Cost Of Espadrilles In Barcelona

Even the sheets carried the smell of gunpowder [Pirate! Arthur centric]

Title of chapter: And also sheets carried the smell of gunpowder.
Characters: Arthur Kirkland
Rating: Orange
FOOTNOTES Introspective / Angst
Disclaimer: characters, places and habits are the property of Sensei Himaruya, the writing and situations are my property.

. And even the sheets carried the smell of gunpowder.

No, could not classify it as a stink. Because there was nothing unpleasant, at least on his part, was a strong and persistent smell, which could make him feel happy and proud. The only problem is that, over time, was penetrated in the plots of clothes, the wood of the ship, even in the paper nautical charts.
A smell of salt air, blood and gunpowder, who accompanied Captain Arthur Kirkland and his crew every second of their lives. You might say worrying, but Arthur did. Inegrante made him feel part of the sea, its life, its people. The ears were instead
pervarse by the roar of cannons, from the pop guns and dry by the sound of swords drawn against enemies attacking the ship returned to her mind as frames, each moment of glory was imprinted in his heart as a brand to focus on of a slave. Everything so
imposing, impressive on the ship that seemed to want to conquer the seas, preventing thanks to men like no other that Spain take dominion over the world, all so brittle . Ages that pass, interests and changing clothes should be rotting in a closet or, worse, to be complicit in an attic of memory and the fading glory of an era that had no place in the world.
entered the cabin full of tools, charts and may lead to the end of the world , clothes, swords and trophies of the battles where he was always the first to jump on the deck of the ship. He smiled, letting his hat decorated with feathers softly ended on a trunk, slipped his jacket on the floor with a rustle, raising a little dust, the sword rang just after Arthur stuck in the globe, like the worst hardened captains and pirates. The body of English
dropped on soft sheets, the thoughts were absorbed by the weave of the fabric and the eyes were closed all'arrivare sleep.
Dream, Arthur.
The wood under your feet, the sparks of clashing swords, the sound of the shell destroyed the power of the guns, the shouts to his men, the smell of blood that is imprinted on your skin! The glory that wraps like a cloak, knowledge of be useful to the queen and your country, the love of your own men! The
glory that never come back again. Aseptic guns, a corrosive climate of hatred and frightening.
No more rolling of ships, no more salt, no more blood on the wood.
risk death because of the edge of a sword is perhaps less noble than the risk in a dark and earthy trench? Without
kiss from the sun again, Captain Arthur Kirkland. Leaves an imprint on this earth, let this period be remembered as the golden era from the harness! Let the memories will not disappear from the men killed for honor, men whose bodies were never at home!
And then, when the sword is rusty, let it fall.
Tling.

. Finish.

I am very proud of this history, it will be because I was fomented ° _ °
However, it is dedicated to my senpai Edward, with love. \u0026lt;3