Mercenary Days, Open

Dylan pulled Edward outside and glanced around. There wasn't really many places within Tortuga that one could find privacy; there were no needs. Anyone who wanted privacy usually wanted it only to ease their lust; and prostitutes were not so shy as to out taking their customer's orders in the streets to alleyways. She found an empty alleyway and pulled Edward into it, resting against the wall of the building and holding Edward against her breast, gently soothing the terrified nymph. She waited until he'd calmed down before acknowledging the man beside her.

She rounded on him, forgetting her manners and becoming the pirate lady she had, until recently, been. "What the bloody hell was that about?!" Dylan hissed at him, releasing Edward and sheltering him behind her slightly. "Do you get off killing people like that?" Had he thought that she had not heard those men? Yes, she had been out of it and lost in her thoughts, but did he really think her so useless that she couldn't hold her own and defend herself?

"I don't care what they were planning to do to me! Do you really think that I am so incapable to defending myself against men like them? If I wasn't, I sure as hell wouldn't be--" she hesitated, thinking better of revealing herself as a Siren just yet and instead, finished with, "-- a pirate!" Techniqually, it was still true. She had been a pirate until a few days ago.. But still, she was continuing to pretend to be one until her mission was over. And she really did need to get a better start on that.. But finding Calypso and getting her alone to relay the message were difficuolt tasks; and convincing her of her station as a Siren might be an even harder task.

He looked at her as she seemed to completely switch personalities. One moment ago she was poised and polite and rather nice. Now she was angry, yelling at him. He looked at her blankly, waiting for her to finish her scolding before he said something. He didn't bother glancing at Edward, he could sense his unease and distrust of him. He had no intention of hurting either of them. At least, not now.

As she finally stopped, there was a light that appeared in his eyes. It wasn't a light of knowledge or anything like that, but it was a noticeable change in those usually far off eyes. His face relaxed faintly and his lips formed a half frown and he sighed. Strands of his red hair fell into his face, once again obscuring his eyes.

"Whether or not you are a pirate and can defend yourself would not have changed my actions. I would have done the same if you were an old tailor's wife." He said. The jewel on the back of his hand glimmered for a split second, just a flash, before becoming dark again.

"I understand that I am responsible for the lives of everyone that I take. I pay for all of them with every waking moment I spend in this shell of an existance." he said. His voice wasn't bitter, it was full of remorse and guilt. His eyes had something in them now that they hadn't before -- a hidden sadness.

"Whether or not you are a pirate and can defend yourself would not have changed my actions. I would have done the same if you were an old tailor's wife."

"And you told me not to act rashly!" Dylan hissed in return. She suspected that he only did this to rid himself of some kind of inner demon; however, it plagued him constantly no matter how many innocents he defended and saved. Or rather, how many baddies he slaughtered. "Perhaps many would be grateful yeh assisted 'em, but yeh didn' have t' kill 'em!" She half screamed.

The sound of giggling and footsteps neared them, and Dylan turned her head. A prostitute on the arm of a drunken sailor swated into view, and they stopped when they found the scene in front of them. The prostitute stopped, surveying Dylan with mild interest before saying, "Ye'd think tha' Jack woulda kep' a bett'r eye on 'is 'arlot." She turned and scurried her charge away. Dylan, filled with rage, exploded. "I AM NO MAN'S HARLOT!" Her voice carried after the whore as she scampered away, and Dylan turned her gaze back to the man.


"I understand that I am responsible for the lives of everyone that I take. I pay for all of them with every waking moment I spend in this shell of an existance."

A mocking laugh left her, and she gave him a look of disgust. "If yeh pay for 'em, an' the cost is so bloody high, why d'yeh continue to murder?!" Dylan whispered in cold anger. "You merely want t' defend the weak an' innocent; then do tha' an' defend them! Not every crime needs killin' t' solve it!" She turned her body half away from him, glancing first at Edward, and then at the far wall of the alleyway. She took a few deep breaths before continuing. "I don't know who the hell yeh think yeh are, but yer certainly no savior."

He stared at her. Her argument didn't make sense. The fact that his actions would not have changed no matter who she was showed that he had thought through the actions fully and had come to the conclusion that that was the only plan he would take. He didn't say anything in return to that comment, but simply listened to her.

He smirked faintly at her reaction to the harlot, watching the little lady of the night scamper off. She was something, indeed. Then again, there were quite a few young ladies like Dylan, though perhaps not so concentrated. She was a timebomb.

He listened to her words, saying nothing. As she continued, his face softened considerably, no longer the cold, hard stony wall he usually showed. He was, for once, showing signs of emotion. Then the unexpected:

"You are right. I am sorry." he said.

A few moments of silence passed and he continued. "Being the son of the River of death does not pardon the sins I've committed. " He said.

"I knew it! You're from the rivers! From the waters! I could feel it screaming off of you. You're a Surface Dweller now!" he hissed out at him, backing away from him and glancing uneasily at Dylan. He didn't want to leave her, but the last thing he needed right now was a Surface Dweller. They poisoned people's minds, it wasn't even so simple as saying that they hurt people, they killed them. Edward himself probably wouldn't have been so... terrified and mouse-like if his parents hadn't left him, or if his father hadn't been so obsessed with the surface woman as to have had an affair with one. He loved his sister very much, but that didn't keep him from the obvious fact: She'd ruined his life.

"Dylan, please. Let's go, I don't want to be here. I want to go... away from here, away from him," he snarled the last bit, and there was a touch of anger that showed that, perhaps there was a bit of bite to the shy and sweet babysitter. He was half a step away from pulling out his sword, but he didn't want to cause a fight between gods and demi-gods in the middle of the crowded streets. He didn't know which of them would win, but there was a good bet that he was in the better of the halves. After all, all he had to do was ask and Poseidon would help him, the man didn't want any of his creatures dying, even if it meant sending up help for him.

"Now?" he asked, tilting his head. He watched the male back away from him and look generally angered. He was suddenly curious. He began to think and for a few moments he simply remained silent. However, a light seemed to come into his eyes, and he understood what he had been confused about.

"No, you are mistaken. My mother was the River Styx. My Father was Pallas. I have never been a ... 'water dweller'. I was born like my father. I've always been a ... 'surface dweller' as you say. " he said.

"I am no traitor, if that is what you think. "

He paused a moment. "Furthermore, I will not hurt you. Those who die at my hands were Fated to die at my hands. If it was not meant to happen, then it won't. " He said.