[center][color=7ea7d8][h1][i]Izzy[/i][/h1] 
[i][url=https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/covers/images/001/108/390/large/puppet-wj-3.jpg?1440231098]~the Lost at Sea.[/url][/i][/color][/center]

[Hider=Final moments aboard the Forgery]The seas churned and churned and churned. 

Standing at the ready in the cargo hold, the redhead wiped at her face, clearing it of the salty wet from the recent soaking that befell them. A light shrug she gave; the captain and crew were doing a grand job despite the ongoing terror [i]Old Lady Whims of the Storm[/i] was dealing them. Suddenly, the ship pitched sharply starboard and a massive wave hit them flat on. 

Much alarm blazed from those steely-blue eyes. They were taking on more water. That manoeuver was a dead on sailing mistake. Another like that and they would be in big trouble. Lightning flashed. Thunder crashed.

And in big trouble were they; a second broadside wave rocked the vessel, nearly sending her belly up. [i]Isabellia Courtana Faunarios[/i] had had enough. This ship was doomed unless she smacked some sense into the person stationed at the helms. There was already a cry for ‘man overboard’ and there would be a hell of a lot more manner of crying if things did not change post haste.

Once upon a time, it would not be such a magnificent sight to see the redhead swing, sway, leap and grab her way through a ship as she did now. Such action would have been commonplace for her once, upon a time. This woman had more than her fair share of sea legs; she was born on the raging seas afterall. Out from the cargo hold and along the teetering and tottering seawater soaked deck she went, expertly making her way to the forecastle and up the steps to the main wheel. Oh, once upon a time, should you see such a look in her eye, you best get ready to have the life seared out of you should you meet that gaze. There was no denying who she was when her eyes burned like that.  This was not Izzy right now. Nay, and forever nay. Lightning flashed. Thunder crashed. 

Upon this very deck was someone else. And this someone was going to set things right. This was the unequalled Fla—

There was no person at the wheel. In fact there really was not much left of a wheel. All that was left was the evidence of what had transpired;  the helmsperson had fought Old Lady Whims as valiantly as they could, only to have the wheel shred in their grasp. Isabellia bowed her head in sudden knowledge of who had been thrown overboard. 

She then sighed and turned to face her fate. Lightning flashed. Thunder crashed. In this light, the giant wall of water looked like the jaws of Death herself, wide and ready to consume them all. 

That rare fiery look befell the redhead’s face, perhaps for the final time. A bold chin she lifted and spit into the face of Death.

~~~   
[/hider]
How she had survived she did not know but in retrospect, she mused it must have been part and parcel of her being all to fond of the drink. For the drink seemed to reciprocate her loyalty; Izzy found herself, still quite alive, atop a wine barrel knocking gently against the natural break wall of jagged rocks. 

Knowing this cask could be integral to her survival, she checked herself for injury before dropping into the water to push this life-saving thing to shore. Although a bit battered and banged up, the redhead was not so much worse for wear and so she found she was strong enough to swim whilst shoving the cask with her. Mind you, the sheer thought of gouging this thing open to have a celebratory moment of indulging neath the light of the moon did invigorate and motivate her very much so. 

Oh, but curse her luck once she did make it to shore. After planting a giant smooch upon the sand, she coughed out the grains from her mouth and drew one of the two remaining shiv daggers strapped to her generous and muscular thigh. The loverly cask’s top was torn open only for her to find that seawater had seeped in and spoiled her spoils. She spit out the taste of flavour worse than vinegar. In a bout of petulant rage, she stabbed futilely at the gorgeous, velvet yet completely ruined liquid until she felt better.

Upon ceasing her rage, she took several calming breaths and took stock of her next course of action. She removed all clothing, save her skivvies, and wrung them out. Setting them to dry upon one end of a large, smooth length of drift wood, she then planted her rear on the opposite end, and scanned the outlying area. Glow in the distance. Fire even further. Bell and bleating of potential food. Those things would have to wait for later to be investigated. For right now,  she needed to gather things now and especially off the washed ashore bodies before they were lost in the changing tides. 

Along the shore she walked, gathering what she could. Oh yes, she had noticed the others rousing and collecting together in the distance but she continued on undaunted. A huge pile of goods she had gathered, quite possibly enough to set up a proper shelter and quite possibly enough metal to fashion a machete of some kind and enough useable rigging for general purposed rope, but sadly, gunpowder and firearms were sorely lacking.  And much to her surprise there were no dead bodies washed up here. That did not set her mind at ease. In fact, a little voice in her head, the childish yet cold and chilling one, whispered warnings to her.

But she kicked the little voice aside because she had found treasure. Three pieces, technically four, of them in fact. She uncorked one, clinked it to the other and took a huge swill of life-loving velvety red liquid. A most satisfactory [color=7ea7d8][i]‘aaaaahhhhhhh…!’ [/i][/color]she let out before clinking her bottled treasure to her other pieces of treasure; boots that actually fit her feet! Loverly ones, adorned and finely stitched at that! A lone and suspicious hand subconsciously slid down her hip until it reached the hilt of one of her shivs; no one was going to take these boots from her.

Being who she was and what she used to be, the redhead could not help but take stock of the distant figures, conversing and mingling over there in the distance. From her estimation, Izzy figured herself to be somewhere near the top tier in terms of survival if size alone was in question. The woman was tall, near six foot and full figured. Quite well muscled and fit, albeit a touch malnourished-- but what good for anything pirate was truly in fine dietary condition? A small scoff she let out when her mind caressed the word ‘pirate.’ But at any rate, she did not intend to go into physical combat with any of these. In fact, her mind began to twist into how to turn this situation to her advantage.  

But the nagging voice in her mind, not the creepy, yet childish  one, no, the other one; the one made of Doubt and Despair gave her good food for thought; [i]why live when living was so devoid of life? [/i]Steely-blue eyes lowered upon that impregnation of thoughts.  

[color=7ea7d8]“Yo ho. A pirate’s life for me…”[/color] sung out her melodic voice, in part mockery, in part consolation of her decision to sit here until either she was out of wine or until the others approached her.

And in response the universe tossed her a bone. A tricorn hat washed up ashore, just a bit beyond her reach.  [color=7ea7d8][sub][i][b]“Fine…!”[/b][/i][/sub][/color]

With an exagerrated sound of disgust, Izzy strut over to the hat, wrung it out very, very aggressively, as if choking the life out of it, then when satisfied it was still dead, the redhead snugged it upon her head; of course it was a just right fit.

Long pale, yet muscular legs marched her on over to where the others had gathered. Wearing nothing but her boots, hat, underwear, matching knives and flowing red hair she stood in their midst, disregarding how close or in-your-face she was to the next person. She tossed a corked bottle upon the ground. From the uncorked one she took a swill.

[color=7ea7d8]“Drink. For it mayhaps be your last, mates. Oh, and for those who cannot or will not, then piss or seawater for you? Or both if it pleases you...”[/color] a hint of a smile she gave them, steely-blues glinting with unnerving confidence. Another swill she took. [color=7ea7d8]“oh but quite a collection gathered, have I. We should talk there if we are to  talk. We may be able to defend ourselves better with the gathered loverly things, I say. And aye, ‘[i]defend ourselves[/i]’ truly was the words out this mouth.”[/color]

A pale hand swept out at the sandy expanse before them. An effective use of the pause, then, her melodic voice broke the silence, [color=7ea7d8]“There are no bodies here other than the ones we ourselves possess… curious, no? But even more curious, mates…? Fire in the distance. Glows in the darks. And a four legged creature who I am quite certain was not birthed with that bell round its neck. Aye.

"Call me [i][b]Izzy[/b][/i], if it pleases you. And if it don’t, then mate, find you in hell then…”[/color]

Another swill she took. A smile, wink and nod, she cast them. After an elegant spinning around on her boot heel, she  sauntered away from them, heading back to her collection, ample hips swaying in rhythm to the beat of her own drum.
  
~~~