Brunswick Docks.
Liverpool, England.
The air was misty and thick with the taste of salt.
Seagulls floated lazily on the breeze calling out to one another, filling the early morning with their noisey cries.
The sound of the waves gently lapping at the docks was almost drowned out by the hustle and commotion of the people above it.
The docks were alive and teaming as people rushed to and fro.
In the middle of the fray, unnoticed and undetected was a small figure, clad in boys clothing.
Maka sat silently on a crate far above the hustle and bustle on the board walk.
She was watching intently, her green eyes keen, taking in the sights of the people swirling around her and the sea that beckoned beyound.
She took special care to observed the men that passed by.
The male species was an odd one and deserved to be studie in depth.
She noticed how they spoke differently.
How their voices were lower, and more throaty than her own.
They spoke on different subjects than what women normally did and they often spoke very crudely, but more honestly.
She took note of how they walked.
Women were taught to walk gracefully and often swayed or sashayed, where as men walked with more purpose, longer strides and no grace at all.
Maka watched in fascination as pedestrians and seamen alike milled about.
She tried to take in everything, no detail too small to over look.
I wonder if men walk and talk differently in Texas?
Texas seemed so very far off and foreign to her.
The idea of such a place was rather a massive one.
When uncertain about anything in life Maka had always turned to books for answers.
So as she sat watching the passing people she nervously clutched a book tightly under her arm.
She had scraped together the last of her money to buy a few books and an extra set of male clothing. The books were worth every penny though.
One was a heavy tomb of the local flora and fauna. The other book was filled with stories of courageous cowboys and their impossible tales.
The book being her only life-line, made her desperately hope that the information in the book was accurate.
Texas was no longer going to be a fairytale land to her.
Maka turned her gaze expectantly to the misty atlantic, as if she could reach across it and see Texas on the other side.
The sea was vast and so very blue, stretching all the way to the horizon and beyond.
The sight of it filled Maka's heart with both dread and excitement.
The ocean whistled softly, promising grand adventures and far off lands.
Soon she would be leaving everything that she had ever known or held as familiar.
"Last call for America!" The harbor master shouted, rousing Maka from her fancies.
She jumped down quickly from her perch and made her way through the maddening crowd.
She took extra special care to walk properly like the other men around her.
She swung her legs out in long strides, reveling in the sense of freedom the breeches gave her.
Men's clothing was definitely more comfortable and less restricting than womens.
I could get used to this.
She hummed happily as she walked up to the harbor masters small shanty.
She waited her turn in line as people gathered to buy their passage.
She hunched her shoulders a bit, trying to imitate the slouch of the man standing in front of her. Piece of cake, she thought, happy with her stance.
Pretending to be a man was rather fun.
"Next!" yelled the harbor master, indicating Maka's turn.
Maka walked bravely up to the front of the shanty and stood to her full height, which wasn't all that impressive, but it made her feel better none the less.
"Where to?" The harbor master asked, not looking up from the ledger he was writing in.
"One passage to America, boston." Maka said, trying to keep her voice low and even.
It came out more high pitched than she had intended though and winced at the sound.
The harbor master looked up at her voice, his face grim.
He was a salty and weather beating old man with a great white beard and cunning eyes.
He knows I'm a girl.
Maka started to sweat under her collar.
She hadn't stepped one foot out of England yet and her false identity had been broken.
The old sea man eyed her warrily.
"Are you old enough to sail on yer own lad?" The harbor master asked her at last.
"Ye don't even look old enough to shave lad, where's your family at?" He asked, looking around the docks for anyone.
"I'm sailing to be with my family in America." Maka answered, relief instantly flooding her, her secret still intact.
"Oh, well that's acceptable then." The harbor master said with a nod. "Just making sure ye weren't tryin to run away for a life on the sea like most young lads do. Name please?" He asked taking his quill and ledger out.
"La-, er, uh.. Lord Maka Albarn." She cursed herself quietly, nearly slipping up on the title of her gender.
She would have to work on that.
She was no longer a petite coat clad, destitute, sad little orphan.
She had to believe that she was now brave young Lord Maka on his way to Texas.
"Maka Albarn." The harbor master said as he wrote her name down.
"How do you plan on paying for your passage Mr. Albarn?"
Maka had no money to speak of, the clothes on her back and the few personal items in her throw sack was all that she had left to her name.
None the less Maka smiled widely as she dug around in her sack.
She produced a bulky, cloth wrapped item from her sack and dumped it unceremoniously onto the counter with a loud thud.
The harbor master eyed the mysterious package warrily, as he picked it up.
"Blimey, your paying with this?" The harbor master breathed in disbelief.
"Courtesy of Lord Ragnarok." Maka said with a wicked smile.
There, unwrapped and held gently in the harbor masters hand, was a heavy door knocker made entirely of silver.