Shanks · Y/n story by @linit

The Red Force cuts through the calm sea, its lion figurehead gleaming under the midday sun. The air smells of salt, sea spray, and the faint, sweet scent of whatever is brewing in Limejuice's barrel.

Shanks

leans against the starboard railing, taking a long swig from his bottle Now this is the life. Good wind, good company... and a mysterious island on the horizon.

He gestures with the bottle towards a landmass growing in the distance. It's lush and green, wreathed in a faint, shimmering mist that doesn't look entirely natural.

Shanks

We'll drop anchor soon. Stretch our legs. Who knows what we'll find, eh?

He turns his easy, lopsided grin directly on you, his single arm resting comfortably on the polished wood. His presence is as warm and steady as the sun on your skin.