[IC] Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

[AmongHeroes]

Thomas almost sent the cards flying in mid-shuffle as his first mate’s inquiry reached his ears. The buzz of liquor in his veins delayed the filter, thin though it was, from stopping his words from spewing from his mouth.

“Judas’ ghost! Gleet you say!?”

Thomas looked to Nicolette with an eyebrow raised in genuine perplexity. His eyes shifted to Jax, then to Antonia, and once again to his first mate. During this process his mind whirred with just how it was possible for a sailor, no mater what swung, or did not swing, between their legs, to not know the game of Gleek. After several blinks his wispy veil of manners at last cloaked itself around his tongue, and Thomas cleared his throat and did his best to repress the stunned dismay upon his face.

“Pardon me,” he said to Nicolette before resuming his shuffle.

He used the pause as he shuffled to reorganize his thoughts, as truly he had never explained to anyone how to play the elaborate card game.

“Firstly,” Thomas said, dealing the cards, “it is called Gleek, not Gleet.” His manner was not unkind, and he was careful to not present his tutelage as brusque. However, his astonishment was still so complete that he knew not how he fared in this effort. More than once Thomas glanced to Antonia and Jax, hoping to illicit some help and sympathy with the explanation. For several minutes he worked through the deck, trying to recollect every facet of the game and impart the knowledge to his first mate. He did this with an abundance of hand gestures and manipulation of his own coin upon to the table as illustration. Thomas would punctuate his efforts with the occasional, “Facile, non?”

Finally, with cards and coin strewn all across the table, Thomas let the few remaining cards still clutched in his hand to fall. His face once again masked itself into skeptical disbelief, his eyebrow arching upwards as it had before. He leaned towards Nicolette.

“Dites-moi vraiment, mademoiselle,” he spoke to her in his fluent buccaneer French. “You were in Louis’ navy, no? How is it possible for you to not know this game? I ask not with an air of judgment, but truly one of curiosity. Do you French marins not take part in such games? Is the Sun King so Popish about such things?”

[Lillian Thorne]

“Ahh, Gleek.” She said rolling the word around in her honeyed voice as if savoring it for the first time, her brow drawn down in a little frown at the unfamiliar word as if she was trying to file it away. “Je m’excuse.”

She followed his explanation, words, hand gestures and all with great attention. Not because she needed to learn the game, but because she wanted to know how he viewed the game. There was much information to be learned about his own techniques in his manner of explanation. The order with which he listed the rules, the ones he repeated, the things he glazed over. It help to paint a greater picture in her head and though her face remained passively curious she was grinning inwardly. She might actually have fun with this, she realized. Albeit fun that was not what anyone would expect.

She looked up from where his hands held the deck, meeting her captain’s eyes. Eyes which seemed filled with incredulity and alcohol as he added his questions. She hadn’t anticipated that, though she should have. He was a clever man, even when in his cups.

No, the Sun King and his Navy were not so poppish as that. That she’d met the Sun king was of no matter here, she hadn’t played Gleek with him, simply curtsied and been shuffled on. One of many country nobles gifted with a chance to meet the king. And she had played in the Navy, she’d needed to play, to blend in. Admitting that wouldn’t suit her purposes here. She did not lie by habit, it was messy and easy to confuse. But she could weave her tale around the truth.

“I was in the Navy, yes. But I was hiding as you can imagine, they do not let women in and so I had to conceal my gender. Though I did not do so well in the end.” She felt her slender surgeon’s fingers lift as if of their own accord and skim lightly over the brand on her cheek before she forced herself to stop and snatch her fingers away, her face flickering in a flash of intense anger. At herself, at the brand at the circumstances of getting the brand it would have been hard to say. She hadn’t told anyone the full story of it, but it was tale enough burned into her flesh for someone with half a wit to guess at. She cleared her honeyed throat, schooled her features and continued.

“So I played the part of the scholar and recluse and did not socialize much. I did not join in their card games, I did not join them in carousing.”

This too was not strictly true. She had joined in their carousing just enough to stave off suspicion. She’d been dragged to a brothel on more than one occasion and had with equal frequency paid for a lady’s wares. Nicki had kissed and fondled like the best of them in public and then when taken to the woman’s rooms had played the part of the fumbling boy, shy and uncertain. The women had been happy enough to take her coin and let her scuttle off. Well all but one. She had to fight a blush off at the memory of one, Marie, who had been so sweet and kind and had tried to educate poor Nicki, to make “Him” a man. It had been exceedingly awkward up until her discovery. After… Well suffice to say Nicki had gotten her coin’s worth. She shook off the memories of that particular evening and pulled them back to the moment.

“Perhaps that was a mistake, perhaps it lead to scrutiny and my discovery. I do not know. Had I played things differently perhaps I would not be about to lose coin to the lot of you.” She said and let her lips crook at the corner, her normal answer to a smile.

“So thank you for your lessons in this Gleek. I am ready to begin whenever you are.”

[tirgesfu]

Shocked, that was Jax’s expression. First by the call of his given name, then by the lovely first mates most assuredly lie about not knowing the game, by the Captains quick yet thorough explanation and last by the confession of pretending to be a male. What?

Jax had to bite his tongue. He let his eyes come up and he stared at the Doctor. As she flustered some through her admittance, her cheeks finding a hint of color, her fingers touching her scar, he could not conceive how she managed the disguise. He watched her neck as her shoulders moved, and her hair as it following touching her forehead. They must have been fools.

In a panic he glanced to the brown sugar who just appeared with hair and a face that would make any man lust. No fooling anyone there. In another sweet song offers were made of food and drink and suddenly Jax was very thirsty. He felt his mouth dry and his stomach growl.

His inside told him these two dames of the Captains were ones to watch, from a distance maybe. Now sitting so close to both he was sure he might begin to sweat. Unlucky to have woman on a ship and even worse to be so close and yet knowing not to touch either of these toys. Man talk about a strange playing circle.

Cards! Jax scolded himself and looked to the ones on the table. He glanced back to the First Mate and cleared his throat just a little. “Holy Shit,” He managed to sputter out. “I am going to loose my ass to a beginning luck Navy Brat?” He smiled to her with a real likeable grin, “It does explain the military lean to your eyes They can drill.”

He was quick to grin to the Captain as if ne needed support, “She has those intense eyes, don’t you think?”

Needed even more cover he looked next to the woman standing, “Antonia, right? Can I call you that?...might I say you look …” He chuckled, “But please no one has called me Jozua since my mother cursed the words and my wet nurse rocked me.” He let his eyes show what his complement did not, “Alright. I never had a wet nurse but I always wanted one. You interested in the job?”

Jax quickly looked away and gathered his cards. Enough fun for now, let's play theses fishes.

[Igraine]

Antonia listened without interruption to the First Mate's otherwise fantastical tale, sifting truth from fabrication as only a truly professional liar could. Even if Nicolette intended on taking her lovely man and the seemingly-awestruck helmsman for all the coin in their purses, the poor thing still had a tell, and it was a fairly brutal one. The spider's eyes saw the flutter of fingers to Nicolette's face, the forced tension as she pulled them away. A lifetime of cruelty witnessed filled in all the blank spaces that mattered in the rest of that tale.

So had it been "la putain?" Or perhaps "la pute?" Maybe even "la poufiasse" or simply "la prostituée?" It didn't matter really, the result was entirely the same: Mademoiselle Beauchamp's loyal service and dedicated work had been betrayed by a man - or far more likely men, after seeing the woman fight - in the crew she once trusted.

Antonia, the woman beneath the rogue, the spider, the thousands of masks - that woman could feel for the First Mate's plight, see far better now the source of her often grim, tight-lipped and humorless ways. But she was wise enough to let it be, and even kind enough to wish the woman well in whatever game she played this night with her captain and her helmsman.

The rogue plucked a tangerine from the pile of fruits at the tray, leaning back in her chair as her fingers ran lightly over the slightly waxy, aromatic skin. She adored the luxury, the tangy sweet richness of the flesh, and the bitter oils of the rind in her wine. Ah yes, their helmsman who, it seemed, was far more at home aboard a ship than sandwiched so precariously between two women. The only response Jax's new offer of employment elicited for a single heartbeat, was the lift of one vaguely amused, slightly incredulous eyebrow.

And then Antonia set the tangerine in the cradle of skirts in her lap, both hands reaching behind her head to deftly lift the lengths of ebony curls.

"Jozua. Arie. Xander." Every word of his given name was punctuated with warm, salty promise, a Caribbean breeze ripe with fragrant spices, the rocking of wave after lapping wave and the most exotic fruits a man would ever know. Those grey eyes never left Jax's face as she braided the lengths loosely in just a moment over one shoulder, all the better to display the subtle curve of her slender neck, her supple shoulders and the perfect, inviting shadow of a path between those firm rounded hillocks he seemed to admire so much.

As she lay the thick rope of hair aside, the long, slender fingers of one hand traced the line to her collarbone, and then dipped down back into the crevice of her cleavage, as if she wondered whether Jax might like to see the wares a little better before making a final decision about finalizing her new employment.

But when those fingers emerged, a small, thin-bladed knife was held almost delicately, its razor edge flashing lethal silver in the candles' glow. She rolled its handle easily between the tips of her fingers, lackadaisically as she leaned forward once more, the tangerine returned to her other hand.

"Jozua."

"Arie."

"Xander... "

With every word, the blade sliced across the small, delicate fruit in her hand, skin thick and no more, making a tiny star on its surface that only just released the first hint of the its oils. Antonia breathed deeply, smiling with satisfaction as the aroma greeted her nostrils.

"Too bad really, 'tis a lovely name that flows from the tongue like cream. But if you prefer 'Jax?'" Antonia pouted prettily, as if such a thing truly mattered to her. "No, not nearly so nice - too harsh, I say. But as you will of course."

"And you offer me new employment as well? Oh, I'm afraid I already serve at the will of our captain here." The blade she set neatly in front of her on the table, as if it were simply another bit of cutlery, no matter its true origin.

"But what do you think, Captain Silver Fish?" she quipped with a sidelong gaze toward Thomas, neatly peeling the tangerine skin from the fruit, squeezing the pieces of skin over her own cup of wine before setting them aside. "With my limited skills and usefulness, I might yet prove of some utility aboard the Skate as wet nurse to Jax here. Could I be spared for the task? Although I imagine suckling the helmsman while he steers would be nightmarish - perhaps we could fix something up with ropes, pulleys... Suspend me bare-breasted from the rigging perhaps?"

Antonia smiled widely, only just peeling her tangerine into sections, popping one easily into her mouth. The smoldering fire in those grey eyes though, said something not entirely at odds with the mirth on her full lips, but with the full and true intent of her words that she felt sure Thomas would read just fine:

'How angry would you be with me, if we were short one helmsman by the morning?'

[AmongHeroes]

Thomas nodded discerningly, his face placid. Nicolette’s story was believable enough, and he could envision a scenario where she had avoided the game in an effort to maintain her ruse. She was a most shrewd woman to avoid detection so thoroughly, and for so long. There was a deep and murky craftiness to her that Thomas found thrilling and somewhat dangerous, and he could not help but respect the brazen woman. Though craft is not boundless, Thomas thought to himself as his eyes drifted to the puckered scar upon the first mate’s otherwise flawless face.

As he traced the rough edges of the ‘P’, Thomas heard Jax speak to him about the first mate’s eyes, and he immediately looked to them. He smiled along with his reply, not looking away from the angelic Nicolette. “Aye, they are intense. Calculating, or perhaps even…” He paused for the briefest of moments, “…brooding.”

He dealt the remaining cards with a smirk, looking up to Jax. “Whatever is in her eyes we shall know soon enough, I wager. Whether it will be the worse for us is something we shall learn in due course as well.”

Thomas focused upon his cards, and his face became slack. He did not arrange the cards into suit or value, instead allowing them to remain in their random state to avoid any particularly perceptive eyes. His mind worked through the fog of alcohol to arrive at an accurate wager, and he was pleased that his hand was assuredly not a bad one. Well, he admitted to himself, I could most assuredly make it a bad one. His face remained emotionless despite his inner musings, and he was just about to goad Jax into making his bid when he realized what he had said to Antonia.

Thomas turned his head fractionally towards Antonia, his own brow rising in amused interest as he gauged the reaction of the creole rogue. She did not disappoint. Leaning back into his chair, Thomas laid his cards upon the table face down, and crossed a booted foot across his leg. As he watched with unabashed interest as Antonia moved through her slow, sensual mock, he gently spun a shining silver coin between his fingers. A man biding his time.

“Though the thought of you in bondage gives my mind most stringent pause,” Thomas spoke softly, looking down to the coin spinning in his fingers, “I believe that our sea-artist should spend more time vying his cards…” Thomas brought his copper eyes up to Jax, his expression now turning into angles of quiet menace, “…and less time dwelling upon what he cannot hope to possess.”

[Lillian Thorne]

She hadn’t liked the needling of Jax, it had but her back up, made her unsettled and nervous but under the scrutiny of the Captain’s eyes she found she preferred the needling to this. This man, in a word could see her off his ship, out of her position and back to square one. She would not be in dire straits, no, she had too many carefully laid plans for that, but that didn’t mean she wanted to rely on them. She suppressed a shiver, a recall of the last time a captain’s eyes were on her with such searching weight behind them. It had not ended well for her. She felt her throat tightening in a strange surge of fear as memories of what had been rushed out of the darkness at the edges of her mind where she held them in tight control. She gripped her cards, perhaps a little hard as she fought her own darkness, not wanting to lose control in front of people.

For one brief second after Monsieur Jax’s job offer to Antonia, she did lose control. For that one brief second there was shock on Nicki’s face as her tightly held mask of calm politeness melted to give way to open mouthed amazement at his brashness. Shock drove the fear back into darkness. Hard on its heels and just as brief though a thousand times more inexplicable, there was amusement. Her eyes sparkled with it and her mouth curved into a rare smile before she forced her features into something more neutral. It wasn’t much of a smile, but for Nicki, she might as well have brayed out a laugh as have flashed that face transforming smile.

She looked away and if the line of her shoulders was tight it was certainly not because she was holding in laughter, certainly not that. Not Nicki and not because of some grinning helmsman’s brashness. As she held herself stiff and fought for control she heard Antonia’s little speech. Though she missed the appearance of the wicked little knife she turned her gaze back to the scene and understood what the demonstration was telling him, Even if she did not hear the unspoken question to the captain, she understood that there was a warning there.

The captain’s response, that was interesting. A declaration of intent though it was subtle was a relief to her. Her eyes flicked to Jax and she hoped that he would catch that, that he would speak of it to the others and perhaps lay to rest some of the rumors about why she was on the ship. It did not occur to her that the crew might not assume that the captain was man enough for both of them. She only wanted it to be known that she was on the ship through her own merit, through skill and not because of bed-sports. Skill, the thought of it brought her back to the moment.

“Oh enough!” she said quietly, her features so perfectly neutral that it was clear she was trying. She was first mate, given authority and trust, she reminded herself. It was time she recalled that, even at leisure, forced leisure at that.

“We are here to play cards are we not? I have been told the rules of Gleet, no, I said it wrong again, didn’t I? I have been instructed in Gleek so I say we should play before those rules slip from my head like water from a poorly crafted barrel. Idlehands do the devil’s work and I think we have done enough of that for the evening, no?”

[tirgesfu]

How many ways can he smile? Jax thought as he held his cards. He was sure the shock and slight excited fear made its way to his face through Antonia’s show of her sensual skill. With his mouth slightly open, his eyes followed her fingers. He felt a shiver run through as he saw her wield her fancy deadly knife. Oh, he understood. She was displaying her treats like a rose blooms from the base of thorns. And still the whole thought brought a greedy grin. Jax had to let that smile grow. He watched her eyes and made sure she saw he took her threat, understood her cuts, and still could find excitement in the pursuit. Wasn’t that the point after all of the beauty of a rose? The cuts you had to suffer to pluck it.

And then to add deeper slices or even salt into the wound, the Captain made his voice clear. Was he the gardner, now? Jax could not keep the delighted smile in and he nodded his head and laughed to the Captain. He heard the claim, he could smell the scent of a wolf marking its territory even if the dig did not hold that intention. But Jax had to laugh, “Oh possession doesn’t have to be in the goal at all. Never said I demanded all the milk. To own and to taste are two different things” He grinned back to Antonia and winked before he smiled to the Captain again.

He was pushing maybe a bit he thought as he held his cards and listened again to the smooth sugar coated words of the First Mate. Gleet, gleek, he didn’t care what the hell she called it. It sounded good. His smile turned warm as he agreed. It was time to play.

As Jax looked at his cards he wondered what game he wanted here. He could care less really if he won or not. Would it be better to fall under the honey of the green player or suck up to the Captain for that ego boost most men in his place hold? Jax still wasn’t sure. So he studied his hand and jumped in with a modest bid that said he was a player but did not exaggerate his hold.

In each round he was quick with his turn, his bid, his announcement of his intentions. Jax did not pause or contemplate. He was ready each time. As each of the others took their turn he watched them with glances to the sitting beauty and her fruit. He took swigs of run. And he smiled. He enjoyed the game and that was clear in the sparkle of his eyes and all his different sort of smiles.

[Igraine]

Antonia's wide smile finally reached her eyes, widening in genuine surprise at Jax's entirely impudent, utterly inappropriate and likely very unwise response.

And then she started to laugh. She simply couldn't help herself. Low, warm and soft and so genuine, the sound could only add to the First Mate's terse, tight command for a ceasefire to the sudden tension, her own falling away with every incredulous shake of her head. So many small, even delightful surprises in the span of moments, and Thomas' reaction had been one among them. Antonia looked sidelong at her lovely man, head tilted curiously for just a moment as she took in the words, the tone, the expression of his face - and then tossed him the rest of her neatly peeled tangerine with a slow, knowing wink.

Quick fingers reached to the tray once more, plucking up a soft, ripe mango this time. Antonia's blade sliced long, thin wedges of the fleshy fruit away from the pit, taking small bites thoughtfully as she watched the other two players, the guests of the Parakeet. This was what she did, after all, the captain's roguish spider. Antonia observed. She listened. She parsed what was said, and what was left unsaid. Every movement, each gesture, noted and considered and whispered into the ear of her lovely man.

Oh Jax. Antonia could only shake her head in wonder. Well, he truly was a wonder, was he not? Antonia had been certain as she watched him steer, enamored of his new charge, tending the wheel of the Skate as dearly as a lover; at his side as he walked through the filthy streets of Port Royal searching for even he knew not what - until he found the Boar; how he embraced the bloody brawl in the Boar with a joy that bordered on a berserker's ecstasy - that this man? Yes, she had become certain Jax was a man bound for either fame, or infamy, or an early grave.

For perhaps the first time, Antonia could honestly say she'd be a touch disappointed if it were the latter for the smiling man. After all, Jax gave "audacity" whole new shades of meaning, as strangely varied as the subtle variations of that ever-present grin on his lips.

Grey eyes turned easily toward the First Mate, to Nicolette Beauchamp, and her expression grew a touch more pensive as Antonia sipped her wine, subtly flavored with hints of tangerine oil. The First Mate had held herself so stiffly, so tensely, as she exercised her authority before their intimate gathering. Strangely, the rogue could recall no such circumspect hint of hesitation aboard the Skate. Ah, such a strange, crafty, subtle piece of contradiction, was this woman before her - though if nothing else in this world, First Mate Nicolette Beauchamp had the stones of most any man Antonia had ever met.

Antonia knew she would have never attempted such a protracted deception, couldn't even imagine the circumstances, the purpose or the reasons that she'd willingly attempt such a feat for so long. Her own guises were far more subtle ruses, aspects easily maintained with the help of a few props and a good deal of rum in her mark. Entwined in her own blends of gris gris and voudoun, the lies of certain willing accomplices, her own quite natural acting skills and vast, dark knowledge of this wicked world, Antonia knew well that men often only ever see what they wish to see. Antonia always gave them what they wished - well, at the least until she had what she wished. Precious few of her masks would hold up under intense scrutiny - and most certainly not the pretense of a man.

That Nicolette had done so for so long, successfully by all accounts to the last, spoke to as yet unseen depths in the woman, well worth the time it might take to sift through. A challenge then, and Antonia found herself warming to the prospect. She'd already known for some time, that the First Mate was no turncoat, no danger to Thomas or the Skate. No... Rather, this was entirely for her own curiosity, her own... Well, her own pleasure really, peeling the layers back for no better reason than to see what lie beneath. What lovely stories there must remain to be found, beneath that juxtaposition of sweet vulnerability and impervious stone.

Antonia sliced a thicker wedge of soft mango away from its pit, and reached to offer it to Thomas on the blade of her knife with a satisfied tilt to her full lips. She might not be playing gleek herself this night, but she was certainly enjoying the game immensely.

[Lillian Thorne]

The agreement for peace was met and the card game commenced. Nicki settled in to amuse herself with the game. It had been years since she had last held cards, but she had not forgotten the trick and the patterns of numbers and probability came back to her like a nursery melody, something learned so long ago that one could never truly lose it.

She pulled off her coat, ruined with blood and cuts from stray daggers and sat before them in white linen shirtsleeves and brocade vest, breeches and boots. A few of the slashes in her clothing were rimmed with blood that was likely hers, though nothing was deep. She seemed to pay it no mind as she idly brushed back an errant blonde lock and focused on the cards in her hand as she played with her crew-mates.

Numbers, cards, coins and wagers, she sought for patters in them, not to win, no she had no intention of that though she was confident that she could, if she wanted to. That the reality of that assumption was one she’d never have to face, troubled her not. She played with the numbers, the patterns for fun, to amuse herself. To let her ego have its way. She played to soothe herself for her deliberate loss. Anyone could throw a game, some could even do it convincingly. But such was not for Nicki. She could no more throw a game in such mundane ways than she could grow actual stones between her thighs. For Nicki to lose she needed to control the loss, to orchestrate it in a way that amused her. Control, it all came back to that. For her, it always came back to that.

So with artifice, confused expressions, looks of dawning understanding and frequent requests for clarification she threw the game, winning rounds that were multiples of three, losing all others. She bet only even numbers and made certain through complex numerical alchemy to end each losing round with a set fraction of her starting pot. It amused her and entertained her and she found herself crooking the corners of her lips more than once in what passed as a smile for her, at some of the banter that flew around her. Each proto-smile revealed bewitching hints of dimples in her cheeks that would be given light if she but smiled deeper.

Often during the play she lifted the bottle of Rum to her lips but rarely did more than let a trickle through, simply wetting her lips, swallowing then licking the sweet spirit off of her lips as she scowled at her cards as if in reproach.

“I am almost out.” She said as she looked at her pile of coin, exactly 1/12th of what she’d started with, inwardly she was pleased, there had been a bit of scrambling she’d needed to do to make the numbers work, but she’d managed it. “It seems your worries about losing to the Navy brat are unfounded.” She said to Jax, her honeyed voice holding more satisfaction than someone about to lose should hold, the effects of rum accidentally ingested perhaps? She paid it no mind, too pleased with herself and slid the rest of her coins across to the pile.

[AmongHeroes]

Thomas took Antonia’s proffered tangerine and ate each wedge with slow, silent movements of his jaw that allowed him to hold the fruit in his mouth as long as possible. It gave his mind someplace to expel the mounting frustration he felt without showing it outwardly on his features. His face was placid and still, save for the occasional chewing, and his copper eyes were distant and seemed to focus on nothing in particular. Behind those eyes was a mind that wrestled with the game at hand, and was inexorably moving towards a slurry of disappointment and annoyance.

Did they think him so foolish? Did the both of them think him a vain man, a man so lashed to his ego that his favor only fell upon those that stoked it? Thomas worked daily to appear the man in contrast to such men, so abundant among the scoundrel captains of the Caribbean. His reputation was supposed to have been built upon a foundation of reality, that his deeds spoke of his nature, and not instead filled with bloated tales of self-worth and embroidered heroics. Thomas was a confident man, to be sure, and he was never one to diminish his own abilities to anyone. He enjoyed the thrill of winning and the pleasurable kiss of victory, but he only found it pleasurable upon the lips of his own guile and sweat. What was transpiring here made his heart fall to his gut.

Jax seemed to be teetering on the knife’s edge of enjoyment and disinterest, and so thusly was not taking the brunt of Thomas’ repressed ire. The First Mate however, had shown her colors. It was clear in the tactful skill at which she lost that her mind had counted and manipulated cards more than a handful of times. She was no green maiden at this art, no, she was tactician. A tactician that in Thomas’ mind was taking the strategy of valiant retreat for an end he did not comprehend. Thomas had been taking money from the pair of them the entire night, and he himself was not playing at the level he was accustomed to. He was too distracted by his own displeasure to do so.

When Nicolette pushed the last of her silver into the pot, Thomas laid down his winning hand without hesitation. He looked between both her and Jax with an expressionless face, though his eyes were now sharp with the irritation restrained behind them. Without a word he reached his arms to the pot, and withdrew the coins into his own pile. Part of him wanted to overturn the table, and sling the bullion across the Parakeet, raging against the offense he was suffering beneath. Instead however, he merely sat, his fingers gently shifting the pile of coins before him. He wanted their respect, and their genuine companionship, not some feeble attempt to bow before the veneration granted by the title of “Captain.”

Thomas took the wine bottle from the table, and poured a large helping of the ruby liquid into his empty mug. He took a long drink before setting it down gently. For a long moment he simply savored the taste, allowing the liquor to help was away some of the emotion held in his throat. He did not want to ostracize his crewmates, for as he thought upon the game he recognized perhaps the position that they were operating from. His anger diminished mightily, though his disappointment was still quite heavy upon his mind.

“I have no more stomach for this game,” he said softly, a slight smile reaching his mouth. “In lieu of such things, I have an opportunity for us to discuss, if all of you are so inclined to hear it?”

[Igraine]

At Thomas' question, Antonia stood quietly, gliding silently to cross the distance between them and stand behind her lovely man. His question wasn't for her after all. She knew as well as Thomas, the real business that had brought them here this night, the tantalizing information connived from another hapless privateer captain earlier this very day - and it had not a thing to do with rounds of gleek.

But she'd have to be blind and senseless, to miss the foul mood these games with the First Mate and the helmsman had brought on him. The tense set of his jaw screamed of his growing anger as he won hand after hand, and the flashes of irritation in those copper eyes was as bright to her as a beacon fire. Oh, she could see well what the first mate was doing, the numbers ticking easily in her own head all the way down to the precise 1/12th of her own coin Nicolette still held back. And Antonia could see the peace that orchestration brought to the woman, that blessed calm that she created for herself, by her own wit and intellect, in the eye of the storm of this world.

But for all his worthy qualities, Thomas could not see the reason behind what Nicolette did, the exquisite control she exerted in every least move, the calculations and the quiet, deliberate deference before yet another captain. And he was still most ill-pleased, despite that wisp of a smile he wore.

Antonia's strong fingers began to slowly knead Thomas' shoulders, his neck, a motion as soothing as the gentle kiss of calm seas against a sandy shore. She sighed tenderly as she leaned forward to whisper in Thomas' ear, words meant only for him.

"Now Silver Fish, if you chose not to shoot your Antonia, even after stealing all your coin? Surely it must give you pause, to reconsider shooting your crew for throwing all their coin at you, chèr? Besides, you did say they would pay for the 'interruption,' non?" A gentle breeze of a laugh escaped her lips, just under her breath, as she rested the soft warmth of her cheek against his ear. His breath was scented still with tangerine, and for just a moment her thoughts were seduced to sweet anticipation, how a kiss this moment would taste -

Before good sense returned her right where she must remain for the moment. "You've yet to show them your back Thomas. Have faith. I do - in you, at the least. Such an uncanny bent you have, for knowing to keep the right people around you, unless... "

Antonia chuckled warmly. "Unless you are looking to make your rogue jealous already? Not even a proper kiss between us yet, but I wonder. Tell me true, are you holding out for a crimson branding on your cheek from Mademoiselle Nicolette now, as proper payment for her deception? Or... Oh! Is it the smiling helmsman who has caught your wandering eye, my lovely man?" she teased, grinning widely as she stood to her full height once more. Antonia's fingers ran tenderly along his neck, his shoulders, before those grey eyes turned first toward the ever-smiling Jax, and then to the almost-but-not-quite smiling Nicolette.

[Igraine]

(( Please ignore, head up one post! ))

[Igraine]

((Please ignore, head up two posts!))

[Lillian Thorne]

Had she lost herself so fully in the fun of the game she was playing with herself that she forgot to note what was going on around her? She must have because when she looked up she could see in the set of his jaw, the hardness around his eyes that the Captain was angry. Rationally she knew that he wasn’t the sort to lash out, but rationality had nothing to do with her gut reaction. Her stomach dropped, her eyes widened and in an instant she lost any sense of control she’d gained as her limbs began to tingle with the lightness of a fight or flight reaction. Her body remembered how it felt, the pain, the humiliation, the fear.

She was halfway out of the chair before reason caught up with her, reason brought on by the sight of Antonia leaning down and whispering into the captain’s ear. That sight, those full lips, breathing words into the Captain’s ear calmed her and she dropped back the inch she’d risen. She let her eyes close as she tried to slow her breathing, her heartbeat, praying that her little display hadn’t been overly noted. She wasn’t that stupid foolish girl anymore, insulated from reality. She was stronger than that, more in control. This Captain wasn’t that sort of man, to lash out, to punish for such a small petty thing. Though she wondered at his fury, he won, hadn’t he? Though in truth her losing had little to do with him winning and more to do with a stubborn commitment to her determination to always lose at cards, to stay under the radar. To be in control. But clearly it hadn’t pleased him. She could only hope that the experience meant that he would never ask her to play again.

She took her empty purse with hands that shook and slipped it into the pocked of her ruined coat before slipping it on and closing it tight around her. For armor it was lousy but still she felt shielded by it, hidden behind the cloth as she wrapped her arms around herself as if cold, despite the balmy night.

“Of course, Captain.” She said in her most correct tone, the tone not even the pickiest of Admirals could take offense at for all that it was filled with respect but not deference. “I would hear whatever it is you would say, and gladly.”

She picked up the bottle of Rum she’d been playing at drinking and took a true pull, her free hand still holding her coat closed around her.

[tirgesfu]

Holly sea witches tits, this card game was like some thick eyeballed staring contest. And truthfully Jax was lost. He had to lose because he couldn’t figure the group out. Then why should he? Let the Captain win. His boat, his ladies. But one thing for sure this group had undercurrents that could pull a man under. So he was glad when it was over. He had fun enough, little fishes, but then he most always does.

Hot sea milk wet nurse was licking the Captain's ears about something. Gawds Jax couldn’t help but think of her tongue in there the way her lips worked all around. Jax didn'tt look away. He just licked his lips and watched. Until sugar started.The honey voice straight faced beauty first mate was getting all stiff and ready to flee for some reason. Hell she lost, what was she worried about? Then as quick as she was tight she was all smooth voiced again agreeing to the Captain.

What was going on?

Oh wait, Jax sat back very relaxed now, it must be the who beds who sort of play. Maybe the Captain takes turns or something. Or maybe the two women share more than he was figuring. Oh fuck, give it up. He couldn't tell. Just made the idea of figuring all this out even more reason to stay on the ship he loved. Maybe they were bad luck, these sea witches, but they were a hell of a kick to watch. That and the Captain who wiggled around them both.

Jax laughed. “Opportunities?” Jax pushed his chair back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I hope to hell it’s not some idea to beat coins from some other crew.” He grinned at them all sure they all felt the game had not been as fun as promised. But then, some of them were women. Some of them didn’t know much about fun.

“And tell me please there was more to this circle than just cards.” Jax's smile was light, thin and questioning the Captain more than any expression of joy.

[AmongHeroes]

Thomas closed his eyes at Antonia’s first presses against the muscles of his shoulders and neck. The stress that seemed to melt free with each new touch of her fingers brought a welcoming sense of clarity to a mind marred with alcohol and a lack of sleep. As she began to whisper into his ear, Thomas’ eyes opened slowly, the copper iris’ starring distantly across the Parakeet as she spoke.

He let out a quiet sigh, she spoke truly. Thomas was being too hard upon the first mate and the sea-artist. Whatever their reasoning, his expectation to be treated as just another member of the crew was too lofty a goal. That realization brought another sigh from his lips, as a part of him longed for the simplistic joy of just being a sailor once again. There was a familiar romanticism to being high in the rigging, releasing sails, and balancing upon the spars, without any further care than the task at hand and the gold promised at the end of the horizon.

Thomas forced that thought from his mind, as it was nothing more than a passing fancy. A smile came to his lips with Antonia’s teasing about him longing for a kiss from Nicolette or Jax. He did not reply, instead reaching behind him to pinch her thigh, which was more like a gentle squeeze through the thick folds of her skirts.

He looked to his First Mate as he noticed her rise partially from her chair, and then abruptly resume her seat. When she spoke, her tone made his brows rise in surprise, and his manner evolved into one of apology.

“Please, Madame,” he said with a slight wave of his hand, “be at ease. I sit before you as a captain at the behest of no king, and I do not require such formal address.”

Though his voice and expression spoke to a manner of reconciliation, he had no intention of withdrawing his disappointment fully, and thusly he offered no apology. Antonia’s words were a potent elixir, but not a soul alive possessed speech required for Thomas to completely rescind his natural inclinations.

Thomas looked now to Jax. “I assure you that your evening has not been in vain, the weight of your purse notwithstanding. I have brought you all here because among my crew you are the most paramount to the Skate’s success upon the high seas, and your stake in this coming matter bears your opinion to be heard.”

He brought his hands into his lap, and looked between all three of them. “As you well know, these are the months that the Spanish treasure fleets sail from New Spain to Havana, and thence on to Cádiz. We also know that attacking the fleet is nothing short of suicide, for their numbers are too vast, and their cannon much too plentiful.”

At this comment, the corners of Thomas’ mouth creased to a frown. “Now, some weeks back, you may recall a hurricane that passed through the northern Windward Passage. We were at the southern expanse of its fury, and thusly bore little harm from it, but…” Thomas leaned forward, his expression brightening. “There was a Donnish treasure ship, sailing amongst the fleet, which did not receive such favorable treatments.”

“We have it on good authority,” Thomas said without looking to Antonia, “that this ship was spotted aground within the Serrana Islands, east of Guatemala. As of now, we four are the only known people in Port Royal capable of grasping this opportunity.”

His eyes looked to each of them in turn. “The task is daunting, but the rewards would be unimaginable. What say you?”

[Igraine]

Antonia's fingers played lightly a moment longer with the longish gold-auburn ends of Thomas' hair as he began to speak, before she moved to take her seat once more. She was content to see that smile returned to his face, and wondered if Thomas had the least notion what a roguish light burned in his own copper eyes when he spoke of these grand ventures.

Antonia chuckled softly under her breath as she sat back in her seat, lifting her mug of wine to her lips. "Good authority" indeed. But when Captain Lightfoot had finished briefing the crew assembled, she lifted her mug of wine in a silent toast of approval, smiling widely as she nodded to all three assembled that yes, yes of course she was all in with the proffered plan. Antonia took another long drink of her wine, her gaze falling to the first mate and the helmsman expectantly -

"Tante 'Tonia?"

Small fingers tapped her shoulder. Startled, the rogue shot straight up in her chair, only just barely sparing her dignity and keeping most of the wine from sputtering out her nose. While the others certainly may have seen the boy approaching behind her in his long white linen nightshirt, Antonia knew exactly who to blame for his impossibly silent steps, and cursed incomprehensibly between coughs. She spun about in her chair, catching her breath and remembering her smile.

Luc's dark, amber-lit eyes met her own, somber and large set in that cherubic face with the halo of ebony curls. "Tante 'Tonia," he whispered, his gaze traveling over the other adults gathered at the table, lighting a touch longer on Captain Lightfoot, the man with the gold coins, "I had a nightmare. You weren't abed yet... "

Antonia chuckled, shaking her head at her own foolishness, even as she ran her fingers lovingly over the boy's tousled head. She did not need to ask why he had not sought out his Maman or his Papa tonight. When the Dusk Skate was docked in Port Royal, it was Tante 'Tonia the story teller, the bringer of sweet dreams and silly laughter from the seas who chased away any night terrors. Antonia stood to her feet, nodding politely to them all as she took Luc's smaller hand in her own.

"Pardonnez-moi," she said softly, ready to take the boy back to his room when he stopped still, peering over his shoulder back to the table, to the intriguing adults gathered about the coin and the drink and all that food.

"Tante 'Tonia, I should like a slice of papaya with candied ginger before bed. Perhaps it would calm my stomach?"

Antonia blinked in genuine surprise as she looked down at the boy, and then her eyes narrowed shrewdly, thoughtfully. Crafty little thing, he was, and she almost laughed aloud as she watched his gaze move from the grandly-generous captain, to the smiling helmsman with the spectacular lengths of barely-tended blonde hair, to the first mate. Luc's sight lingered some moments on those stunning pale eyes and all that golden hair caught back from her angelic face, and it was his turn to blink now.

"Please?"

The rogue laughed to herself, still holding the boy's hand as she answered his sweetly duplicitous plea without a word. Taking her seat once more, she offered him her arms to climb into her lap, but Luc took a stop back, shaking his head as he let loose her hand and pushed up a seat from a nearby table, on the side of the table closest to the lovely Nicolette.

Antonia covered her mouth with her fingers, to keep the laughter behind her lips. "You may stay a moment longer, mon petit chou-chou," she whispered to Luc, even as his gaze was drawn, time and time again, to linger on the first mate, "But you may not interrupt the conversation of the adults. You understand, yes?"

Antonia smiled as she halved a papaya with her knife, deftly scooping the seeds from the from the fruit to an extra plate, before halving the cleaned piece yet again and setting both pieces before Luc. "The man with the smile, he is Monsieur Jax. He steers the Dusk Skate," she bent to whisper in his ear as he ate the papaya, "And Capitaine Lightfoot you met earlier today, did you not?"

The little boy nodded agreeably, smiling through the ring of papaya juice over his lips. Oh yes, he remembered the man with the gold piece very well! "And this is the First Mate, Mademoiselle Nicolette."

Luc studied the exquisite woman a moment longer, before leaning to Antonia. "Tante 'Tonia, do you think she knows she wears men's clothing?" he whispered.

Antonia bit her lip the inside of her lip, hard, the only sign of her mirth her softly shaking shoulders. "Yes Luc, I imagine she is well aware of this."

"She is still so lovely, like the statues of the Blessed Virgin or one of the angels in the church vestibule."

Antonia reached to the tray she had brought earlier, picking up a few pieces of the candied ginger with her fingers to set before the boy, though her grey eyes turned to the first mate with a slow, thoughtful smile. "Aye Luc, 'tis true, she is."

[tirgesfu]

Woman and babies?! Here they sit with cards, rum, speaking of Spanish gold and conquest with woman and babies! Jax knew this night could hardly get stranger. So he had to do what was in his nature, swear, “Cold sea hell’s and storm struck balls.” Then he laughed. It was hardly. It was loud. It was lean back his head and let all the caught up air right out there as if blowing something up to the rafter. Shit, this was funny right? Funny enough to fall head first into.

When he had taken the time to enjoy his own release he waved his hands as if to apologize, although he really won’t. He sat back up right and folded his arms again over his chest trying hard, and not succeeding, to look much more serious. Hiding his grin he looked to the young lad who sit, very nicely, in Tante Tonia’s arms. “So we see you are not so unskilled in that job offer made.” He smiled to Tonia, oh yes, he was going to remember that name. “And you lad? I have yet to learn who this lucky lad be.” Jax uncrossed his arms and pleaded forgiveness with his smiles to the boy, “Between you and me," He leaned over the table toward the boy in that oh so nice lap, then glanced to the first mate, "She wears 'em damn better than most, don't ya think, statue or not." He grinned and turned back,"After this important meeting, my contribution very sought after and needed, I have something for you.” Moving his finger quick to his lips his eyes wide Jax added, “But hush, hush, tis a secret for later."

He turned to his Captain and attempted to control his humor. “It can be done, Capt’n. And I say we,” He had to chuckle at that, woman and babies, “are just the ones to do it.”

Jax sat back and shook his head, oh yea, strange night indeed.

[Lillian Thorne]

Nicki bit her tongue when the captain dismissed her address of him in formal terms, her brow furrowing in discomfort. She ached to correct him, to tell him he was captain and as such the health of the ship relied upon the public display of deference to him. She understood well how relaxing one’s grip even a little meant for more work in the long run. She did not call him captain and treat him with respect for his ego, or at least not solely. She did so to model and encourage such respect and deference in those below her.

She let it pass without comment because they were not on the ship and there was no one to see but a little boy with curls and eyes that followed her and made her uncomfortable. That this boy was somehow connected to Antonia who saw far, far too much did not please her. She kept her eyes straight ahead, to a space just past the captain’s shoulder and considered his other, less scandalous words, keeping her scar in the shadow cast from the lamp, certain that was what had the boy’s attention. She let Jax and Antonia speak to the boy and focused on the mission.

A straggling treasure ship was rich, fat prey waiting to be plucked. The question was how had they come by this information and how many others had it as well? She was more concerned with competition than she was with resistance. A storm addled ship, alone, even with fat treasure wasn’t going to give up much resistance, not without support. That treasure was not the sailor’s and she doubted they would lay down their lives for it. But other vultures might have heard about it in the same was as the Skate had and they would put up more fight, they would be in better shape to put up a challenge.

Speed was their key, she knew. Speed to get there first, speed to spirit it away from anyone else, including its rightful owners. They could do it, she was certain. Her eyes dipped to the helmsman as he chatted with the boy whose eyes were unaccountably still on her and she jerked her head away in discomfort. Unsettling child. She considered the Helmsman, a newer addition to the ship, much as she was. He had been skilled thus far and had he not unsettled her so thoroughly she might have had an easier time admitting his skill. But she thought he was up for the task and she knew that she was up for the task of pulling from the men their best work through a mix of intimidation, authority and discipline. They could do it, if they were fast.

From what she’d seen before she left the ship to come to this card game, the captain had preparations well under way so it was only a matter of them agreeing which seemed like a mere formality. She didn’t understand and that, coupled with the eyes of that unsettling child who was nibbling on ginger still fastened on her made her tense and tight. Her sense of well-being and control which had been won in the card game and well worth the cost in gold began to fray in the presence of confusion and scrutiny. Despite the Captain’s earlier request, she did not soften her rigid pose, nor did she let the formal register slip from her honeyed tongue when she spoke.

“I think I do not understand why you asked this of us, Captain. I saw much activity when we left the ship, preparations for a journey, no? So that tells me that you have made up your mind and we are doing this thing. Which is right, we should do this thing. I am in agreement. So I wonder only why you made it a request. Were you hoping to see if you could shake loose some dead weight? Or did you wish to measure something within us?”

She suspected the latter but simply raised a honeyed brow and looked past his shoulder, waiting for an answer, her fingers still in a deathly tight grip around the bottle.

[Igraine]

Antonia took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she closed her eyes, settling back into her chair for a moment. So much mistrust with this one, this Nicolette Beauchamp. There was simply... so much broken inside her soul no matter the cool, hard exterior, all the prickly shards pulled back together into some semblance of a woman, held together by that white-knuckled grip in her head.

Antonia could not help but wonder if the first mate truly understood how her perfectly controlled, deliberately formal way of speaking might seem to this captain. No, the rogue decided, she simply... Did not. To this moment Nicolette seemed to measure all men, all crews, all captains and mates by the jagged yardage of her betrayers.

All this passed through the rogue's thoughts in less than an instant, Antonia's grey eyes opening as she rose gracefully to her feet once more. This time though, she did not move to Thomas' side, but rather past Luc in his own chair beside her, tapping the top of his head soundly with her fingertip. "A gentleman does not stare at a lady, no matter how lovely he may find her. 'Tis rude and unbecoming, and such ogling is best left to men like Monsieur Jax, who have neither dignity nor manners to uphold," she said lightly, casually as she continued past the boy, giving the helmsman a cockeyed lilt of a smile and an amused arch of an eyebrow.

For his part, Luc cringed just a little, his smile sheepish and apologetic as his gaze quickly averted from the angelic Nicolette to the aforementioned Monsieur Jax, where it transformed into as impish a smile as even the helmsman could have wished. The boy had already decided that, gentleman or no, he certainly liked the smiling man with the promise of something special, just for him. Jax's curses had not shaken him in the least. Luc was a child of Port Royal after all, and his Papa the owner and proprietor of the Parakeet. There was precious little salty language, or any creative combination thereof, that was new to the boy.

"Luc, sir. I mean to say, Jean-Luc Williams, Monsieur Jax - but most everyone calls me Luc." His dark eyes darted furtively toward his Tante 'Tonia, who had told him to remain silent while the adults spoke. Even so, he had been torn whether that meant he should ignore the helmsman's question, or disobey his Aunt. It was Jax's easy smile that decided the matter for him, though he fell silent once more quickly enough, nibbling on a corner of candied ginger to keep his wayward tongue best occupied.

Antonia slowly leaned over the table near to the first mate's shoulder, smiling tenderly, almost familiarly as her warm fingers wrapped about the neck of the rum bottle, laying lightly over Nicolette's own.

"I pray I do not speak out of turn, but anything that has begun, can always be ended of course," she said simply, not in the least surprised to hear that Thomas had already set preparations underway. The turnaround time required for this venture was, Antonia knew very well, near unprecedented. "As you might imagine, the concerns and thoughts of the Skate's first mate and her helmsman carry a great deal of weight. This is no light undertaking after all, and... "

Antonia reached toward the tray, for a wooden cup. "Shall I pour you some rum while you consider, Mademoiselle Beauchamp? Although if I may?" The rogue's smile widened, a genuinely warm light rising to her eyes.

"Earlier this very day, I offered our Captain Silver Fish a flagon of bumbo." Grey eyes flashed mischievously toward Thomas before she continued, her voice just as easy and pleasant as ever. "But he must have his piss water grog. Have you ever tried it, bumbo? 'Twould be my pleasure to introduce you to a proper drink: rum and a bit of sugar, spiced nicely with nutmeg."