Ravenâs shifting glance, only meant her heart desired one thing, and pirates only corrupt their hearts with three things, greed, the creature, and tobacco. They donât even have love for themselves, drifting about the earth in a daze of what-could-have-been. Basingstoke knew that Raven was like her, and this made her fond of Raven. She knew that Ravenâs flirty suggestions and ability to plunder was caused by some sort of training, and whatever gives a pirate will to train is never a good experience. Basingstoke has never met a friendly pirate who didnât have to work exceptionally hard to get there. As Raven stuck the knife in her mouth and gave her that sly look before she left, Basingstoke couldnât help herself. Her heart was beating so fast with adrenaline she could feel every muscle perk at the screams of Ravens victims. What about it made her so enlivened, what about it made her so stimulated? She had no time to find out, as she brought a willowy finger to Ice Devils chin, and traced his jaw, winking at him and letting out a giggle before eyeing the torch which lit the door of the tavern, and taking it as her own, as if she were at two year old hitting the âmineâ phase. Grabbing her gun and running off into the night, her laughter was priceless, like a childâs laughter, but haunting, all of the innocence was gone. As if she were a youngster playing a sick game on the townspeople. Only this time, the game of cops and robbers was real.
The house she chose was rather large, she knew it of some importance, she saw the slaves in the back. She knew that they wouldnât retaliate to her attack, no matter how good of âfriendsâ you thought you were with your slave, they were still a slave. Basingstoke opened the door with finesse, trying to be as quiet as a snake smelling itâs prey, if one watched close enough, they might think that she was actually flicking her tongue, looking for the freshest, warmest blood and meat to appease her ravenous hunger. The walls covered in Victorian designs, blues, whites, and reds plagued the household. White wigs released powder into the air. âUgh, yaâ knoâ, it smells absotively rank to do that.â she could feel her hate for the rich searing up in her veins like the fire she held in her hand, except this one was expanding inside of her. Cotton drapes covered the windows, the shadows making ivory blue faces at her, the dark trying to play tricks on her, as if the owners of this house thought that shadows could be a guard dog. Basingstoke let a twisted grin fall âpon her lips, her eyes lit up, crazed. If the comrades she made saw her now, they might themselves be frightened by her. âPerfect!â she let a laugh out into the night sky as she touched the fire to the drapes. She threw the torch aside, a few dishes breaking with the toss, as it landed on a cherry wood table, with a candleholder. The laugh was full of more menace than joy, as she watched the drapes burn for awhile, she took her blunderbuss, the designs etched in it, only complimenting her, the beautiful flowers embossed into it, only curling their ways around a jolly roger. She brought her figure upstairs, the flames now making her shadow far more intimidating than the night sky ever could.
She grew and grew as she conquered the flight of stairs, the wood interior would be a choice that they would soon regret, slave keeping bastards. Basingstoke saw a bedroom at the end of the hallway, and though the fire still had to spread before it would interrupt her vision upstairs, she decided to wait, she could get out through another exit besides the door. The flames started to creep their way up the stairs, as if she were a summoner, and had released a terrible fire demon to plague this household. She decided to make a comical endeavor out of this experience âWAKE UP! WAKE UP! YOâ âOUSE IS ON FIRE!!! YOU BETTER GET OUT!â She rose her voice, as loud as she could, she knew the seaworthy captains voice could be heard back at the tavern. Useful for barking orders, but also great for scaring those who you wanted to pillage, plunder, threaten, or just plain emotionally scar. But tonight, no, tonight, they all had to prove themselves to one another, she needed to intimidate them by a fresh kill, as they had to do the same to her. The funny thing about humans is how primal they are, it matches animals so well, but yet humans think itâs a large insult to be compared to an animal. Basingstoke heard the screams of the women, men, and children. But in her mind, she heard the silent sighs of the slaves, who were now free, for as long as they could run. And why not? She needed new recruits for her ship. The woman who was obviously the first lady, came running out of the bedroom, blindly, the fire plaguing her, Basingstoke brought out her sword, her hat covering her eyes and the majority of her facial features, the womanâs last image would be the smirk of a dirty, tear struck face, covered in soot and victory, sweet victory, as the rich woman realized just how mortal her money had made her. â âAve a nice ride in hell, poppette.â The woman let out one last scream, followed by the children, one little boy, whom was blonde, and one little girl, whom was brunette.
The boy was soon greeted by shrapnel of gunpowder to his forehead, as his father saw his son fall, the hate for Basingstoke in this manâs eyes built and built, as if she was trying to create a worthy adversary in this already very dangerous battlefield, the loud bang was indeed enough to hear throughout the town, and enough to startle a couple of lights on. âDIDNâT YAâ HEAR ME?! I SAID YAâ BEâTER GET OUTTA HERE!â It was clear she was having fun with this as she removed the sword from the woman, facing her towards the stairs, and watching her limp body tumble, her bones break and landing awkwardly, gruesomely at the bottom of the steps. The small brunette girl was overpowering the sounds and crackles of the fire as she mourned the loss of her family members. A gloved hand pulled at the girls hair, and she winced in pain, her eyes closed as if the irritation from the soot was getting to them, or she did not want to look at someone as evil as the Blackhearted Basingstoke. The girls crying did not stop, this only irritated Basingstoke, and she lifted the girl by her hair, the crazed look still in Basingstokes eyes, âYou miss yaâ mum? âDen go and join âer!â With all of the right words said, Basingstoke threw the girl down the stairs, she bounced more than her mother, less weight, Basingstoke supposed. The father stood at the door, frozen with anger, surprise, fear, and most of all, hate. She greeted the man with the most interesting of ways, walking up to him and placing a gun at the back of his neck, her lips greeting his cheek as he froze, her confidence in his fear overriding his ability to do anything. As she finished her kiss which was more sensual than his wife could give him, she said
âIâm keeping you alive, so you can tell my story.â
She placed her sword at his knee and removed his lower leg, finally, the frozen man became animated. Screaming in pain from her. She left him on the floor to bleed and feel the twinge, as she went into the drawers, stole clothing, gold, necklaces, anything she could find. She turned back to look at him âDonâ Fuck it up, lovie!â She blew a kiss at him, and ran into the attic, only to crawl up to the roof, a large white bag on her shoulder, the cool sea breeze greeting her. She could see the ocean from where she was, and she knew that she was soon to get herself out there. âYAâ HEAR ME YA LANDLUBBERS?! IâLL GET TO DAâ SEA ONCE MORE, YA GOBSHITES! She was screaming to no one but the smoke and the night, but with her features illuminated, men couldnât help but be attracted to her, and women couldnât help but fear her. She found a tree near the house, and jumped to it, trusting in the strength of itâs branches, she flipped her way to safe ground, the fire now âeating the house aliveâ. She walked slowly back to the rendezvous point, she wanted to think about what she had done. She did not see it fit to take a life, but she had to, she had no love for the slave keepers, and honestly, she needed the money for this, feeding the crew and whatnot. Though she was proud of her work.
She ran back into Raven at the site, both of them looking rather accomplished, as if they were children who had just gone trick-or-treating, as if both of them just ate a hot meal. They were both very proud of themselves, and you could tell by the look of confidence, not guilt, or shame, but confidence on their faces. âRaven! Welcome to âda crew. Ye be me first mate!â Basingstoke placed a hearty hand on ravens shoulder, the blood on Basingstokes hands was still sticky and red, but she knew that Raven had her fair share for gore tonight as well. The night was still young as the soul that plagued Basingstokes body. She turned to make her eyes greet with Ravens once more âMeet me at the boat dock in an hour.â Basingstoke dug in her pockets, grabbing out a gold necklace with rubys, and with accuracy, she removed the rubys from the gold necklace, knowing that this made raven question her motives, Basingstoke winked at her. âYou get daâ rubsâ when you are at my ship, and when ya bring him.â She nodded towards ice devil, and turned around, running off into the night in her thoughts she pulled her pipe out of her pocket, filling it with tobacco, and taking a nearby torch on a streetlight to light it, the smoke curling from her lips, releasing a certain grace that she never could, burning out those mean and nasty things she had to say to that family tonight. Her walk was brisk, she didnât want to be late to greet her only great friend to fill her dark heart with something pure, the only one who has managed to save her from hells mouth itself, the ship in which has been world renowned and had caused the men to become jealous of a woman her belongings, the only ship to ever keep the kraken away, The Abatan.
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