pirate caitlyn kiramman. she was... effortlessly beautiful. her cerulean right eye, and what once was covered by her (ironically) violet eyepatch that fit her just right. the way her blue-black hair would dance with the salty wind and air around them as they sailed, and the way she looked when the sun started to set behind her. how it would almost reflect on her porcelain skin, her small freckles and her, practically unnoticable, dimples on her rose cheeks. her tooth gap when she smiled, and her french mixed with british accent like honey. She was... perfect.

one july evening, caitlyn could be found stood on the bow of their ship. her arms crossed over one another as they leaned against the wooden edges of the boat. they were sailing to france, to see caitlyn's father. caitlyn's mother had died years earlier in a tragic accident that left her... shaken. it let her to be driven by revenge, blinded by rage. her rebellion against the woman she sided with directly after her mother's death was the reason she had lost her left eye. but the life of enforcement was now behind caitlyn. she would always remember what a very special someone had said to her once. "what are you shooting for?" - well, it was hard to sharpshoot with only one eye, so, nothing. she chuckled to herself.

then there was violet. the one person, one thing from her past life in which she was so desperate to hold on to. if she lost violet? she would certainly lose herself. at one point, violets were the only thing with colour in the bluenette's world. of course, they'd had their fights, their arguments - like all couples do. but a life without violet is not a life caitlyn wanted to live.

as she dwelled on her past, present, and future, she felt the oh-so muscular hand of her girlfriend, her love, her reason to wake up in the morning, on her shoulder. the soft american accent of which was like a soothing balm to her mind and soul, and which made her stomach turn into knots, in quiet, soft, loving breaths.

"cait?"