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Jun. 10th, 2011 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shinonFandom: Zelda: Phantom Hourglass
Characters: Linebeck
Word count: ~500
Warnings: none
Notes: One-word prompt meme thing; prompt is "ghastly," courtesy of Qieru.
On the one hand: treasure.
On the other hand: ghosts.
To return to the first hand for a moment: treasure. Loot. Unknowable riches, gold and jewels and what have you.
But on second thought: ghosts. (He could have gone on, but that argument really stood for itself.)
Life was hard sometimes.
Another ghastly shriek echoed up from the bowels of the Ghost Ship, and Linebeck backed toward the railing. Yeah. That didn't sound like anything he wanted any part of. He'd just leave that to the expert and swoop in afterwards for the plunder. And if, down the road, he wanted to take a little more credit for securing the seas than he'd actually earned, it wasn't like anyone would contradict him.
Oh, fine. Ciela would contradict him. But she didn't count. The important thing was, the kid would let him get away with it, so why make any more effort than he had to?
That issue settled, he leaned back against the (actually slightly rotted) rail and contemplated what he'd do with all his wealth once he was done here. Gold-plate everything he owned, probably. Then get more stuff and gold-plate that, too. Maybe buy a smallish island chain and name it after himself and what was that sound
And what was that ghostly light up in the rigging, flickering like purple flame among the tattered sails?
He would've backed away farther if he could have. As it was, a piece of the railing broke off in his hand. Startled, he flung it away. That was it. He was getting out of here. He'd just pull up anchor and heave off and - how long was it going to take to clean everything up down there? A few hours, right? He'd be back in time to claim his share of the winnings, and the kid would never even know he'd been gone. No problem.
...One problem. How would he find his way back through the fog?
No matter. He would stay, of course. He'd always meant to. What kind of man would let the treasure of the Ghost Ship out of his sight once he'd come this close? Not this kind of man, that was for sure. It would take more than a little haunting to - something's coming
it wasn't supposed to be like this that was why he let the kid handle the dangerous parts what if he didn't get any treasure out of this after all?
Something was thumping up the stairs onto the deck. Something... child-sized and... wearing green...
Wow. Good thing he hadn't actually been worried, or he'd probably have been feeling pretty foolish right around now. "Hey, shrimp," he considered calling out, "hurry it up, would you? I've got an appointment to go buy some islands after this." But the kid looked around, smashed a few pots, and ran back below, and Linebeck found he hadn't actually said it. Ah, well. Next time.
Within minutes, the unearthly screaming in the lower decks had resumed, the mainmast was wreathed in eldritch fire, and every creak of the timbers sounded like a tormented soul.
Yes, Linebeck told himself, but I'll be leaving with all the treasure I can carry.
On the one hand: ghosts.
On the other...
Characters: Linebeck
Word count: ~500
Warnings: none
Notes: One-word prompt meme thing; prompt is "ghastly," courtesy of Qieru.
On the one hand: treasure.
On the other hand: ghosts.
To return to the first hand for a moment: treasure. Loot. Unknowable riches, gold and jewels and what have you.
But on second thought: ghosts. (He could have gone on, but that argument really stood for itself.)
Life was hard sometimes.
Another ghastly shriek echoed up from the bowels of the Ghost Ship, and Linebeck backed toward the railing. Yeah. That didn't sound like anything he wanted any part of. He'd just leave that to the expert and swoop in afterwards for the plunder. And if, down the road, he wanted to take a little more credit for securing the seas than he'd actually earned, it wasn't like anyone would contradict him.
Oh, fine. Ciela would contradict him. But she didn't count. The important thing was, the kid would let him get away with it, so why make any more effort than he had to?
That issue settled, he leaned back against the (actually slightly rotted) rail and contemplated what he'd do with all his wealth once he was done here. Gold-plate everything he owned, probably. Then get more stuff and gold-plate that, too. Maybe buy a smallish island chain and name it after himself and what was that sound
And what was that ghostly light up in the rigging, flickering like purple flame among the tattered sails?
He would've backed away farther if he could have. As it was, a piece of the railing broke off in his hand. Startled, he flung it away. That was it. He was getting out of here. He'd just pull up anchor and heave off and - how long was it going to take to clean everything up down there? A few hours, right? He'd be back in time to claim his share of the winnings, and the kid would never even know he'd been gone. No problem.
...One problem. How would he find his way back through the fog?
No matter. He would stay, of course. He'd always meant to. What kind of man would let the treasure of the Ghost Ship out of his sight once he'd come this close? Not this kind of man, that was for sure. It would take more than a little haunting to - something's coming
it wasn't supposed to be like this that was why he let the kid handle the dangerous parts what if he didn't get any treasure out of this after all?
Something was thumping up the stairs onto the deck. Something... child-sized and... wearing green...
Wow. Good thing he hadn't actually been worried, or he'd probably have been feeling pretty foolish right around now. "Hey, shrimp," he considered calling out, "hurry it up, would you? I've got an appointment to go buy some islands after this." But the kid looked around, smashed a few pots, and ran back below, and Linebeck found he hadn't actually said it. Ah, well. Next time.
Within minutes, the unearthly screaming in the lower decks had resumed, the mainmast was wreathed in eldritch fire, and every creak of the timbers sounded like a tormented soul.
Yes, Linebeck told himself, but I'll be leaving with all the treasure I can carry.
On the one hand: ghosts.
On the other...
