One wave short of a shipwreck

Y'know . . .

I don't mean to meddle
But the devil doesn't settle
No, the devil doesn't bargain

Of course, the young sorceress had heard stories about him, like many had. Some stories were fearsome and spine-chilling, others fascinating and mysterious. The types of stories that sailors loved to tell over a pint of ale or fisherman's wives gossiped about in the markets. They had even reached the sheltered citizens of Lythrania. Two things always went hand in hand with these stories, though. For one, the storytellers were never eyewitnesses to these tales. And two, nobody knew what the man—the legend—looked like. It could even be speculated that he didn't really exist at all. Yes, Hayes Hartford was a true mystery.

Which was exactly why Aniu was looking for him. If anyone was able to help her with this, she dearly hoped he would be the one. She doubted anyone else would even consider a request like hers within Lythrania. But more importantly, this mystery around him gave her hope that she was able to go through with this in secrecy. The man clearly didn't want to be the center of attention, so to speak. And time was rather pressing.
The dark-haired Vylasar had found herself in an area of the city in which she was rarely seen. Still, she felt nervous that she would be recognized. She couldn't use that kind of attention this evening, so she asked one of the servants in the castle for a cloak of theirs, hopefully blending in with the common people. Paired with a shawl of her own, which she used to cover her face up to her nose, so that only her pale gray eyes were barely visible in the shadow of her hood. As she walked the streets towards her destination, she had her fingers tightly clasped around her staff, hidden underneath the cloak. If anything happened, she could call out Fenrir for help, though she would rather not for fear of being recognized. If anyone would ever find out? If Therion knew where she was right now, by herself, there would be hell to pay. Of that, she was sure. But she had to do this. And she had to do this alone.

The tavern was easy to find, just like her informant had told her. With its hanging sign easily identifiable: a conch shell... How ironic. Her gaze shifted across the streets before she slipped inside the somewhat crowded pub. She took a deep breath, hiding a nervous grimace behind her shawl, before pushing through a couple drunk sailors. As petite and slender as she was, hidden under the cloak, people ignored her, which was just what she aimed for. Making her slightly less nervous. She walked up to the bar and leant forward so she didn't have to yell too loud. "Captain Hartford?" She simply asked a man behind the bar. He was clearly surprised by the clear and feminine voice behind the mask, before he looked around, looking for the man she had asked for.

& Hayes

Yo-ho, must be fate's design
revenge, revenge revenge is gonna be mine

Another night, another tavern. Hayes of course knew about every single good one, from the Lunar Bay to the Sanguine Sea. A bare necessity at the end of a long day was a drink. And someone as well-travelled as him was fluent in pubs, taverns and rum. The Conch Shell was one of his favourites to frequent whenever he was in Lythrania. Together with his crew they drank as much rum as they could, before his crew made their way back to the Ithuriel. Hayes often found his own way home, eventually.

The drinks were flowing free. His crew was spread out over the tavern, chatting to acquaintances and strangers alike. The tall man leaned back in his chair, his feet popped up to table in the corner. Hook, his right hand man, was by his side talking about something Hayes paid little attention to. His stark blue eyes travelled across the room and found the barman nodding his head in his direction to a small figure. A woman, it seemed. Briefly he looked at Toby, before his gaze settled on the figure now approaching him. He himself was cast in shadows, the barely-lit table not revealing much about his stature. The flame of the small lone candle reflected in his jewelry, but most of his face remained covered in darkness. Patiently, he took a sip of his glass of ale, what could this stranger want?

Outfit

Y'know . . .

I don't mean to meddle
But the devil doesn't settle
No, the devil doesn't bargain

There was no certainty that she would find what she was looking for. Hartford could be an actual myth or simply not here on this day. He could deny her request or simply be unable to grant it. She had knowingly taken that risk, but still, she was relieved when the barman seemed to know who she meant. Her curious gaze turned as the man nodded towards two men at a table. One was very much engaged in a conversation, but the other sat there leaning back in his chair, hidden in shadow. The dimly lit tavern, especially in that corner, made it hard to see his face—or really anything distinguishable. And yet, she could feel his eyes burn on her, making a shiver go down her spine as she tightened her grip around the hidden staff. For a moment, she hesitated. Was this truly the wise path to take? Even now, this man was a mystery in plain sight. Still, he was just a man. More importantly; the one man who could help her. How much of those stories could really be truthful anyway? So she thanked the barman and calmly made her way over to his table. "Captain Hartford?" Her pale eyes, lit up by the same lonesome candle that cast shimmers from his jewelry, were still the only parts of her face he was able to see. Behind the shawl, covering her face, she hid a small, curious grin. Looking him up and down from underneath her hood, this was not entirely what she expected.
"I'd like a moment of your time." With a soft thump and the clear sound of clinking gold pieces, she threw a small pouch on the table, next to the candle. "In private."

& Hayes