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The port was not large, but it was important. It was a place for friendly ships to restock supplies, communicate and trade. The area had been known for its number of pirates – cut down in recent years. An important Governor had been appointed to oversee the island, and moved there with his daughter. His late wife had been stricken with a mysterious disease that slowly made her wither away a month before they
were set to depart. A fearful heart, the doctors had declared.

The day was beautiful on the small island. The evening, even more so. Alice was dressed in a pale green evening gown, her black tresses tucked up into an elaborate wig. The dress flared out from her waist, and the corset held her rather tightly. Not too tightly, thankfully. She’d heard some stories about ladies fainting due to being unable to breathe. When she was feeling naughty, she thought about it being the tight embrace of a secret lover – perhaps the taut arms of their stable boy… Although, it was an embrace tight enough that she couldn’t yawn.

Their garden was decorated with delicate tables and chairs, waiters slipping in and out of crowds of older people. Alice was one of few young souls here, and had to content herself with making conversation with important people. It was boring. The older men seemed to talk more to her chest than her face, and the older women twittered on and on about how ‘X’ had married, ‘Y,’ and ‘What a mistake that was’…

Eventually extracting herself from the clouds of perfume and powdered wigs, she quietly slipped away while her father was distracted (he certainly would not approve!). Down the garden path she padded in her slippers, holding her skirts above the grass. The thought of loneliness in the half-light and eventual darkness did not even occur to her. After all, she was the governor’s daughter, and she was always looked after.

Alice took a seat on the small stone bench at the end of the path, sighing contentedly. This place had a wonderful view of the sea, and the air was far fresher than it had been at the party. Her father hosted these kinds of occasions sometimes. To be honest, she’d rather be somewhere else. Perhaps on a ship of the Empire, or side-saddle on a horse with a prince of a far-away land…

The wig was scratchy. Reaching up to her head, she fiddled before pulling it off her head. Black locks tumbled down her shoulders, and she gave her head a quick shake. It didn’t matter; she’d stay here for the rest of the night if she could anyway. Her lips were still painted red, and she dabbed at them with a finger to see if her lipstick was still there. It was, thankfully. It was one of few things that her father tolerated – at least it was ladylike.
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A small, wooden rowboat silently made its way through the water to an unmanned dock. Shadows seamlessly and silently helped each other crawl up onto the dilapidated platform and scurried to an area of shrubbery to avoid being detected, and once they had all congregated, they formed a line and nearly dove into the greenery that seemed to stretch on for miles. There was a breeze that rustled the leaves around them, and the moon shined brightly down on the men that had smuggled themselves onto the island. Eye contact was made between all of them, and one nodded as if to signal that it was time to begin.

Vic led of trail of five through the dense brush that covered the hill leading up to the Governor’s house, a few whispering amongst themselves and laughing when they’d bump into one another. Vic tried his best not to crack a smile at the conversations happening behind him, but as they neared the elaborately structured home that sat at the top of the hill, he stopped and put a hand up behind him. “Aye, aye, shut it now, boys,” he said in a harsh whisper. He turned his body around to face them, remaining in the crouching position they had all been in. “By the looks of it, the party has already started. Now, we’re grabbing the first important person we see, even if it’s the bloody Governor himself,” he announced as a smirk crept up on his lips, which the motley crew before him returned. “We’re here to send a message, not to loot or execute, so try to contain yourselves, you heathens.” He winked and signaled two of the men to follow him, leaving three behind in the brush.

As the threesome finished scaling the rest of the steep, rocky terrain, Vic stopped abruptly and signaled for silence once again. His eyes locked onto the woman sitting on a stone step, whose pale skin reflected the moon’s glow; it was a stunning contrast to the darkness around them. Vic looked to the men behind him and nudged his head towards the woman, as if to say that she was the one they were taking. The men nodded in agreement, and they split up to surround the young woman. When they were all in position, Vic crept up behind her and simultaneously slipped one hand over her mouth, and another around her her tightly secured waist. He put his mouth up to her ear and spoke quietly, “Scream, and I will kill you. Try to hurt me, and I’ll hand you over to my men. You’re coming with me.”

He dragged her up to a standing position and pulled her back towards the brush that they had come from. Both men greeted them, one holding two strips of linen – one to gag her and the other to blind fold her. They swarmed her and went to work to secure her, and Vic held her fragile hands behind her back with his large, rough one. “Watch your step,” he said sarcastically to the women, which made the two men nearly bust out with laughter. He pushed her through the brush until they reached the rest of the crew, then they continued down to the dock. Vic picked up the light woman and held her as they got into the small boat, the rest of the men climbing in behind them. The crew all gather oars and began to make their way back to the ship that was lurking off the shore.

Once they reached the Black Star, Vic threw the woman over his shoulder and boarded with the crew. Other members of the ship crowded around the men as they returned, and Vic smiled and nodded, watching them take notice of who he was carrying. M He took her to the Captain’s quarters and plopped her down on a seat, removing her blindfold and gag. He took a moment to eye the woman from head to toe. “So," he began as he paced back in forth in front of her, "With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"
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The bushes and foliage around Alice whispered to themselves, fronds flapping against eachother in the light breeze. Ah, the night was beautiful, but she was all alone. Perhaps she wouldn't always be alone. Although, perhaps being alone was better than being with some old gentleman she had to call her husband. Her father had plenty of ideas about that. Alice did not.

And then, a shadow fell across her - what? Her heart jumped in her chest and skipped a beat. She stopped breathing in terror as his hands held her waist and her mouth shut. She'd never known violence, nor the unwanted touch of a man. She made a muffled sound, trying to turn her head as small sobs of fright escaped her. Alice was a lady, no matter how much she might dream of other lives. It was all that she knew.

Tears stained the rough material that covered her eyes, as she tripped and stumbled in her slippers. It had been a perfectly fine night. She'd been safe. The people there didn't want to hurt her. And her father- her father was there. A squeak escaped Alice as she was swung and up over someone's shoulder - it seemed to be the man who'd initially captured her. Being unable to see or scream was terrifying. When he removed her blindfold and gag, she stared at him with red-rimmed green eyes.

"Wh-why?" she stuttered, trembling from head to toe. It was a strange sight - all dressed up in her dress in this dark place. He was intimidating, and tall, and dark and powerful. So much more powerful now than she was, sitting on this chair in this place. What was he going to do to her? "Please... Please don't hurt me. Please don't- don't- don't do anything to me." Her voice cracked pitifully.

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It Vic was 10 years younger, he'd be furious with himself for letting a poor girl become so frightened because of him. But because of what he'd seen, what he'd done, the trembling, small woman in front of him did not phase him a bit. He had a purpose which fueled his determination to get what he needed, no matter who or what he needed to step on to get it. That was one of his best and worst qualities. The selfishness to achieve what he wanted.

He sighed at her remarks and nearly rolled his eyes. "Look, I know who you are, but I don't know your name. You're the Governor's daughter." He stopped his pacing and stood in front of her, amused at how she flinched whenever he moved. "Well, if it makes you feel better. I'm Vic. Known in these parts as "The Incubus," although I never was fond of that name. You're on my ship, The Black Star, some miles away from your precious port." He grinned at his last comment. "We left an emblem where we borrowed you from. Your father will know you are with me and my men. I have to say, he's not our biggest fan."

His eyes scanned his room for the half empty bottle of rum he had left there. "Ah," he mumbled, walking over to his desk where it sat next to an intricately drawn map. He took a swig, slammed it back down, and walked over to the shaking girl in his wooden chair. He used the sleeve of his white linen shirt to remove remnants of the alcohol that were in his facial hair. "Alright, let us try this again. What is your name?" He glared at her unforgivingly. He did not want to waste this much time on mere conversation. "And do you have any skills to make yourself a useful prisoner while you are here?"

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Her father, he- he knew where she was? A glimmer of hope sparked in Alice's chest, even as the object of her terror paced in front of her. She hung her head slightly, pieces of black hair falling forward and obscuring her face. There was even a sense of embarrassment about her - she'd only ever looked like this in the morning, when she woke up. And now like this, in front of a man; a pirate no less. He hadn't said that he wouldn't hurt her. At least an older gentleman wouldn't hurt her. Why had she not listened to her father?

Alice watched Vic's every move, feeling completely and utterly helpless. But the word - borrowed? Was he planning on using her as a bartering chip? Oh, please. It had happened to one of her father's friends before - pirates had captured his ship while on the seas. A couple of months later, he was delivered home for an exchange of gold - skinny, dishevelled but alive. Her figure mattered little in comparison to her life.

The strength of his stare was frightening, and she glanced away. "I am Alice Rohan," she said. Although her voice trembled, it hadn't dropped in volume. She'd been trained in diction all her young life (those lessons were supremely dull). Was he now asking her to barter for her life? Alice had to think for a moment. What had she been taught in her life, that was actually useful? "I can... sew?" Her green eyes skipped down his clothing. She'd learned ladies' sewing, but it should be applicable enough to men's clothing - and far less complicated.

It was getting a bit hard to breathe in the corset. What with the frantic beating of her heart, she was taking quick breaths - and they were shallow, too. A hand came to rest gently on her stomach area, below her chest. Alice averted her eyes as she concentrated on breathing.
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"Ah, yes, Alice," he said slowly, satisfied and smirking. He turned his body away from her to look out the small window in his room. "Well, Alice, I'll tell you, the Black Star has never had a seamstress," he chuckled, imagining that his men's clothing was in retched condition. They had been at sea for a long time, and the fact they truly resembled a motley crew never bothered them, but who knows? It could be nice to have a woman's touch on the the dominant ship. Any women they came in contact with was usually at a port that they pillaged or taverns they frequented. Who knew that pristine ladies loved pirates so much?

Vic swiveled back around when he heard the labored breathing from Alice. "Aye, are you alright?" he asked with a raised eyebrow looking at her torso. He walked behind the trembling girl, examined the delicate buttons that laced up her back, and yanked on them, causing them to undo to her lower back. "One of those bloody things. I don't know how a lady does it," he said unamused, his rough fingers beginning to work at the ties that were obviously causing the woman pain. Once it was disassembled, he pulled from one side and somehow slid the piece off of her while her dress remained in place.

He strutted into her view once again, dangling the corset in his hand. "No need for such things on the Black Star, m'lady," he spoke sternly, the last work oozing with sarcasm. He threw it across his room into the corner. "Well, as much as you would probably assume I was, I am not a savage. And I must keep you alive. My men are quite... lively. So," his eyes darted towards his bed. "You can rest in here for the duration of your stay. I'll turn in with my men below the deck. Please don't do anything to upset your hosts." He turned towards the French doors that separated his room from the deck, grabbing his bottle of rum from the desk and exiting the room. "Sweet dreams, Alice Rohan."
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It worked. It seemed he approved of her suggestion. Relief washed through Alice, but it was mixed with anxiety - from both the situation and the corset that was suffocating her. They weren't made for fright or exertion. And then, as her hand clutched at her breast, he noticed. The pirate, Vic, he approached her once more. She didn't know what was more frightening - him or the corset. "It's-"

At that moment, he seemed to yank her back. She let out a squeak of fright, eyes squeezing tight and fingers forming fists. Half-moon crescents dug into the palms of her hand. Oh... what? He was undoing her corset? Red rushed into her cheeks. Admittedly, he was handsome and young. But he was a pirate. And it would be so easy for him to ruin her right now, if the strength he had in those hands was any indicator. Her arms crossed over her chest modestly when he pulled it off. "Thank you," she said, not making eye contact. The first man to undress her - well, in a way. He smelled like sweat and sea and salt.

His conversation was a surprise. He wasn't planning on throwing her to the crew; that had been her worst fear. And he wasn't going to take her, either. She sat on that chair, watching him leave her and the door click shut. Alice let out a long, low breath, tears filling in her eyes again. It looked hopeless. But at least he seemed to want to keep her safe. Getting up from the chair, she felt the sway of the sea beneath her trembling feet. At least she was used to it - the trip from England to here had taken months. Walking to the window, she stared out at the night-time ocean for just a moment. Calm and fluid and free. Unlike her. Glancing at the bed, she thought about the possibility of lice and fleas. But it was probably better than the floor. Walking to it, she sat timidly on the edge. A man's bed, and it smelled like him too.
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As Vic exited the room, he took a moment to stand at the edge and watch the dark water lapping at the sides of his ship. He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. There was a possibility that this plan wasn't going to work and that the Governor would blow the Black Star out of the water, but Vic would die a bloody and noble death before he let that happen. He loved the ship, almost as if it was a beautiful woman. It had been his for 3 years, and in captain's years, it was probably that he would die soon, whether it be in battle or disease. Vic had accepted the fact that he would die young a very long time ago.

He rubbed his face and sighed, and began to walk down into the stomach of the boat. "Aye, boys, would you like a little company?" he asked in the most feminine voice he could produce. His men went along, beginning to hoot and holler at Vic. He drank heavily and talked with the men for a few more hours into the night, squeezing himself into a corner where he could fit and finally nodding off the sleep.

------------------------

"Aye, bloody hell," he mumbled to himself as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He immediately felt the rum from last night as he stood up from the corner he was sleeping in. His eyes scanned the room, his men still asleep on the floor, none looking alive. He began to rub his temples as he stepped over the snoring crew and made his way up to the deck. The sun instantly blinded him, and he loudly cursed as he stumbled across the deck to the Captain's quarters.

He swung open the doors and immediately remembered the presence of the woman in his room. "Aye! Alice," he said surprised as he saw the figure in his bed. "My apologies. I will only be a minute." He avoided making eye contact with her as he sat down at the desk in his room in front of the map that he had drawn himself. He used a quill to track the movements of the ship. He knew he looked rough and felt even rougher, and he didn't want to attract attention because of it. "You can get your rations," he spoke in a gravelly voice, "from Piney down in the galley. My men know of your skill and will begin to bring clothing to you." He cleared his throat and stood up, making eye contact with the girl. "You can borrow what you need if you want to change out of that," he offered as his eyes landed on the dress laying on the bed. "Once we hit land, you can buy something more...practical."

With that, Vic exited once again and made his way to the side of the ship. The water below them was crystal clear and a vibrant blue color which made him smile from ear to ear. He stripped down, but not without the whistles coming from his men. "Aye, enough, you savages," he yelled back with a smile as he dove head first into the water below. It felt exquisite, almost warm and cold at the same time. He loved the sea, and it loved him back.
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Alice barely slept, and what few winks she had were restless. It had been a while since the trip here, and she felt a little nauseous inbetween dark slumber. At one point, she panicked, unable to remember where she was and why - the reality of her situation did nothing to calm her nerves. She was finally awoken when the door was opened, and a soft shriek escaped her as she gathered the blankets around her. She hadn't been stupid enough to strip right down, of course - she was wearing her undergarments and petticoat. She watched him with wide green eyes, slightly perturbed as he had the audacity to sit down.

The girl watched him leave before relaxing once more. Rations... What were they meant to be? And she was supposed to just saunter along to the galley? Vic seemed to trust that she wouldn't throw herself overboard with a weight. Vic... It was probably short for Victor. Or Victoire. But he didn't sound French. Her gaze met the dress she'd laid carefully over the bottom of the bed - it was certainly impractical. But surely none of their clothes would fit her; and they were probably infested with all manner of diseases in any case. There was a fleeting thought - if she was to dress as a boy, would she be able to slip away? It would involve the cutting of her hair, but... no. They'd catch her. They'd kill her.

Slipping into the dress again, she fastened it with stiff fingers. Sudden shouting and a splash caught her attention, and she glanced out of the window. Was that... Vic? Slightly naked? Blushing despite herself, she turned suddenly away, and headed to the door. Her hand hovered over the handle, then she slowly opened it. Her jaw was set, head held high. Her father had invested in many lessons of propriety for her. One of the most important rules was dignity. She could feel as eyes turned to her, and she stepped out of the room. There were a couple of murmurs, a call or two. Ignoring them, she scanned the deck for the galley. It was generally the same on all ships, and she started across the deck.
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Vic was floating in the water when he looked up to see all of his men's heads focused on the middle of the ship. "Ah!" he yelled. "Sleeping beauty had decided to grace us with her presence!" He swam toward a rope hanging down the side of the ship and he climbed up. He was wearing nothing but breeches, which seemed pretty decent to his standards, and he climbed on board and shook himself off. His guess was correct, the men had gathered around the woman, staring at her either curiously or with hunger.

"I must have forgotten my manners," said Vic in a loud, stern voice as he strolled up Alice, taking a spot next to her. "My noble and honorable men of The Black Star, I would like to introduce you to the Governor's daughter, Alice Rohan. Now, I despise her father as much as you do, boys. But he will not adhere to our demands if we don't return her as the lady she was when she arrived. With that said, no horseplay. Do not touch her, do not hurt her. God knows what you scoundrels have ravaging on your bodies," Vic said with a smile as the crew erupted with laughter. "She will be making herself useful while she is here, so please, bring her any garments that need repair. She will be staying in my quarters temporarily." He looked to her and nodded before continuing. "We will be arriving at Isla Imorda tomorrow. Let's do what we need to do before we arrive. Mop the decks, collect what we'll barter with, make room for more rations. Thank you, my fine gentlemen." The crew yelled back an "Aye!" and they dispersed.

He turned to meet Alice's gaze. "Well, you may bathe if you wish," he said as he nodded to the ocean down below. "I need my quarters for mapping and to dry off," he said smiling, noticing her red cheeks, becoming aware of her eyes scanning his dark, scarred, and tattooed torso. She must have been very sheltered, he thought, as he recounted her actions since she'd been brought on the ship. Vic was used to only dealing with the drunken woman who were at the taverns, who were anything but innocent, or female pirates themselves. Seeing someone who seemed so pure and frightened was amusing, and it sparked a curiosity in him. She must have thought he was a monster. Maybe he was.

He bowed sarcastically to the woman and headed for his quarters. He removed the wet pants he was wearing and slipped on a dry pair, and he walked back out of his room momentarily to hang them. Upon returning, he plopped down at his desk and cracked his knuckles before picking up the feather and dipping it in a jar of black ink. When they arrived at Isla Imorda, he'd have a letter ready to be sent to the governor, demanding that he lift the ban on pirates accessing the island. The fact that the man could come and interrupt an unspoken agreement between the high class society and the pirates that had been held for a century infuriated Victor. The Pirates brought goods from other territories that those at the port greatly enjoyed, and the Vic and his crew would earn tremendously. They had tried to negotiate with the new governor to no avail, so Alice was his last resort. He sighed as he stared at he blank scroll before him, at a loss for how to word his ransom letter.
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Alice stopped in place, wincing slightly as the loud, arrogant voice of Vic blared out from below. He really was overconfident; strutting his stuff in front of his men. Precocious. That was the word. It curled around her tongue, whispered in her ear. She would love to insult him. But she couldn't risk that. So long as she was quiet and didn't draw too much attention to herself - he should leave her alone. In any case, she felt embarrassed around him. Vic was crass, and she wasn't used to his men leering at her. It wasn't like women were common on the high seas, and she was becoming acutely aware of her femininity amongst them.

The sight of his near-bare body did nothing to help her fluster when he came near. Clearing her throat softly, she found it was slightly difficult to look away from his torso. Apart from it being - well - fit, it was also tattooed and scarred and tanned. Even the stableboy hadn't looked like that - a mere boy in comparison to the man standing next to her. It was sort of like the sun. Only quick glances, and only then for a second. When the men dispersed, she breathed a small sigh. She shook her head at his suggestion; she certainly would not be going in there with all of these men milling around the deck. And when he bowed to her, she couldn't help it. Her anger with him was brewing, and she curtsied sarcastically back. How dare he hold her, Alice Rohan? The daughter of a governor, no less. A moment later, she regretted it - she'd probably pay. Who knew what could happen?

She made her way to what seemed to be the galley, descending the steps into half-light below. There was a young boy, no older than his 'teens - she asked him about Piney. After all, her stomach was starting to complain a bit. Although his mouth was vulgar and he stared at her chest for all of the conversation, he was obliging enough and set her in the correct direction. She arrived in what seemed to be a small kitchen, set up with pots and large barrels of food and water. Piney was a small, thickset man with a stomach that protruded over his breeches. He, too, let his eyes roam freely as he gathered together her rations for the morning meal. No lunch, and she'd have the stew with the crew for dinner. He seemed no-nonsense, someone who wouldn't be giving out food freely. He also supplied her with a full waterskin, telling her to come back in the evening for more.

She left the galley with a piece of bread, an apple and a flask. It was nothing compared to what she was used to. Nothing. But she was hungry, and it was food. Perhaps she'd have a nibble. Once again, she felt the glances as she passed over the exposed deck. One or two men called out something, but she ignored them. Coming to the door, she hesitated before calling through. "May I enter?"
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The sound of the woman's voice shook him from his intense focus on the letter he was attempting to write. "Aye, it's fine." He rolled up the parchment and slid it to the side of the desk, and as he stood, he stretched and walked towards where a linen shirt was hanging. He grabbed it and slid it on, turning back around to her. "Hate to make the lady uncomfortable," he mumbled as he finished dressing. He held out his hand to signal for her to take a seat on the chair, and after she obliged, he sat on the bed across from her.

"First and foremost, I hope that you have found The Black Star to be accommodating. I take great pride in my ship and my men. I understand they are probably looking at you as a dog to meat, but I assure you, their bark is worse than their bite. Unless you are the enemy, then they are indeed adequate." He ran his fingers through his hair, and then leaned towards her, clasping his hands together. "My intentions are not to harm you during your stay, but I do need to know that you'll stay put and do as your told. You'll return to your fine silver and elegant parties as long as you do not try to do anything that would make me doubt your honesty. Your father," he paused, clearing his throat, "has decided to cross not only myself and my crew, but the rest of the brave men of the seas who have done nothing but respect your port. Taking you was purely business. You are a very important piece in the game I am playing." He straightened his posture before continuing. "Now, let us imagine that your father does not listen to my very reasonable requests. What is to become of you?" he questioned her rhetorically as he smirked. "Well, let's just hope Daddy loves his daughter enough to listen to the Ol' Captain, aye?"

He stood up and straightened his garments. "Now, I am no animal. I may not be a refined gentleman that I assume you're so very used to, but I am a man of my word, and if there is something that would make your stay more comfortable, within reason, I shall honor it." He stuck out his large, scarred hand for her to shake in agreement. "As long as you do not try to escape, I will be the perfect gentleman."
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Alice walked through just as Vic was pulling his top over his head. She paused for a moment, the image of his body replaying itself in her head. What was wrong with her now? Why was she feeling so strange? He was a filthy kidnapper pirate, and probably a rapist and murderer too. She took a seat on the offered chair and rested her things on her lap. Clearly, he had things to discuss with her. Although, she wasn't too sure as to why he was going to trouble for her. In the stories she'd heard, the pirates had firstly raped any woman and then put them into the brig or a cell. Meanwhile, she was sleeping in the captain's bed. Strange.

Alice looked at the hand for a moment, rough and calloused. Then, up to Vic's face. This was strange and new to her. She slowly moved her hand into his, with the lightest of grips. She hoped he wouldn't squeeze back too hard. "Purely business," she echoed. She didn't want to know what would happen if her father didn't do this pirate's bidding. It made her feel terribly guilty that she was shaking hands with the enemy, that there seemed to be sparks going off at her hand and right up her arm, to her heart. She let go of him, hands folded politely in her lap once more. He certainly was... scarred.

"How far until the next port?"

((sorry, it's short. soo tired from all the meds!))
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He smiled at her agreement and rubbed his hands together. "Very well. We should be arriving tomorrow, about an hour after first light. We do our business in the morning, and usually at dusk we begin to celebrate the day's success. There is an inn that takes good care of us while we stay. You may even get a hot bath." He stood up and reached behind her to grab the map that he had slaved over since they took off on their voyage. "You see," he began as he flattened it out on his lap with it facing her. "Here is your port," he said as he pointed a finger to a small patch of green on the beige paper. "We are now here, hence the red dotted line. And here," he poked the map with a tad bit of force, "is Isla Imorda. One of the havens that welcomes heathens like myself with open arms." He smirked and rolled the map up.

As he stood up and reached over her once more to set it back in its place, his eyes lingered on hers for a moment. "Your eyes, the color - very rare in these parts." He leaned in closer to observe them in greater detail. "Green like the trees," he said quizzically as he backed away from her and stood up straight with his legs parted. "Well, it looks to be high noon. I will let you be as I attend to some important matters around the ship. Dinner usually starts as the sun sets, so I shall see you then, aye?"

Without waiting for a response, Victor swung the doors open and paused to take in the atmosphere - the warm sun beating on his face, the salty air filling his senses, the blue that surrounded him. Vic would rather die tomorrow at sea than spend the rest of his life on land. He turned around and closed the doors gently, but not without catching the gaze of Alice was last time. He paused for a moment and held her eye contact before he successfully shut them. It was strange, he admitted to himself, having a woman aboard. It had been roughly two years since Isa had passed, and he almost forgot the warmth a feminine touch could bring to a captain and his crew. She was someone he did not like to speak of - it brought him a feeling of vulnerability that he hated the sensation of. He was a hardened, bloody-thirsty man of the sea, and he would let nothing, including love and death, take that away from him.

He cleared his thoughts and continued down to the galley, where him and Piney hook inventory of their food supply. Vic also worked with Tiny, the young boy Alice had seen earlier, to check their stock of weapons and ammo. The Black Star had not seen a battle for a few months, which was truly a rarity for the crew, but they knew that it was only the calm before the storm. "Thanks, boy-o," Vic said to Tiny as he ruffled the hair on his head. At 6'3", he towered over the young lad, who he had come to see as a sort of little brother.

Vic finished his to do list before supper, and he decided to climb up to the crows nest to read a book he had stolen on his last plunder. The crew was still scurrying about below him, but Vic was tired. Usually, he would go retire until supper, but since Alice was occupying his quarters, this would have to suffice. He enjoyed reading. It was a vacation from the day to day grind that wore away at him. By his calculations, he would be roughly 28. But he felt old. Tired. Weathered. He had been on the sea for nearly a decade, and in that time had came within inches of death countless times. That is partly the reason he had earned the name Incubus. Foes of the crew thought he must have been otherworldly, or at least magical, for surviving as long as he did. The other reason for his nickname was obviously for his way with women. Whether they were of high social ranking or low class, they flocked to him wherever he was. He, of course, took advantage of this, usually having his way with a woman if she had shown her interest. He didn't see the need to harm a woman, since he usually remained satisfied from what he received voluntarily.

He was excited to arrive at Isla Imorda. Women, booze and food flowed freely there, and Vic felt like he deserved to indulge himself in all three. They had been out at sea, minus the short trip to Alice's port, for a while now. He felt more than ready to dive into the island as if it were the ocean itself. He envisioned the scantily dressed girls working at the inn who would rub his shoulders, feed him whatever he desired, and making sure that his pint was always full. As his imagination ran further, he shut the book and closed his eyes with a smile on his face while a large captains hat provided him shade.
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Alice leaned forward to gaze at the map, a finger coming out to gently trace the line from her home to where they were now. All that way. She suddenly felt very alone on this boat. Her father had swift ships at his command, but they'd never know which way this ship had gone. As he rolled it up, she sat up straight again, back like a poker. As he leaned over her, the very eyes he was talking about widened as her eyebrows rose. He was... very close. There was something about him that gave her the urge to touch, him, and it unsettled her. She'd never really experienced such a strong desire for something. It was something about his face, and the strength of his movements mixed with catlike grace. Watching him walk out, she noticed how tall he was. The average height of a man for the time was a couple of inches taller than herself. She'd never seen someone so tall and well-built. One of her father's soldiers, perhaps, but not quite so handsome. And for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to put her hands on his shoulders and have his hands on her waist.

She had to entertain herself for the rest of the afternoon. It wasn't exactly riveting in the small cabin. A hot bath would be wonderful at the inn, if they had such luxuries. She couldn't believe that this was what they ate on ships, she marvelled, as she bit into the apple. She'd already eaten the bread, which had been slightly stale. The apple was alright, if a little sour. One man peered inside, threw in some sort of rag (she came to learn, a shirt) and she had a look at it. It was wanting sewing for the holes. She held it between thumb and finger, nose slightly wrinkled. It smelled terrible, and even felt dirty. She'd have to ask Vic about needle and thread later. After that, Alice wandered around the room, back to the map. She pored over the little symbols and circles, intrigued by it all. They'd been to many places, lived many days, it seemed. Tapping her fingers on the table, she glanced to the door as there was a loud call.

"SUPPER! SUPPER!" came the bellow of Piney. Her stomach gave a rumble. Placing a hand on it, she glanced to the door. This could be... interesting. She stepped to the open doorway, peering out to see what was going to happen.
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Victor was awoken by the loud voice on the deck. He chuckled at the fact that he fell asleep in the crow's nest, popped up, and looked west to see, in fact, that the sun was setting. Immediately, his stomach growled. Most would probably get sick of eating the same stew every night for supper, but getting bored of food was something that pirates didn't have the pleasure of. He shimmied his way down the wood that supported the nest and dropped down to the deck. He had brief conversations with a few of his men as they headed down to the galley.

They all sat down in the room that they slept in, taking a seat where they could find one. It was a decent sized room with cots lining the walls like catacombs. There were candles scattered to illuminate the dark, wooden chamber. At the sight of Alice, he stood up and offered her the seat he had taken on the cot and sat on the floor across from her. Men were laughing and cursing as they took their places to eat, and once everyone was seating, Vic spoke. "Aye aye, boys. Time to pray," he said with a smirk as the men began to chuckle.

"Our heavenly father, we thank you for this extravagant meal that Piney has prepared for us. May it nourish our handsome bodies so that we may have the most productive time in Isla Imorda." This made the crew murmur in agreement. "Please bless us with as much liquor as we can stand, besides for Black. Please do not let him drink enough to think a man was a woman again." A roar of laughter erupted as the men jabbed a man named Black. "Can't we just forget that?" he yelled. Vic popped open an eye and looked at him. "Shush. I'm praying. May the women of Isla Imorda take care of my crew so that we may continue on our noble quest, shall the seas spare our lives. Also, thank you, father, for our new guest, Alice Rohan. May her stay on the Black Star serve its purpose, and my men stop staring at her breasts. For God's sakes, Tiny." The younger boys eyes darted away from Alice and looked up to Vic, who laughed as they made eye contact. The boy blushed the brightest shade of red. "Thank you, Father. Amen." Vic opened his eyes, and the rest of he crew said their amens.

"Boys, we have a busy day tomorrow. Take it easy on the rum and turn in early. We will be waking at first light and docking at the island soon after." As he said the last sentence, he raised the unmarked bottle of alcohol he had next to him. "Cheers, my good men." A collective "Aye!" and glasses clinking filled the room as he men began to eat. Vic looked to Alice and held out the bottle of rum as if to offer her some. He didn't take her for the type to drink, but he had promised to be a gentleman, so he offered anyway.
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Alice followed the crowd down below the deck, not making eye contact with anyone. She didn't want to attract any unwanted attention, after all. Honestly, she'd probably rather be holed up in Vic's room than down here. The air was musty and thick with the scent of hard work and man, and the room was bustling with sound and movement. She received her bowl of stew - what was that in there? - and glanced across the room. She made her way to Vic, who was sitting on a cot - and kindly moved to let her sit down. That was... rather gentlemanly for a kidnapper-pirate. With a, 'thank you,' she took her seat.

A prayer seemed strange, in this place and with these people. They seemed a rather unholy lot to her. Unless this was some sort of joke; one that she would not find very funny. As it turned out, it was a joke. Hm. And rather crass, which seemed to be in character for Vic. She glanced away from him and the rest of the crew, down at her bowl of brown stew. Her cheeks had gained colour again; she certainly needn't wear rouge around Vic. But then... some of it was funny. Had Black really down that? A small gasp of amusement escaped her, and she looked back up at Vic again. And that was when he mentioned her bosom - how crude! Suddenly feeling eyes on her, she put her hand by her collarbones and glanced away again. How terribly embarrassing... They hadn't been staring that much, had they? She could but hope that her womanly assets wouldn't inspire bad thoughts in the men. At least Tiny seemed to be embarrassed as well. It was a small comfort.

Alice picked up the spoon and brought the broth up to her mouth. There were small chunks of what seemed to be potato in it. She ate it - and still couldn't tell what it was meant to be. Beef? ...Rat? The thought was nauseating. And no salt whatsoever. Salt was a luxury, apparently. Slightly put off, she looked up as Vic moved something toward her. It was a bottle. Of what? Some sort of alcohol? She'd often drunk wine at her father's events, although more than a glass tended to make her a little silly. More than two and she started to stumble. To be honest, at least it was fun to feel that way. After a moment's hesitation, the girl took the bottle from him. It was only as she took a sip that she realised how strong it was. It burned right down her throat - she coughed, free hand coming to cover her mouth. "What- what is that?" she asked, holding it out to him. "It is extremely strong. Far moreso than red wine."

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Vic smirked and laughed as he watched the girl down the alcohol he had offered. He scooted across the floor to sit at her feet so they could hear each other; the men often were boisterous and loud at dinner. "That," he took the bottle of rum from her hand and took a swig, "is rum, love. Finest in these cluster of islands. Men like us aren't the type to drink wine." He continued to pick at his food, enjoying the warm sensation the stew had on his stomach.

"How old are you, Alice?" He said as he flicked his eyes back up to her. "If you don't mind me saying, you look very young. Are girls your age not married off by now?" He continued to eat after he questioned her. If she was indeed married, they may have an unknown enemy coming after them along with the Governor. It was best to try to extract as much information from her without causing her to shut down. He handed her the bottle once more. "You can have as much as you like, as long as you are useful tomorrow."

Hopefully, if she began to drink, he could ask her about her father. The size of the military. The weapons they had. How tough they were. He watched her investigate the stew in front of her and laughed, nearly spitting his out. "You needn't worry about its contents. I assure you, it will not kill you." He smiled and looked back down to finish the rest of his meal.
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Alice nodded at his words. Rum, of course. She'd heard about pirates and their rum somewhere before - she could only vaguely remember. It wasn't terrible tasting; certainly better than what she'd eaten today. And there was warmth pooling in her stomach now from just that (large) sip. She picked up the spoon again, taking another bite of the stew. However strange it may taste in comparison to the food cooked by their cook at home, she needed to keep her strength up. She looked at the bottle of rum for a moment before taking it from Vic.

She didn't want to lose control, of course. But what else was there to do? Perhaps she was starting to understand why pirates had a reputation for drinking so much. This place wasn't exactly mentally stimulating, and there were - usually - no women. Bad luck, so they said. "I- I am 20," she replied, caught slightly off guard. It was an infra dig question, to be sure. But everything was here, including Vic. He was very close to her legs, and it was... unsettling. Not in a bad way, which confused her. In a nervous way, almost as if he was sparking something within her. Perhaps it was the angles of his cheeks and jaw, or the muscles that moved in his forearm as he brought the stew to his mouth.

Aice took another sip of the rum, wincing again as it burned down her throat. The effects were better than the taste. So what if she got drunk? Her father wasn't here to see her. The men here would barely care. One time, she'd been bored at a party and had managed to get hold of a bottle of wine. She'd snuck down to the stables and made her way through the entire thing. The stable boy had found her giggling and dancing with one of the horses. He'd had to help her back up to her room, sworn to secrecy (as well as her handmaid). That had been fun, of what she could remember.

Taking another sip, she handed the bottle back to him. It wouldn't do to drink all of it - quite rude. But things like that were starting to seem less important now, and not just because of the alcohol. "My father has been hinting at marrying me off for ages. Most girls are at my age. But... I'm not an easy daughter to marry off." She suddenly grinned. "I'm not too keen on those old men he keeps on mentioning."
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Vic watched her as she spoke and drank, her normally prim and proper composure fading away as she began to relax. It made him smile. She was an obviously attractive woman - her pale skin, tree-green eyes, her black hair that he had yet to see other than up in a knot. He enjoyed watching her squirm whenever he came close to her, her purity and ladylike behavior still amusing him. He had noticed a piece of meat from the stew had landed on her dress, near the middle of her thigh, and without hesitation, he plucked it from her with his fingers and ate it.

"Ah, 20. What an exciting age," he said as he twirled around his spoon in the air. "Old men are awful. I am quite content with the fact that I will not live to be one," he said with a smirk as he met her gaze. "But I find it hard to believe that you are difficult to marry. You are reserved, ladylike, fair. Isn't that what all the noble men seek? What could be the issue?" After taking a swig from the bottle, he put his plates down onto the floor and offered a hand to help her stand. He brushed his legs free of any stray food and paused for a moment to look down at her to read hoe she was feeling.

"Well, would you like to continue our coversation up on the deck? The boys will usually play a bit of music, and the stars are truly a sight to see. You should probably retire soon, though. Our days on land are long and grueling." He offered a hand to lead her up on the deck.

Men sang and drank as instruments were played poorly. There were a few barrels at the edge of the deck where Vic led the woman, and as he sat, he patted the one next to him. The moon was shining brightly on her light skin and eyes. He felt a smiling curling on his lips at the sight. "Now, Miss Rohan, do you have any questions? Anything about my men or myself that you wish to become privy to? We are indeed an interesting bunch."
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