[hr][hr][center][img]https://s9.postimg.org/tznya388f/strange.png[/img][hr][img]https://68.media.tumblr.com/0932819b33be06e4c32904e74e47a0e2/tumblr_onoy0hlU1s1rk4nywo2_540.gif[/img][hr][@Nallore][@BlueSky44][@FantasyChic][@mnkee][hr][h3][color=#0099cc][b]The Port of Tortuga: April 4th, 1719 - 4:06 PM Local Time[/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr]	[color=f7976a]"I'm not staring at anything,"[/color] the woman said, raising her eyes to the sky for a moment. She couldn't feel a single thing, yet that itself was the issue. If she could not feel, then she could not be alarmed at the problem. There was an emptiness within her, but it was not troublesome and nor was it welcome. It just was, just like waters that are neither calm nor turbulent. Her name, of course, was Aravis Zacharia, a woman who loved stories and felt things rather deeply. Luisa's psychic attack had robbed her of her sentiments. 

	Of course, Aravis and Edgard were not alone on the island. On the deck of the Bellona, Harlianne set herself at the task of raising the sails. It was a futile effort to undergo alone but with the death and destruction surrounding her, she figured she might at least try. The sea was her home more than land ever was. The grey mist still lingered over her eyes, as Harlianne's memories left her more and more, until she could not even remember Anastasia as well. She was lucky to still remember her own name. 

	Harlianne hesitated in her efforts as she saw a blur dart across the waves. It was faster than anything she had seen before and in a moment, it was gone. She blinked and there was nothing there. What she had seen was Anastasia dashing across the waves, inhabiting the body of a mortal woman. For now, the body was strong and holding up. Elissa and Anastasia's bodies are near Edgard and Aravis, should Anastasia choose to collect them. [hr][center][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/0ca86ee0593b72d11a675894e7e85259/tumblr_oenbzow7fO1v97eq3o1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][h3][color=#0099cc][b]The Devil's Triangle: April 4th, 1719 - 4:06 PM Local Time[/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr]	Septima was becoming more and more frustrated with Millicent by the moment. She had spent a good portion of her life learning what she could about this flask and the power it contained. Mr. Alucard had just been another person who heard the tales and wanted it for himself. If she was able to get this power, then she could ascend to become a god, not just a mere mortal anymore. Death was relative. If she could get this power, then nothing would stop her anymore. 

	"You talk too much," Septima scolded. "With this power, we become gods. You want something, yes? You want life. You want power. I can see it." She then turned her attention to the appearance of the new woman - a blonde. She raised an eyebrow. Only those killed by a result of the flask, from what Septima understood, should be able to take form on the island. She knew the tales of the flask. The flask had no power of its own - it absorbed powers and collected them since the dawn of time. The more souls bound to it, the more there was to be had. 

	"You pray to Davy Jones. Maybe he'll come for you, but you have no soul," Septima commented. "The flask owns your soul. Where do you think it's power comes from, little girl? Our souls. We all trapped here, no? The power that your friend - the blonde woman - has is from your soul. You want to be enslaved for eternity? Fine." 

	Of course, Édouard had been understanding relatively little throughout this conversation. All he knew was that Anna had possessed a body, gained some new ability, and then left. Seeing no reason why he couldn't do the same, Édouard sauntered forward and touched the man's body. A vivid flash of memories flooded through him, but instead of Édouard possessing the man, Mycroft Crypt, Lord Dywell, awoke screaming. 

	His face then broke into an unnatural smile as he spotted Septima. "Sister! How kind of you to drop by while I was around!"