Prologue: What Happened At the Tavern?

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The cause of events is ever in the great; Men are but actors, generous or mean, according as the scene is set for them.
'The Conspiracy of Byron', William Shakespeare

Aurora steps onto the pier as her dinghy floats close to the harbor, the small vessel sinking into the sea as the water weighs it down to the ocean floor. The group of fishermen that were on the dock stare at her in befuddlement, taken aback by the spectacle, especially so early in the morning.

The young woman gives them a disarmingly polite smile and approaches the nearest fisherman. "Can you point me to the nearest inn?" She asks, adjusting the knapsack more comfortably on her shoulder.

The man blinks at her, still in shock over the event that had just happened. She waits, patiently, for him to regain his bearings. He shakes himself from his stupor. "You can try Seafoam Tavern. Coralie should have some rooms available," he finally says, pointing in the direction of said inn. "Just go down mainstreet there and you'll eventually see a big green sign on your left."

She nods a thanks and gives the rest of the fishermen a wave over her shoulder. Aurora does as the fisherman had said, walking leisurely down mainstreet, ignoring the strange stares of the early morning passersby. She keeps her shoulders lax and a calm, friendly smile on her face, so she didn't look so unfriendly to the townspeople. She may have a bounty on her head, but she wasn't going to look like she had a bounty on said head.

Aurora comes upon a green sign on her left and enters into the Seafoam Tavern, the bell above jingling. There's an older man behind a counter who looks up from his stocking to see who had just come through the door.

"Good mornin'," Aurora croons, approaching the man. "I was wonderin' if you had any vacancies?"

The man sets all of his attention on her as he answers, "Yes, we have five rooms open. Two singles, and three doubles."

"A single will do—how much?"

"One hundred and fifty beri a night."

Cheap . Aurora doesn't hesitate as she pulls out her money pouch, counts her beri and passes it to the man. He gives her a key in return and points to the stairs leading to the second floor where the rooms were located. He advised her to not go any further; it only led to the roof and guests were not allowed on the roof.

She did as she was told and went to her room, locking the door behind her. The redhead walks over to the single twin bed, setting her knapsack and claymore down onto the mattress. She raises her arms above her head, stretching, pulling at the muscles in her shoulders and back. They pop and she drops her arms, her body falling into the mattress below.

The mattress was firmer than she would like a mattress to be, but it was better than sleeping cramped in a dinghy.

Aurora closes her eyes, the movement of the ocean still in her bones — even on land the rhythm of the waves never ceased. She lets herself relax against the puffy comforter. It's not long when she drifts off to sleep.

When she awakes, a shower is the first thing on her to-do list. She scrubs at her tanned skin harshly, cleaning a week worth of grime and odor from her body. That was the thing about sailing in only a dinghy—there wasn't a shower. There was also the problem of no traditional way to relieve herself either, but Aurora made do with what she had. Lucky for her, this island had appeared in the distance early this morn, right before the sun peeked above the horizon.

The redhead remembers the relief she had felt in that moment, especially when a leak sprung hours before. It was good fortune how it all seemed to fall into place, and she couldn't help the grateful praise that she sent to her deities. Truly, Aurora would have found herself lost a long time ago if it weren't for their grace.

She shuts the hot water off, standing motionlessly and enjoying the way the water rolls off her body. She was still tired, and her neck was stiff, but it would fade in time. Aurora plans to root here for a while; she was running low on funds, she now needs a new sailboat, new clothes, and a place to rest while not having to worry about the weather or the turbulence of the sea during a particularly bad storm.

Though the East Blue was the tamest of its sisters, the storms weren't always easy to endure, especially when in such a small boat.

Aurora wrings the water out of her long red hair, giving extra attention to the braids. She uses one of the obligatory towels to dry her body, wrapping the towel around her torso as she steps out of the tub. She brushes her teeth at the sink, checking her gums and teeth for any signs of decay.

She walks out of the bathroom after, throwing the towel on the floor. She puts the dirty clothes she had on before, not having anything else. She only hopes her clothes don't smell as bad as her body had—it was embarrassing having to walk around, smelling like body odor and blood. She counts the rest of her beri, mentally noting the total before putting it away and leaving her room.

She hears voices and peeks around the corner, recording all the occupants in the inn, eating and drinking. Aurora sneaks in between the shadows, slipping out the door, unnoticed. She looks down the street in both directions, not really knowing where to begin. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe . She follows the direction her nodding head landed and starts down the avenue.

The redhead surveys the buildings, reading the signs and peeping into windows. She comes across a clothing shop not too far from the Seafoam Tavern. There was a bell above this door as well, jingling as she entered, alerting the shopkeepers of her presence. She gives the older woman behind the desk a smile and waves at the younger one organizing the clothes on the rack.

"Let us know if you need any help," the older woman says, eyeing the redhead warily.

"Yeah," Aurora says, brushing off the woman's gaze. She riffles through the clothes, picking a few shirts and pants to try on. As predicted, they fit her and she takes them, along with a few articles of underwear, to the counter. The old woman rings her up. "By the way, what's the name of this town, grandma?"

The old woman's brow twitches at the disrespectful label, wrinkled lips pursing. "So, you're a traveler, huh? You're in Orange Town, girl. That'll be four hundred beri."

Aurora smirks at the old woman's irritation, passing the cash to her. "Just keep the change, grandma, thanks." The redhead leaves, bag in hand. Orange Town, huh? Alright, gotta get changed and start looking for a job .

Leaving her claymore and karambits behind was an odd… sensation, to say the least.

No matter how many times she's been in this circumstance, the feelings were always the same. The familiar weight around her hips and on her back were a missing piece to a puzzle, one she found no relief from.

She spits the sunflower seed shell on the ground, pausing in her stride to adjust the load of two-by-fours on her shoulder.

"She's strong…" she hears one of the carpenters mutter, incredulous.

Aurora doesn't react to his words, instead continuing towards her mark. She sets the load down, cutting the ropes that held them together. She grabs a board and starts building onto the structure along with the other carpenters. She was by no means a woodworker, but she knew her way around hammer and nails pretty well and she had the muscles to do the heavy lifting.

Feeling eyes on her, Aurora looks up from her work, gaze connecting that of a young man, just a couple years older than her. His short brown hair was messy, some strands plastered to his sweaty forehead, his matching brown eyes widening, clearly surprised at being caught. She looks away in disinterest, choosing to focus on the wood grain.

The day goes by in a blur and before long, the foreman yells for the men and her to stop and go home to rest up for tomorrow. They had made a lot of progress, Aurora thinks in passing as she jumps from the roof. She nods to the men who were on her team, giving them a wave over her shoulder. She raises her arms over her head, stretching the tight muscles in her neck and shoulders.

"Excuse me, miss?" She doesn't want to stop—she just wants to get back to the inn, eat dinner, perhaps mix a radler, and go to sleep. Aurora did not want to stick around and strike up a conversation with someone who she won't ever see again in a couple of weeks.

She stops and turns regardless. It was the young man who was staring at her earlier. He approaches her confidently, a handsome smile on his face. Mentally, Aurora rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but notice you earlier and I just wanted to introduce myself and see if you wanted to get—"

The redhead interrupts him by raising her palm between them. "I'm not interested," she says blankly. Then, she walks away, back to the Seafoam Tavern, her stomach twisted in knots and an uncomfortable, embarrassing heat pooling in her stomach.

Aurora was gonna need something stronger to forget this interaction. I wonder if that bartender has any korn?

It was two weeks before the building (a new store) was completed (or at least, the carpenters and Aurora had done all that they were suppose to) and Aurora was paid for all the work she had done, and she didn't have to see that young man's face anymore. In the days after his rejection, he had made it clear that he wasn't willing to give up on his attempts to worm his way into her life (or pants). Either way, Aurora was clearly not in the mood, especially for today.

"I've never seen hair as red as yours," he comments, adoration in his voice. Aurora picks up her pace, hands stuffed in the pockets of her pants. "And I wanted to ask, what do those engravings mean on those cuffs in your braids?"

Her orange eyes shoot to his, glowering at him hatefully. Enough is enough already. He stops walking when she does, mesmerized by the fire burning in those depths.

"Listen, creep, I've tried being nice to ya, but you just don't quit, do ya?" She jams her pointer finger into his chest, expelling a small amount of haki to make him step back. His face loses the smile, brows furrowing as he stares at her finger in surprise. "How many times do I have to say 'I'm not interested'?" Another sharp haki poke, another step back. "How many times do I have to ignore ya?" Poke, step back. "Now, if you wanna keep what's between your legs, I suggest you give up this endeavor with me, understand?"

Instead of poking him, she slams her palm into his chest, sending a stronger wave of haki through her hand. He stumbles and falls to his ass, looking up, a hint of fear in those brown eyes. Aurora gives him one more intimidating glare, cracking her knuckles threateningly.

She spins on her heel and leaves him, stomping towards the tavern. She was going to need a steak and a couple drinks of korn. Aurora had the money now, and she had been such a good girl, she deserved a steak dammit.

"It was that kid again, wasn't it?" Coralie asks when Aurora barges into the crowded tavern, ignoring the glances the other occupants send her way. She strides up the stairs and returns after a while, clothes changed and weapons equipped. That was the strange thing about her, Coralie noted a while back. That girl couldn't stand to not have that big sword and small daggers on her person. The redhead doesn't say anything as she plops herself in front of the bartender, forehead resting in her palm. Coralie snorts and grabs the young girl's favorite drink.

"Thanks." Aurora slams her drink back, tapping her glass as a silent demand for more. Coralie obliges. "I think he got the message this time. Besides, today was the last day of the job," she mutters, shrugging her shoulders. This time, she takes a conservative sip of her korn. "I want a steak, Coralie, medium, with steamed broccoli and potatoes."

Coralie chuckles and leaves, relaying the order to the kitchen. "You know, it probably wouldn't hurt to go out and have fun, kid," the tavern owner says when he reappears, filling the redhead's glass again. "Maybe not go out with Kota—" he amends quickly at her glare, "—but go meet people your own age. You've holed yourself up in this tavern since you've arrived. Stop being a grumpy old lady and go be young!"

Aurora scowls. "Shuttup, geezer. What's the point? I won't be here much longer."

Coralie raises a brow. "Didn't I tell you to mind your manners, young'n?"

The teen waves dismissively at the man's words. "Yeah, so?"

Coralie smacks the back of her head. Though it didn't hurt, it did sting her pride. The action reminded her a little too much of the old hag, and made her feel like a petulant child being scolded once more. Stupid old people, they're all alike in the end. She rolls her eyes when Coralie turns to retrieve her food from the kitchen.

She glances over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening, a hush falling upon the lively tavern.

Aurora looks away, uninterested in the colorfully clad crowd. The bartender returns once again with her food and she starts in on her steak as Coralie greets the newcomers. Someone sits beside her, but she doesn't spare them a glance, concentrating on her plate instead.

"What can I do for you all?"

"Your best rum for me and my crew will do," comes the scratchy voice of the newcomer.

Blue hair and a bright, round red nose is what Aurora sees out of the corner of her eye, but still, she continues to eat. She could feel and hear the rest of his crew entering the tavern, making themselves comfortable in remaining seats and recently emptied seats, as customers that had been enjoying their dinner had fled as soon as they could when they saw sight of the strangers.

The tavern owner does as asked and goes towards the back to complete the pirate's order.

The blue haired man sets his dark eyes on her now, gaze harsh as he regards her. "That hair…" he mutters sneeringly, "reminds me of someone I know."

She raises a brow at his statement as she swallows her food. She knew red was a rare color, especially out in these parts, but surely she wasn't the only one this pirate had come across with this same red hair. She washes down the food with her beverage.

The pirate continues to stare at her, taking in the claymore strapped to her back, the knives around her waist. Aurora takes in more of his appearance as well, eyes roving over the crossbones on his face, painted red lips, and garish clothes. He leans closer to her face, and she lets him.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Look, mom, his nose is like a clown horn! Honk honk!"

The tavern falls into a deadly silence as the clown clad pirate slowly turns to glare at the young boy, who was now clutched tightly in his mother's arms.

"What did you say about my nose, boy?"

Insecure. Aurora finishes her potatoes and broccoli quickly.

The clown rises from his seat and approaches the mother and son duo, eyes trained on the boy.

The mother stutters out an apology on her son's behalf. "I-I'm s-so sorry, s-sir. He's only f-five, h-he doesn't unders-stand—"

"He's old enough to learn!"

Aurora stands in front of the clown now, blocking the fist aimed for the boy and his mother. "Pick on someone your own size," she says cooly, shoving the man in the chest and sending him back into the bar. She glances over shoulder at the mother and son, and tells them, "I suggest you leave, lady."

The redhead unsheathes her karambits, twirling them in her grasp as the mother flees from the tavern, her son tucked against her chest. The other pirates that had been loitering around stood in shock at the display, unbelieving that Aurora had just attacked their captain.

The man in question straightens and glowers at the redhead. Aurora continues to twirl her karambits in response.

"You're gonna regret that, girl."

The clown lunges forward with a sword of his own, much larger than her own curved blades, but she blocks him. Aurora holds against his blade with her own, criss-crossed to relieve the weight bearing down. She aims a quick kick to his chest, sending him skidding into the wall adjacent to them. She wastes no time in running out of the tavern and into the streets. She turns in time just as the clown swipes at her head.

She ducks under his arm and slices through his torso, karambits sharp and steady as he falls apart in two. Aurora stands straight, tilting her head — popopopopopop goes her neck. The clown's crew had migrated outside to view the fight and now they were littering the streets, surrounding her and their captain that now lay in pieces.

The redhead thought their wide, amusing grins odd.

Pain electrocutes her side as something sharp rushes into her skin, just under her ribs. She yelps, caught off guard, and she steps away, sword pulling out of her side. The redhead presses the back of her hand to the gushing wound, gritting her teeth as she finds the source of her injury.

Her eyes widen. The clown she had just previously cut in two was alive and well. His top and bottom halves were still disconnected, where she had cut him, but his legs stood and his torso floated before her eyes.

She grinds her teeth together in realization. Devil fruit.

He laughs maniacally, as if he just heard the best joke in the world. "Gotcha girl! Now, you die!"

His upper half flies straight at her, sword, covered in her blood, at the ready. She somersaults to the left, barely missing the singing of his blade as it cut through the air where her head was only moments ago. She continues to evade his attacks, looking for an opening. Her sharp blades were useless in a fight like this, where her opponent could take himself apart and put himself back together again. She uses her karambits to parry the clown's own blade, keeping him at arm's length.

The pirate scowls, though he also couldn't help but be impressed by the girl's resilience. Despite the wound in her side, despite the blood pouring profusely, she still fought as if it wasn't. She didn't even show that she was in pain on her face—the same cool expression she gave him in the tavern still in place. This girl is strong, he couldn't help himself from thinking as he disconnects his other hand, aiming for her thigh in a sneak attack.

She groans at the impact, hissing between clench teeth. Instead of stepping away, she bows down to her knee, flinching. The clown rips the blade out of her skin and there's a tense moment where no one moves, no one speaks.

Finally, the pirate captain, as he stares haughtily down at her, demands, "Tell me your name, girl."

Still, she doesn't. Rather, she swipes at him once more, karambit slicing through his head. He narrows his eyes and slams the butt of his sword against the back of her head hard. She blinks against the blackness and stabs into his chest. He hits her again, this time harder.

She goes down, face planting the hard cobblestone. Aurora tries to fight against the shadows growing at the edges of her vision. She breathes in a deep breath and swings her arm out, not hitting the clown.

But the clown is pushed into the building next to them nonetheless, leaving an impression behind as he falls to the ground. The redhead smirks victoriously before she falls unconscious.

The next time Aurora wakes, she is surprised. The last thing that she had expected was to be alive. As she sits up, she notices the cold metal surface below her and the iron bars around her. She clenches her jaw at the sound of laughter, turning and glaring hatefully at the band of circus freaks. The captain is in the front, grin wide and stretching across his face, smug at her predicament.

"Finally, you're awake!" He starts, walking closer to the cage, circling the iron prison. "No, I didn't kill you, that much is obvious. I have a proposition for you, girl." He stops in her line of sight, bending to be on eye level with her. "Join my crew!"

She raises a brow and gives him a sarcastic look. At her expression his eyes narrow. Aurora stays silent, waiting.

The clown falters in the wake of her silence, but just barely. He stands to his full height again and speaks once more. "I don't know how you did that earlier, but you would be a flashy addition to my ranks! Just think, girl, you could be a part of the Buggy pirates and take over the East Blue with me!"

Buggy? Is that his name? Aurora stares over his shoulder, at the three men standing just behind Buggy. One's head was shaved on one side, streaks of lime green in his dark green hair. He was wiry, but muscles defined his torso and thin arms. He wore a long blue and white checkered scarf, purple cloak, white pants and boots. A light blue sash keeps his white pants in place.

The second man had a rectangular head, covered in stark white hair, round ears on top. His human ears stuck out from the sides of his head. He… wore? a white vest of fur over his chest, leaving his midriff exposed. A black sash (what's with the sashes?) holds his blue pants in place and white fur shoes cover his feet.

The third man was also wiry, but much taller than the other two—even taller than Buggy himself. His hair was cropped short and gelled into spikes, a shade of a very shocking neon pink. His skin is blindingly white with two blue triangles painted under his eyes and red lips. He wore an orange polka-dotted buttoned shirt, of which he left unbuttoned, leaving his torso exposed. His legs were covered in green striped pants, feet in red oversized shoes.

Just behind them were more colorfully clothed weirdos.

There isn't enough beri in the world to make me join up with this freakshow, she thinks, eyes slowly moving upwards to blue, blue sky. She prays for salvation, for lightning to come down and strike Buggy, for fire to rain down from the heavens—anything would do, really. Yet, nothing came. She was forsaken for now.

How the hell do I get myself into these situations?

Long time, no see, huh?

A really long time.

A lot has definitely changed since the last time I even attempted writing this story. I've graduated college, took care of my bedridden grandma (until her death), got a job, bought a house, got really into pottery—I am not the same person I was when I started this, but I am excited to start anew. I hope you guys are as well.

Catch ya on the flip side!