And it's hey, to the starboard heave-ho [Tsunade][Open to anyone in the area]
Character(s): Tsunade, OCs
Setting: A couple days outside Port Royal
Date: Autumn.
Summary: Tsunade's almost done with the Atlantic crossing.
Warning(s): None.
Lady Tsunade leaned against the ship's rail, parasol open to keep the fierce Caribbean sun off her skin. Not that she honestly cared, but it was amazing to her how much stronger the sun was this far to the south and west. She didn't mind getting a little sun. She did mind her skin becoming burnt and dry and peeling. Ugh. She had learned her lesson easily enough already on this ship, and she spent several weeks belowdecks in her cabin, covering her damaged skin with different salves and lotions in order to heal. Now she took extreme care to cover her skin - including her chest.
Bodice burn hurt like a bloody bitch.
After about two and a half months at sea, Captain Christopher had assured her they were making good time, and that they were nearly there. Also, because her significant belongings had to be spread amongst four guarded ships (each ship carrying soldiers already bound for Port Royal but who also doubled as protectors for her things), it would be easier for them all to keep together. He was in good humor, for all of the ships had managed to survive the crossing so far intact. The only worry they had was it was hurricane season, and those huge, destructive storms could stretch horizon to horizon.
The other reason for the togetherness of the ships Tsunade already knew about. Pirates. If they were lucky--exceedingly lucky--they would manage to make it to Port Royal unmolested. With the way her luck ran? She had very dark thoughts about the possible outcome.
Which was why that time below wasn't just to give her skin the chance to heal (or to avoid the lusty stares of the lesser-disciplined men on deck). In the privacy of her own quarters, she had begun practicing again the knife-fighting she knew, along with unarmed combat. She also checked the case of pistols she had brought. They looked clean enough, but she chose to clean and oil them again, along with checking the flint stones. She filled the little pockets designed for the purpose with black powder before putting the primed pistols into holsters the double-cross baudrick that was designed specifically for her, and checked also that the powder in the bandolier's cartridges was bone-dry. The checking of the pistols and the cartridges was a nightly procedure for her. Better to be paranoid and prepared than not. (Which was why she always had a few knifes hidden on her person whether asleep or awake.)
She sighed to herself as she pulled out a fan and flicked it open with years of practice. The wind filling the sails did not always reach the deck, and the layers of cloth propriety and fashion demanded left her sweltering. She knew she was lucky enough to have the clout that she didn't require a maidservant to be at her side at all times. It wasn't for nothing that she could intimidate men on her own, and in this world it was vital to a woman who wanted independence from the trappings of society more than anything else. She was still lonely. She hadn't had someone close to her since Dan's death, and she missed just having someone she could relax around.
She smiled to herself. Well, the new world (pun intended) of Port Royal should keep her busy enough.
Setting: A couple days outside Port Royal
Date: Autumn.
Summary: Tsunade's almost done with the Atlantic crossing.
Warning(s): None.
Lady Tsunade leaned against the ship's rail, parasol open to keep the fierce Caribbean sun off her skin. Not that she honestly cared, but it was amazing to her how much stronger the sun was this far to the south and west. She didn't mind getting a little sun. She did mind her skin becoming burnt and dry and peeling. Ugh. She had learned her lesson easily enough already on this ship, and she spent several weeks belowdecks in her cabin, covering her damaged skin with different salves and lotions in order to heal. Now she took extreme care to cover her skin - including her chest.
Bodice burn hurt like a bloody bitch.
After about two and a half months at sea, Captain Christopher had assured her they were making good time, and that they were nearly there. Also, because her significant belongings had to be spread amongst four guarded ships (each ship carrying soldiers already bound for Port Royal but who also doubled as protectors for her things), it would be easier for them all to keep together. He was in good humor, for all of the ships had managed to survive the crossing so far intact. The only worry they had was it was hurricane season, and those huge, destructive storms could stretch horizon to horizon.
The other reason for the togetherness of the ships Tsunade already knew about. Pirates. If they were lucky--exceedingly lucky--they would manage to make it to Port Royal unmolested. With the way her luck ran? She had very dark thoughts about the possible outcome.
Which was why that time below wasn't just to give her skin the chance to heal (or to avoid the lusty stares of the lesser-disciplined men on deck). In the privacy of her own quarters, she had begun practicing again the knife-fighting she knew, along with unarmed combat. She also checked the case of pistols she had brought. They looked clean enough, but she chose to clean and oil them again, along with checking the flint stones. She filled the little pockets designed for the purpose with black powder before putting the primed pistols into holsters the double-cross baudrick that was designed specifically for her, and checked also that the powder in the bandolier's cartridges was bone-dry. The checking of the pistols and the cartridges was a nightly procedure for her. Better to be paranoid and prepared than not. (Which was why she always had a few knifes hidden on her person whether asleep or awake.)
She sighed to herself as she pulled out a fan and flicked it open with years of practice. The wind filling the sails did not always reach the deck, and the layers of cloth propriety and fashion demanded left her sweltering. She knew she was lucky enough to have the clout that she didn't require a maidservant to be at her side at all times. It wasn't for nothing that she could intimidate men on her own, and in this world it was vital to a woman who wanted independence from the trappings of society more than anything else. She was still lonely. She hadn't had someone close to her since Dan's death, and she missed just having someone she could relax around.
She smiled to herself. Well, the new world (pun intended) of Port Royal should keep her busy enough.