My Plot Bunnies Do A Test Run

My strange and fluffy plot bunnies need to stop surfing the internet for pictures. Last week, they turned up this interesting line sketch.

Yes, yes. They are Disney Princess pirates...I have nothing to say for myself except that overnight my plot bunnies grew a total garden. Plot, settings, everything. Well, maybe not everything, but quite a bit. They were so dang insistent (I'm glaring at you plot bunnies!) that I somehow managed to whip out three and a half chapters over the weekend.

Am I impressed with myself? Yes. Are there still some holes in it? Possibly. Do I feel a bit silly? Maybe a little...

I'm a little hesitant to just go posting another unfinished story up on Fanfiction, so I've decided to test run the first chapter up here. I don't know if I'll get any feedback, but I'm really hoping for some. Over the past year or so I've grown some confidence as a writer. I still need work of course, but I'm not embarrassed to read my own stuff. Usually I'm pretty tickled. Can I use that word without sounding strange? Okay, probably not. n_n;

Anyway here is chapter one of what I'm thinking of calling The Wilted Rose. Please someone leave something!

~

Chapter One

Twining Threads

            There were three of them altogether, and they were known as the royal family of the high seas. Their ship was The Wilted Rose and even after they no longer lived their life upon the rollicking waves of the open seas, they were considered the most fearsome pirates in the known world.

            They did not always know each other of course, and even when they were finally all together, they did not always agree with each other. However in the end, with the physical embodiments of greed, jealously, and lust breathing down their necks, it mattered very little that they fought as long as they refused to let the others face their demons alone.

            So no, they did not always know each other. But that changed one wet, dreary night in the alleyway outside of a small village tavern, when the chill winds of fate began to blow over the open sea.

~

            She had never gotten used to the smell of seawater. It just wasn’t in her blood. Her family had come from forest country, where majestic evergreen trees rose high above her head to awe inspiring heights and white tailed deer lived as kings of the woodland. Her father’s land had been an emerald sort of country, clean and bright and brimming with magic.

            “And where the water is always clean.” She thought bitterly, staring at the salty mud puddles gathering at her feet. She had taken shelter beneath a meager awning from the rain, but all that had done so far was keep her from getting soaked to the skin faster.

            “I miss my clothes.” The young girl thought disparately as she shifted the muddied rags draped about her skinny frame. “I miss being warm.” She thought with a mournful look up at the cold gray sky above her. “I miss my father.”

            A small tear fell down her pale, round face at that last thought. Out of everything, she missed her father most. For most of her life he had been her only family – the only one that loved her unconditionally – and now he was dead.

            Killed by that awful hag-witch.

            The young girl huddled deeper under her leaking awning and shivered against the wind that had sprung up off the water. She hated the wind most of all. The rain and water could be dealt with, but there was just no adjusting to that bone cutting wind that blew off of the great expanse of ocean that bordered the town on one side.

            The girl frowned out at the slim block of sea and sky she could see at the end of the alleyway. “It’s nothing but a big mud puddle.” She thought angrily. “One that’s keeping me from going home.”

            That was all she really wanted; to go home to her forests.

            But instead she was stuck next to this moody ocean, wrapped up in its freezing rain.

            “At least it’s not lashing now. It’s always worse when it rains sideways.” She thought with a tiny sigh. She noticed her toes were starting to hurt with the early winter cold. She shuffled her feet in the mud, hoping it would warm them somewhat. It did little.

            “I suppose the rain is keeping all the hooligans inside too.” She thought trying to find the silver lining that her father had always insisted was there.

            The sound of a door swinging open and shut interrupted the young girl’s thoughts. She looked up, breath freezing in her throat as the more dangerous sounds of a someone large stumbling out into the rain reached her ears.

            She waited, not even daring to breathe until she knew who was coming.

            Whoever it was slipped in the mud and went down with a loud sounding splat. There was a grumbled curse from a rough sounding man, probably one of the dock workers that usually inhabited the tavern she was sitting next to. It wasn’t the smartest place for a small girl like her to be, but it was the only place she could sit without drawing attention to herself.

            She ducked her head when she hear the man stumble closer to her alley opening, hoping to hide her impossibly pale skin with her dark black hair. Rain dripped down her shoulder length hair, landing on her concealed face and small hands. She had to remind herself to breathe when her lungs started to ache with stale air.

            “He said I would be safe here.” She thought frantically. “He said that once she couldn’t reach me, nothing else bad would happen.”

            The drunken man finally stumbled into view. He slipped again, landing full front in the mud, staining his brown clothes even browner. Clumsily, he struggled to his knees. When he looked up, he saw here, sitting in the shadows.

            “But he was wrong.”

            A small, fearful hiccup escaped her when he saw her. He peered through the gloom, probably wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him as he stumbled to his feet and stepped into the alleyway.

            He gave a great, bawdy burst of laughter after he had finished staring at her, making her jump.

            “Well,” he slurred uncomfortably as he staggered forwards another few feet, “what’re you doin’ out here little tavern wench? The fun’s all inside.” He laughed again.

            “Wonderful,” she thought as she curled up tighter under the leaky awning, “I’ve really sunk low now. He thinks I work in the tavern!”

            The man peered at her. “Din’t you hear me girl?” He demanded as he took another step through the gloom.

            The young girl swallowed convulsively. “I-” she said too softly before yelling across the alley way, “I am not a tavern girl. Go away.”

            The man frowned at her, swaying on his feet. “What?” He asked.

            “I said g-go away.”

            Most of the authority was taken out of her voice when she stumbled over the words.

            Even then the man looked confused by her words. Unfortunately, it seemed that when he became confused, he also became angry.

            “Now don’ go gitten ideas little girl,” he said roughly as he stumbled against the damp wall next to him, “din’ anyone tell you yer not supposed to mouth off to those above you?” He asked, placing a hand on his chest in an absurd fashion.

            A stark laugh from behind him made them both jump.

            “Ha! I doubt that girl is used to anyone being above her in life, let alone drunken swine like you.”

            Both man and girl turned to see who it was shouting challenges in the early evening.

            “Huh?” The man grunted when he caught sight of the silhouette through the misty rain. “An’ just who migh’ you’n be?” He asked.

            The woman – the voice was that of a woman – stepped through the curtain of steadily falling rain and into the alleyway.

            The young girl gasped when she finally caught sight of her. She was a young woman, in her early twenties at the very most, with fair looks and sharp eyes. Her brow hair was pulled up onto the top of her head in a quickly fashioned bun, however a thick tendril had escaped to twist down her neck. But the really outrageous part of her was her dress.

            “She’s dressed like a man.” The girl thought as the woman in the blue dress jacket and white pants came and interposed herself between girl and man. “Sword and everything!”

            It was true; she did have a sword. A thin, wicked looking rapier with an elaborate basket hilt that she drew with an ease that only came with practice.

            “Now,” the strangely dressed woman said as she easily held her sword in her right hand and placed her left on the hip of her fancy blue jacket, “I think it is best that you leave sir.”

            The girl had to peer around the woman’s heeled, thigh high boots to see the look of astonishment on the drunken man’s face.

            “Who in God’s name are you?” He demanded irritably, drawing back slightly from the sword wielding female.

            The girl could hear the crooked smile in the woman’s voice. “No one you want to know.” She said before adding in a much firmer voice. “Now get out.”

            The man stumbled away at the force of the woman’s voice. He half turned before tripping over a stack of empty crates and tumbling head over heels out into the street. He spared a confused, troubled look over his shoulder before disappearing off in to the rain.

            The woman put her sword away with a satisfied smile.

            “There,” she said in approval as she turned and knelt before the girl huddling under the scant awning, “I think we will do much better without him.”

            The girl uncurled from her sodden spot just enough to look up at the woman’s face. She had a sharp chin, the girl saw, and brown eyes to match her hair. Hesitantly, the girl nodded.

            “Thank you miss.” She whispered just above the rain.

            The woman smiled gently at the girl. “It was my pleasure. Now, I don’t suppose you will tell me what a young thing like you is doing out in this weather. Don’t you have a home to get to?” She asked in apparent concern.

            The little girl wasn’t sure if she should believe the woman’s concern. Not everybody around this part of the docks could be trusted at face value after all.

            The little girl shook her head anyway, not seeing any danger in answering this woman’s question. “No miss, I don’t have one anymore.” “Not since Father died.” She added in her mind.

            The woman eyed her, as if making up her mind about something. “Hmm…” she hummed after awhile. “That is a problem. Well then,” she said, coming to her decision with a pleased grin, “I suppose you will just have to come with me then.” She announced.

            The girl drew back slightly as if she could burrow herself into the rotting wood at her back.

            The woman blinked at her in confusion. “What? Does that not sound agreeable to you little miss?” She asked, showing no sign of deception that the girl could see.

            But that didn’t assuage the girl’s worries. Lots of children around these parts walked off with strangers because they couldn’t see how things could get worse for them. Few of them ever came back.

            The girl eyed the woman with wide brown eyes as she clutched at the thin fabric of what remained of her shift.

            “I,” she stuttered, staring at the woman, “I don’t know you.” She told her in a small voice.

            The woman’s eyes softened at the girl. “I see. And you are afraid I might hurt you then?”

            The girl hesitated a moment, but then nodded, drawing farther back in case she was right.

            “Hmm,” the woman said again as she rubbed her chin with a thumb and forefinger, “in that case, you must have something to defend yourself with,” she winked at the girl, “in case I suddenly loose my mind and come after you.” She said in a purposefully light tone.

            The girl watched as she reached a long fingered hand down and pulled a long knife out of one of her tall gray boots. “Here,” she said, flipping the knife and catching it by the blade so that the hilt was extended towards the girl, “take it. You have my full permission to stab me if I purposefully try and hurt you. Just try to make sure to kill me with the first go if that’s what you aim for. I’ve never wanted to be one of those people that can’t walk or do anything because of a misaimed weapon. Although if I could make a suggestion, you should go for my legs so I can’t chase you down. Once you get away I’ll make sure to never try and cross your path.” She told her.

            Confused, the girl took the knife, not sure what else to do with it.

            “She’s crazy,” she thought as she felt the weight of the knife in her hand, “absolutely crazy. Why would she even say those things?”

            Before she could find an answer, the woman stood, rising tall above the curled up little girl. “Well then, shall we be on our way?” She suggested as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say to a waif.

            “What?” The word was startled out of the girl.

            The woman gestured to the alleyway’s entrance. “I thought you’d like to get out of this rain. I have a ship docked in the harbor. We’re taking on supplies for our next voyage. It’s warm and dry, and Cook makes the best tea in all the world. You can come and try some if you like. At least until it stops raining anyways.”

            The girl blinked up at this strange, crazy woman and wondered if she hadn’t lost a few too many lights herself.

            “What’s the matter?” The woman asked when the girl didn’t move. “Aren’t you coming?”

            “Should I?” She wanted to ask. “Is it safe?”

            She didn’t know, but she was shivering and wet and she was sure that if she didn’t get out of this rain soon she would catch cold and die just as easily as if her stepmother had really caught her.

            So she took a firmer grip on the knife still in her hand and nodded up at the woman.

            The adult smiled easily. “Very well then. The ship is this way little miss.” She pointed down the road to their left.

            The little girl stood. Her legs shook dreadfully from cold and the disuse of sitting there since the rain had started hours ago. For the first few moments she could only stay standing with the help of the slick wall.

            “Oh dear,” the woman said, frowning at her in concern, “you’ll never get there like that. Here, take my hand.” She offered her right hand, the one that had held the sword. “It will go much faster that way.”

            The girl blinked at her again, and then seeing that it was the woman's sword hand, carefully took it. She kept a tight grip on the knife in her other hand though.

            Slowly, the two exited the alley and made their way down the muddy street.

            “By the way,” the woman spoke again when they reached the beginning of the wharf that housed the larger ships that visited the port town, “what is you name little one?”

            Given her early, more uncertain, questions, the girl didn’t feel as bad about answering this one. “Snow White.” She said softly, but not as timid as before

            The woman smiled at her as she moved a strand of Snow White’s sopping black hair away from her white skin. “That is a beautiful name child. It suits you well.”

            “And,” Snow White, encouraged by the woman’s smile, dared to ask a moment later, “and who are you?”

            The woman smiled at her again. “My name is Belle.”

            Snow White gave a clumsy little curtsy as they continued to walk. “Pleased to meet you.” She said.

            Belle laughed gently. “Likewise, I’m sure.”