This chapter does introduce a future crew member, but I'm not going to tell you which one it is! Mwa Ha Ha! And by the way, I would like to thank all of you who sent in lovely captains. I have sort of banded them all together to make the perfect one! (More on this at the end of the sneak peek).
Clop Clop Clop Clop
The brown horse steadily trotted its way up the brick pathway. The air was heavy and hot from moisture. Because of this, both the horse and its rider were very grateful that the path was shaded by rows of live oak trees draped in Spanish moss. The shade offered a little shelter from the unmerciful sun that beat down on the rest of the cotton plantation.
The rider, an attractive raven haired man in his late teens, wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. Even though he had grown up here, after a few weeks at sea he had become completely unadjusted to the climate. Luckily, he had almost reached his destination where hopefully the a/cawaited him.
After a few more minutes of riding in silence, they finally reached Shadow Lawn. Yes, the house had a name. The 3 story brick manor was separated from the surrounding fields by tall trees that cast long shadows on the perfectly manicured lawn, hence the name. All of the large windows were covered by latched black shutters, so as to keep the cool air inside and the hot air out. The roof hung over the long front porch and was supported by 4 wide white pillars that framed the large double glass doors.
Sweeping off said porch was a thin dark-skinned woman wearing a blue dress under a white apron. She looked up as she heard the hoof beats. When she saw who was riding the horse, her eyes widened. The rider willed the horse to go a little faster, but Jackson stayed in a steady walk, his stable at the back of the house in sight. The woman threw down her broom and came after them.
When they had reached the stables, the rider dismounted and quickly began to untack Jackson. He wasn't fast enough, though. Just as he had finished pouring some water into his trough, the dark-skinned maid stormed into the stable.
"Forrest Abernathy! Where have you been?" Her tone was angry, though she secretly felt a little relieved.
Forrest sighed as he exited and latched the door to Jackson's stall. He knew he would have to face this eventually. The maid stood there expectantly with her hands on her hips and her toe tapping the ground.
He decided to ignore her question. "Hey Cam, it's good to be home. What's for dinner?"
That wasn't a good decision. "Don't you 'What's for dinner?' me! It's gonna be you if you can't find a decent explanation. A boy can't go disappearin' for two months without sayin' nothin'and then come back home like everything's fine and dandy!"
"I was…out." Cam's eyes were daggers.
"Out- for 2 months? Do you know how worried we've been? For all we knew you coulda been dead!" Even the horses were beginning to grow uncomfortable from her outburst. Forrest's shoulders sagged in defeat.
"I'm sorry. I can't tell you." He said simply.
"And why not?"
"It was master's orders." Forrest said, as if that explained everything.
Cam's anger shot up another level. "Don't even get me started on Mr. Duchanne. You know you left poor Ms. Georgia to deal with her daddy all on her own?"
"Deal with him? Normally they leave each other well enough alone."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't I wish? They ain't done nothin' but yell at each other for the past three weeks now."
Three weeks- that would be a few days after he had sent the letter. So master had told her after all.
"Well, I should probably go report to him, then." Forrest said anxiously, squirming under Cam's evil glare.
"Oh, no you don't. Before you do anything you're gonna go talk to Ms. Georgia. That poor girl's been in a right state 'tween you vanishin' and all this arguin' with her daddy."
Forrest gulped nervously. He had hoped he would be able to report to Mr. Duchanne and get a shower before having to face Georgia, and he also hadn't imagined that she would be that upset. But Cam's face looked too scary to protest.
"Alright, where is she?" he asked.
"Last I seen her she was where she always goes when she's pissed."
"So the kitchen." Forrest turned to leave.
"I should warn you, she's got her big knife out." Cam said.
His eyes widened. "The-the big one?"
Cam shrugged. "Told you she was pissed."
-Elsewhere-
A large pot of water boiled violently on the stove. A red-faced brown-haired girl wielding a comically large knife was cutting vegetables. Well, perhaps butchering would be a better term, or possibly razing.
She muttered a few choice words and "father" every time the knife came into contact with the current victim on the butcher block cutting board, a zucchini.
The girl's hazel eyes were blood shot from crying and sleep deprivation. Her hair was crossing over the border from curls to a frizzy bush, her normally very pretty pink dress was wrinkled and she hadn't even bothered wearing shoes. In other words, it was apparent that the girl was beginning to lose it.
Georgia Duchanne threw the now thoroughly chopped zucchini into the pot and pulled an onion onto the board.
It was about then when Forrest entered the room.
The kitchen was large and luxurious, like almost everything else in Shadow Lawn. Everything, excluding the stove where Georgia was busy murdering vegetables, was spotless. Every surface was so clean you could eat off of it, though Georgia would kill you for disrespecting her food and Cam would kill you for making a mess if you actually tried.
The man stood there awkwardly for a few moments trying to think of ways to get her attention that would not end in his tragic demise. His mistress was so absorbed in destroying the onion that she was oblivious to anything else. Including, it seems, the placement of her own hand.
"Shit!" She yelled as she cradled her now burned hand near her chest.
Forrest forgot all about fearing for his life. "Oh my God, Georgia. Are you alright? Here, let me find some bandages, no- ice! We need ice! Or is it water? That's it! Water!" He grabbed the wrist of the injured hand and walked her quickly to the large sink on the other side of the room. She followed wordlessly, staring at him, the pain in her hand temporarily forgotten.
"F-Forrest, is it really you?" Georgia asked softly as he ran her burned hand under the cool water. He didn't answer.
She jerked away from him. "Where the hell have you been?" Her face was hurt, and broken. He hadn't imagined anything like this when he had left.
"I can't say."
"My asshole father put you up to this, didn't he? Why didn't you say anything before you left? Why did you make me worry?" She was yelling so furiously that Forrest longed for Cam's death glare.
"Ms. Georgia, I am very sorry. But could you please put the knife down?" She hefted her knife in her good hand and it looked like she had no intention of putting it down.
Deciding to just take what was coming to him, he closed his eyes and waited for the impact, but it never came. He heard the knife drop to the ground right before Georgia flung her arms around him.
When he opened his eyes, his face was in her hair. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried in his chest. She smelled like peaches.
"I'm just so glad you're okay. I thought I would never see you again. Then father started talking about the Ravenwoods and I had just about had it. He won't listen to a thing I say about it, and then he wouldn't help us look for you…" Her whispered words began to jumble into incoherency.
Forrest put his arms that had been hanging awkwardly at his sides around her and stroked her back gently. He decided to ignore the fact that the master would totally flip if he saw him hugging his daughter. He felt something wet seep through his shirt. Was she crying?
It was almost as if she could read his mind. "Fuck off, I'm not crying because I missed you or anything. It's the onions." Her voice was muffled by his shirt.
She then stiffened and pushed herself away from him. "Oh, no! The stew!" The pot was boiling over and the vegetables she had so meticulously destroyed now closely resembled mush. Forrest watched as she, despite her burned hand, turned off the stove and took the pot off the burner and began wiping up the spilled water with a dish cloth.
After the mess was cleaned, she looked back at him and her eyes widened. "You came into MY kitchen looking like that? You're tracking mud everywhere! I don't want to see you in here again until you've gotten your ass in the shower. Now out!"
Now this was the Georgia he knew. His boots, trousers, and white cotton shirt were all covered in a layer of dirt and sweat from the long ride here. He tried not to smile as she proceeded to forcefully shove him out the door.
She left him standing sheepishly in the hallway, thinking about how much he had missed her too.
Did you like it? Now, about the Captain. I know that his name will be something D. Brand and that he will have the power of the flame-flame fruit. I don't have his last name, his notorious nick-name (salamander?) or the name of the crew; though I know that the name of their first ship is the St. Elmo. Please submit your character ideas! Even if you have already sent in some, I would absolutely love to read more. Pretty please with a murdered zucchini on top?
-Love, Hendie :)
Name:
Age:
Physical Appearance: (Hair, skin, height, clothes, tattoos, scars, ect.)
Hero/Villain:
Occupation:(pirate, marine, bounty hunter, etc. in addition to chef, navigator, sniper, ect.)
Affiliations (If relevant): (particular pirate crew, world government, crime association)
Personality:
Back Story:
Dream:
Devil Fruit (If relevant):
Powers/Abilities: (fighting style and/or useful skills)
Other traits: