Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Pirates of the Chemical Romance
Her silence was enough of an answer. She scowled at him.
"Who are you visiting?" he asked as cordially as possible.
"That is none of your concern," she said curtly. He knew he had hit a nerve, and decided not to push it. Crossing Jamia was almost as bad as crossing him. Almost.
They continued the dice game. He was almost shocked when he handed her a hundred gold pieces. She collected them with no facial expression, save for a gleam in her eyes. He recognized it. Almost every pirate who had ever seen gold had had that look at one time or another. He knew it was often reflected in his own eyes.
"Dare I ask why you are here?" she asked almost sarcastically. He gave a half smile.
"The usual."
"You set fire to someone's town again, didn't you?" she asked suspiciously.
"Guilty," he responded. She sighed.
"You may want to watch who you're terrorizing. Word is Spain and England are on the brink of war, and my France doesn't know whose side to choose." He considered this for a moment.
"What of my dear Itália?" he asked with a flawless accent.
"They're trying to stay out of it as much as possible." She leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice, glancing around warily. "They say it's to remain neutral, but I think they're going to wait until a victor is more evident. Then they will choose." He leaned back in his chair, contemplating the situation. He loved Italy far more than his own country. He couldn't stand the thought of it falling to war.
"If you'll excuse me, Terreur," she said in flawless French, using her native language's translation of his name, "I have someone I need to check on." She rose from her place and sauntered away, climbing up the stairs at the other end of the room.
-
He wandered around the dimly lit hallways most of the night. There wasn't much else for him to do, save for staring at the rolling ocean waters that seemed so far away. He approached a window on the second floor and glanced toward the horizon, wishing for the thousandth time that he could be out there.
'It's bad enough I have to be trapped here,' he thought as he stared out the window listlessly. 'But to be so far away from my ship...and the ocean...I miss it so much.'
He sighed and continued walking down the hallway, hearing the wood beneath his feet creak slightly. He passed several closed doors, but paused at one that released a sliver of light into the hallway. He glanced into the room, seeing a pale-faced girl asleep on a bed. Her dark hair was covering half of her face; he couldn't tell if it was black or brown. Taking a step closer to the door, he saw the moon's light falling across the sleeping form of someone in a chair next to the bed, not more than a few feet from the door and facing away from him. His eyes widened when he saw who it was, recognizing the shortened black hair.
"Jamia..." he whispered breathlessly. He subconsciously placed a hand on the door, and much like the floor he had been walking on just seconds previous, it creaked in response.
The gleaming tip of a sword was at his throat in a second, and he found himself staring into half of someone's face.
"Scourge," she growled angrily, but quietly. "What are you doing here?"
"I'll be more apt to tell you if you'll not slit my throat," he murmured, seeing that she was trying to keep her voice down. Her eye narrowed, but she sheathed the sword in absolute silence. Surprisingly enough, the door opened enough that he could see her face.
"Now, please, talk," she said curtly, allowing her French accent to emanate through her voice.
"I was just walking around," he said casually. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and he nearly backed down from her gaze. She had a way of staring straight into a person's soul. It could be terrifying at times. Suddenly, though, her face softened.
"You miss the ocean," she muttered, immediately averting her eyes to the ground.
"Is it really that obvious?" he asked, unable to hide a smirk. She had difficulty hiding a smile as she nodded in agreement.
"I'm just waiting until she wakes up," Jamia murmured as she returned to her seat. He immediately crossed the room to resume his daily activity of staring out the window. The moon had taken on an elegant crescent shape. He judged it would be safe to leave by the time the next new moon came along.
"What happened to her?" he asked without looking away. He heard Jamia sigh quietly.
"It is...difficult...to explain what happened. Some trouble just off the coast of England. We were attacked by their navy; a single ship, but for only two people..."
"...it could be difficult," he finished.
"Normally we wouldn't have had any trouble, but for some reason she refused to fight them." A smirk passed over her lips for a moment. "I think it was because she couldn't stop staring at their captain." He let out a light laugh at her words. He often used that tactic to get whatever he wanted. People claimed to be almost entranced by his eyes. Never Jamia, though. She was far too intelligent to fall for that.
"She ended up with a broken leg. Nothing life-threatening, but I knew we couldn't continue our lives that way. So I brought her to the only place I knew she would be safe."
"Ironic that it should be called the House of Wolves, no?" he said, finally turning back to look at the dark room. She almost laughed.
"Not really, once you stop to consider who most often visits it," she responded. He knew she was talking about others like themselves. Other pirates.
"Jamia..." said a soft, airy voice. Jamia's attention immediately snapped away from him and to the younger girl who had been asleep just seconds earlier.
"AlÃcia," she said as a wave of relief washed over her. The girl in question smiled back. "I've missed you. How are you feeling?"
Her words sent a shock through him. It was Italian. Jamia had failed to mention that.
"Italian?" he asked in surprise. Jamia nodded.
"She only understands a little French, and even less English. I can translate, if you'd like." He merely smirked.
"Where are you from?" he asked flawlessly. Jamia's eyes widened considerably, an accomplishment in itself. The girl merely smiled softly.
"Itália," she replied.
"My name is Scourge," he said, flourishing his accent a little more than necessary. Jamia rolled her eyes. "It's nice to meet you, AlÃcia."
"You will never quit," said Jamia. He acted offended.
"What, I'm not allowed to tell her what my name is?" he asked in mock horror. "I was only being polite."
"Believe me, it was obvious," she said sarcastically. "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave. She needs to rest." Though her words were biting, he could tell she was sincerely worried for her friend, and silently walked out of the room. Alicia smiled as he walked out the door.
"They look the same," she said to Jamia.
"Who?"
"The captain we saw, when I was injured. They are related; I am sure of it."
Jamia smiled and told her to go back to sleep, but the words sent chills down her spine. 'They do look similar,' she thought. 'I wonder what else he hasn't been telling me...'
"Who are you visiting?" he asked as cordially as possible.
"That is none of your concern," she said curtly. He knew he had hit a nerve, and decided not to push it. Crossing Jamia was almost as bad as crossing him. Almost.
They continued the dice game. He was almost shocked when he handed her a hundred gold pieces. She collected them with no facial expression, save for a gleam in her eyes. He recognized it. Almost every pirate who had ever seen gold had had that look at one time or another. He knew it was often reflected in his own eyes.
"Dare I ask why you are here?" she asked almost sarcastically. He gave a half smile.
"The usual."
"You set fire to someone's town again, didn't you?" she asked suspiciously.
"Guilty," he responded. She sighed.
"You may want to watch who you're terrorizing. Word is Spain and England are on the brink of war, and my France doesn't know whose side to choose." He considered this for a moment.
"What of my dear Itália?" he asked with a flawless accent.
"They're trying to stay out of it as much as possible." She leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice, glancing around warily. "They say it's to remain neutral, but I think they're going to wait until a victor is more evident. Then they will choose." He leaned back in his chair, contemplating the situation. He loved Italy far more than his own country. He couldn't stand the thought of it falling to war.
"If you'll excuse me, Terreur," she said in flawless French, using her native language's translation of his name, "I have someone I need to check on." She rose from her place and sauntered away, climbing up the stairs at the other end of the room.
-
He wandered around the dimly lit hallways most of the night. There wasn't much else for him to do, save for staring at the rolling ocean waters that seemed so far away. He approached a window on the second floor and glanced toward the horizon, wishing for the thousandth time that he could be out there.
'It's bad enough I have to be trapped here,' he thought as he stared out the window listlessly. 'But to be so far away from my ship...and the ocean...I miss it so much.'
He sighed and continued walking down the hallway, hearing the wood beneath his feet creak slightly. He passed several closed doors, but paused at one that released a sliver of light into the hallway. He glanced into the room, seeing a pale-faced girl asleep on a bed. Her dark hair was covering half of her face; he couldn't tell if it was black or brown. Taking a step closer to the door, he saw the moon's light falling across the sleeping form of someone in a chair next to the bed, not more than a few feet from the door and facing away from him. His eyes widened when he saw who it was, recognizing the shortened black hair.
"Jamia..." he whispered breathlessly. He subconsciously placed a hand on the door, and much like the floor he had been walking on just seconds previous, it creaked in response.
The gleaming tip of a sword was at his throat in a second, and he found himself staring into half of someone's face.
"Scourge," she growled angrily, but quietly. "What are you doing here?"
"I'll be more apt to tell you if you'll not slit my throat," he murmured, seeing that she was trying to keep her voice down. Her eye narrowed, but she sheathed the sword in absolute silence. Surprisingly enough, the door opened enough that he could see her face.
"Now, please, talk," she said curtly, allowing her French accent to emanate through her voice.
"I was just walking around," he said casually. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and he nearly backed down from her gaze. She had a way of staring straight into a person's soul. It could be terrifying at times. Suddenly, though, her face softened.
"You miss the ocean," she muttered, immediately averting her eyes to the ground.
"Is it really that obvious?" he asked, unable to hide a smirk. She had difficulty hiding a smile as she nodded in agreement.
"I'm just waiting until she wakes up," Jamia murmured as she returned to her seat. He immediately crossed the room to resume his daily activity of staring out the window. The moon had taken on an elegant crescent shape. He judged it would be safe to leave by the time the next new moon came along.
"What happened to her?" he asked without looking away. He heard Jamia sigh quietly.
"It is...difficult...to explain what happened. Some trouble just off the coast of England. We were attacked by their navy; a single ship, but for only two people..."
"...it could be difficult," he finished.
"Normally we wouldn't have had any trouble, but for some reason she refused to fight them." A smirk passed over her lips for a moment. "I think it was because she couldn't stop staring at their captain." He let out a light laugh at her words. He often used that tactic to get whatever he wanted. People claimed to be almost entranced by his eyes. Never Jamia, though. She was far too intelligent to fall for that.
"She ended up with a broken leg. Nothing life-threatening, but I knew we couldn't continue our lives that way. So I brought her to the only place I knew she would be safe."
"Ironic that it should be called the House of Wolves, no?" he said, finally turning back to look at the dark room. She almost laughed.
"Not really, once you stop to consider who most often visits it," she responded. He knew she was talking about others like themselves. Other pirates.
"Jamia..." said a soft, airy voice. Jamia's attention immediately snapped away from him and to the younger girl who had been asleep just seconds earlier.
"AlÃcia," she said as a wave of relief washed over her. The girl in question smiled back. "I've missed you. How are you feeling?"
Her words sent a shock through him. It was Italian. Jamia had failed to mention that.
"Italian?" he asked in surprise. Jamia nodded.
"She only understands a little French, and even less English. I can translate, if you'd like." He merely smirked.
"Where are you from?" he asked flawlessly. Jamia's eyes widened considerably, an accomplishment in itself. The girl merely smiled softly.
"Itália," she replied.
"My name is Scourge," he said, flourishing his accent a little more than necessary. Jamia rolled her eyes. "It's nice to meet you, AlÃcia."
"You will never quit," said Jamia. He acted offended.
"What, I'm not allowed to tell her what my name is?" he asked in mock horror. "I was only being polite."
"Believe me, it was obvious," she said sarcastically. "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave. She needs to rest." Though her words were biting, he could tell she was sincerely worried for her friend, and silently walked out of the room. Alicia smiled as he walked out the door.
"They look the same," she said to Jamia.
"Who?"
"The captain we saw, when I was injured. They are related; I am sure of it."
Jamia smiled and told her to go back to sleep, but the words sent chills down her spine. 'They do look similar,' she thought. 'I wonder what else he hasn't been telling me...'
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