[ The Pirate Queen is standing on the bow of her ship, a dark leather boot propped up on the railing, skeletons milling around her. They're loading up crates; who knows what's inside. They're singing and giggling and rattling as they work.

She is ignoring them, stroking the vine with one hand as the mirror forms. ]

It's been a real treat, ladies, but I'm afraid I'm taking off. If I catch a single stowaway, I'm going to gut the little twat and leave her hanging from my mast, is that understood?

[ It's a threat, but she's grinning. ]

I'm not taking passengers, but if you want me to bring you a gift next time I swing through, you'd best come and lick my boots, quickly.


[[ooc; OOC post to follow imminently.]]