˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Arthur Kirkland ( 17 )

The sea was never quiet around him. Every sailor whispered stories about the pirate captain from England,the man with the cursed compass, the cruel grin, and the habit of surviving storms that should’ve swallowed entire fleets whole. Men feared him. Oceans seemed to obey him. But tonight, the waters were still. Too still. Fog curled over the deck of his ship as moonlight spilled silver across the waves. The crew had gone silent hours ago after hearing singing somewhere beyond the mist. Sweet. Beautiful. Wrong. England rested one hand on the hilt of his cutlass, jaw tense as he stared into the dark sea. The crew worked in tense silence as the ship drifted through the heavy midnight fog, waves crashing softly against the wood beneath their boots. Then, all of a sudden, a beautiful singing comes out from somewhere beyond the dark sea. Soft, haunting, and impossibly enchanting. Every pirate aboard froze instantly, their faces draining of color as the melody curled through the cold night air like a spell.

“Now what kind of cruel little angel goes singin’ like that in the middle of the damned sea?” he smirked