[ P ] scumbags

The Mainlands had been the place that the ice viper had grown up in. He'd been raised within the depths of Red Wood. Birthed within a place that he could relate to. A burning red forest that was bright and violent everywhere it seized. As a young pup, he matched the colors of the forest, dark bark with red, fizzling ends. But, as he grew, the reds grew duller as the forest did for him. Nathair left when he pleased and returned the same way, with no agenda. The best place, a home away from home, was the blackened beach. There was always something happening on the sands; the Thieves' Guild making their home there. One day, he found himself living there more than home, and entangled with the thieves and all they were. The young male traveled against the inky coast. Waves rushed in, choppy and as dark as ever. It seemed that the weather was never nice here, the cliffs always giving off a shroud of fog from above. The dark clouds threatening to downpour on them at any moment. The bottoms of the teenager's paws were coated in black sand and damp. Never a moment on the beach were they were dry. It was hard when there were small pools of water that seeped up, higher onto the beach. Even the caves seemed to hold some sort of water in them. Not ever good enough to drink, tainted by the salt. The brute sat at the edge of one of the caves, casting his vivid green eyes to the strangers that entered and exited the Tavern that wasn't far off. He was just far enough, though, that the laughter was faint. There wasn't anyone he was particularly waiting for. Though, some nights, there were drunk enough men to pick a fight with the teens lurking around or high enough women to mistake him for an adult. Either way, there was always something going on in Sussex. It was easy for a ruffian like him to get mixed up in it all. "Speak and be heard."

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The sea's breeze was cool, the smell of salt and brine stung his dark nostrils. Much like the bitter sting of ice. The cold snows were his home, where he had been raised. But the sands and seas found to be his true calling, among men who were of his similar ilk, though Leviathan proved to be above them-thinking he was a King among men, he had no Kingdom. No throne. No Queen, no legacy. He was but a simple man here. A man who's reputation was failed Captain with a skeleton crew.

A sigh whispered through his nostrils, watching the tide as it ebbed and flowed, lapping at the onyx sands that shifted betwixt his large toes. How strange it seemed, how something so simple could seem so ominous. As he stood, he dragged one large paw against the grains, making a dark, damp indent into the uneven surface. Those icy eyes of his squinted. His wind wandering. Wandering to Nicharion, to the male that he had cherished. And oh the fun they had. Even when the male was not beside him, the simple thought made him giddy with anticipation. Locked within an endless game. In his most sombre of moments, he would wish to stay that way forever-seemingly nothing else mattered.

But of course, it could not always be that way. He knew he was made for more than simply wasting his days drunk within The Tavern and his nights... well. With whoever took his fancy.

Dark ears flickered at the sound of another nearing by. It was enough to pull him from his musings, but not enough, necessarily to grant his attention. Leviathan was, however, a socialite. He enjoyed a through conversation as any other. But to toy and play, to pry open weaker minds and woo those that caught his eye... but a crew was what he needed. Wanted.

He was not made to walk this earth alone.

And so his icy gaze turned upon the stranger, who's eyes clawed at the back of his mind. Belonging to a different face from a lifetime ago.

Conch shells strewn about the charcoal-like ashy sands. One of them sat near his red paws, in between them, his viridescent eyes reflecting in the dark liquid. Out here, in the shadow hood of the nighttime, he didn't have to hide who he was. In the dim moonlight of the Tavern; he would have to hide it somewhat, under the guise of shiny, sharpened white teeth. Following each quick snarky comment with a loud, sharp laugh that echoed off the cavern's walls until each of them were in laughter. Though behind neon, piercing green eyes, the viper lurks. Sharp, slitted eyes waiting to strike, watching the slips of movement and slurred words. He made sure never to drink too much; that was the failure of all plans, where every man created their own weaknesses, ruining themselves. Nathair peered back through the moonlight, shining against the ocean. It seemed if the Moon Goddess was watching them through clear skies tonight. A snort came from him, followed by a chuckle as he pushed the liquid aside, sloshing into the sand. No God could ever stop him from being who he was, how he was raised. With no remorse or mercy for weaker beings. For those who allow themself to be tricked, defeated, or corrupted by others. A figure moved against the beach, something to distract him from his aimless gaze of the rough ocean, pushing and pulling at it's seams. Nathair's head lifted to look across the black sand, seeing the man stare straight back at him. The teenager wrinkled his lip; being caught in the gaze of someone whose eyes were as piercing as his own. Should he know him from somewhere? No, he'd remember those eyes. They were hard to forget, it's like they could stare right through you. Both of them seem caught in each other, but Nath is the first to speak, a grumble to his voice. "Is there something I can help you with?" He questions as he stands to his full height, he is not as large as the other, but not all his strength lies within his muscles, but also his gleaming eyes; watching for any sign of malicious intent. His lips draw taut, a straight line across them as he hides any emotion; he's sure he doesn't even have emotions anymore. With no moral compass, it's amazing he's made it this far. He's never been one to back away from a fight or a challenge, no matter how big the foe is. Pain was nothing compared to how he'd feel if he gave up or lost. The fire inside him, fueled every bit of him to hang on to the very last moment; all he's ever known is fire. An anger that he cannot control and a piece of him that is never fulfilled. He looks for it in the Guild; the one place where he fits. "Speak and be heard."

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The waves seemed to drown out, fade away as they crashed upon the black shoreline. He no longer felt the grains betwixt his dark toes. Now, now he was back at the Tavern, downing fermented berries while she danced upon his lap...

How odd it was to see someone's eyes within another's face. He had known many women. Nameless faces, bodies he had taken for the night. Workers from all over the continent and yet one in particular had struck out, enough to call an acquaintance, a regular at best. While he could not deny the similarity, there were many wolves with a similar shade of crimson. Similar markings and perhaps a similar personality as she.

But no one had eyes like Miss Detherage.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Yet he tried to push down the gnawing sense of dread that began to claw his way through him. The uncanny looks, the same raven of his pelt. It almost felt too obvious to be a coincidence. Yet he shook his head, icy eyes blinked as he forced a response. "Not really, lad. My apologies..." Icy eyes furrowed, taring his attention away from the boy. "You just remind me of someone that I used to know."

And know her, he did.

Oh she was fierce, plagued by fire and poison. A luxury he felt like he could never afford, a woman that could tie even the boldest of man around her paw and play their strings. A woman, who's eyes he would never forget.

Part of him wanted to run. Run away with this feeling and say it was purely his mind playing tricks upon him... yet-

"Say," Curiosity got the better of him. "Who is your Mother?" And how did the saying go...?

Curiosity kills the cat.

Every step on Sussex coast seemed like a game of chess. Observed and calculated, planning for no false moves. A game of method. Nathair stared at the older man, gazing over his black and white pelt; stretching as deep and just as treacherous as the tide. It felt like they were at a stand-still, and the teenager didn’t even realize why. It was irritating. His teeth worked inside of his mouth, nibbling on the innards of them as he waited for a reply from the gaze that kept him captive. Red eyebrows stayed raised, vibrant, searching green eyes to keep the other man in place too. No one who stared at him for that long was just going to pass him. That meant he had business with him, whether it was good or bad. He would not be a fool and not handle whatever this was right now. Otherwise, he could end up dead, absorbed in by the ocean’s undercurrent. The longer it remained quiet, the more he wanted to draw a stride closer. Finally, his voice grew in the back of his throat and announced itself from the stranger’s throat. ‘Not really, lad. My apologies.’ Nathair’s left eyebrow raised once more, allowing a short shake of his head and about to let a scoff escape his lips. He’d wasted his time, after all. Before he can let his scoff from the cage of his teeth, he spoke again. ‘You just remind me of someone I used to know…’ His teeth slip from his mouth, scrunching his upper lip. “Well, I don’t know anyone around here. And no one knows me.” He took a step aside from him, he’s got no proper game here anymore. ‘Say,’ It stopped the teen in his tracks. The ice viper’s head jerked back to look at the other, now through squinted and annoyed eyes. ‘Who is your mother?’ Here’s the thing about Nathair and his mother. They were very close. Maybe even a little closer than a son and mother should be. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. She was the only one that he was his true self with. He would only show his kindness to her, and would do anything for her to be content. A few weeks ago, she’d gone on an errand and hadn’t come back so far. He knew wherever she was; she was safe. She could handle herself, talk herself out of anything. His mom was a master at deception and manipulation. He’d learned from the best. No one, here, or anywhere really (not that he really made it out of the Redwood looking for conversation), had ever asked about her. He didn’t know how to react. And he wasn’t dumb enough to let the sense of the remark slide. His large body swung towards Levi fully, confronting him chest to chest. He didn’t care how big his opponent was - he’s sharper than a knife and can’t lose. He’s got too much to slip through his paws if he looses. “What business have you got with her?" He growled out, ears pinning down to his head and eyes squinted; shielding the vibrant lights behind them. “You’d think I’d tell a hooligan off the street her name?” There’s a taut chuckle that barely leaves his lips, mostly underneath his breath; as if he’s laughing at how stupid other wolves thought he was. He might be young, but not naïve. "Speak and be heard."

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Bitter and volatile, the boy recoiled like a snake. Well, I don’t know anyone around here. And no one knows me.A viper with icy green eyes. An icy brow quirked. "Rionnach is vast, He added casually, lifting up a large dark paw he inspected the matted fur that now lay damp with obsidian grains. How irritated he had become, simply by the tiniest of object. "But words spread eventually." Indeed, he would know all. Whether it was through hushed whispers in the Tavern, or his little spies that often poorly failed.

But oh, as he dug deeper it seemed that Leviathan had exposed a vein. One that was oh so vulnerable. “What business have you got with her?" Anger, defensive. He was no meagre acquaintance of Miss Detherage, no. His response gave it away. “You’d think I’d tell a hooligan off the street her name?” His body stiffened, even as the gnawing in his gut grew stronger. "Hooligan? Lad," A dismissive chuckle crackled through his lips, his tail rose as his ears perked and those icy eyes glowed. "I am a Pirate, I shall not be linked to such... scum." It was a scoff, shaking his head. "It is because we knew each other well. Perhaps too well, once." His lips cracked into his signature sly smile. "Amelia Detherage, am I wrong?"

How for once, he hoped that he was.

A sudden wind blew through the beach's coarse tension. Ocean waves rolled one after another, no mercy for any smaller beings that might be alone out in the surf. Life was a bitch. Every moment seemed to tack another list on the thing Nath had to be worried about. Not that he had to. He knew his mother could handle her own, but she wasn't around to protect her own image, which means it'd been left up to her son. 'Rionnach is vast...' The man's voice trailed off, looking down to the grains of blackened sands on his paw instead of the teenager in front of him. 'But word will spread eventually.' A rumble came, low, from the back of his throat. No one really knew who he was. Ice viper, maybe. But he'd been cloaked by the night, blanketed by the low light of the stars. "I'm not too worried about it." An icy comeback, a sarcastic smirk comes across the boy's lips for a mere second, long enough to make sure Levi had seen him. He abided to really no man's rules but his own, and his mother's. The metallic tang in his mouth returns, a taste he knew well. His canine teeth dig into the sensitive flesh of his tongue. Something to keep him from speaking too fast. An Achilles' heel to the ice viper. As much as he wished it wasn't. He'd also never been in a situation like this, where someone knew her. Nathair's vibrant eyes stayed locked with the pirate's own, even though squinted eyes and pinned ears; anger coursing through the young man. When new or uncertain emotions rushed through him, he knew not what to do, and it irked him; making the emotion bask in the one thing he truly knew, anger, rage. The stranger retorts with his own ego, confident in this situation. Another heat flash rolls through Nath. 'I am a Pirate, I shall not be linked to such... scum.' A scoff came from the wrinkled lips of the viper's mouth, fangs still on show. In the long run, weren't they all the same? Something society feared. 'It is because we knew each other well...' The whiskers on the side of his cheek quivered with the shown teeth. 'Perhaps too well, once.' Nathair didn't think his mother was a saint. He'd been raised around the Guild with no real shame. Her name comes across the tongue of the sailor. A bark came directly after it, paws stomping into the sand. "Who do you think I am, huh? Her pimp? Don't fuckin' say her name out here." He snarled, giving a quick glance from side to side, it is only them and the incoming storm on the beach. "Think tellin' her son about your one night to pound town is going to end well for you?" It's one more warning followed by a dark growl. Once vibrant eyes now gone dark. She was entilted to respect no matter the man, and if the pirate didn't know how to be a gentleman, maybe Nathair would instill it into him. "Speak and be heard."

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"I'm not too worried about it." Oh a similar sarcasm gleaned a small scoff from the Pirate's icy jaws. "Well perhaps you should be." His naivety would be the better of him, many young men feel victim to their high flowing testosterone and ego's. Not enough of them paid attention to the warnings, or details.

But alas, he hoped that it would not be his problem.

And there, he found a weakness within the boy's cracked façade, rage. Unholy, unbridled. Akin to a wildfire it would surely seep through him, cloud his mind, grind his jaws. Indeed, Miss Detherage had that effect on others... he would not admit that he too, one feel prey to her allure.

"Who do you think I am, huh? Her pimp? Don't fuckin' say her name out here." A chuckle, one deep as thunder rasped from his scarred maw. "Why ever not, lad? We both know your Mother can hold her own." He offered, amusement dancing within his icy eyes. Of course, this was but a mask, hiding behind indifferent humour, no, deep within, his stomach turned to lead. A sickness grasped him, an affliction he wished he never knew. Perhaps it was paranoia and lack of sleep effecting him... but he could not deny the similarities. Not only in looks, but temperament, too.

"Think tellin' her son about your one night to pound town is going to end well for you?" And indeed, there it was; the information he wanted, that confirmed his suspicions and caused dread to turn, it wrought havoc upon his icy expression. "So it is true?" Oh the sickness grew, threatening to spill from his maw. His legs felt weak, threatening to buckle from under him.

Perhaps there had been other men.

But no, there was no denying the similarities here, the same shade of onyx, the same markings that matched his own and eyes that held an icy shade of Amelia's emerald green...

He could not find the right words. He could not truly fathom that standing before him was his own flesh and blood-his. A boy that he should have raised. Raised a decent way and not cowering in some hovel."How... old are you?" He finally managed to spit out, amidst the chaos that wrought within.

"And I am sorry," He offered. "Truly... son."

The sea was not the only thing that was out of control and hard to read. Nathair related to the water in that way. His lips stayed pinned, even when the pirate seemed to make him even more vexed. ‘Well, perhaps you should be.’ This man really knew how to piss him off. His muscles tensed, black and brawny shoulders ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. The teen’s whole life he could do what he wanted mostly, even under the watchful eye of his mother. Someone else telling him what to do, even if it was advice, it irked him. He’d made it this far. Which wasn’t long, but he played by his own rules. It was his life. “Perhaps you should mind your own.” Heat comes from his mouth. His tongue is like a snake’s as it licks around his jaws in a flicker. Nathair had a tendency to always try to get the last word in, as well as to keep an award-winning smile, even through the seething. ‘Why ever not, lad?’ If there was one thing Nathair hated being treated like, it was like a child. He hadn’t been a kid for a long time. Being raised amongst the Guild had taught him that being childish was enough to get an ignorant pup killed. The red viper’s tail lashed behind him, ears tilting backwards. Maybe it was time to stop playing. ‘We both know your mother can hold her own.’ She could. But she wasn’t here to defend her honor. Pearly white fangs appear from the edges of his black lips, “Tsh. Dumbass, do you think her son wouldn’t defend her? I’m not a fuckin’ pussy.” He growls. The encounter spoiled quickly. He wasn’t going to even try to play nice. He didn’t care. For his mom? He’d do almost anything. ‘So it is true?’ What? That his mother was one of the midnight mistresses that passed by the Tavern on late nights? There were quite a lot of them. That’s why Nathair didn’t worry about her. Most of the time. It was easy for her to blend in, especially when all her clients were drunk. A flicker of red tinted ears question why the pirate would even be interested in such a thing like that. And then it hits. Nathair’s eyes grow wider and colder than they had been before. Did this man think he was his father? He tries to open his mouth, agape. It stays as he finds the facts whirling in his mind. Words fail him as he stares at the other male in the sand, their black coats mirroring each other in shade and depth. A flash of his mother’s coat that was washed in reds and oranges. He has her highlights in his coal features. ‘And I am sorry,’ Nath’s striking green gaze cut to him. He was a stranger moments ago. ‘Truly... son.’ Maybe it’s the shock. Or the disbelief that he keeps trying to throw over the truth. A laugh falls from his lips, hollow and curt. “For what? She didn’t need you. We didn’t.” It leaves his mouth without a thought. Even if this man isn’t his dad, which he tries with all his might to believe, but reality was a cold hard bitch, it’s true. He wouldn’t hide it. He lets the anger drop from him. Not because he still does not still mean it - if anything, he feels it now more than ever. But he’d always been good at putting his fires aside to burn alone. He didn’t deserve it; Nathair’s anger. That’d mean that Nathair would have to care, and he didn’t. Another facade he tries to make himself believe. His head cut away from the pirate, hackles lowering and eyes distant. “Don’t try now, either. I can handle myself.” For a yearling, he’s thick-skinned. A fast learner. The ruffian steps backwards, away from the man. They were so close a moment ago, he could smell the man’s breath. And now, the brisk air has fallen over Nathair once again. He wished his mother were here. Or where he could go home to her and ask. Viridescent eyes watch the rise and fall of the ocean. He expects nothing. And yet, he does not move. "Speak and be heard."

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“Perhaps you should mind your own.” Like a coiled spring, those icy eyes flashed. He was like a snake thrashing that tail about and spitting incessantly. His eyes narrowed, life would have been though for him. Not the spoiled, wealthy life style he at one point imagined for his future progeny...

What was this? A pang of guilt?

“Tsh. Dumbass, do you think her son wouldn’t defend her? I’m not a fuckin’ pussy.” A "tsk" clicked from his smooth tongue, icy eyes dancing in amusement. "Well that's good!" His retort was of course, full of sarcasm as he switched his attention back onto the present. At least Nathair was not wimpy. How it would feign his ego to have a weak, meek child. But alas, it did not run in the Salvatoré blood, their blood.

Evidently, Amelia's too.


“For what? She didn’t need you. We didn’t.” A small scoff whispered from his jaws. "Didn't say you did." Amelia needed no one but herself. That was what drew him in, the same selfishness. The same ambition. That and of course, her beauty.

She was fire, a crimson dame. Alluring; both elegant and wicked. Oh... it was everything he had wanted. And more but of course, that was a past self. A young Pirate, who's mind was... well. Not that much different.

“Don’t try now, either. I can handle myself.” A small hum left his lips, lifting a large black paw. He took a deliberate moment to inspect; grains of sand that rubbed betwixt his toes and then ever so casually added. "Of course." And yes, Leviathan did partly believe him; he had made it this far.

"But," His tone changed, like a master at his craft; dangling bait. "If you for whatever reason you feel like you can't, I am Captain of the Pirates. You can find us in the Tavern. A place for those who feel like they don't belong." He was not out rightly trying to recruit his Son, but the least he could do was offer safety... though Nathair did not seem like the type to willingly accept.