The sailors, all streaked with their paint and tar and canvas, aren't long for the Gallows' courtyard. Once they've secured their haul of wine casks and assorted bottles (nevermind whatever else the vanguard had managed to strip or steal from either the tables or those in attendance), off goes the dock cart with its host of howling and snarling men. They disappear into bitter cold night, their captain all in black with them.
For a time anyway. Flint must return to the island fortress almost directly after he's seen his men returned to the Walrus because it's still early in the evening, the festivities in the courtyard yet to reach their fever pitch, as they cross paths on some narrow back stairwell as Kitty's going up and he's coming down them. The death's head mask is gone and he's washed his face, though there are traces of black still about his eyes and some tar streak like a gash on his neck.
He pauses on the the landing when he sees her. The letter he carries in hand is tucked inside his coat as he resumes his descent.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
satinalia, because like hell im wasting flint in skeleton makeup;
Date: 2018-11-08 03:34 pm (UTC)For a time anyway. Flint must return to the island fortress almost directly after he's seen his men returned to the Walrus because it's still early in the evening, the festivities in the courtyard yet to reach their fever pitch, as they cross paths on some narrow back stairwell as Kitty's going up and he's coming down them. The death's head mask is gone and he's washed his face, though there are traces of black still about his eyes and some tar streak like a gash on his neck.
He pauses on the the landing when he sees her. The letter he carries in hand is tucked inside his coat as he resumes his descent.
"Miss Jones. Not turning in so early, I hope."