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| Yo ho ho...; New one - no idea where it's going! | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: July 5, 2007, 9:08 am (6,144 Views) | |
| Raedoll | July 24, 2007, 2:07 pm Post #46 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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HEY GIRLIE!!! I yoinked my cousin's laptop so I can look around here and shite! OHMIGAWD I missed a lot!!! Your descriptions are so vivid between the three updates I read, especially with the way Hetfield, Newsted, Hammett, and Mustaine are handling their problems. *melt* The descriptions of the monster was fabulous, along with Thomas's death. Mr. Trujillo is becoming even more of an intruiging person and I'm loving loving loving it. Newsted I believe will be of valor and a man of his word, which is very much important. Thanks so much for keeping up on this story, it's a delight and a pleasure to read. I love the history between Hammett and Hetfield, along with all of the other bits and pieces you've thrown in for us readers to greedily snatch up and analyze. You've given us just enough to go on and get the gears of our brains working so we can imagine what you might do next!! Eagerly anticipating your next update, Rae. |
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| Verity | July 24, 2007, 7:12 pm Post #47 |
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The Story Girl
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Damn girl, even hungover and wasted you write beautifully. I understand though, since I just spent the last 2 weeks in a very hungover haze. My liver and brain are now rehabilitating though. This wonderful description of Rob: Long black hair reached down to his waist, golden skin that almost glowed, even in the dull light of the fog… almost caused me to faint. Now I need to go cool off. I'm also feeling suspicious of that Rawlett dude. He seems a wee bit shady. |
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| Shayi | July 25, 2007, 11:26 am Post #48 |
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Bring me that horizon
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Thank you guys so so much! I only have 2 mins to post - so will say more about all the wonderful nice things you said when I can next get on tomorrow Also will catch up with next installment of stories Okay this one's shorter than usual due to hectic work schedule today!! Robert followed Hammett into his cabin, closing and locking the door behind them. Hammett turned to look at him, pulling off his hat and hanging it on the back of the door. “There’s a basin in the cupboard and a pitcher of water, or what’s left of it on the side. Use it to clean up.” Said the Captain shortly, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling his hair out of the leather thong that was restraining it, letting the black curls fall to just past his shoulders before shrugging his way out of his greatcoat and throwing the bloodied garment into a corner of the room. Wordlessly Robert picked up the pitcher from the puddle it stood in after the attack on the boat and poured the remaining water into the basin he found in a cupboard along with several clean cloths. Not for this pirate living in filth. He grimaced as he felt the dried blood on his shirt sticking to his skin beneath and pulled his shirt off, dropping it in the heap with Hammett’s greatcoat. Even as he soaked the cloth in the cool water he could feel Hammett’s eyes burning into him, watching him as unblinking as a cat. A slight smile ghosted across his lips as he began slowly washing the blood from himself, watching as the water became pinkish while his skin returned to its normal tan colour. Almost abruptly Hammett stood up, going to the lanterns that hung in the dimly lit room and set them all alight, watching with satisfaction the way the light and shadows played across Robert’s skin as the lanterns slowly swayed with the movement of the ship. Sitting back down once more he could tell that Robert knew that he was being watched, could tell from the brief sidelong glance that was directed at him. Yes this was not a man who would back down to him. He watched as the water glistened on Robert’s skin, lightly biting his lower lip as he saw the lamplight catch in his dark hair then smiled his sphinx-like smile as Robert turned round to face him, dripping wet, waiting for Hammett to pass one of the dry cloths that was folded on the end of the bed. He passed one over and stayed silent, just watching as Robert quickly dried. “You’d best clean up now, Cap’n.” He said, stepping to one side, letting Hammett pass him to get to the basin. “Do take a seat.” Invited Hammett softly. “Later, you can help yourself to another shirt. Until then, you will remain as you are.” He stated, slowly and methodically washing the blood and dirt from his face and hands. Sitting at the table opposite Robert was at leisure to study the Captain, looking at the slender and deceptively beautiful fingers knowing they held a hidden strength. Much like the Captain himself. When he had finished he face and hands Hammett meticulously dried them, eyes never leaving the man sat opposite him. Robert stared right back, dark eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts and Hammett slowly pulled off his shirt. As he did a look of surprise flashed across Robert’s face, staring at Hammett’s torso. He was lean and muscular, his skin the same deep gold as Robert’s own. What really held his attention were the flames that had been tattooed rising up over his hips, and the arc of a date and place across his stomach. Hammett looked at him, eyes holding amusement and lust. “You like them?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper as he held the gaze of the other man, slowly running his fingers over them, letting a tremor run through him at the sensation. Robert watched transfixed as Hammett’s fingers traced the flames, and then slid up his body to lightly tug the gold ring through his nipple, drawing in a light breath at the feeling that jolted through him. His eyes went up to Hammett’s face, seeing the usually expressionless countenance transformed by a look of sleepy seduction, eyes half closed, lower lip caught beneath his teeth, breath hitching slightly. He’d never seen Hammett so openly human, so vulnerable and he let out the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding in. He stood up abruptly, and saw the desire flare once again in Hammett’s eyes before walking the couple of steps round the table to him. He wanted this Captain and damned if he wouldn’t take him. Robert pulled Hammett into a searing kiss, hot skin against skin, vicious and needy. Hammett grabbed Robert’s hip in an iron grip, pulling him closer still, letting him feel his arousal. “Fuck, Hammett…” The words were almost a moan as they slipped past Robert’s lips and Hammett chuckled softly, a dark, wicked sound that shivered through the other man. “Kirk.” He replied, “just Kirk.” Robert nodded, claiming Kirk’s lips once more, pushing him back against the cupboard. Kirk felt the hard wood digging into his back, drawing Robert still closer, feeling an overwhelming desperate need to have that man, to have all of him, right there and then, on his or any terms. He raked his nails down Robert’s back, feeling him arch against him, breathing faster. The door swung open and Rawlett stalked in and Robert broke away from Hammett with a snarl of annoyance. Kirk smiled to himself, it was the first sign of real anger he’d seen from the calmer man. “What the fuck do you want, Rawlett, and believe me, it had better be good?” He asked, voice hard once more, disguising the slight tremor that had been there before as he fought to get himself under control once again. Rawlett gave no sign of having seen anything at all out of the ordinary, ignoring the fact that both of the men before him were half naked and covered with a light sheen of sweat. It wasn’t worth his life to question anything. “Aye Cap’n I think ye’ll be interested.” |
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| Verity | July 25, 2007, 1:27 pm Post #49 |
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The Story Girl
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You ended that beautifully. Rawlett walking in on Rob and Kirk. Someone had to cool it down. You write so beautifully and vididly that I was starting to BUT you still write with class. I think it's the way that you desribe everything. You made a slash scene (term that you taught me) very beautiful and classy. Even the way you described something mundane such as the pitcher, sitting in the basin, in a puddle of water from the attack on the boat, makes it seem very very real. And kudos for even getting in an update on a busy workday. I understand it's hard. I only get to write in the evenings or late at night. This story rocks. Period. |
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| Raedoll | July 26, 2007, 8:07 am Post #50 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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THEY WERE THIS CLOSE | | DAMNIT. Mansmutt always gets cut short -_X. Beautifully logged descriptions, I love it. Love it love it love it. I love the way you described the tattooes, the commands to clean up and stay shirtless until the end. YUMMEH. I love the description of their encounter, and how the wood was hurting Kirk's back. I wonder what in bloody hell Rawlett deemed worthing of the good captain seeing. Despite that, I think he'll be raving mad anyway. |
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| Shayi | July 26, 2007, 10:28 am Post #51 |
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Bring me that horizon
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*G* Thank you so much girls Ashley - Thank you - I didn't want to write it as out and out smut, I wanted it to be a little more than that, and I'm glad that it seemed to work So thank you! Edgirl - I know I know, they do get cut off don't they poor chaps! I'm sure it won't always be that way. And yeah, if I was Kirk, I'd be going somewhere near ballistic. “Well, Rawlett, what is it?” He enquired in a tone of voice that meant that it had better be incredibly good, or there would be a high price to pay. He could feel his anger building by the second, fuelled by his state of arousal. “There be a ship out there, Cap’n.” Replied Rawlett, tension behind his words that told Hammett more than words ever would. Very few things rattled his first mate. Rawlett may grumble about curses, and may well believe in them, but he never let that fear get past his implacable front. He was too practical, too grounded for that. “What sort of ship?” Asked Hammett, keeping his raging temper on a tight leash, the only visible outward signs of his fury a slight tightness about his lips. “One that ain’t of this world.” Rawlett stated shortly before turning and walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. As he went Hammett glanced back to Robert who was already searching out a fresh shirt from among Hammett’s possessions. The Captain watched as he pulled it on, a strange feeling rushing through him after his earlier arousal that still nagged at him. He had never, never had anyone in his cabin this way, and had certainly never had anyone going through his clothing chest as though they were born to it. He barely knew this man, and yet somehow was letting him do all of this without a second thought, was almost encouraging him. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts from his mind, put on a shirt of his own, thrust his hat back on his head once more and stalked out of the room, followed more slowly by Robert. When he arrived up on deck he could see a good portion of the crew ranged down the rail of the ship, staring out into the mists. They parted as one to allow the Captain to step forwards. Hammett stood at the rail looking imperiously out into the fog. He too could make out the shape of another vessel, looming towards them through the fog. There was no way that they would be able to move out of the way in time, and the oncoming vessel was under full sail and set to ram them amidships. He could feel his earlier anger slowly draining out of him as he surveyed the dimly visible ship. Trujillo came to his side, lightly touching his shoulder. “Cap’n, take a look at ‘er again.” He said, handing Hammett his telescope, brought with him from the cabin. Frowning Hammett took it and took a long look at the approaching ship. “Stay your course.” He called out, looking up to the helmsman who was hesitating, knowing that they had no chance of turning fast enough to allow a miss. “Stay your course.” He repeated, directed at the men stationed at the anchor by Rawlett, ready to let it down and hope that the sudden drag would be enough to swing the ship around quickly. Hammett turned to Trujillo with a curt nod. “Thank you Mr Trujillo.” He said, before walking up to the bridge once more, leaving Trujillo to deal with the confused and angry crew. Mustaine stood aboard the Dragon’s Wrath, staring at the wall of thick mist that had sprung up before them. “Ellefson!” He bellowed, staring down at the deck, trying to see the familiar figure of his first mate and not seeing him anywhere. A snarl escaped him as he stared hard at the mist once again, grimacing at the empty state of the bottle in his pocket. Heading straight into the mist would keep him directly behind the Lady and he had no particular intention of losing her. He couldn’t lose her. The mist coming upon the ship was almost like a solid wall. Not natural. Not right. A string of curses burst from him and he slammed his fist into the wheel of the ship. So close to the Lady only for something unearthly to push him away from her once again. Ellefson came up to him quietly. “Aye Cap’n I heard ye be callin’ fer me.” He said, keeping the slight smile from his lips at the sight of the fog and the enraged Captain. Anything that thwarted Mustaine had to be something worth happening in his view. “An’ where the fuck were ye?” Growled Mustaine, blue eyes boring holes into the man stood before him, watching for any sign of insubordinance, anything he could use as an excuse for some kind of punishment. In the mood that he was in there wasn’t much that wouldn’t be an excuse for some form of punishment for his first mate. “Checkin’ on the repairs below deck Cap’n.” Replied Ellefson smoothly, excuse at the ready while Mustaine just glowered at him. “Cap’n, that mist, we be headin’ straight for it.” He said, looking at it as if he had never noticed it before. “Aye.” Grated Mustaine through gritted teeth. “Not fer long though. We’ll go around it, head fer the port an’ hope to be pickin’ up the Lady when she comes out the other side. She won’t be far off by then. Not by my reckonin’.” He stated, knowing that she would be moving slowly through the hellish wall of fog that had appeared before them, thinking that that was the only redeeming feature of the whole situation. “Do ye want me to inform the crew o’ your decision?” Asked Ellefson, seeing the rage in his Captain and knowing that before long he was going to be on the receiving end of it. He didn’t particularly agree with the Captain’s take on matters, who knew how swiftly the Lady would be moving through the blanket of fog? Captain’ Hammett was renowned for his ruthless pursuit of whatever it was that took his fancy. Not to mention the fact that they had no way of knowing just how far the mist extended before they would be able to go around it. There was also of course the possibility that the Lady herself wouldn’t make it out of the mists. He was under no illusions. The Lady was a ship like any other, crewed by mortal men and could sink and lose the crew just as easily as any other ship could. But then, he reflected, it was more than his life’s worth to say anything of the sort to Mustaine who was already getting the ship turned to try and run around the edge of the mist. “Do it.” He growled, seeing the apprehension on Ellefson’s face, finding it amusing, his anger gone as swiftly as it had arrived. He would still catch the Lady. That was beyond doubt in his mind. Ellefson didn’t need telling twice and walked away swiftly, Mustaine’s sudden laughter ringing in his ears. He shook his head as he went wondering whether the Captain really was losing it. In his opinion, he probably was. And that would make it all the easier to dispose of him when the opportune moment presented itself. He wondered whether the screamed curses that had so often been directed at Mustaine by dying pirates and natives that he’d run into on an otherwise apparently deserted island were beginning to take effect. Or perhaps it was the heavy drinking and his own bitterness eating away at him. Whatever it was, Ellefson reflected, it would be going in his favour for Mustaine to go mad. A mad Captain could in no way run a tight ship and wouldn’t see what was going on beneath his own nose. As she turned violently against the wind the ships timbers creaked ominously and Ellefson shrugged, swiftly outlining what was happening to the rest of the crew. There were few grumbles at the plan of action. None of the men had any inclination to sail into a fog like that. Like most seamen they were highly superstitious, and unlike the crew of the Lady, they had no particular illusions about their Captain. Yes, he was ruthless, single minded, and good at what he did. However, they didn’t have faith that he could lead them out of the unholy mist if he ever sailed them into it. The fact that evening was drawing on making the mist shift in eerie shapes before them, resembling to their imaginations every horror under the sun meant that had Mustaine persisted in sailing towards it, there would have been grounds for a mutiny. Ellefson smiled to himself as he glanced back up at Mustaine who was still chuckling softly to himself up on the bridge and walked slowly into his cabin and pulled off the bandana that kept his long, unkempt hair away from his face before stretching out on the bed and closing his eyes, reasoning that he would take his sleep now, and take over from Mustaine when the Captain retired to bed in the early hours of the morning. At least that way he could stay out of his way, gauging the rest of the crew and biding his time. |
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| Verity | July 26, 2007, 10:53 am Post #52 |
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The Story Girl
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You write Mustaine so well. I love how you make him snarl and growl through gritted teeth. I can just hear him snarling like he does in "Peace Sells" but he's saying words like "Aye" and "reckonin" in stead. You also used "thwarted" that rocks. So I wonder if The Dragon's Wrath will be able to catch The Lady. You've left me in suspense... again. I also can't help wondering if Ellefson is going to mutiny or leave Dave. Dave isn't very chipper to him. This story rules, and should be published. |
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| Shayi | July 27, 2007, 9:33 am Post #53 |
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Bring me that horizon
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Thank you so much. You have no idea how good that makes me feel - I've always wanted to actually write something and get it published Hehe I'm glad ya like thwarted. Words like that are such fun to chuck into stories! And I'm lovin' writing Mustaine. Funny really, I'm not that into the real guy, but Captain Mustaine is a riot to write! Anyhoo - back to the high seas now.... ~~~~~~~ The light was beginning to fade as the evening drew on, the air cooling, bringing the scent of the sea to the floor above the wood, pitch and sweat. Lars stood at the helm, staring out to sea, exhaustion written into his face. Hetfield was below, snatching some sleep while he took over at the wheel. He scrubbed one hand across his eyes and yawned widely. Pouring his energy into the amulet just to hinder the Lady, was more draining the further they pulled ahead. Right now it was all he could do to keep it all going. He wondered vaguely what it was doing to the crew aboard the Ymir, but shrugged the thought away, they were cursed men on a cursed ship, they could just deal with it. He raised the telescope that he’d borrowed from the Captain, smiling as he made out the shining lights of the port in the distance. Yes, it wouldn’t be too much longer before they made it there and got rid of the captives and managed to re-stock. The men were drawing straws for who was allowed to go ashore for the span of the day that they were planning to stay there. Hetfield would never leave his boat without a skeleton crew aboard at least. That in a port of pirates would be little more than suicide. He yawned widely again, the familiar motion of the ship soothing to him as he stood there. He pulled out a flask of rum and took a swig of it, reasoning that the sudden burning would act as a wake up. Lars took a fleeting glance between his compass and the lights of the town in the distance, infinitesimally adjusting their course, letting his mind wander for a few minutes. When they arrived at the port the first thing he would be doing is heading straight into one of the taverns to pick up on the gossip and for a drink and something to eat that hadn’t been sat around in the hold of a ship. True enough they cruised between ports often enough, but there was nothing like hot food freshly cooked. Maybe he’d even sample one of the many prostitutes then shook his head, remembering what he’d caught the last time he’d done that and shuddered at the painful memory. That had been uncomfortable for quite some time, until they’d run into a witch doctor. He grinned to himself at that. Yes, this life had certainly brought him some interesting experiences. Since there were no adverse conditions likely to affect the ship and the crew were all on deck drawing lots and fighting between themselves he drew out the amulet, once again wanting to communicate with Newsted aboard the Ymir. The familiar strange sensation passed through him as the Ymir came into sight directly in front of him, the sights and sounds of the Revenge fading into almost non-existence, a mere vague impression at the edges of his conscious. That was what always made him on edge, that feeling of vulnerability, that loss of control because he couldn’t sense both surroundings at the same time. Control and order were two things that tended to rule the Ulrich universe, it was very rare that he truly let everything just flow, let himself be vulnerable. And that was the way that he preferred it. Looking aboard the Ymir he could see Newsted slouched against the side of the ship, suddenly looking up at him, expression dark and eyes haunted. “How much longer are ye plannin’ on keepin’ this up, Ulrich?” He asked, voice harsh and accusing. Ulrich half smiled. “Not fer much longer.” He replied simply. “That is not fer ye to be questionin’. Now, where be Hammett and Mustaine?” Newsted heaved a sigh, staring out into the mist that surrounded the Ymir, quickly finding and registering where the other two ships were. “Hammett be sailin’ slow, sails furled but oars out through the fog. Mustaine, he be under full sail once again, but he be skirtin’ the mist, takin’ the long way round.” He responded, voice dull and expressionless. Lars frowned slightly, his gaze never faltering from Newsted. “And aboard the Ymir? Ye be ready?” “Aye, we be ready.” Said Newsted snapped, voice hard, not inviting further conversation. With that he turned away, walking down to the stern of the longboat, summarily ending the communication. Lars raised one eyebrow and was about to say more before he was jerked back into the mortal world by a hand on his shoulder. He had both knives out in a flash, crouching defensively, ready to attack. As the Ymir faded from his vision he could see Hetfield stood in front of him, a slight smile playing about his lips. “Ymir?” He asked. “Aye. I thought ye were abed?” “Couldn’t sleep.” Replied Hetfield with a shrug while Ulrich sheathed both knives and tucked the amulet back inside the open neck of his shirt. “Hammett is still in the mist, no sail. Mustaine be sailin’ around.” Remarked Ulrich laconically, relaxing once again, green eyes searching Hetfield’s face for some hint as to what he was really thinking. The Captain was guarded but that in itself wasn’t unusual, it was a long time since he had been open, quick to laugh. Time and betrayal had wiped a lot of that away. “Then temporarily, they be of no concern to us.” Retorted Hetfield, looking towards the lights of the natural rock harbour that would welcome them. Darkness as it always did had descended swiftly and the port showed as a cluster of orange light glittering in the darkness while above the moon shone from a clear sky, lighting all aboard ship in shades of silver grey and black. Hetfield looked across at Ulrich who was staring out at the port, body tense, waiting for action. He’d known the man for so many years, known him better than any other and could see that he was both exhausted and ready to go. A dangerous combination when it came to the vicious little man. God help anyone who chose to cause trouble with him in the town. Ulrich looked up at him with a hard expression, eyes glinting wickedly in the darkness before his face softened and he grinned. “I’ll be goin’ an’ gettin’ some sleep afore we dock.” Stated Lars, “so long as ye are stayin’ up the night.” “Aye, go on.” Replied Hetfield, with a rare, friendly smile that was half-swallowed by the darkness around them. Not before Lars caught it, seeing the sudden relaxing from the role of Captain before Hetfield drew himself back into the familiar state of himself, lean, quick tempered and dangerous. Ulrich smirked slightly to himself and nodded, walking swiftly away back to his own quarters to try and get some sleep before they docked. Sleep to Lars was a long time coming. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he got were visions of the Ymir and ships moving through a thick fog. There were monsters when he slept, ones too hideous even to contemplate, ones that could have a man waking in a deep sweat voice hoarse from trying to scream it all away. He knew it would ever be so while he was tied to the amulet as he was. Once Hetfield decided the Lady could be released, or when they were too far away for the Ymir to have any effect on Hammett’s ship would he be able to sleep once again, the deep, peaceful sleep that he craved so much. By the time they reached their destination, dawn was not far away. The grey soft light was already creeping over the horizon, spreading fingers of light slowly towards them. Hetfield stretched and yawned widely as he watched the men hurrying to get the anchor down. They would leave a skeleton crew aboard, and would row to shore in two of the ship’s boats. Ulrich was already there organising the men into the two boats as Hetfield strolled down to join them. The two boats were lowered to the calm waters and the two crews rowed them to shore where they pulled them up high on the beach. Hetfield glanced round at the men. “Be back to the ship afore sundown. Any man who ain’t aboard, will be left here. Do I make meself clear?” He asked to be met with a chorus of ‘ayes’ from all those men before him. Almost as one being the crew turned and went into the town heading for taverns and brothels. A select few went into the town at a more sedate pace armed with an inventory, knowing that it was their allotted task to restock the ship with provisions. Hetfield and Ulrich walked into town together until Ulrich slipped off, losing himself swiftly in the crowd, blending in as he always did. Hetfield smiled his wolf’s smile, looking at a couple of tasty strumpets stood outside the tavern he was known to frequent. He would go in there later, it had been months since he had spoken to the proprietor, Bob, and he was always good for news and gossip. Not to mention his wife brewed some of the best ale a man could wish to lay his hands on. With that in mind, Hetfield slung his arm round the unprotesting shoulders of one of the wenches, and grabbed the other by the waist, leading them through the doorway to acquire a room for the afternoon. |
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| Raedoll | July 27, 2007, 11:39 am Post #54 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar. I'm caught up again and heavily digging this. Hetfield is so guarded, and Mustaine is smart to skirt the mist even though it's going to take him a long time to get about it. Ulrich is so cute, I could see him leaning on the helm trying not to fall asleep and drooling all over the wheel. Heeh. But I can understand Het's guard, and imagine that wolfish smile. . Bob seems an interesting contact, and poor Newsted stuck on the Ymir...the poor thing's got so much at stake all the time.
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| Verity | July 27, 2007, 2:50 pm Post #55 |
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The Story Girl
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Totally bad ass and awesome. Lars and James heading to the tavern for some gossip. Did Larsy get crabs?? I love how you explain Hetfield and Ulrich's relationship. You sum it up to a tee. He’d known the man for so many years, known him better than any other and could see that he was both exhausted and ready to go. A dangerous combination when it came to the vicious little man. God help anyone who chose to cause trouble with him in the town. Ulrich looked up at him with a hard expression, eyes glinting wickedly in the darkness before his face softened and he grinned. I could so so so picture that part. Can't wait for more! :horns2 |
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| Shayi | July 28, 2007, 1:36 pm Post #56 |
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Bring me that horizon
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Here we go again guys Thank you so so much once more. I'm glad that you are enjoying it... I too am beginning to feel a little sorry for Newsted, and I am most definately enjoying exploring the relationship between Hetfield and Ulrich. Well.... here we go. No idea how long or short is it - my dad's computer doesn't have MS Word, only notepad! The crew turned to look at Trujillo, faces angry and accusing. "An' what madness has taken the Cap'n?" Demanded one voice that Trujillo recognised as Harrison, a burly, no nonsense man who had spent the best part of his life on the waves. "Aye," came a younger voice, just on the verge of breaking into manhood, "'tis madness, we're not even tryin' to get out o' the way." "We'll be meetin' Davey Jones sooner n' not." Added Harrison in a morose tome which was followed by a chorus of disgruntled murmurs of agreement. Trujillo stood before them, arms folded, expression dark and foreboding. "How many more o' ye are in agreement?" He asked, his voice holding a dangerous undercurrent so he stared at the group in front of him, aklmost daring them to let the situation escalate. Outwardly he was calm, derisive, while inwardly he knew that should the situation swing suddenly the other way he and Hammett would be dead, bodies thrown over the side to be taken by whateverlurked below. There were a few affirmatives, but the majority remained silent, waiting to see in what direction it was all to go. Robert nodded finally. "Has yer Cap'n ever led ye wrong?" He asked, voice hard, not wanting a reply nor giving one. "Have ye had just cause to be regrettin' where he's led ye? No." He stopped, black eyes glittering as he looked at the assembled crew. "No. Ye be part o' the crew of the most renowned ship in these waters. I tell ye now, there be nothin' to fear from that ship." "Why?" Asked Harrison, narrowing his eyes, leering at Robert as he spoke, watching, waiting, ready to strike. "Because I've seen this afore," he stated, voice slightly hushed. "Because I've lived through this. In these waters ye can't always believe in what it is ye be seein'." He finished, gesturing behind them. As one the men turned to look at what Trujillo was pointing out to them. The ship that had before been visible through a telescope was almost upon them. The tattered sails were billowing in an otherworldly wind thatno man could feel. Even as she approached they could see no sign of her passing through the water, couldn't hear the creaking of timbers, the cries of the men massed on her decks. There was no sign that the ship even existed save for the fact that all of them could see it coming towards them. Briefly Robert glanced up at Hammett where he stood at the ship's wheel, seemingly calm and completely impassive, although the tension in the lines of his body gave him away. Trujillo looked at the rest of the crew. "Have faith." He said, keeping his eyes on the approaching ship, feeling the tension and ill feeling flowing through the rest of them, rebounding through them all until it seemed that to a man they would break and run. The ship loomed up out of the mist, almost seeming as though it gained speed as it headed towards them. The men braced themselves in silence waiting for the impact of the other vessel into them, facing it down as they'd faced down so many other things over their years on the seas. Nothing like this though. At the instant it was to hit the men let out a loud yell, determined to face oblivion with courage. Only Trujillo and Hammett were silent, looking at each other as the ship hit. The Lady shuddered from bow to stern as though she was fit to break apart. The timbers groaned loudly, protesting while all around them the air shimmered, skittering through them all, knocking the men to the deck. They could hear a strange roaring in their ears that seemed to reverberate from the wood beneath them, pulsing through their bodies like a physical force. Those who kept their eyes open could see glimmering light overlaying the ship that they knew to be solid and real beneath them. There was the feel of a rushing wind skimming across their skins, icy and clammy, making them secretly glad that they were lying down not shuddering in the force of it. It was the sort of wind that could flay a man's flesh from his bones and leave him bloodied and bowed before it. Although it seemed as though it went on forever, the passing of the ship lasted only a minute, and then it was gone, lost once again in the mists on the other side of the Lady. Slowly the men got to their feet, staggering slightly, still overwhelmed by the sensations that they had experienced. Exhaustion gnawed at them, eating away at them and none knew whether it was day or night. There was no time within the mists. They did not even know if they would come out any further forward than they had before. The only assurance that they would once again emerge was Trujillo's word, and that was something that as time wore on they would trust less and less. On the bridge Hammett got to his feet and motioned for Robert to join him once again. Slowly Trujillo went over to him. "Aye, Cap'n?" He asked, suddenly feeling unaccountably weary himself. Wordlessly Hammett handed him the telescope and motioned for him to look ahead, beyond the prow of the ship into the distance. Obediently Robert did so, looking through the long lense. A sudden feeling of relief flooded through him as he did and a smile spread across his face, lightening the tension of the last few minutes and he slid the telescope back together before handing it to Hammett who smiled back, a slow, sweet smile that was so uncharacteristic that it seemed almost an alien expression on his face, but one that somehow still suited him. Robert resolved to see that expression there more often. "And so, RObert, we have come through the mist. Sadly I believe that that means that Hetfield is too far ahead of us aboard the Lady for his cursed ship to have any effect on us, but even so, once we are free of this fog I will breathe more easily." He said, soft voice sincere as he spoke. Robert nodded. "Aye, as will I." He responded, gazing into the distance once again, seeing the slow breaking up of the mists that had held them for so long, giving way to a sky that was bright with a new day. "We lost a day in that fog." He stated, understanding exactly why the exhaustion had come on so strongly. Once the adrenalin that had flooded his body disippated he was left spent and tired. Looking at the Captain he could see that he too was in much the same state, dark circles beginning under his eyes, pale under his permanent golden brown colouring. Hammett looked from Robert to the crew who were slowly moving back to their original places and to what they had been doing before the ghost ship had approached them. "Pile on full sail. Get the relief crew on. This crew will take a few hours sleep." He said, loud enough for his voice to carry to the men on the deck who instantly jumped to carry out his commands, glad of the familiarity in the midst of all the wierd things that had happened to them, finding comfort in familiar tasks and thankful of the command to get some sleep. "Cap'n?" Asked Robert, looking at him levelly. "Permission to sleep?" "Aye, Robert, you have my permission. You will be in my cabin within the next few minutes. I will be down there to meet you shortly afterwards. This time however, to talk, and yes, to sleep." He said, a wicked smile on his lips, a laugh just touching his voice, light and holding both promise and a teasing tone that made Robert chuckle as he turned away and walked towards the cabin as he'd been bidden. |
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| Raedoll | July 28, 2007, 2:50 pm Post #57 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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OW OW!!! Robert in the CAPTAIN'S Room! I'm happy they got out of the mist unpharmed. I love that fact, and how the men were doubtful and Robert was fearful of the crew and their situation. LOVE IT. I wonder what the bloody hell's going to happen in the Cabin. and what's going to happen when Hetfield gets tailed by Hamett. |
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| Verity | July 28, 2007, 5:57 pm Post #58 |
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The Story Girl
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You had me thinking that the Death's Lady was going to go down when it was hit. I could just imagine the poor old ship creaking as it shook. It was the sort of wind that could flay a man's flesh from his bones and leave him bloodied and bowed before it ^^^^^^ that reminded me of a nasty, nasty, November, wind storm that I got caught in once as a child. I was home alone and freaking out. Sounds like Capt Hammett is good to have around in an emergency! I probably would have been running around shrieking and acting loony. And I'm happy that poor, haggered, and exhausted, Rob has Capt Hammett's permission to sleep. Sounds pretty cozy to me. |
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| Shayi | July 30, 2007, 11:52 am Post #59 |
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Bring me that horizon
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*G* Thank you guys, I'm so glad you're still reading this thing, and enjoying it! Well, we have a bit more of the ol' Hammett and Trujillo in this episode, so here we go.... Robert smiled slightly as he walked into the cabin that had become so familiar to him over the past few days. He knew he had a few minutes to wait while Hammett had Rawlett sent for to stand in charge in his stead, and for the crew to change around. They would not need the full crew so those who had stayed awake for the entire time that they were taken into the fog would be able to snatch some rest before they were called up for duty once again. Robert yawned widely and unstrapped his sword belts leaving the weapons in a corner of the room before he sat at the table, vaguely looking at a map of their area with slight interest whilst waiting for Hammett to re-appear. He wasn’t left waiting for too long. Once he had dealt with everyone on deck Hammett came silently through the door, closing and locking it behind him. As he had before Hammett swiftly divested himself of his weapons, leaving them neatly on the sideboard, ready to be taken up at a moment’s notice. He left his hat alongside them and looked down at Robert where he was seated with a smile. “Thank you.” He said simply, the words unfamiliar so rarely did he need to use them, self-sufficient as he was. “What for?” Asked Robert, his mind flickering across the past events of that night and the previous day. Hammett smiled again, pouring a out two glasses of wine, handing one to Robert as he took a seat at the table. “You really want an explanation? For settling the crew earlier, they are not always easy men to pacify. And for all of your assistance in that god forsaken fog, staying on my side even when the others were half-considering disposing of me.” He finished with a soft, self-mocking laugh. “They wouldn’t have.” Replied Robert, eyes never leaving Hammett’s face, studying the changing emotions there, the weary Captain slowly letting his guards down, letting the mask slip as he sat there, idly swirling the wine in the glass he held. “I know. I know that they wouldn’t have. But all the same – you were there and you defended me to them. You haven’t been here that long and for all you knew, they could have lynched you for it and left me swinging alongside you.” Hammett’s voice was thoughtful as he spoke, almost as though truly realising what Robert had unquestioningly done for him without even thinking to question the order that he had given. “Aye, I know.” Said Trujillo, taking a slow sip of wine. “There were no question o’ me disobeyin’ that order however.” “Even though you are a man of free will as you said, who would not follow me should I ask you to do something that you truly went against?” Asked Hammett, pushing further. “Aye. Even so.” There was silence at that statement. Hammett feeling a strange warmth touch him, spreading through him that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his blood. Yes, he had a true ally in Trujillo, which was unusual in his mind amongst the brethren. Yes, there were allies, but allegiances could change depending on what was asked of each member of said alliance. And yet Trujillo was willing to risk everything, simply because he had asked him to. Vaguely he wondered whether he would have done the same, had the positions been reversed. Looking at the man before him he was fairly positive that the answer would in fact be yes. That in itself was a revelation to him. Had he been asked that a week ago, he would have known that the answer to his question would be that the only thing that he would willingly go and potentially sacrifice his life for was Death’s Lady. She had been the only one to inspire such feeling in him. A love that could cross time and miles and remain as unchanging as the sea. Now, now this man had come aboard and within such a short space of time had somehow brought to the fore the same for himself. The thought both made him feel something akin to fear and brought about a rush of exhilaration like no other. Robert leant back in his chairs, eyes half-closed as he watched the man in front of him, obviously deep in thought. He would have given a lot to know exactly what thoughts were going through Kirk’s mind at that moment. Whatever it was made flickers of pain, surprise and fear dart through his expression like quicksilver. He was feeling tired and relaxed and could guess that Kirk was too, if only the Captain’s mind would stop working on overtime. “You were wantin’ to talk?” “We’ve done the talking.” Replied Hammett, voice cool but not unfriendly. “We have?” Asked Robert quietly, watching as Hammett stared at him, calm mask slipping, slowly revealing the man who lay underneath. “For now. You know, Robert, you are the only man who talks back to me on this ship.” “Aye, I’d noticed.” He retorted dryly, a chuckle just sliding past his lips. Hammett raised one eyebrow then smirked, downing his wine in one and setting the glass to one side. “I’m tired and need sleep.” “An’ I need to talk to ye Hammett. I need to know exactly what it is ye are wantin’ from me.” Replied Robert, watching him carefully, slowly standing up, pushing the chair back under the table again and setting his glass of wine to one side. Hammett paused in taking off his shirt and stood there, half of the buttons undone for a few seconds before continuing with what he was doing in silence, mind working furiously behind his suddenly blank and closed off expression. Suddenly he looked up at Robert, gaze direct and calm. “What is it you want from this? What do you want from me? I’ve made it abundantly clear that I want you, in every sense of the word.” “An’ I want you. What I want to be makin’ clear is that much though ye be the Cap’n of this ship, ye don’t have rule over me.” Stated Robert quietly, slowly beginning to take off his own shirt, letting it drop to the wooden floor even as Hammett left his draped over the back of a chair. “An’ if ye cannot give me that, Cap’n, then I will be walkin’ from this room, an’ I will not be comin’ back.” He finished, tone like iron. Hammett felt a brief flash of anger flicker through him at the harshly spoken words. The feeling died swiftly as he realised that had Robert not said it then he would have tried to do just that. Bend Robert to his will, his way. And Trujillo was not a man who would take that. As each day went past he was finding that out. His own strength was cold and cruel, icy and sometimes vicious. Whereas Robert he was finding, had a calm centre that would not and could not be shaken and he would not bend that too far for any man. He sucked in a slow breath before speaking, one hand clenched on the hard wood of the back of a chair for an instant, enough to feel the grain beneath his fingers, enough to gather himself together before he spoke, to give up a vestige of control for the price of a feeling about a man. The man who was stood in front of him waiting. “I can give that to you, Robert,” He said, the last word almost a purr, accompanied by a dark chuckle. “That I can and will give you.” For all the slightly teasing tone, Trujillo could see just what it cost him to make that admission, to unbend for another. Kirk sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots and tossing them to the corner, for once sacrificing his self-imposed orderly surroundings before peeling off his trousers while Robert watched, taking in the lithe, taught body of the man before him. Seeing once again the erotic flames that branded him, the arc of lettering above his stomach, the flash of gold at his dark nipple as the ring reflected the lamplight and thought how different his own body was, bigger, more muscular, scarred by life rather than by choice. “Are you standing there all day, Robert, or are you going to remove those clothes?” Asked Kirk in a light, teasing tone that Robert hadn’t heard from him before. “Aye, jus’ appreciatin’ the view for a minute.” Said Robert, laughing softly as he finished undressing. Hammett’s eyes roved over the man before him before he stood up, pulling Robert towards him, pressing a kiss to his lips, tongue lightly flicking into his mouth before they broke apart. “That, Robert, is a promise. A promise for later, when we have slept.” He stated, a warm smile touching his lips and reaching his eyes as he went back to the bed, sliding under the covers, waiting for the other man to join him, another slow smile spreading across his lips as Robert extinguished the lanterns and joined him under the cotton coverlet. |
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| Raedoll | July 30, 2007, 12:00 pm Post #60 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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Awwwh they gave into one another!! Yay! And mancuddles are good. Vergood. I really like the way this chapter's turning out, how Robert wanted something in return and boy he got it! Kirk seemed faintly reluctant to give in, possibly because he's afraid of being hurt or worse once more. Eee, I can't wait for more. I love your descriptions. |
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Now I need to go cool off.
Sounds pretty cozy to me. 
4:27 AM Jul 11