AnaMaria

Energetic and courageous, you stand up for your beliefs and for what you desire. You are independent, strong willed and fiercely competitive when needed although your ambition is tempered with patience. You maintain a positive attitude and with a more organized or practical approach to life material success is very likely. Your immensely loving and generous nature brings joy into peoples lives and ensures your happiness.

From the first time she saw him she knew exactly what kind of man he was. His love of gold sparkled in his smile, his love of alcohol swaggered with every step, and his love of women glinted in his eye, and that was all it took for her to see one thing radiating beautifully from him: freedom. It reeked out of every pore in his bronzed skin, it purred with every word he said, and it called out to her with every flutter of his hand. Freedom was all she really wanted, freedom was what had attracted her to him, and freedom was what kept her aboard his ship.

AnaMaria once owned a small boat herself. Nothing more than a dingy with cracking paint, but it was hers all the same. She loved it and watched over it like it was her child, and in its own way the small boat was. She had lived all her life on the small island of Tortuga and she had never wanted anything more than to escape from it, and that was what the small boat offered.

Granted, she couldn't go very far before the waves became to big and the small boat would roll and try to float atop her, (she had learned that the hard way) but those few small yards that it allowed her to venture was enough to make her happy, but it wasn't enough to keep her happy.

What AnaMaria really needed was an adventure. She needed a dagger in one hand and a bottle of rum in another; the life of a pirate. Of course, that was nothing but a childhood day dream, but she clung to it and hoped and prayed that someday she would get the guts to chop off her hair, tape down her chest, and sign aboard one of the ships that frequented the harbor. She had experience enough with her little dingy and the hard labor she had been doing for wages to pass as a sailor, but she didn't know if she had the acting ability to pull it off for months at a time.

That's why, on a hot in September day, as one lone man swaggering past her, his hair clinking with each step and his smile flashing gold, her fortunes began to look up. The man had stopped, turned to look over the strange sight of a woman applying sealant to a small rundown dingy, and then narrowed his eyes in thought. AnaMaria stopped, her hand in mid-brush stroke and looked up to meet his dark chocolate eyes.

"Can I 'elp yeh?" She said slowly as his eyes began to search her face and then look over the boat once again.

"Depends love," The man said, his boots clunking dully on the dock as he took a few steps toward her. "What do yeh do with a boat like tha'?"

"Fish and sail mostly," She said, her body slouching comfortably and she dropped the brush back into the can of sealant. "Why?"

"No need to explain that a boat sails darlin' that wasn't my question," He said coolly. AnaMaria rewarded him with an icy glare. "What I meant was, what is a girl like you doing with a boat like that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She was on her feet before the man could blink. "I have every right to sail as much as the next person! Why should men be able to sail and work for proper wages and women be forced into the streets? Bastard." She said before spitting at his feet.

The man's bejeweled hands were raised innocently before he pressed his palms together in a mock prayer. "Apologies," He looked her over again before eyeing the boat once more. "What's your name?"

"AnaMaria," She responded, her arms crossing at her sides.

"Honor to meet yeh Miss AnaMaria, but I must be on me way. Maybe I'll catch you at the Faithful Bride around sunset?" His eyebrows rose suggestively as the words rolled of his tongue.

Crack.

Her hand had met his check faster than a cannonball meets the side of ship. His braids came around and smacked him as his head flung to the side from the impact. Her hand print was blazed on his check and the man let out a yelp of pain.

"Only if I'm unfortunate." She said coldly before turning around and grinning.

Freedom was so close she could see it.

She did meet him that night. She wandered in, the sun slowly disappearing behind the clouds causing shades of pink to erupt in the sky. He was sitting at the bar, his hat still atop his arrogant head and his fingers tapping an incomprehensible tune on the bar. Not trying to disguise herself in the least, AnaMaria plunked herself in the chair next to him. The man's eyes glinting as a Cheshire grin spread across his lips.

"'Ello love," He said, his hand pushing a tankard toward her.

Freedom was so close she could hear it.

They talked quietly for awhile before both of them had consumed enough liquor to make them giddy. Soon they were both singing at the top of their lungs, the whole tavern quickly joining in. It wasn't long before a drunken AnaMaria was luring the pirate to her bedroom.

Freedom was so close she could feel it.

The two stumbled down the street, singing and cheering, his arm snaking around her waist and she too drunk to push him off. Gunshot exploded behind them, brawls erupted in front of them, and neither noticed. They eventually made it to AnaMaria's small room above a lonesome inn and before she had even put the key in the door, his rum stained lips were pressed her hers.

Freedom was so close she could taste it.

She awoke the next morning, her clothes strewn about her room, the sun casting odd shadows on her wall. She awoke that morning, her head pounding and her stomach churning. She awoke that morning completely alone.

Freedom had slipped through her fingers and walked out her door.

It wasn't long before she discovered her boat was missing and she felt as though she could murder someone.

Freedom had betrayed her.

She spent the next four months wallowing in self pity, working the bars around town and selling her soul to the devil so she could eat. Then, one foggy night in July, who should walk in but freedom himself.

She would get vengeance in any way she could.

AnaMaria found out that he was looking for a crew and it wasn't hard to convince his daft friend that she was a man. The man smelled of pigs and was more than three sheets to the wind and all she had to do was stuff her hair in her hat and speak as little as possible.

He lined them up on the dock for inspection, eyeing each one and walking down the line, rambling about honor and facing danger.

Freedom was a walking contradiction.

That's when she made her move. That's when she moved in for the kill.

"What's the benefit for us?"

She saw his head shoot up, his ears prick, and his eyes narrow. He recognized her. His face scrunched into a pained ball as he pulled her hat off her head and her long brown hair tumbled down her back.

"AnaMaria."

Crack!

It was more than he deserved.

It was nearly a year later and AnaMaria still saw her captain as freedom. Every time her eye met his and those dark puddles swirled, she saw it. Whenever the Pearl was caught in a storm and he came to life like no one she'd ever met before, she saw it. Whenever his hand ran down his ships railing, his lips silently speaking to his ship, she saw it.

Freedom.

Freedom had hurt her, lied to her, and betrayed her, but freedom was piracy and freedom had freed her soul.

I should be studing for a history final, but all the talk of the times long since past had me thinking of pirates, and well, this is what became of it.

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