Good Morning, Captain

[Morgan LaLuna]

Morgan awoke, of course, first to that gentle rock of his cabin… Or… Rather… No. Not his cabin? Had he fallen asleep on the deck somehow? His eyes fluttered open as a small spray of saltwater hit his face. Sitting up, he found himself in a dinghy, wrapped in all his blankets with the big pillow beneath his head. Everything from his bed… but in a tiny boat. He looked immediately in a panic for his ship, and found that the dinghy was, in fact, tied to the Heathen herself. 


The acrobat stared for a moment, and shook his head in awe. Whoever pulled this off was… An expert. Props given where they were due! However, now he found himself in a position where he had to get back to the ship without… He frowned, and held his thumb up before him, closing one eye as his arm stretched. The tip of his tongue cleared the corner of his mouth a moment as he seemed to measure just how far he was, exactly, from his own cabin. Or at least somewhere on the ship itself. Unsure, he stood in the boat, wrapping blankets around himself, pillow tucked deep within. One last look at the ship had him closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and waving his hands in the air, lips breathing “get me outta here”, and he was gone, bedding and all. The dinghy was empty.

The ship’s hold, however, saw the sudden arrival of the young man wrapped in all of his blankets, the pillow forming a strange collar around his head. He looked around to make sure he was alone, before letting everything drop. His hands moved up to settle on his cheeks as he gave a loud relieved sigh. “Oh god… Oh god, it worked. Shiiiiit.” Actually, he had no clue if he might accidentally step into a preoccupied space. That would have royally sucked. 


He leaned forward, hands on his knees, and took a deep breath, and assessed the situation. Obviously, this had to be some sort of hazing. Fine. So be it. He stood straight, and lifted his head, settling hands on the naked jut of hips. Ah. Yes. There was that. Thank goodness for blankets. He left the fluffier of the bedding right where it sat, and pulled the sheet free from the tangle with some amount of trouble, extricating fabric. He folded the sheet over, and wrapped it once around his waist, just beneath his belly button, then tucked between his legs, wrapped, and tucked once more to make a passable pair of harem style pants. He wore no shirt, but that really didn’t matter.

Another deep breath and Morgan raised his chin, strolling up deckward to face his crew with some modicum of dignity, right? He had to be all captain-y and shit, right? He strolled past a heavy crate, and up the stairs to the second deck, where some crew were working, all of them stopping whatever they were doing to watch the small man cross without a word. A few glances were shared, and there was one laugh disguised as coughing. Morgan managed to look completely unaffected, moving toward the stairs leading to the upper deck. There was a hushed silence that fell over the entire ship, the only noise a fluttering of canvas sails above and the creaking of wood below. 


Morgan cleared his throat, and nodded. “I just woke up in a little boat. I am not sure how you expected that to turn out for you.” He looked around, voice clear and carrying. He allowed a long moment to pass, before snorting, and putting a hand on his hip. 


“Okay. That shit was pretty funny.” He finally scoffed. There was a laughter that rose, and then Morgan raised his arm. “But obviously… this means it's time to work." The young man smiled so very charmingly, and offered a hand, palm up. "Please help me, and I will do my very best to be the best captain I can be. I will do whatever it takes to learn." He held out his arms, and grimaced at the bite of sun on his shoulders, the scars that lashed across his shoulder blades, the more recent pair of twin scars on his back and belly, still pink and raw. A smirk graced his features as he raked dark hair back.


"Let's make people know who sails the Heathen."


There were no rousing whoops nor applause from the crew, but Morgan thought that might have been less satisfying than the grunts of approval and the upticks of scruffy jaws he did receive. At least they weren’t laughing at him. This could have turned out so… different. 


“Okay, but seriously, where do I start because the only thing I know about ships I’ve seen in movies and…” he looked around thoughtfully, and shook his head. “So… do I have to wear my sheets all day, or can I go get dressed? The chafing is…” he shifted uncomfortably, and a few of the crew laughed, turning away to get back to work. 


“Bosun!” he called, moving toward his quarters. A large half-orc man stepped forward, wearing a rough white billow sleeved shirt and pants that fit to his legs. Morgan motioned for him to follow, and disappeared quickly into the quarters, already untucking the sheets from around his waist. When the door closed behind them, Morgan readied himself for battle. Okay, not really. But damn he knew he was going to be fighting tooth and nail to learn what he needed to to run this ship… And earn the respect and trust of the crew.


At least… enough that he could wake up safe and sound in his cabin every morning. Instead of a dinghy.