Long Awaited Journey [skiyn&onelite)

Tenby was a small fishing town south-west of Wales - the surrounding shores filled fishing boats - fishing boats filled with old fishermen who talked all day of casting nets, fishing, alcohol and better days - of fishing, and alcohol.

The sky was beginning to escape it's dark dreary state, and specks of light could be seen to peak through the drifting clouds, the sun rising at it did across the sea-line. Sea-gulls darted and cried across the port, as if the celebrate the rising of a new day, and to wake up the fish from their slumber.

A different kind of vessel was visiting this morning, scabbered, uncleaned, barnacles manifesting it's every edge - but the build ever so slender and strong - scars to tell tales, and patches to remind regret. It's captain - Paul ''Yellowfire'' was a spitting image of what this boat was about, 2 and a half years he'd had it, and another 2 and a half added to how long he'd seen his home, Tenby, the little town of the fishes - he smiled.

''Oh Gloria, it's time to see my woman - shan't you get jealous, your just a ship after all!'' Paul sung from above the deck, he had about a quarter of the crew he needed - they all looked at him as if he were mad - but he'd got home in one piece, and that's all that mattered.

Before he ported into the town he realized that he needed to keep a low guard, as he was exiled from this town for robbery originally, so it was best not to remind the locals - his smile turned a little downwards to the realization he probably couldn't stay here long.

He departed the ship near a small island - on the west side of the town - his remaining crew were trusted friends, and he knew the ship was in safe hands - he told them to sail south somewhere in England where they could send a messenger to a small retreat in Cornwall where he had family, this is where they could reach him.

He waved farewell, and took a small dinghy to row to shore, with a case full of wine and rum and some coin to keep him going. His clothes were grubby and weather-worn, but the rich material and jewellery still remained to what it was – and with a woman’s touch and cleaning they could probably be as good as new – which was only part of his intention of visiting.

He hadn’t seen her in four years, and he had no idea what to expect – maybe she found a new man, maybe she’d moved house, she might’ve died – who knew. So he thought the best thing to do was what he always did, which was to find out, headfirst.

He snuck into the sleeping town, the fishermen were already set off, and this part of town was pretty much empty. He found the house at the end of the road she lived on, facing the sea; just as shabby as the day he left. He stared at the house for a while, and decided not to knock, so he went round to side to look for a way up to her bedroom window. Moving things around to make space to climb, he made a quite a bit of noise, waking a nearby dog that barked and ran around around in the next-door yard. With a grin on his face he made it up to the window, nearly slipping twice, he held on to the window ledge and heaved himself up to the open window, he sat there and watched her laying naked on the bed – just grinning as he did whenever he’d found something worth seeing or - stealing.

Juliette had grown accustomed to the lifestyle there in time, as she'd ultimately known she would but perhaps chose to ignore, suppress. Tenby was quiet and predictable as it always was: the days, like the people and the water she walked by after and between shifts less and less nowadays- reliable, easygoing and familiar in ways that seemed to morph in accordance with the weather and your own mood. Some days were warm, friendly, laughter reflected in the shimmer of sun's rays on the water encroaching on the shore; and others grey and brooding, clouds unwilling to move as if pressed down and held in place by some invisible weight.

The resentment of being wilfully chained to one place, while others returned and departed back out to sea, not all to return, had passed like a storm. She had known full well what it would mean to love (and opt to stay true to) not only a pirate, but one exiled from the town for robbery. Or at least thought so 4 years ago. How romantic it had sounded. The reality was far from it, and it had aged her, but still she kept, the reasons more and more distant and indistinct as the years passed. It was quite possible if he hadn't been caught for his crimes or died at sea he had a new family elsewhere, a wife and children perhaps.... They were questions she didn't bother ask anymore. He would return if and when he wanted to. She would deal with it then, even as countless scenarios played out in her head.

That night was one of the rarer ones in recent times in which he had seen fit to invade her dreams, and in the quiet and solitude of her room she had allowed herself to sink, welcoming the rasp of the sheets against her bare skin with a small smile on her face, blanket pushed aside when her skin became too hot, her desires too fevered. It was the direction of the noise in the end that woke her, though she frowned and clung to the last remnants of sleep reluctant, burrowed deeper into the sheets until the noise came from close- much too close for comfort and half-lidded eyes clock the figure standing by the window. Instantly awake, she gasped and clutched the blankets to cover herself, scrambling to her feet. Yelling at the intruder to Get The Fuck Out and halfway through nonsensically demanding identity, she realises - and all coherent thought leaves, all those scenarios useless. "No-" Not you. Not Again.

Paul half expected her hostility - that was what drove him through life most of the time anyway - hostile women.

''Julliete my bitch of a witch, my sun of a thousand seas!'' Paul smiled as he entered, nearly falling off the ledge as he stumbled in and dropped his case, ''you know you'll catch a cold showing yourself off like that, or your 'father' might walk in and mistake you for his wife'' Paul chuckled, knowing full well she'd ran away from her parents long ago - for the purpose of being with him, but he played it as an inside joke regardless of her sensitivity on this subject.

Paul edged closer in hope to maybe catch his foot on a part of the loose blanket that she covered herself with.

In truth, she feels colder now than she did without the sheets wrapped around her - chilled by nostalgic sledgehammer of information as all the things she had forgotten about Paul in the immediate came flooding back. The sound of his voice, how he looked (though older than she had seen, rugged and worn from life at sea) though that damnable smile remained the same. Juliette would know that smile anywhere.

For a couple of seconds as she watches in stunned silence, she thinks she wishes he'd died, but is unable to pin down why.

She feels incredibly self-conscious, not just from him- it'd been some time since anyone had seen her in this state of undress. He plays off a joke about her parents as she stares at him, parents she'd considered going back into in his absence, but ultimately hadn't. She'd just woken up and he found it funny and she didn't. But words were useless, couldn't've thought of anything fitting or useful for this if she'd tried. He edges closer, and Paul looks a mess. She is a mess. She-
No.
Is not dealing with this right now. Does not have time for this level of Bullshit.

Taking a step away from his approach, she turns around and attempts to leave through the door in the far wall of the bedroom.

The blanket caught under his foot in succession, and as she moved away the blanket stayed where it was - gravity as it were letting it drop to the floor as she attempted to retreat.

Paul drove his hat from his head, letting the long wavy hair and locks flow freely. He Darted across the bedroom towards her, catching her with one arm. ''Where do you think your going?'' he said as he held her tighter, pushing himself against her behind, feeling her warm stomach with his cold wet fingers. ''still a precious gem I see,'' he held her tight still, waiting for her to do something or stop struggling.

The covers all but completely fall away in her miscalculation, still too bleary to properly chide herself for forgetting the golden rule of Never showing your back to a pirate, and the little she has left to grasp to cover her navel in a pitiful attempt at modesty is all but useless, gaze still cast downwards as a calloused hand lies clammy on her skin; a familiar scent from the heat and the dark locks against her shoulder. She doesn't trust herself to answer the question as she starts to tense, a soft internal whimper as the reality begins to sink in quickly strangled because the fury gets there first - this hold is not comforting, but constricting - and the withering glare on her face as she glances back could burn a hole through the hull of his ship.

He has absolutely no right to touch her.
He has no right to make her so desperate not to lose that contact in spite of how angry she is, and how far away from him she should get before she loses the little control over her emotions she has left.

"Don't touch me."

The arm is pried away at the loss of the rest of the blanket as she turns around to face him, defenceless, exposed
And she hates him for it.

She shoves him away with both hands, needing the distance, needing to channel this force into something.
"You son of a bitch." It comes out in a snarl, her grip on her words already dissolving-
"Where the Fuck Were You?!" Incandescent rage arrives not a moment too soon, better than any material blanket and she wraps herself up tighter, cloaked in her own defiance.

It had been so long since Paul had to deal with a real woman's rage - the whores, wenches and locals of the Caribbean and new colonies never usually put up a fight. The only real rage he'd dealt with in the past four years was that of the greatest, most powerful women of them all - the sea.

''There's been some nights my cherri, where I was sure I'd be killed - if not by man, by certain the sea - our greatest friend, and enemy'' Paul swirled around a little, indifferent to her mood, picking up his case from the floor, and slumbering down on a nearby chair which was cushioned and patchy. He tapped his fingers on the case and smiled at her for a while before opening it up.

He took out a small flask, drank from it, and threw it onto the bed - ''Real strong stuff that - got the recipe from an Irish farmer from Boston'', he fiddled around the case again and took out a small bag, opened it up to reveal shining, deep blue pearls ''Pearls of Neptune! - from an escaped slave in Tortuga!'' He grabbed a handful of them and threw them also on the bed, some rolling off on the floor. He took out a long feather and laughed for a while ''Stole - hahaha - stole this from a Spaniard's hat! Hahaha, what a night!'' he stomped his foot on the ground to express his amusement. There were a few more treasures, jewellery and much coin that he would in the same manner show off and throw onto the bed systematically, one after the other, torturing her with his good memories and riches.

''I've been working my dear! - but since I never found the fountain of youth'' he pondered in mocking frustration ''I came to the realization!'' He stood up, ''There's something missing from my collection, that isn't on that bed'' he stirred, smiling deviously at her - knowing full well she could crack at any second, like an over boiled kettle ready to blow.