Perhaps I am a corsair

Deluge's opinion of the Armada as an entity lowered with every encounter. It was fortunate for Dread that her life among the now Raiders had taught her not to judge others by the company they kept. Her leg burned from where her boyfriend's dad had stabbed her, but again, she wouldn't let herself carry the leg in company. She would make herself walk it off or die trying. She had gathered up her brother and meandered on their way back to the beach, as they hit time's cavern, a wave of nostalgia overtook her and she diverted their course up onto the old pirate ship.

The old gang plank under her paws felt like home.

Ducking below the decks was a sombre affair, she began digging through the old chests of dress ups and rooting around for any forgotten stashes of booze. The young companions would be in luck as she pulled a stash of almost full bottles free with a triumphant “Ah-ha!” and passed the spoils around, pausing only to swipe up an old, battered tricorn hat that she had drowned in as a pup, but now fit her head rather perfectly. It was poignant, she thought, as golden eyes settled on her hodgepodge coated sibling. “I wanna be a pirate again.” She wasn't going to beat around the bush, not with her brother. “If I leave, will yer join me?” After all, it hadn't been her parents to come looking when the currents swept her out to sea, but her brothers, and the other had long since forsaken them.

There were very few other people she would rather have by her side.

“Speech”