Weapon of Choice

Kit held the hilt of the dagger in her right hand, gripping it lightly and rotating her wrist to get a feel for the blade. The twins had just turned six, and their parents had told them it was time to start learning how to fight – to really fight. Not just the brawling that had resulted in Kit knocking a few teeth out from a bulky earlier that year.
 
"Pirates know how to be deadly when necessary," Ma had said to them, "No matter how old. You're old enough now to know which end to stab with, so you're old enough to learn to be lethal."
 
At that remark, the young twins had giggled, thinking it was more silly than anything. Not that they thought fighting was silly, but that the idea of them needing to be deadly was so far from their ability to fathom. That was partially intentional by their parents. So far, most of what Kit and Killian knew of piracy was the "fun" parts – the pillaging of treasure, the tavern brawls, and life on the open seas. They had managed, thus far, to completely avoid any run-ins on open waters with rival crews or deadly encounters in the ports. Instead they had focused on teaching their children the more refined skills they would need to survive as pirates. Anyone could pick up a blade or pistol nand make the kill, but being stealthy, charming the authorities and the wealthy, winning at verbal sparring – those were skills that required more focus and practice.
 
But now, as the jobs got riskier and the twins had excelled in those arts, their parents wanted to ensure they could do more than just point a blade or barrel in the right direction. They needed to know how to be one with their weapons, to move with them as a natural extension of themselves. It wasn’t of course, just the jobs that were getting riskier. The twins tiefling inheritances were almost impossible to hide by this age. Their horns now proportionately matched them in size, as did their tails, and Killian's wings now spanned large enough to fly with them. Though larger port cities and inland areas seemed more tolerant of Tieflings, the smaller ports and more tropical island settlements tended to be hostile, and knowing how to fight with precision would be crucial to their survival.
 
As Kit turned that dagger over in her hand, the leather wrapping on the hilt feeling comfortable against her skin, the young Tiefling closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The blade felt natural to her, like it was the right piece for her to fight with. She tightened her grip only slightly, spun around, and flung the dagger from her hand tooth target their parents had set up, the blade striking only inches away from the bullseye.
 
Killian grunted beside her, taking aim with the pistol he had chosen. "I can do better than that." He flashed a cocktail grin, focused, and pulled the trigger, his bullet piercing the target with a puff of feathers at the exact opposite point of Kit's dagger.
 
"Not quite better," Kit teased.
 
Their father crossed his arms and shot the twins a serious look. "It's not about either of you being better than the other. You both need to be good. You need to be able to play off each other’s strengths. That’s how you will survive.”
 
Delilah motioned to the targets, waiting for Kit to retrieve her blade. As Kit strode over, pulling out the blade with ease, she grinned at her mother. “I want to fight with two of these,” she said confidently.
 
“Learn how to master one first, then we’ll talk.” She waited for Kit to stand beside her brother once more. “Again.”
 
They spent the rest of the day working on the targets, getting closer and closer to dead centre. The twins had chest-bumped and cheered wildly when they hit the bullseye finally, only to quickly quiet and shift uncomfortably at the stern and unimpressed look on their parent’s faces.
 
“Hitting the mark isn’t good enough,” William said, looking between Kit and Killian. “You need to be able to hit the right part of the mark, the point that will do the most damage.”
 
The sun was beginning to set, casting a pink glow across the edge of the sea as the ship, named after the twins, bobbed up and down in the slow rolling waters. Delilah began to light the torches on deck as the crew began to prep the ship for the quiet of the night. Those who had been watching and cheering on the Captains’ children began to depart, knowing that at this point, the bravado they were giving the twins wouldn’t help in their lessons.
 
“We do not leave this deck until you both can consistently hit the dead centre of the targets,” William instructed.
 
“But I’m getting hungry,” Killian whined.
 
“Me too,” added Kit, matching her brother’s tone.
 
Delilah rolled her eyes. “Then you better get aiming.”
 
The twins returned to practicing, grumbling in frustration. It took until the sun had finished setting, but finally, the twins began to strike their mark, shot after shot, until their parents were thoroughly satisfied.
 
Kit retrieved her dagger, spinning it around in her hand and practicing using it to strike as she walked back to the weapon cabinet. She spun it one more time, then slammed it down into a barrel beside the cabinet, grinned and stalked away.
 
Killian closed one eye, focusing the barrel, and pretended to fire it at an imaginary target before grinning wildly and returning it to its stand.
 
“It seems they’ve found their weapons,” Delilah said with a smile.
 
“Indeed.” William watched as his children began to rough-house on their way to the mess hall, tackling and fighting one another. “Kit will need to learn to wield a pistol as well – those daggers can only be thrown so far. I’ll work with her on close range fighting.” He cast a glance at Delilah. “Killian seemed rather interested in the mechanics of the weapon. Perhaps you could start teaching him how to construct one himself.”
 
Delilah grinned at her husband and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. “Now that’s the kind of talk that makes a pirate proud of her husband,” she said, before winking and following after the twins.
 
William side and took off his hat, running his hand through his mess of long hair. Although he shared in his wife’s sense of pride at the twins being so adept with their skills, part of him feared that violence would end up needing to be a far more prevalent part of their pirate life than it had been for their parents. And that was something he would always worry about for them. He almost considered abandoning the life a few times to keep them safe, but knew Delilah would never go for it. Besides, he reasoned with himself, if their children had inherited any of their parents’ personality traits, they would absolutely be a force to be reckoned with. That much, at least, gave William McKenzie hope for their future.