Devlin Desario
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**Devlin Desario
As a young lad, Devlin always enjoyed strolling along the beach at Lavender Port, even if the wind was cold enough to chill the bone, and look out across the sea in thought, waiting for his chance to explore the open waters.
Devlin worked as a blacksmith's apprentice in his younger days - using most of his wages to keep his stomach full and clothes on his back. He squandered little, and quickly learned that there was no free right in life. The ports of Lavender, though not a harsh and hostile territory were still filled with those just trying to survive, and do anything they could to maintain a steady job and decent pay.
After several years of procrastinating about becoming the sea man he so longed to be - by chance, on one hazy evening - Devlin's ship had finally come to port. A long night of fetching supplies for his Master had him quite exhausted. Afterward, he took that familiar stroll down to port once again - just as he had done year after year, only this time noticing that something was different. The dock that he had 'claimed' as his own as a child became uninteresting to him, compared to the Galleon just aside. He was at complete awe, knowing full well that there were no ships scheduled to port that night, especially in such foggy conditions.
Just as fast, Devlin began to turn, perhaps looking around for any tell tale expanation. He soon realized the back of a cutlass pressed against his throat, and a scabbard jabbing into his back.
"Boy, I 'ave two propositions for ye, but ye nae want th' ladder."
It was a woman…
"Ye will tell me where I be right now... 'at's th' first option. 'At's th' proposition ye want. -Trust me-."
Devlin knew full well of the kind of people that sailed on the dangerous waters. He had been well informed of those that deal dirty business... whispered words of.... "Pirates"
Devlin didn't make a move, and only uttered two words... "Lavender Port."
A gasp escaped the woman behind, and Devlin decided that if he was to have his life taken on that night… that he would die trying to do what he had always wanted to do. This was his chance, for life... or death.
"Please, lass… I mean nae any disrespect, but y'see... I nae want any trouble."
He could feel her grip on her weapon tighten and press harder against his neck. Devlin tried to remain calm - but there was a slight hint of fear in his voice.
"Miss, I know ye din' mean ta be 'ere. I'm nae dense, but if ye kill me now, ye be wishin' ye didn't, for I be one 'at wishes ta make 'is life on th' sea, like yerself."
Surprisingly quiet for a moment, the woman slightly released her grip, and backed… through still holding Devlin at disadvantage.
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