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Attila
Nov 8, 2021 22:35:41 GMT
Post by starrea on Nov 8, 2021 22:35:41 GMT
Attila was a lot of things, but she was not subtle and she was not manipulative. Why be passive when she could be aggressive? Why manipulate when she could force? And to be completely honest, these traits worked for her; she was a force to be reckoned with. There was no room for a woman's sensitivity and soft touches in her world, so it wasn't just other opponents and rivals she was facing, it was years of systematic sexism that repeatedly told women their place was at a man's side. As a strong supporter of modern feminism, Merrick could appreciate how someone like her was quickly becoming an idol for young girls across empires. In fact, Merrick had spent the last several months personally learning each and every way he was inferior to Attila, so maybe that's why he found it surprising that she stooped down to his level and engaged in his little game. The problem with playing with Merrick is that he didn't like to lose, and with nothing to lose and no reputation to protect, all bets were off.
The sheer absurdity of the question had Merrick laughing out loud; had he been drinking?! He fucking wished. Not that he had been an alcoholic or anything, but he had been a good friend of the bottle - but not since Attila. The only reason she didn't charge him for the air he breathed aboard her ship is probably because it was too much work to calculate it out. There had been one time he had tried to join in some drinking games but his hand hadn't even touched the bottle before his throat was pinned to the floor beneath her boot, reminding him of the debt that he was starting to think he would never be able to pay off. Alcohol was one of those things that Merrick had completely blocked out of his mind to survive the past several months at sea, but the mention of it was enough to bring those cravings back in full force. He hadn't exactly been a saint beforehand, but after several months of non-consensual abstinence, there wasn't much he wasn't willing to do to get his hands on a bottle of booze.
Merrick gave a sheepish shrug, looking not all that sheepish at all, "You know what they say, the best way to avoid a hangover is to stay drunk," He turned to look at the lawman, who he was having increasingly difficult time speaking to seriously because if this encounter was proving anything to Merrick, it was that the authorities were dumber than a box of rocks. No wonder crime was so rampant; bozos like this couldn't figure out how to pour water out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel. "You know," Merrick continued pensively, "A night in the cells might do me some good. I think the quiet and solitude would really give me an opportunity to think about why I acted out today." With that last sentiment, Merrick turned to insolently stare Attila down, letting his brazen and flagrant threat sink in. He held her stare for a second before turning back to the goon in a suit of armor, "I didn't used to be like this. I never used to drink but lately... things have just been spiraling out of control..." There was another pause as if he were gathering the strength to persevere, "But that doesn't excuse me actions. If you can't do the time, don't do the crime, isn't that what you always say Attila?"
For the moment, Merrick had wrenched the control of his own life out of Attila's cold, uncaring, calloused hands and was piloting his own course. It didn't matter that he was the driving force behind his own demise; the point was that even for a brief moment, Attila couldn't control him - and if he was going down, then he was prepared to bring her down with him. He was for sure going to regret this, as he often did with stunts like this, but that was a problem for later. Right now, he was fueled solely by adrenaline that for the moment, he was untouchable.
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Attila
Nov 24, 2021 22:20:04 GMT
Post by Elvander on Nov 24, 2021 22:20:04 GMT
Attila's patience was waning. She had been amused, then outraged, by Merrick's little games. But she had to admit, she'd engaged in them. It had been awhile since anyone had tried to wrestle an iota of power from her hands, and deep down, Attila could grudgingly respect that. Not respect Merrick, of course. But the one quality he seemed to possess. If he weren't so bent on making every moment of her life so difficult, she might have extended an offer to join her crew and be free by now. Part of her wanted to change her mind and drag him along with her. The other part of her knew she'd accomplish a lot more with him out of her way but secured somewhere he couldn't escape. "That's right," she smiled tightly, looking at Lucian. "Lock him up. I'll fetch him come morning." And with that, she turned and walked away without a second glance, heading for the Green Jester.
Lucian was absolutely confused by the whole situation. There was something going on beneath the surface with these two, and he didn't understand it at all. But as Attila walked away, leaving him with no options, he looked down at Merrick and held him by the arm tentatively. "Looks like you're coming with me then. What's your name?" He inquired, beginning to guide Merrick through the port towards the jail cells. Merrick's assessment of him wasn't at all wrong- Lucian wasn't the sharpest cookie in the tool box, but he was certainly loyal and dedicated to his role.
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Attila
Dec 1, 2021 15:13:54 GMT
Post by starrea on Dec 1, 2021 15:13:54 GMT
Even though Merrick had voiced agreement with the idea of spending the night in the cells, he couldn't help but be shocked when Attila spun around and abandoned him. For some reason that he didn't care to delve into the psychology behind, indignant anger burned hotter with each step Attila took until the crowd swallowed her up and she was gone. He had dangled the possibility of gossiping with authorities in front of Attila, and that bitch had called his bluff. He stared at the spot where she disappeared for a couple of seconds longer, as if waiting for her to reappear - but no one knew better than Merrick that Attila's sense of humor was sorely lacking, and he knew that she wouldn't come back for him until the morning, or maybe not at all. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had decided that Merrick was more trouble than he was worth and even though he profoundly loathed his life aboard the Marauder, something about the thought of being left behind made his stomach roll.
A hand wrapped around his upper arm and tugged him into motion and Merrick reluctantly followed, too rattled by what just happened to be anything other than compliant. For a second, Merrick entertained the possibility of making a run for it, but that idea was quickly squashed. The minuscule amount of trust and respect that he awarded Attila was astronomically larger than anything he felt towards law enforcement. As much as he really didn't mind provoking Attila, he wasn't interested in six "warning" arrows buried in his back. He knew how things worked for people like him; a poor, ethnic man who wasn't exactly a pillar of the community... no one cared what happened to him. Merrick had seen first-hand what happened to poor, ethnic men who become too much of a problem for law enforcement - they end up dead, victims of lethal force used by authorities who "feared for their lives". And since Merrick didn't want to end up dead, he had to bite his tongue and watch the very people who swore to uphold the law trample all over his human rights and do his best to keep his head above water in a racist, classist system that really didn't a shit if he lived or died.
The last time he had tried to be a decent human being, law enforcement officers had shrugged their shoulders and said I don't know and There's nothing we can do about that, son and If they come after you, you can file a report then when Merrick had asked for some sort of protection against some sort of retaliation from Attila's crew. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to file that police report because he had regrettably been forced aboard the Marauder and chartered out to sea.
"Merrick," He answered tersely, offering no last name. His demeanor had drastically shifted in a few short seconds, and his over-confident, theatrical ostentatiousness was replaced with a hard look of grim resentment. Now that Attila was gone, he had no interest in keeping up the charade or engaging with this half-witted lawman any more than he had to. This was far from the first time he had been arrested, and this didn't even rank among the most ridiculous reasons, but Merrick knew better to reason with logic that didn't apply to his race or status. He wondered if he would be tossed in a communal cell or given one all to himself. His petty crimes usually didn't afford him the luxury of a solitary cell, but there was something about the idea of not having to worry about being beaten or sexually assaulted all night that sounded almost too good to true. Regrettably, Merrick was too jaded to really expect anything other than the worst - so as they walked, Merrick started to try and mentally fortify himself for a long night of physical and sexual violence. All that was left to do was keep his head down and ride out the night and wait for Attila to bail him out. And if she didn't come... well, he would cross that bridge when he got there.
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Attila
Dec 15, 2021 22:08:00 GMT
Post by Elvander on Dec 15, 2021 22:08:00 GMT
Lucian, completely and stupidly unaware of Merrick's fears, kept them both moving forward towards the jail in the centre of town. It was his first time bringing someone in, but he was confident his charge would be fine overnight. While he was confused that the captain had allowed her man to be taken in, it was the easiest solution. Law enforcement got to save face, put the crowds at ease, and Attila was free to go about her business without damaging her relationship to the port. It was the best Lucian could have hoped for. As they arrived, he guided Merrick into a cell, locking it up.
He spoke quickly to the guard on duty and then settled into the chair the previous man had occupied. It was Merrick's turn to sit on duty. The cells were about a quarter full, and reeked of urine and sour alcohol. He wrinkled his nose and studied Merrick through the bars. "Lucian," he offered his name up suddenly, remembering he hadn't returned the favor of his name. "Your captain gave you up pretty easily. Not the formidable foe I was expecting once I recognized her," Lucian continued the conversation tentatively. Merrick was different than the other drunkards in the cells, and Lucian thought talking would pass the time.
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Attila
Jan 26, 2022 22:42:27 GMT
Post by starrea on Jan 26, 2022 22:42:27 GMT
There was just some things in life that no matter how many times Merrick endured, he could never truly and effectively prepare himself for. To be fair, he was almost positive that it was impossible to prepare oneself for the revolting stench of a poorly-maintained prison. He held his last breath of fresh air for as long as he possibly could, savoring it, before his lungs ignored his efforts to hold his breath until he passed out and sucked down the sour air. All attempts to mentally fortify himself against the stank were in vain; he was powerless as the smell crashed over him like a wave, drowning in it. The smell of stale piss and sweat were so overwhelming that had Merrick not spent many hours in numerous similar facilities, he wouldn't have noticed the accented notes of vomit and just a hint of cheap booze that lingered in the smog of palpable regret and cigarette smoke. There were only a dozen or so cells, mostly of them empty, but the day was still young and crime never slept. Even though there had been a cool ocean breeze outside, the air inside was still and the heat was stifling. Most of the cells had a sparse covering of straw, a cheap effort to soak up any vomit or urine, and the walls and benches were noticeably slick with years of body grease. Considering the amount of stale smoke that hung in the air, this place was just one poorly discarded cigarette from being a bonfire. It didn't exactly take any special talent to come to the conclusion that this place was a cesspool, but as a self-proclaimed connoisseur of jails and prisons alike, he could confidently and expertly affirm that these cells were probably destined to be ground zero for some sort of plague in the not so distant future.
Without much persuasion needed, Merrick stepped into an empty cell, the click of the lock going off like an explosion that echoed through his mind. He would have assumed that with the amount of time he had been and out of cells, listening to the sound of his freedom being stripped away would have gotten easier by now - but it didn't. It probably never would, but Merrick was quickly becoming a world champion at dealing with increasingly shitty situations. He was cursed to survive, no matter how unpleasant and hopeless the situation was.
For a second, Merrick just stood there as he surveyed his options. He could see the faint outlines of where countless sweaty, filthy men had sat against the wall and laid on the benches. It wasn't like the Maurader was any better, but there was something more comforting about knowing that the filth he was living in was his own - or at the very least, of the men he had come to know. This grime came from strangers, which was probably interchangeable with the squalid conditions he was already living in, but this somehow felt worse. Eventually, he slowly sat on one of the benches and tried not to think about the layer of grime and grease that separated him from the actual wood.
Just as Merrick leaned his head back against the cool bars and closed his eyes, resigning himself to what would be a long day and an even longer night, a voice cut through the silence. His eyes snapped open and he looked at the lawman, now seated across from his cell, with a silent what the absolute fuck? written across his face. Merrick wasn't exactly a socialite, but this lawman was completely clueless. To have the audacity to arrest him and then what, make small talk? He couldn't believe his luck. He almost preferred the hostility and blatant racism - at least he knew what to expect.
"I don't give a fuck about your name," Merrick deadpanned, not concerned with niceties and pleasantries. What was he going to do, arrest him? He was already behind bars, there wasn't much more this man - Lucien - could do. He snorted when Attila was mentioned, not bothering to hide his resentment, "If only. Trust me, she's way more of a bitch than her reputation suggests. She just doesn't like me and this just happened to conveniently work out for her." If he wasn't already so fucked, then he might have spent the entire night anxiously imagining all the ways Attila would make him regret causing such a public scene, but he didn't have the energy in him to care. Whatever was going to happen, it was abundantly clear that it would happen whether or not Merrick liked it, so there was really no point in worrying.
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Attila
Feb 8, 2022 17:12:49 GMT
via mobile
Post by Elvander on Feb 8, 2022 17:12:49 GMT
Lucian was good at tuning things out. Maybe that’s why he was so clumsy. With a general lack of awareness of his surroundings, the soldier didn’t mind the stench or stifling heat of the cells. It was just another place. Scents, sounds, sweat. Nothing about it bothered him because he chose not to let it. Or at least, that’s what the naive young lawman told himself.
It likely had everything to do with the fact that he’d grown up in a place like the cell Merrick now occupied. The memories were so faint, so far repressed, the local did not act as a trigger. Even now, Lucian only had flashes of memory in dreams of his mother’s screams as she was passed around between men night after night, while he cowered in the corner of a cell as filthy as this.
A flash of discomfort seemed to dance through his eyes before the look was gone, the sudden memories fading as Merrick’s sharp tongue snapped him back to the moment. Lucian began to unbuckle the straps that held his armor in place, setting it aside to reveal a wiry but muscular frame beneath the armor. He was dressed in light cotton clothing stained with sweat around the armpits, the collar, and down the back. He ran a hand through his hair and eyed Merrick with a little more attention.
“So you’re not her crew member, I take it.” Lucian dipped a wooden coupe into a barrel of rainwater, offering it to Merrick through the bars. The realization made him slightly uncomfortable- That meant Merrick was a slave. Lucian wasn’t exactly the most social justic-y type, but it still unsettled him that people were seen as commodities.
“That’s not right, you know. I’m sorry.” Once Merrick took the cup, he sat down once again, filling his own cup and taking a sip. The water was slightly stale but otherwise clean and refreshing, and he downed it quickly before filling his cup once more. “How did you come to be on her ship?” He asked, truly curious. Merrick likely didn’t want to make conversation, but Lucian didn’t care. Merrick wasn’t going anywhere, and the time would pass more quickly if they spoke.
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