the writing in the sand [open]

[Astrid Carter]

Astrid walked along the golden sand with her bow tucked under her arm and her arrows slung over the other. The other pirates were out and about. Probably killing people for all she knew. The others never told her about anything. The only time she time she was apart of anything they did (other than drinking and what not) was when they needed her to steal something for their collection of treasures.

Astrid sighed. The worst thing was that it was her 19th birthday today and she had no family to celebrate with. No one to bake her a cake and sing happy birthday. She always went to the bar and got drunk for her birthday every year since she was sixteen. She'd say "Ya know today's my birthday?" and the bartender would always give her a drink on the house. And she'd buy about one hundred more, then stumble back home (where ever her home was at the time). This time she decided she could do without the hangover.

She stopped in the middle of the sand, took her bow from under her arm and used it to cut through the sand. She wrote the words "Happy Birthday, Astrid."

[Rocket Winchester]

Rocket tightened the straps of his sword harness onto his back with a groan. His shoulder was still throbbing from the injury he suffered when out the previous night. He refrained from informing on any of the other pirates what happened on his outing; it would have been a sin for any of them to find out what he had done. Saphia Newheart was still alive, thanks to him, and he was not about to let any of them discover he had allowed the leader of their mortal enemies escape. If he had even tried to kill her, he would have become a legend amongst the various men and women aboard the ship, but seeing as he could not have cared less about what they all thought of him, he had allowed the girl to live.

However, this was not the only reason Rocket had let her escape without even putting up a fight. Saphia had seemed different to how he had imagined her. The rumour were true; she was beautiful, and a night with her showed him that this was inside and out. She had made him feel alive again which was not something he had been feeling for a long time. Because of her, he awoke this morning with a spring in his step, and a song in his heart. Not that he would have let anyone notice this, he walked about as his surly self, until leaving the ship in search for lone Lost Children.

Rocket watched the sand slowly envelop his tattered black shoes as he walked along the beach. It was hot today; he had taken off his overshirt and wore only his thin cotton t-shirt and ripped trousers. His tattoo was visable on his tanned shoulder, and he felt the sun warming his skin. Something felt good about today; yet he was clueless as to what. Eyes squinting as he looked about in the sun, he could not help but notice the figure of a young woman with her back to him. Warily, he approached, silently and stealthy. She did not seem dangerous, and he read the sand in front of her. Smiling, he relaxed a little. "Happy birthday."