose from her chair. Still wearing her dress, she rushed over to her door and anticipated Connor's presence. Nervousness came over her entire being and she began to hold in her breath. Then with alert eyes, she turned the knob and swung the door open.
Nobody was there. Genuinely surprised, she blinked at the reality before her with confused eyes. She stuck her head out, then her body, and briefly looked around the scene. All was silent and empty. The door across the hall was still open and appeared in the same condition as she last inspected.
"Hello?" she gingerly called out. "Is someone there?"
Standing still, she waited for a response.
"Ahem. Thud. Thud. Thud."
Her head spun to the staircase. The gruff voice and three thuds came from the bottom of the stairwell. Emma then jogged over with her bare feet, curious and quizzical at the strange beckoning. When she stopped at the step's furthermost edge, her eyes found an unexpected sight.
"Master Davenport?"
"Miss Maywood," Achilles gave a low nod. "Good morning. I apologize for interrupting."
"No, you didn't at all," she straightened her posture. "I'm sorry for not coming to you sooner."
"It's hard to hear the going-ons of this house," the old man looked up at the ceiling momentarily. "But not to worry, what's important is that you are here now."
"How can I be of help?"
"I am not in need of help, thank you," the old man waved a gentle hand. "but rather of an answer to an inquiry. Tell me, miss, why are you still here?
Emma blinked at his question. "Excuse me, sir?"
"What I mean is why are you at home still?" he looked with earnest eyes. "Connor left not but hours ago."
She furrowed her brows. "I don't understand, sir. He leaves every morning."
"Yes, but today is the day."
"What day?"
"The task you've been waiting for."
Realization hit her. She looked straight ahead in coherency, and absorbed the moment of comprehension. "Those men last night..with Connor."
"Your true talent and knowledge can be put to the most accommodating use now," Achilles continued while looking to her. "while I have thoroughly appreciated your services to me here, I bid you to do the task you have originally requested to do and that is, to work upon the brig located across the bay."
"I work for you no more?"
"For manor duties, no. For this last and formal appointment, most assuredly."
"Huh."
"Now what I have here," he reached into his pocket in his brown jacket. "..is the formal contract. I have written your terms and qualifications based on what I have observed of you, and have signed it. You must come down and mark your name as well, and then you are free to work on the ship as you please."
She exhaled with a smile. "Just my name?"
"Yes, and then you can go. Yet when you do, you must give the parchment to Robert Faulkner, who shall be your new supervisor and captain."
"Oh I will sir." She beamed at him. "Thank you so much."
"Of course," he gave a light grin. "I'm sorry the boy didn't wait for you as he should have. Common courteousness often evades his best interests."
"Oh its alright," Emma truly didn't think anything of it. "I guess I'll be seeing him sooner or later anyway."
"Of course. Now perhaps after you are dressed more appropriately toward the occasion, you can come down and sign."
Emma looked down at herself. "Oh, right," she smiled. "Probably best to do that. One moment, sir."
When she returned to her room, her eyes fell on her shipman outfit. She had noticed that it was getting very well worn in structure and color. It was rather upsetting to see it in such a degrading condition, but it would serve her well in the upcoming occasion.
After placing the underclothes, pants, over jacket, and boots, she stuck her dark hair in a tight bun that would eventually be covered by her tricorn hat. Now she looked like a sailor once again, and took pride in fulfilling her previous position. What she would make of the whole occasion was a mystery, but she was ever eager to take part in it.
She came down the stairs and signed her name. Then she took the contract and folded it into her breast pocket, securing it's safety within her. Achilles would escort her to the back door and there he would give her directions.
"If you near the cliff there," he pointed out. "You will see a great bay before you. Across the way is a small community of structures along with the ship in the water. To get there, you must walk along the cliff's edge to the left until you find a path."
Emma looked in that direction.
"That path will weave into some forest but does descend directly to the community. You will find Faulkner and his men there."
With a gracious nod, Emma departed the old man and his porch. She would walk to the cliff's edge and take in the grand view before her. Apart from nature's beauty, her heart started with excitement at the sight of the ship, misshapen as it was. She had long missed that world she knew so well.
She would then set off along the cliff's edge. The day was young, with a grey sky and cooler air. The nearby trees rustled stiffly and under her feet, Emma could hear the wind whistle through the cracks of the rocky face. Her head would lean over the edge and find a drop far and ominous into the pool of grey waters. Beyond that, the overall scope of the bay gained way to sight of miles of trees and borderland stretching endlessly. It was obvious that this place was an inlet of the ocean, and that would mean good sailing could be in store for her.
It wouldn't be long until she found the trail. Eagerly, she walked down the dirt path shadowed by the greening trees and let the wind wrap freely around her. She was well contented with herself, and placed no true worries about this strange territory or it's end. As of now she looked forward to only seeing the ship up close, let alone stepping upon it.
After a few minutes passed, the trees that skirted the trail began to disperse. A rough clearing was beginning to form, and Emma knew she was near her destination. Finding herself at the doorstep of the community, at the end of the condensed woods, she would stand next to a great boulder and observe the area before her. The trail continued ahead, and led up to the porches of small log buildings that faced the bay. Piles of wood were stacked along the houses and an assortment of fire pits, tables, and barrels lay sprawling about. Men were clearly at work, about 100 standing about, walking around with tools, handing off boards, and discussing whatever matters were at hand.
Carefully, Emma took steps forward. She continued to observe the scene before her while listening to arising sounds. Boards creaking, hammers pounding, men whistling and instructing filled her ears. Swarthy accents and colorful words soon became evident, bringing a nostalgic smile to her face. Then as she drew closer to the heart of the community, her eyes landed on the ship itself.
She stopped in her tracks. She let her stare in awe of it's being, noting its closeness to the shore. The ship was not as decrepit as she originally thought. She was sitting uprightly in the shallows. The tops of the masts were down, along with a part of her aft and rudder nearly surfacing the water, but her belly was afloat. Sails and ropes tangled awry, but the decks were solid in place along with the railing that ran along them. Cannon slots were bordered with moss but remained open. To complete her damaged mystique, a strong bowsprit rose high out of the water, grounded upon a magnificent widespread eagle masthead.
"Wow," Emma breathed to herself. The ship was indeed a force in presence. She was a brig, likely made for use of war. Emma hadn't been near a ship so aggressively built or large. She could spend the day looking at it, if not exploring its glorious ruin.
Soon her trance would be interrupted. Near the shore, Emma caught sight of a familiar set of white robes. Connor was there, speaking indistinctively to some men as they together lifted a long board. In her still stance, her eyes grew wide at him as she remembered last night. Earlier emotions of embarrassment and nervousness filled her once again, sending her core to twist and knot. She long dreaded to speak to him yet, or even put in him in a place to make himself uncomfortable. She couldn't be there.
She began to leave. Her body turned around and started to walk away from the scene. Back into the woods she aimed for, and left all possibility for discomfort between the two of them to arise. But her journey would end shortly.
"Hey!" cried a salty voice. "Where ya goin just yet?"
Emma froze in her stead. Raising her shoulders in alarm of the sudden outcry, she turned slowly back around and found a lean bald man staring angrily at her. Hoping that he wouldn't see through her guise, she quickly lowered her head, and let her hat cover as much of her face as possible.
"Don't talk, do ya?" the man started over towards her. "You did moments ago."
Emma peeked up in confusion.
"Perhaps ye don't remember either," he folded his arms. "Its yer shift on shore duty; organize the supplies there?" He nodded towards the ship."Just because yer young don't mean you can go home anytime you please. You gotta work, like the rest of us."
Emma blinked at her mistaken identity. "Uh," she uttered cluelessly. "I'm sorry?"
"Aya, ye are." He nodded sternly. "Now get o'er there and do what yer told. Or I'll make sure you never get home tonight."
Emma swallowed. "Yes, sir."
"Ha!" the man flashed a missing tooth. "How many times do I need to threaten, Simmons? Just do the work."
Without a blink of an eye, Emma scurried past the lean mean bald man. She would look over her shoulder as she departed him, catching an evil smirk from her "overseer." She then whipped her head back around and looked ahead to the mess near the shore. Was this the kind of day that was ahead of her?
Soon she set her focus on her appointed destination. She would weave past sweaty men, dodging sudden actions such as flying tools or extending arms. Being around all of the heftiness and rigor of these men, she was reminded to act more like them. Her legs spread out as she walked and her shoulders were brought back. It all felt silly at first, but if she wanted to achieve success, she needed to blend. All the while, she kept her head low and steps quiet.
The last time she looked to the ship, Connor was working nearby. This thought grew acute in her mind, and it would help fixate her eyes for his presence once again. She couldn't have him see her yet, and if he did, it would be out of immediate recognition of her outfit.
Her boots pressed upon the wet sand. She stood motionless before the great array of displaced and broken tools that lay there, and the empty barrels that once contained them. With a quick glance around, she looked for him, but found nothing. She then looked back to the bald man, who was giving her a testy eye. From that expression alone, she began working.
Her mind thumbed for ideas on what to do. She assumed organization, and began sorting certain tools and materials and then putting them in according barrels. As she bent over and collecting things in her arms, she looked around alertly under the shadow of her hat. Anxiousness ran through her as she imagined her getting caught, or even in the slightest trouble from the bald man.
Minutes would pass and so would the nerves. Still alert, she forced herself to calm, as the opposite would result in disaster. She dutifully put tools together, and made avail for the sailors and workmen to come fetch accordingly. Sometimes as they came over, she would point to where they could find their requested material and even hand them over. No eye contact was made whatsoever, she made sure of that. Her voice was brought down lower, and she tried to walk gruffly.
One particular man came up to her after a temporary drought of requests. "Where you keep the ropes?"
Flinching at the sudden voice, Emma turned slightly in his direction before pointing to a far barrel. "Over there."
As that man left, another stepped forth. "And what of nails?"
Emma contined her quieted motions. "Right here."
The man walked over and opened the box. "Nope."
"Oh?" she looked at the box surprised. "Then perhaps its over here.."
She turned around and bent into a crate full of smaller wooden boxes. After a few moments of rummaging, she would pull one out and hand it to him while looking to the ground.
"That's it."
Contented, that man walked away. Emma was relieved she found the correct item and so quickly. She dared not test the patience of these tired and bothered men.
With that thought, she turned back around. In that large crate, she lay out the boxes more carefully, piling the same kinds into the same groups. As she worked with this, she heard yet another set of footprints approaching.
"Do you have an adze?"
Emma straightened herself and began to turn towards the new "customer". "Yeah. I'll just…"
She would freeze. In the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar set of white robes behind her. A chill ran down her spine, and she could feel warmth leave her face.
"Yes?" Connor inquired of interrupted man.
"Uh," Emma put her back completely to him. "Uh, I'll get it."
With a nervous hop, she went over to a barrel no more than a yard away. She then picked up the axe-like instrument and walked back to Connor with her back still to him. She then stuck it out behind her with an outstretched arm, hoping he would just take it and leave. The native would furrow in light of the strange handoff and take it into his hands. "Thank you."
Emma would say nothing. Instead she would growl an affirming "hm" and place herself down into a barrel, pretending to be working. She stayed there until Connor's footsteps would fade away.
"Phew." She breathed into the wood. "Very close."
When she raised herself up again, she sent a sneaky eye out around her. Connor was found chopping at wood with some other men, and doing so at a healthy distance. Her racing heart slowed with another relieving exhale. If only he stayed over there the whole day.
After becoming certain of Connor's whereabouts, she looked to the bald man. He was about thirty yards, arms folded and amid discussion. Emma wanted to pay no mind to this, but she couldn't help but notice that the conversation was getting rather heated. She narrowed her eyes in study, and found that he was talking to a boy.
This boy looked no older than sixteen. He had on a grey tricorn hat, navy blue coat, and boots; like her. He was waving his arms in passionate expression, as if to convince the bald man of something. Then the boy would point his finger in her direction, causing the bald man to look her way. Soon an ugly scowl formed upon his face and he began to march towards her.
Emma looked on with alarm. Simmons was indeed a real man, and looked akin to her. She had realized that she had just dealt with his overseer, who thought Emma was really him. Now she was caught as an imposter, and she needed to go.
She looked to the side. Next to the area Connor was working was a great ramp that led up to the main deck of the ship. The great brig swayed gently atop the grey waves as if patiently waiting for her to enclose the decision for sanctuary. Seeing her chance to hide, she grabbed onto her hat and bolted.
She darted amongst strangers. Sometimes shoving vigorously, she waded as fast and smoothly as she could, her boots scuffing into the dirt terrain. She brushed past sweaty bodies and transporting objects, keeping her eyes wide and centered on the ship's ramp. As she went along, she heard her pursuer calling after her, demanding for her to stop. She paid no mind however, and let the arising fear fuel her escape.
In these past months Emma had learned to weave through crowds masterfully. Going left and right, she confused the bald man, according to the distancing sounds of his shouts and steps. Noticing this, she began to march up the ramp with a sly eye directed behind her. She found him looking frantically about the crowd, trying to track in the haze of her confused path.
She breathed yet again. If anything was going to be the doom of this day, it would have to be that man, she realized. He knew her secret now, her false employment at least. Who knew of how long he would be looking for her?
She was not quite safe yet. To her right, two men were carrying a large cart together up the ramp. Immediately, she rushed to their side and attempted to blend in with their activity, walking casually as she kept her face hidden. Tense moments passed as she kept going forward. Her steps would become earnest, and she fervently hoped that the bald man's firm grasp on her would not become a physical reality.
Finally her foot stepped onto the deck. After a few steps in, relief began to wash over her and she let go of her withheld breath. Still remaining alert, she abandoned her escorts and walked briskly across the deck.
In perhaps foolish audacity, Emma decided to turn around. She needed to see where her pursuer was now and looked upon the crowd whence she came. Her grey eyes glinted upon the mass, noting the bustle of the work being done despite her own circumstance. The bald man's head quickly stuck out noticeably and there Emma could see a fierce scowl and frustration adorn his face. He navigated with his hands, searching eagerly for Emma the imposter. Never looking to the ship, he would merely go further into the crowd.
At his disappearance, Emma would smile to herself. A proud smirk danced upon her lips and she would glare at him defiantly. She had beaten his little game and won out in her own independence. Nevertheless it was probably a good idea to stay aboard the ship.
Soon enough, heavy footsteps pervaded the air. In her personal gloating, Emma broke into reality and returned to the state of alarm as two possibilities arose in her mind of the source of the footsteps. It had to be her previous pursuer, or Connor himself. At this point, she truly didn't know which she'd rather have.
To her pleasant surprise, it would be neither in which would appear before her. The heavy footsteps indeed belonged to a pair of leather boots but came from a man of greater distinction. In his approach, Emma would watch as he would walk up the ramp, give her a dry and careless glance, then turn back around to face the crowd.
"Ahoy!" Faulkner bellowed as he placed fists on his hips. "Men heed me your attention! This is your captain speaking!"
Faces began to turn to the seasoned seaman. After exchanging some quizzical looks and settled their sporadic movements, they did as he asked. Emma would immediately look over to Connor, who placed down his blade into the wood and sent eyes to his captain. Standing just beyond him, Emma gritted her teeth in fear of his notice, and turned in slight. She crept away to the main mast, and leaned against it with attentive ears.
"Men," Faulkner continued on. "For weeks, we have been preparing this great ship for life again. At the pace and ardor of your work, it is reckoned that she will be ready to sail in less than a fortnight, which is a time I find most acceptable."
The laborers below nodded at their captain's approval.
"Alas, together we have all assembled these wretched sunken parts," he gestured to the boards beneath him. "But now comes a time for a select sum of you to work towards the more technical aspects; those of you with acquainted or mastered skill…"
For the next few minutes, Emma listened as the captain would speak of organization of skilled laborers, and redirect those who weren't. Commotion ensued from the crowd as men went to where they needed to be, whether that was retiring to the cabins, working on menial supply tasks, or preparing to come aboard the ship.
"Oh wait!" Faulkner suddenly cried out with motioning hands. "Before we get completely in motion, I have to introduce an important figure."
Emma turned to the captain headlong and lifted a brow in curiousity. She would watch as he would beckon gloved fingers to a someone from the crowd. Then immediate steps hopped up the ramp, trotting quickly and gracefully in his ascension.
"Everyone, this is Master Kenway. He is my apprentice, and in so doing will become my first mate as of now. You will treat him with respect, considering him as your superior officer…"
Emma's jaw dropped. For a second, she blinked without a breath and analyzed the situation before her. His white robes were completely turned to her, standing beside Faulkner's faded blues. Staring at his black hair, which stood perfectly still through his formal introduction, Emma shook her head in astonishment. As she worked through the day, was it to be him that would oversee all activity? Look over everyone?
At the thought, she knew she had to hide again. She looked to the southern end of the ship, to where the captain's cabin lay beneath the poop deck. Twin stair cases led up around elegant doors, leading to the eventual destination of the lonesome steering wheel.
She sought her new destination. Keeping a cautious eye on Connor, Emma jogged lightly towards one of the staircases. She would find quick refuge in it's underbelly, being concealed in the darkness beneath the boards.
Crouching in the dark, she peeked through the gaps between the wooden steps and watched Connor and Faulkner. The two men would finish their speech and begin walking towards the cabin, discussing further matters pertaining to the native's duties. As they came closer, Emma backed to the furthermost corner and hid herself with remaining watchful eyes.
"….These men will do you good," Faulkner stopped with arms folded at his chest. "Or they should anyway. All you need to do is stand behind the wheel and observe. Any mishap found you will report to me and they will face the consequences."
"I understand, sir," Connor courteously nodded. "But if I may request, I wish to work among the men, and help complete the tasks that pertain to finishing the boat."
"Ship!"
"Er-ship."
"Hm." The captain sent glaring eyes to the native. "You are indeed very green, lad. Naïve and bold. You are more than fortunate to receive such a position as I have given you."
"I agree," Connor assured with steady eyes. "But as I have much to learn, I figure I can benefit from first-hand experience. Allow me to work with the other sailors, so I can study the components of the trade and-"
"Her?"
Connor blinked in confusion. "Her?"
"Her? The Ship!" Faulkner impatiently reminded him. "We've spoken of this, lad. The ship's a she! Dear like a lass."
The native looked silently to him.
"Bah!" the captain scoffed and pulled out a pocket watch. "Never the matter I suppose. I'll leave you to your work then. If you need me, I'll be in the cabin."
With that, Faulkner departed from Connor's side. He strode away quickly, the tail of his coat flailing behind. Emma watched as the captain closed his door firmly, and then she looked over to Connor. He was facing her direction, eyes lifted to the tops of the masts. Emma studied his collected gaze, wondering of his thoughts for the day. He seemed focused on this task, as it would be apparent that it was rather important for him. In that sense she was glad for him, but still feigned the idea of approaching him.
Soon Connor would initiate his new project. His buckskin boots would turn and start for the ramp, his blue trimmed white robes following behind. Emma listened as he would begin to recruit and lead men upon the deck, to begin finishing "her." Hence the bustle of work among the men began once again.
From the shadows, Emma watched as the crew formed stations about the ship. Some hauled barrels and rope, others carried long boards and hammers. As time passed, along with the leadership of Connor's command, Emma observed of how missing floorboards were being replaced, nets were being tied, and railings were forming back together. Everyone had a certain task, and seemed to be content with it. Connor was found at nearly every station, asking questions about the material and activity. He would then assist in whatever was at hand.
No matter how hard Emma fought it, she really enjoyed seeing this side to him. It was always there, never hidden from her eyes, but still captivating. He was someone that didn't consider the ranks of superiority, like most men would. He liked being the common man, working just as hard and learning ever more. Stoic still, and quietude made up his being as he interacted, but he was productive and agreeable.
She shook the thoughts away. Emma knew she had to join in sooner or later. She couldn't hide in the dark for this whole time. In fact, from the beginning she was supposed to create a contract with the captain, who decided to disappear on his men. She dared not intrude upon him now but concluded that she could still be of some help.
The desire to remain oblivious from Connor still burned in her, so she would plan activities that evaded his sight. As he stepped off the ramp to collect some supplies, Emma decided to go assist with creating the nets, tying precariously with other men who sat perfectly concentrated. Sharp grey eyes watched warily from beneath her hat, noting of Connor's return and nearly every oncoming step. When he drew near to her station, she would get up casually, set down her work, and walk elsewhere. Her silent companions would raise suspicious brows to her, but continued on anyways.
She would then go to near the bowsprit. Men there were tying down rope for sails on various knobs, but seemed to be in need of a volunteer. Without a word, Emma grabbed a cord from a man hesitating to climb the long stretch of wood, tiptoed upon the bowsprit, and crouched down. She then looked to the two or three men that gathered at the base, who blinked on in astonishment, and went along. The drop below to the water was rather high, but her light weight and balance shouldn't betray her here now. She tied down the assorted cords effortlessly, and then walked down and hopped off of the bowsprit unceremoniously.
"Wait."
Emma stopped.
"How did you-what is your name, sir?"
She grinned and turned around. "Emmett." She said deeply. "I grew up on these."
"You have my friendship," the sailor observed her work. "Don't be afraid to come back."
Giving a polite nod, she drifted away.
The day went on just as she initiated it to be. She went to nearly every station, and assisted while being completely circumspective. She got along with the men and did honest work. At Connor's approach, she immediately walked off and darted at the sound of his voice. He seemed to pay no attention to her whatsoever, and thought nothing suspicious. This all pleased her, and she grew in confidence as time wore on.
"Hey Emmett," a young man came up to her as she carried over a cart of nails. "You seem good with the ropes, could you help us with the crow's nest?"
She looked up towards the top of the middle mast. Several men were standing upon the edge of a perpendicular beam and platform, surrounded by an array of supplies.
"We have it already built," the young man commented. "But now we need to get it up there via rope and pulleys."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Help pull it up to those men. I'll be down here too, standing in front of you yanking. Then when that's all done, you can go up there and fasten any ropes that are needed."
Emma lifted a quizzical brow. "Fasten any ropes? It's a crow's nest, it's practically bolted into the mast."
"For this ship, it might take more than that," James pursed doubtfully. "She's well worn."
It wouldn't take long for Emma to not inquire further. "Yeah, I'll do it!"
Accordingly, the two walked over to the mast. Others were waiting there, holding a long rope, ready to pull up the cumbersome crow's nest. It had a variety of ropes about it's wooden frame, long set to be carried with as much ease as possible. Then once Emma grabbed the end of one rope, a man whistled to the top of the mast, which responded with an affirming shout. Then they all pulled.
"Heave!"
With every pull the word was heard. The piece was heavier than Emma realized and she was grateful that it was more than just her and her "friend" hoisting it up. It took time too, as the main mast seemed to tower now more than ever.
The nest was nearing the top. Success was brewing in the air when Emma began to hear footsteps come near her. Without fully realizing it, she would turn her head completely to her left, and find Connor at her side. A sudden chill ran over her whole body. Her head shot downwards, and she stopped her task. The native only watched the event, keeping his eyes towards the hanging assemble of wood.
"Come on, Emmett!"
She listened to the person before her. Reduced strength was duly noted, and she hated herself for making it so. Her hands grabbed the rope tightly and she began pulling again, praying that Connor wouldn't turn to face her.
A slight glance did come towards her. Connor did not keep his eyes on her though, and preceded to watch the work at hand. Emma shot a brief look to him, and found him occupied elsewhere. A sense of relief.
"Hold it!" a puller yelled out. "It looks loose!"
The four men pulling group instantly stopped. Everyone, including Emma, looked upward and saw the nest sway rather keenly in the air.
"I think a rope's snapped."
"Or there's not enough."
"But we're almost there!"
The assorted cries weren't settling. Connor immediately strode forward and stood beneath it, studying it's composition. "It appears as if some rope has indeed broken."
Soft groans arose from Emma's group. "Will it hold Kenway?"
"I do not know."
At this response, the first man in the group released the rope and joined Connor's side. The two stared up looking at it, deciding it's downfall. The second man in the group looked over a water barrel towards the southern end of the ship. "You lads can hold this? I'm getting a drink when I can."
"A drink?" Emma spouted reactively.
The beefy man leaned in closer. "These two thick-heads will be staring at it for ages. Might as well serve yourself the refreshment."
When the man let go, a great weight went to Emma and the young man who invited her. She would learn his name to be James.
"You got it?" she asked of him.
"Yep," he answered with a strain. "You?"
"Yep."
A full minute or two passed of Connor speaking with the first man that let go. They debated among themselves as to what the problem was. Then they had to speak with neighboring laborers for their opinions. Finally they had to come up with a solution, which didn't come to immediate agreeable terms.
"Do you believe this," James uttered over his shoulder to Emma. "How many men does it take? Its not that difficult."
"Maybe the problem is more complex-"
"Hold on, Emmett, I think I'll put an end to this."
"No James! Please don't-"
He released. Emma felt the full weight of the nest on her hands, and it would pull her forward a few yards until she caught herself by the heel of her boots. James walked on ahead to the 10 yards Connor and the other man was now standing. They all discussed the issue heatedly, totally oblivious to Emma's strain.
She was nearly sitting. With all of her might, she held onto that nest that swung ominously over the three debaters. Barely glancing upwards, Emma could tell that the nest had dropped a few feet as strength holding it was lost. It meant little to the men apparently.
However, Emma was severely struggling. Her face grew hot in concentration and strain as she held on as tightly as she could. Moisture was starting to collect on her palms and transferred onto the rope. "No, no, no," she muttered as it began to slip from her grasp. "Stay with me."
She needed help. She looked up to the three men before her, who were now not looking upwards at the nest, but to eachother and then the ramp before them. Connor was giving instruction to James and the other man, ordering them to retrieve something from the shore. They began to walk away from the native, and he was left alone, watching after them. Emma didn't want to interact with him, but she couldn't hold much longer. She would lick her lips as she would try to form the words.
"Help." She muttered quietly in fear of releasing. "I-help..please."
A different voice would respond to her. Coming up with approaching steps, a gruff voice would come from behind her. "Need some assistance?"
The voice turned into a being, and stepped near Emma's right side. Her grey eyes darted to their right corners, anticipating the approach. Leather boots came into view, along with a dark green overcoat, toothless sneer, and a bald head. "Hello."
At the sight of the man, Emma reacted in fear. The rope was released from her hands and sniveled rapidly out of her grasp and into the air. Having that end being consumed by the pulley above, the crow's nest naturally lowered from lack of counterweight, and managed to snap free from the might of the surging free rope. Emma's eyes immediately went to Connor, who stood directly below the falling mass. Without a second to waste, she ran for him arms outstretched in front of her.
"CONNOR!"
The native would turn towards her in slight, briefly recognizing her approach. Next thing he knew, a great shove came upon his chest and left shoulder from urgent hands. Then he was flying backwards several feet from where he stood, briefly coasting the air with a person latched onto him. Soon he came down upon the sturdy boards by landing on his back, the force sending the person on him falling next to him and rolling momentarily aside. As Connor turned to look at the person, a thundering crash sounded through the air, causing he and his rescuer to flinch at it's boom. The nest fell yards away from their feet, creating a hole upon the deck.
Connor returned his glance to the other victim. In the midst of shouts and running feet, he could make out leather boots, blue overcoat, and dark hair. The skin was tan and eyes that stared right back in a sharp grey. The hat was tumbled a ways from her, and he knew by the disheveled waves and expressive face of who it was.
She was lying on her stomach. Hands placed downward near her face, she could begin to feel the splinters creep into her skin. At the shock of it all, her grey eyes darted around until they landed on Connor, who stared at her with raging and wide amber eyes.
She lifted her head and looked in front of her. Tumbled away, lay her protective hat. Along with that, she caught sight of loose strands of her hair dangling freely about her head. There went the key to her disguise.
Her eyes went back to Connor, gazing into his in search of affirmation of his wellbeing. He only continued to look at her in shock, breathing more rapidly. Noticing this expression, Emma would blink at him and mutter quietly, "I'm sorry."
Soon, she was lifted from the ground. A firm hand yanked the back of her coat, propelling her into the air and back onto her feet. Then another hand held tightly to the mess of her hair, driving to full manipulation and control by her captor. She would wriggle and struggle in his grasp, trying to fight herself free. "Caught you now," the bald man spat into her ear. "You'll pay."
Connor arose at the instance Emma disappeared from sight. Alarmed, he pushed himself upwards and jumped to his feet, despite the injury applied to his back, hidden blade unsheathed from his sleeve. Then he marched right over to Emma and the bald man, placing the blade right on the man's neck. A scowl formed upon his brows and stern nose, he glared fiercely with fiery eyes. "You will release her."
"I will after the captain sees this," the bald man eyed the blade tentatively. "This woman is an imposter, thief, and a liar, she is disposed to some kind of punishment."
"I am disposed to killing you," Connor gritted his teeth. "Let her go and I'll reconsider your fate."
"What the hell is going on out here!" cried an angry and confused captain. "Men abandoning posts, parts getting destroyed! I leave you all for a brush over an hour and I find chaos, destruction-"
His anger ridden eyes halted over Emma. "…and a woman?"
"Sir I can explain myself-"
"You cannot trust her, cap'n!" the bald man tugged her head back. "Deception in every word."
Connor readied his tomahawk.
"Oi!" Faulkner barked at the native. "Put that down. Put the other blade down, everyone just stand down completely!"
Without removing his stare, Connor retracted the blade and placed the tomahawk back into his belt. The bald man kept his firm grasp on Emma, her hair knotted in his fingers and arms locked behind her. Her head lifted, she breathed heavily through her nose and kept cold and steady eyes on the captain, who returned at her with an abhorrent look.
Faulkner stepped forward. "Hold her there," he instructed the bald man. "I'll deal with her now."
Emma watched as the captain took urgent strides towards her. Despite his apparent anger, she kept her eyes on him, and anticipated his approach with calm. Soon a grey beard appeared in her face, along with aged sea-green eyes searching her being in repugnance.
"Speak, Mort." He commanded his sailor. "What is tale that surrounds this supposed she-devil?"
"Aye, sir," the bald man smirked. "Caught this one working among us this morning. My cousins and I were workin' stations, when it was the youngest, Simmons', turn to take shift at the beach there," he nodded, "and organize the stuff there. This wench was walking idly around, wearing the same clothes as Simmons and then taking his job. At first, I didn' realize it wasn't actually him working until he himself came up and complained to me. She saw me come after her, and then she scampered off. " He looked down to her sneeringly. "But I caught her now. And she could pay the price for stealing my family's wages and time."
Emma gulped as she felt his hot breath on her neck.
"Probably a runaway, cap'n." he looked amusingly to his superior. "Likely a whore, scowering for future coin."
Connor unsheathed his blade again. Fury manifested his arm, causing the metal to ring as it whipped acutely against the air. Then he began marching back towards Mort in bothered and hate-filled fashion.
"Hold it, Kenway!" Faulkner called over his shoulder. "Tis a hasty conclusion, aye, but not improbable." He faced Emma and cocked his head to her. "Uncommonly do you find a woman working in this trade, if not trespassing for the accused pursuit of coin in our pockets."
Emma twitched her nose.
"Let her go, Mort." The captain nodded to him. "We'll see what she has to say towards this little misadventure of hers, and then decide what fate should fall upon her."
The bald man did as he was told. He slowly removed Emma's hair from his grasp, releasing disagreeably. At the slightest hint of her freedom, Emma pushed herself away from the man and panted heavily at him, giving cold eyes. Connor looked concerned to her with bent brows, but refrained from nearing her.
Then collecting herself, she stood up straight and began unraveling her tale.
"Sir my name is Emma Maywood. I'm not an imposter, taking the place of another man. I am also no stranger, coming from the community atop the cliffs there," she slightly nodded. "I have come here on a mission not to take coins from your pockets while laying with you in your beds," she nearly spat at Mort, "but to work alongside as a fellow crewman on this project of yours. To prove this, I have with me a contract from Achilles Davenport, who signed my employment services over to you, Captain Faulkner, for this very occasion."
Every eye upon the ship fixated on the girl.
"A dirty bluff, sir!" Mort accused with a finger.
"No!" Emma looked back to him. Unfortunately for you, I have it here."
Next she whipped out the wrinkled and folded piece of paper from her pocket, extending it out to the captain. "You will find his name and mine signed there sir," she remarked. "All is left is your own and the contract is complete."
The captain began to look on to her hand quizzically. He took the paper slowly into his hands and exchanged a glance to Connor, who gave affirming eyes of her defense. He then unwrapped the paper, scanned it momentarily, and lowered it with a baffled look. "She speaks true."
Various gasps and whispers arose from the crew. Mort stamped in anger before sending an anxious hand over his scalp. "You take her very word, cap'n?" he inquired. "Besides, a woman on board is bad luck."
"Silence," The captain motioned with a stern tone before looking coolly back to Emma. "Tell me, miss, why should I allow your company abroad this ship? A legitimate reference is one thing, but experience, another."
"I know more about sailing than most of your men," she quickly assured him. "Ten years of my life I've learned the trade and crafts by the hand of my father in Boston. You wouldn't need to supervise me or teach anything new. I can take care of myself."
"We'll see about that," Faulkner refolded the paper in his hands. "If you shall work under me, you'll have to prove your worth like any other man here."
"But sir!" Mort despaired. "What of this morning? What of her treason?"
"You threatened me!" Emma shot back. "The only reason why I didn't go to the captain right away was because you kept your gaze on me the whole time."
"A'right, easy now," Faulkner interfered. "There will be consequences for the each of you, that is assured, but for now, let us pass over this affair and carry on."
Mort stood astonished.
"Maywood, Kenway, to my cabin if you please."
"This is unfair, sir!" Mort tried once more. "She must pay the price."
Faulkner looked to his subordinate offensively. "Sailor, if you say anything more of this matter, I will stop considering any fairness to be catered to you. Worry only of your fate, not hers." He began to turn around. "In fact, why don't you get started with fixing that hole there?"
"….Yes, sir."
With that, Faulkner led Emma and Connor towards his cabin. They all went along silently, walking stiffly as every pair of eyes from the crew centered on them. Emma briefly looked over her shoulder and reveled in a satisfied grin.
The three stood before one another in the captain's cabin. There Faulkner brought out the contract once again, read it over, and would sign his name in fresh ink. He then placed it into a compartment in his private desk, securing her position in his care.
"Your identity is no mystery to me," he said to Emma while walking back to her. "I remember your face from last night, but I could not reveal so in the company of my men."
"I understand sir," she looked coolly to him. "But I admit that I wondered if you recognized me."
"I didn't right away," he revealed soberly. "But you stand out in this crowd, being of darker color and rather small."
Emma snorted with a smile.
"But your uniqueness will not save you, miss," he returned to a grave tone. "You will be punished for indeed taking away another man's work. And for also destroying both a piece of equipment and the deck itself."
She stopped smiling and lowered her head.
"You will for this first week be forbidden to step upon this ship."
She looked up with startled eyes.
"You will do chores on the shore," he continued. "Handing off supplies to crewman and building up your strength. Your lack thereof has proven that you will be a disservice until further improvement. Then when I allow you back on, I will assign you to be monitored by Master Kenway here," he slapped a heavy hand on the native's shoulder. "Where he will appoint each task to you and supervise your every move."
Emma couldn't help but feel insulted.
"As for you, lad," the aging man turned to Connor. "I would've expected better care of my ship in my absence. You've managed to allow disorder, recklessness-a deck to get completely destroyed."
Connor looked sullenly at his captain.
"Such disarray became of my ship when I gave you all control of her." He said regrettably. "However, I will consequent you with the burden of a single warning."
The native lifted a brow to him.
"I'm afraid your uniqueness will save you," Faulkner sighed disappointedly. "Achilles has told me of your occupation and it has been by his adamancy that you should learn the trade as quickly as possible, so you can go off and accomplish what is needed."
Emma tilted her head at the strange comment.
"Thank you, sir."
"Aye." The captain nodded. "Now that's all set in order, I believe I have yet one more man to punish. If you would pardon me.."
Emma and Connor stepped aside to let the captain pass. He would push the double-set door wide open and step out into the grey haze of a day. Soon after his departure, the doors closed behind him, leaving Emma and Connor in complete privacy.
She would rub her hands. They would both look at each other silently, absorbing in the discomfort of the situation from both their punishment and romantic encounter from the night before. The boards around them creaked with the sway of the ship.
But soon enough, a certain rage began to fill Connor again. Amidst the calm of the previous occasion, and the absence of Faulkner, he was left with his own contemplations. First, confusion overcame him as to why Emma had come here so discreetly, and even at all, filled his head. He looked to her disheveled form and wrestled with the frustration inside as to the form she was currently taking had been by his fault. In an instance of his lack of awareness, she sought out the danger preceding him and took it upon herself to sacrifice her own well being. In that moment, she hurt herself, and then experienced more pain as a foul man would control her with savage means. By these brewing thoughts, a cloud over came expression, and he looked to her with sharp eyes.
"What were you thinking?" He broke the silence stiffly. "Coming along here as you have, stirring suspicion and allowing harm for yourself?
"Emma was surprised at his sudden and impassioned state. She looked to him with furrowed brows and folded arms. "Are you angry with me?"
"Yes," he replied blatantly. "I did not expect you here. I imagined that I left you at home, resting from the late night."
"Well I was home," Emma tilted her head. "But then Achilles told me that it was time for me come work over here."
"And look at what you have caused!" he shot at her. "Without informing me or the captain of your presence, you have succeeded in damaging property and creating enemies!"
She scoffed offensively. "Shall I take that as your version of 'thank you?' I just saved your life!"
"Which I do not count against you," he clarified with stern eyes.
"Count against me?" Emma repeated. "Sir, you are not the one who gets to be mad here, alright? If you would remember, I'm supposed to be working here, by your escort too by the way," she sent hostile eyes to him. "Remember the deal? I work here with you, I get the map I want, and then I'm out of here and out of your life."
"I remember the deal," he spat at her. "Do not think me ignorant."
"Then what should I think?" Emma asked impatiently. "Why didn't you let me act on our deal and come out here? Why are you so upset and ungrateful?"
Enraged, Connor reacted. He took steps forward towards Emma, placed firm hands upon her biceps and pushed her against a nearby wall. He then held her down, peered deeply into her eyes and began speaking feverishly.
"I am upset because you did something foolish." He locked onto her. "You walked freely into the hands of strange men; strange and needy men who toy with the virtues of honor and integrity. They could do terrible things to you."
Emma stared defiantly in her restrained stance. "But they didn't!"
"It does not matter," he implored to her. "You were not in my knowledge, my realm of sight. I would not have been able to help you if I had to. And it would be so that a single man did try to harm you. He pursued you in the scheme of hostility."
She began wriggling in contempt of the situation. "It was a misunderstanding.-"
"And the nest?" He drew closer to her face. "Was that a misunderstanding? You launching yourself after me beneath a falling mass?"
Emma stopped and looked to him in defeat.
"And then the way I found you," he lowered his voice and looked downward. "I was so aggrieved to see you beside me. Even more so as you were lifted away, and taken a hostage by the same man who hunted you." He switched a position of his hands upon her arms and studied them. "The way he handled you..know that it brought rage to my soul."
Despite anger she held for him, Emma began to feel warmth collect in her cheeks.
"That is why I am upset." He returned sincere eyes. "I am not ungrateful for what you have done for me, just frustrated. And as for not inviting you to come along with me this morning," he began loosening his grip and pulling away. "I did not think that you would want to interact with me this morning after last night."
The memory returned abruptly in Emma's mind. She swallowed uncomfortably before exhaling a deep breath. Then she sent calm eyes into his, and spoke with a coherent voice. "Let go of me."
Not expecting to receive that response, the native looked dazed over her. Then recognizing her wish, he gently released her arms completely, and withdrew his hands to his sides and stepped back. Breathing in her own air again, Emma sighed and looked at him regrettably. Then after turning her head and clearing her throat, she would speak to him again.
"In all honesty," she started calmly with a tone of sheepishness. "I didn't want to speak to you. I didn't want to make things uncomfortable for you or me, so I decided to hide myself. That is why I sneaked around here as I did, trying to avoid any conflict I could."
He looked on mutedly.
"Little would I know that I would be in the center of it anyways." She shrugged with lightness. "You'd think by now, I would know that I not only become the center of it all, but the very cause of it!" She began to giggle. "After all we've been through! I guess I really should have known."
Connor twitched the corners of his mouth. He looked at her with muse on his lips, no matter how much he wanted to keep up his seriousness. Then with a defeated snort, his temper softened, along with his darkened demeanor.
"You too!" she laughed at his impending grin. "You know its true."
Cracking a grin, he listened to her chuckle. He then looked down at his hands and dwindled gloved fingers into the air. After a few moments of reduced tension, he would look back to her soberly.
"I would like to apologize for last night."
Her smile would fade.
"What I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I promise you that I will not attempt such an action ever again, and cause you to distrust me as you have."
She would look down briefly and nod. "I suppose I'm sorry too. Perhaps I led you along, and made you think..certain things."
They both stood silently. Sounds of sloshing waves and creaking boards resided in the midst of their contemplations. The touchy subject left them both in a mix of bashfulness and regret. Still both of them wondered of true inward inclinations.
After these moments passed, Connor took a step closer to her again. His amber eyes lowered upon her and studied over her body. He would then reach her eyes and speak in a softer tone. "Are you hurt?"
She looked over herself briefly. "From bald Mort or you?" she teased.
"Either," he smirked at her remark.
"No," she affirmed him. "You've got a pretty good grip, though. Actually you both do."
He sniffed amusingly before casting somber eyes. "I thank you then, formally. For saving me from the danger present, especially at the expense of your pain."
"Yeah I really hate that guy," Emma said distastefully at the thought of Mort. "I know not to get him angry again."
"He is not the one you should worry about," Connor hinted at her. "You can be certain that he will not harm you again."
Emma remembered his defense of her today and reflected on their current conversation. "..Yes. I do believe that."
"You can also be certain that you will not have to cause yourself harm for my sake," he added on. "I will be more attentive, and not be so idle in my activities."
Emma studied the confident remark. A squirm of fondness circulated in her stomach as she learned of the care this man had for her. However, feeling it grow stronger, she would try to swallow it away and give a response.
"I didn't exactly want to see you get hurt to begin with." She squeaked. "Or worse."
They continued to look at each other. Silence fell once again as no more words were decided to be spoken. Emma felt the growing tinge to draw closer to him, and even elaborate on current thoughts. Familiar feelings of electricity began to arise in her core. Connor too felt the yearning, and wanted to place a hand upon her again.
The tension was returning, and they both knew it. However, the native recognized the weight of longing at its primal toxicity, and decided to take on his promise recently made to her. Connor sniffed aloud to break the trance, and took a step back. As he did, Emma blinked in surprise at the sudden action and saw him turn slightly away from her.
"Let us retreat to our duties," he suggested with an attempt to refocus. "Faulkner is awaiting us."
She was left rather disappointed. "Right," Emma nodded, "Time to take up consequences."
Atlantic Ocean: March 1774
The sea was tame, when the cloaked man came up from below deck. The galley, Perseverance, swayed gently atop the rolling sea-foam blue, creeping silently into the fog-induced bay. In to the very clouds she went, shrouding her dauntless approach from even the eyes that rested beneath her masts. All was quiet now, and ever more concealed, and the cloaked man never seemed so eager.
Walking along the empty deck, he placed a gentle hand on the side railing. Below him, the passive water surged with the flight of his transport, cutting viciously atop the mild caps. He would look calmly to the north end of ship, near the bowsprit. Like a sword plunging forth, it appeared valiant and ever so suitable for his taste. At this time he listened to the nature around him, observing the chilled wind whistle past his ears and the flapping of the great sails that fluttered above. Eyes continued forward, he tapped his fingers against the polished wood, patiently waiting.
Before long the clouds began to grow thin. As if parting for the ship's arrival, a stunning clear began to form at the point of the admirable bowsprit, giving way to a particular view. The city of Boston lay low beneath its sky blue expanse. A lonesome island, green hills surrounded the bustling city, which consisted of short stacked brick buildings fuming with trails of distant smoke. Pearly steeples glinted in the sunlight, reaching high above common rooftops and ringing proudly with singing bells. As the ship neared this port, the cloaked man inhaled a deep breath, and would release it with a tasteful smile.
Soon enough the crew about him took notice. Men clamored from below deck, aching from journey, and arose to catch a glimpse of their final destination. After a few shouts and whistles of joy of the sight, they worked eagerly together, preparing long lodging at the port-city. The cloaked man remained in his stance, gladly letting the men around him bring his desired destination to him.
About ten minutes later, the Perseverance had managed to sail smoothly into the harbor and halt beside a wooden dock. At it's formal arrest, men jumped from her sides and tied down the ropes which would secure her position in this condensed city. Sweet chaos would ensue upon the deck, having men run earnestly about with various supplies and belongings to bring with them on shore. In this time, the cloaked man waited for a majority of the crew to clear his way, and then he would stride most elegantly toward the ramp that led to the dock.
Standing at the edge, the cloaked man looked onto the city before him. The smell of salt, fish, and rock heavily pervaded the air along with the noise of a thousand people. An array of voices dispelled around him, along with strange sights.
He would stretch out his arms to both sides of him. Waiting for his aid, he sent yellow eyes observantly to the bustling about him, calculating all the movements. Amidst the ocean breeze, his brown ponytail slicked back without flaw, never falling out of place in the seasonal occurrence. A clean shaven face was his to claim, and he would purse his lips in anticipation of his long wanted arrival.
"Aya, sir," the quivering thin aid appeared at his side. "Welcome to Boston, Captain."
The cloaked man would feel his dark overcoat peel off from behind him. Keeping his head straight ahead, he waited for his aid to finish, and chose to do so silently. When the coat was discarded, a bright navy blue one revealed anew, militaristic in broad shoulders, white buffs, and brass buttons. Upon the left shoulder was found a series of bandage wraps, securing a deep wound found within. The man paid no heed to shame in it's appearance, as it often drove him to greater motivation.
"Sir," the aid folded the great overcoat in his arms. "Is there anything else I can service to you?"
"No," the man said bluntly. "Thank you."
"If I may ask, sir," the young aid hesitatingly inquired on. "What is it that brings you here?"
Apart from his usual bothered air, the man would abandon his defaulted state and shine a handsome smile. He turned to face the young boy, who was not much younger than he, and replied most pleasantly, "Amending old ties and seeking familiar places."
He then looked briefly over his wounded shoulder before facing the city once again. "And perhaps..redeeming the fortunes that were once mine."
Replies to Reviews:
Guest Jul 4: I'm so sorry that I didn't post this sooner :( Trust me, it killed me for not doing so but I was in a circumstance that didn't allow me to do so :/ Thank you for your patience still! I hope to not do that again .
Eager Reader: Thank you thank you so much! You've always been so sweet with your reviews, giving me comments that always make me so happy ^^ Thank you for telling me what you enjoyed! I'm really glad you like it as you did! It was fun writing! And yes the age is duly for the sake of the game. I like to picture Emma and Connor as adultish still, as in the game and in the actual time period young people grew up fast and matured.
BrittanyFox: Aw, I'm sorry xD I know that was a bit cruel, but I had to! For good reason though :)
DellyisKawaii: Thank you very much! :D Your excitement for my work is wonderful to know! I love seeing your enthusiasm for future events in this story and for the story overall! It is never tiring to hear that so thank you, truly :))
Rmenfys: Hahaha Thank you very much! It was indeed a very long chapter. Lots happened..I'm sorry to say but you're kinda supposed to have the tension eat at you XD However thank you for saying that my characterization of Connor is good, that's always most assuring for me to hear! I'm also glad you like Kale! I want him to be cute and amusing so I'm glad you think him so :))
Zelink005: Yes I know it rather is haha. But I intended it to! So you might come back for more . And for plot reasons of course :)
MickyNotaMouse: I'm glad this chapter gave you fuzzies ^^ and yes, similar heritage to the main character is very cool! I'm happy you found the chapter indescribable! haha :)
Laurel: Oh boy. I felt the same writing that part. I was going through these motions of embarrassment, confidence, and just giddiness towards it all! I'm glad you're eager to see what happens next! :D
Guest Jun 13: "-squeak-" haha I like that. I'm so happy you got excited! It always thrills me to see my readers so pleased with a chapter :) Thank you for telling me so!