Empty Vessel [Goody + incendo]

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Craven's Hollow. It sounded like a place you might find crawling with vermin under a rock. And it was. A small island of bad repute, a haven for the worst of the worst to conduct their business. Criminals of all sorts made their home there, living by a flimsy list of ethics known as The Brigand's Code. That was the only law that ruled over the Hollow, justice exacted by those who had a dog in the fight by force of might. If you didn't have the strength of will and muscle to hold your bullies accountable, then you best get used to being made a victim. Only predators survived on the island, the hardiest souldamned cretins living and owning property there. The rest were wayfarers; pirates, mercenaries, and merchants, all who didn't call Craven's Hollow home, but a comfortable stop during their adventures and travels where they could let their hair down for a time.

Drown was one such scallywag, only here for a visit, albeit one that was going on for almost a week now. His true home was The Heartless, the grand vessel he was married to, currently creaking and swaying in the Hollow harbor. He hated being landed but there wasn't currently anything profitable to engage him on the sea at the moment. But if he could stay on the ocean...he would. He'd never touch dry land if he wasn't driven there in need of capital or occupation. Honestly, he didn't need the money so much as he simply needed the thrill of engaging with life and humanity. And getting hired to transport or target something was a good way to feel alive after months of roaming the oceans with nothing but salty spray in his face and wind kicking up his jacket. He was slowly becoming a ghost out there.

So far, the search was...eh. 5 days, he'd been hopping the pubs and taverns, listening in on gossip, waiting for something remotely interesting to catch his ear. Nothing. It was the same bullshit. Kidnap and ransom this dignitary's family member. Plunder this shipment of goods along this trade route. Kill this guy and leave calling cards that indicate this rival nation. Blah blah blah. Pffffttttt!

It all felt so boring and hopeless, he was starting to wonder why he bothered coming. The sea called him, a familiar restlessness shifting under his skin, the unmoving, steady level of the land chafing him. But he'd already spent 3 months out there without a job or goal. He was determined not to leave Craven's Hollow until he at least had something to sail towards.

Knocking back the finger of whiskey that no longer burned as it went down, Drown had barely swallowed before motioning at the barkeep for another. Glancing up as the door to the Lazy Dog opened, Drown eyed the new arrival with the barest of interest as the rough, burly man behind the bar sloshed whiskey into his glass with a messy pour. There was some distance between him and the door, other merchants and mercenaries crowding the tables between them. All ship men, rough-looking, swarthy and scarred, like adventuring was in their veins, danger threaded in the chords of their muscles. Drown himself was unremarkable comparatively. Tattoos hidden beneath the heavy black captain's coat he wore, except for the few that spilled out the cuff to decorate the back of his hand, wrist and fingers. Short blonde hair, clipped at the neck and sides, yet left long in the front to dangle in spiked wisps over his forehead, he'd been told, without his scruffy, golden beard that he was "pretty." Although the look of damage and darkness in his eyes hardly made him attractive to any one with any good sense.

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[incendonocturne]

-it was a common problem, she entered a room and most of the patrons refused or were even too scared to meet her gaze. Even the most sea worn of them at times barely dared whisper her name much less look upon her. Not because she was hideous, quite the contrary in fact. They were scared. Scared she’d curse them just from a mere utterance of her name or a glance spared upon her.

Most of the time, she didn’t care. This was not one of those times. She needed passage upon a ship. She needed to get to the lands beyond the known. She needed a cure for the children in her village and it lay in the beyond.

Her father, Jamison Langley, Captain of the most prominent Naval Vessel and its fleet, had regretted his decision to give his daughter her requested visit. He had scoffed at her and sent her on her way with a bellowing demand to never grace his doorstep again. He would not allow his men nor his fleet to participate in such a wild and unattainable request as she’d laid upon him.

She had tried a few other notable and worthy captains of the sea but all were just as leery and weary of her and her request. Their muddled brains to hardened by the salt of the seas to believe she was anything short of a witch doctor and did not want to participate in the procurement of anything that might aid her in her devious activities. Not a one of them understood that what she was trying to accomplish had nothing to do with magics, her own or anyone else’s for that matter.

It was with a soft huff that she entered The Lazy Dog. Her skirts fluttering about her ankles as the wooden plank creaked shut behind her. The general roar within dampened when eyes turned upon her. Many quickly averting and whispers began drifting on the stale salty and sweaty air.

Carmine Langley let her wide chocolate eyes graze over the crowd of men, suddenly struck weak in their tough braveries at her presence. With a soft scoff, a boot clapped loudly against a chair as she launched herself onto it and then onto the table top, some of the men gathered around it nearly toppling over at the suddenness.

Her voice rang over the low den of conversations, husky and luring, demanding their attention.-

“Any of ye dogs brave enough to allow passage and take me to the lands beyond?”

-she was nothing if not blunt. Another unsettling trait, for a woman. There was a low murmur that rippled through as her hands fell to her hips and waited. When none spoke up, her eyes narrowed softly. By now, she was just done with it all, clearly.-

“I will pay and pay plenty, name ye price or are all of ye nothing more than pups?”

-the loud clap of a stein behind her drew her gaze over her shoulder as the scruff and scraggly giant of a man that sat directly behind her growled at the insult she’d hurled.-

”Wench! Get off me table and get ye skirts out of me grog. Ain’t no one going to take ye, a witch and a woman, aboard to venture to the unknown lands. Bad luck all around. No, now, be gone witch!”

-there was a hint of tremor in the old pirates voice and he only half met her gaze as she turned fully to face him. The room had fallen silent, eyes turned upon them as Carmine hiked her skirts up slightly, coin bouncing with a jingle in the pouch tied at her waist, as she knelt before the old dog that had braved enough to deny her so gruffly.-

“If I were a witch, I’d have slapped a curse on all ye already......”

-there was a long pause, a grin spreading slowly across her plain and plush lips as her gaze swept over a few others nearby before returning to the one in front of her.-

“Or maybe I already have.”

-she straightened swiftly, the toe of her boot purposefully knocking the old dogs stein toward the edge of the table as she made way to step back to the empty chair and floor. She let her weight tip the table slightly as she came off of it. The mug tipping over the edge completely and into the man’s lap as her booted feet hit the floor with a loud clap, followed by more as she stomped her way toward the door. This venture was useless. She would have to find another way.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Lost in the bottom of his empty glass, Drown wasn't even paying attention until the woman on the table started to shout. With a bit of a start, he glanced around at how quiet everything had become, not really understanding until he heard the wench's pitch. The lands beyond. Now there was a journey. All the maps of the known world ended on an edge of land at the bottom, the Lower Mounts, and a border of blank water at the top, the Watcher's Sea. And at the edge of the paper, drawn over blue, striped with nautical lines, the simple word "beyond."

That's what she wanted. She was asking for passage beyond the farthest reaches anyone had ever gone before, the unmapped legendary lands that existed at the edge of the world. The Watcher's Isles and the seas around it were pretty fucking far as it was, not to mention steeped in terrifying legends of shadow giants that walked through storms and rose up from the depths like nightmares, standing tall enough to stomp on ships already being tossed about by the tumultuous seas.

And it wasn't as if nobody had tried to venture to the unknown lands. Nobody got past the Watcher's Isles and the giants that patrolled those waters and there were plenty of stories of entire fleets lost after daring to go beyond the Isles. There were hundreds of castaways and shipwrecked fools, washed up on this or that mainland shore, getting dragged from the water, only to tell tales of being a part of some foolhardy, adventurous crew that lost their lives to shadowy storm giants. It was suicide to go beyond the paper maps.

With a pensive twist to his lips, Drown was still contemplating "name ye price" and whether it was worth it to him to risk dying to go on this foolish adventure simply because he had nothing better to do, when the man at the table started a fuss about her ridiculous offer. Idly, Drown watched, wondering if she really was a witch or if it was just her insane escapade that made folks leery. Either way, as a cursed man, Drown wasn't worried and ultimately, he realized he had already made up his mind about the job. He was mostly just figuring out his own price because the clinking of coins at her hip did nothing to really entice him. The sway of those hips, however...

"I'll take ya."

The room was still encased in a lingering silence as she'd started for the door, so, Drown's voice cut through it effortlessly, drawing the eyes and ears of the entire pub once more. Tipping his head back, ignoring their audience, his blue eyes all for her, Drown gave her a look of appraisal as he stated more firmly. "For the right price, I'll take you wherever you wanna go."

"Oh, for Keks sake!" a mercenary at a nearby table drawled in a smug purr, a lazy grin crawling onto his face as he glanced between the two of them. Glancing at his fellows sharing the table with him, he jerked his head with a light snort, "Of course, that drunken lunatic Drown would agree to go." To hammer the implication home, Tim leaned forward a little towards the woman, in a needling tone saying, "You know, he's a good one to ask, wench, he's just mad and drunk enough to do it. But then you'll be stuck with him on his possessed, bloody ship out in the Watcher's sea. Might just go mad yerself."

"As if she isn't already!" one of the crewmates laughed boisterously. "Lookit that! Mad Harriet and Cock-Eyed Doodle! It's a love tale for the ages!" As the man made sickening squeaky kiss noises, Tim bust out laughing so hard, he interrupted himself with a raucous coughing fit, chuckling and wheezing through it.

It was nothing new. Drown had heard it all before and honestly, he was above the jeers and jokes at his expense. They called him crazy, and to be fair, they were probably right. The curse that plagued him was likely enough to have driven him mad long ago and with his love of being out to sea and his lack of restraint regarding risks, there were probably several signs that he simply wasn't paying enough attention to. Pulling out a spiced cigarette from his inner coat pocket, Drown lit the end with a match, a cloud of fragrant, cinnamon smoke curling around him as he took a deep drag from it.

"Mad like a fox," he breezily snarked at the still chuckling men, setting a few coins on the bar for the drinks. Standing from his stool, Drown ambled casually towards the door, sniffing lightly as he approached the "witch", giving her an approving once over now that he was closer. "Brilliant idea, and we'll be famous. If we live." Gesturing at the door and nodding, he said, "Let's go. I'll give you my price on the way to the Heartless. You can decide if you want to continue on with me or not."

Drown took a drag, raising an eyebrow as he peered a little over his shoulder at the ruckus happening behind him. Tim and his crewmate were swaying and hugging themselves, Tim even wearing his jacket backwards to sell the imagery, as the two men shouted in sing-song, taunting voices, "LOVEBIRDS IN THE CRAZY HOUSE!! LOVEBIRDS IN THE CRAZY HOUSE!!" Drown couldn't help it. A gleam of amusement swept over him, flashing a genuine grin as he shook his head at the ridiculous fools mocking him. A benefit of being insane, he supposed, that when people made fun of him, he got a laugh out of it too.

 

[incendonocturne]

-turning on her heels at the voice, her chin rose, brows lifting as dark eyes found the source. Her arms crossed obstinately as her hips jerked softly to the side.

So help him if he was joking. Just another fool trying to get a rise out of her by laying the promise forth only to snatch it away in a tease of her character or request.

Her lips began to form the words to tell him to name his price, when she was interrupted by yet another voice from a table nearby. Her eyes narrowed, the look casting in his direction as the insults began to spew from his lips. Before flickering in a glare to the second voice that piped up, questioning her sanity.

Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling, the curls of her hair bouncing softly as she shook her head at their jeers. A childish bunch of heathens. Her gaze once again coming to rest curiously on this, Drown, they’d called him.

As he paid his tab and slid from his stool, she slipped a few words in behind his own about being mad as a fox. A finger pointing at Tim and his lot, she leaned toward him in return, brows pinched together.-

“Mad we may be but with bigger balls than the lot of ya with your little sand pebbles.”

-she retorted and turned toward the door again as her potential ferryman drew near and gestured toward the exit. Her steps resumed in that direction, stopping at the door to turn once more to the patrons of The Lazy Dog, her eyes lighting angrily upon Tim and his jeering mates.

Stabbing an angry, red painted nail at the two dancing fools and then the one with the wet lap and empty mug. A sneer contorting her pretty face.-

“I curse the three of ye....to go limp with any wench ye bed, henceforth.”

-mockingly, she touched her fingers to her lips and blew them kisses before she spun and exited the door ahead of Drown.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Faces froze. Laughter choked off inside throats. And for one moment, all the world appeared to have stilled in time. Then Tim and his crewmate caught up sputtering defensively, shouting after the woman curses of their own, except of the more vulgar and less powerful kind. But by then, she was already out the door, Drown following her, a smoke weathered, dirty chuckle coming from him as they stepped out into the night air together.

"Fuckin' beautiful," he muttered around his cigarette, his shoulders still bouncing in amusement over her parting shot. "I don't know if you're actually a witch but you likely don't have to be for that prediction to come true."

The oily lanterns along the pier glittered on the cobblestones and the water that sloshed between the swaying, slumbering beauties in the harbor. As Drown led the way down the cathedral of ships, masts and bowsprits obscuring the starry night sky, he felt the Heartless wake, a pulse thrumming in his bones and veins, a shivering thrill. She knew he wasn't just coming home to sleep. She knew this walk meant adventure and she was getting ready, prepping herself for flight. Drown exhaled a cloud of cinnamon smoke from his nostrils, hands buried in his trouser pockets even as his shoulders slumped in tolerant acquiescence, smirking lightly over how soft he was to the will of the animated vessel. He could deny her nothing, especially not when the depths of his soul called out for the sea anyway. Despite his need for work and purpose, if he was truly honest, as soon as he heard the wench shouting about the lands beyond the known world, he was already turning the wheels, thinking of going on his own, with or without her. It'd be nice to have someone along though. Especially if they were likely going to die.

As they passed others along the pier, Drown ignored them, not really worried about privacy. Most of the scallywags who knew him by sight gave him a wide berth anyway, his heels and pathway spattered with rudely delivered spit from disgruntled passerby. At first, he wasn't sure if that was for him or for her but considering they likely wouldn't dare spit if they noticed her, he assumed it was more superstitious crap directed towards the crazy guy and his "possessed boat." "Sorry. Not like the pier is clean anyway but watch your step. So, I'll take you wherever you need to go," he said, flicking ash from his cig with a gentle roll of the runes tattooed on his fingers. Looking back at her, he hung back a little to walk beside her, his eyes once again licking over her curvaceous hips and bustline in quiet appreciation. "I'm not all that interested in your money, so, keep it. You can buy us drinks when we stop at Jaoil. How's that?" Jaoil, the northernmost mainland port right before the scattering of islands that floated in the Watcher's Sea. Nobody had ever made it past them, so, there was no telling when they'd be able to stock up again after that.

"The rest, I'll provide. I only ask for one thing in return," he shrugged breezily, his dark, drink-glazed eyes once again giving her silken looks in the shadows of the ships they walked under. "Sex. From you. I would appreciate the pleasure of your body and warm companionship for the duration of the journey. Just enough to keep me satisfied, I'm not a pig or anything." He slowed to a stop near one of the aisles on the dock, this one leading down alongside a gorgeous redwood and black striped vessel with deep, pendulous belly and towering dual masts. The lettering on her cheek was rough, black stain, faded yet still clearly written, The Heartless.

The bowsprit above their heads was long and pointed, the figurehead a redwood woman, full of curves, arching erotically against the face of the ship. She was explicitly nude, her full breasts exposed with nipples pointed, jutting forward expressively, and her vulva, cupped between titillating thighs, was carved in intimate, blushing detail, her clitoris swollen and very apparent. Her face was a mass of tentacles, a crowd of suckered arms roiling and crowded over each other, like some arcane monster was bursting out of her head. The only thing of her face that was left visible was her chin and lips, amidst curling and slithering wooden tentacles, a placid, knowing smirk touching her ladylike lips.

The ship seemed to move with deep, creaking sighs over his shoulder, lights upon her deck seen shining above. She'd even laid out the gangplank for him and he could feel her restlessness as he stood so close to her. In truth, he shared her passion. But he didn't dare allow the witch onto the vessel unless she made this deal with him. Giving her one final look, eyes licking liberally over her beautiful, doe-like eyes and refined, elegant features, Drown held out his hand offering it to her to shake. "What say you?"

 

[incendonocturne]

-a dark chuckle rolled from her throat, escaping on the wet air around them. Fucking beautiful indeed. She neither confirmed nor denied whether she was or was not a witch. Merely a smirk flirting against her lips. The thought would take root inside their grog and salt addled brains and would likely activate the ‘curse’ sufficiently enough to make them think twice.

Her eyes danced over everything it seemed as they passed it by. Not so much in awe or fascination, though some of it was interesting enough that it would hold her attention a little longer than the rest. She was watching her surroundings. In doing so, she navigated around the spit that flew, seeming nonplussed by it or the rest of the filth either. She lived in a swampy village after all.

From the corner of her eye, she noted his own as they moved over her frame. She found it quite interesting that he didn’t seem afraid of her, as most were. At his offer for her to keep her money, only paying for drinks, she gunned a soft song of acquiescence with a nod of her head.-

“Fair enough but....”

-but he continued before she could finish and ask him what his price would be. She was curious to say the least, especially if it wasn’t her coin that he wanted.

Merely a blink when he finally named his price. A blink and the soft purse of her lips as she stopped as well. Her eyes roaming slowly over the ship he stood before. Contemplating his request it would appear. Until finally her chin lowered, as did her gaze. Shifting sideways to glance over at him.-

“And what of my satisfaction?”

-she quipped, the faintest I’d smirks tugging at the corners of her lips. Her gaze shifted back to the ship. Curling over the name before caressing over the figurehead, this time in a touch of fascination and intrigue. When she’d had enough of staring at The Heartless, she turned to face him. Her eyes dropping to his offered hand. Her own placed firmly on her curvy hips. She stood in silence, her eyes licking over him in turn before lighting on his face. Her head canting gently before she finally let her hand find his.-

“I say you are indeed mad but supposedly I am too.”

-she shrugged, it was a vague agreeance but agreeance none-the-less. If it got her passage to where she needed to go. Not that she’d had much companionship in recent years herself, what with being busy being a ‘witch’ and all. Not to mention, she knew the tales, of ships wrecked about the Watcher’s Isles. She knew there was a very real possibility that death would be visited upon them at any time before they could reach Beyond.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

-his eyebrows bounced to his hairline, a gentle grin rolling onto his features over her little quip, thoroughly amused by this saucy wench.-

"Well, I meant to reassure you that I won't dog you the whole journey in excess."

-Playfully, he tugged her by the hand he still held, drawing her closer with a jerk forcing her to stumble a step, her supple form brushing tantalizingly against him. Arching one brow and giving her that same, lazy smile, he continued in a low, seductive voice,-

"But if you want more, I'm not opposed to feeding your libido. After all, it takes an entirely different kind of madman to indulge my own desires and yet leave the witch aching. I might be just sane enough to know what's up."

-he paused a moment longer, his eyes tracing over the graceful, slender swoop of her neck down to the perky bulge of her breasts from her bodice. Catching her eye again, dragging his tongue slowly along the edge of his bottom lip, finally, Drown jerked his head backwards, flippantly indicating the boat as he released her.-

"She awaits."

-turning from her, he led the way down the dock arm that extended over the water alongside his ship and the ship on the other side of it, passing barrels and sacks of stock that had been set out for loading in the morning no doubt. Standing beside the gangplank, Drown let her go up the inclined ramp first, following close behind to make sure to catch her in case she lost her balance.

Up on the deck, lights shone in the grated firebrands placed periodically on either end of the ship, as well as through the grating of the hold in the middle of the ship. The two masts stood tall and graceful, The Heartless's sails fluttering in the evening breeze, already unfurled and waiting. Ropes squeaked and the floorboards creaked, the vessel seeming to exhale in a jubilant contentment once Drown stepped off of the gangplank, boots planted firmly on her deck. Other than the two of them...there was no one else on board. The ship was eerily dead despite sluicing lap of waves against her hull, the windy, orgasmic sighs of her sails, the hissing whispers of the torch flames. An unsettling limbo was where she danced, a presence felt everywhere yet seen nowhere, the silence bringing forth all of the other little sounds, making it feel occupied yet emphasizing the shocking vacancy at the same time.

After he finished pulling up the gangplank and setting it aside, Drown watched the witch with a wary attentiveness. It'd been a long time since anyone else had been aboard his ship and he was well aware of how most people found it to be disturbing. Many a spit-stream path was enough for him to become conscious of it, if not also for the fact that testimonials had alerted him to it as well. Not that there was anything overly unpleasant about her, in fact, the braces on the ropes tapping in friendly welcome to her visitor. The Heartless was only ever a great hostess, taking pride in carting her guests safely across the ocean. She let Drown handle the interpersonals of anyone unpleasant on board but as far as she was concerned, they were her charges and she'd not let the mercurial sea bring them harm.

Edging cautiously to stand beside the witch to where he could see her face, Drown cocked his head as he inspected her features carefully, trying to read exactly how she was processing this. When their eyes met, he held it for only a second, bringing in a deep inhalation before looking away.-

"Welcome, aboard the Heartless," he said, his voice swimming with pride. "Come, I'll give you the tour."

-Hoping to avoid the coming questions that he'd heard before from other guests - where is the crew? How do you sail without a crew? What do you mean The Heartless lives? - Drown turned to the forecastle deck, motioning vaguely at the step up that led to a point.-

"Bow. Forecastle."

-The bowsprit could be seen from here but the surreal, erotic figurehead could not, hidden from the deck but full on display to the eyes of passerby on the night shrouded pier. Still, the artistic influence carried over to the rest of the ship, miniature wooden women reclining in the throes of orgasm everywhere in various sizes and carvings all over the ship; legs spread in vulgar displays, exposing flowered labia and aroused clits, asses raised provocatively, breasts with detailed, erect nipples and areola jutting out, begging seductively to be groped from the banisters, from the crown molding, and the torch gratings. And just like the figurehead, none of them had faces. Heads and features were obscured beneath the bizarre tentacled masses, sucker strewn arms spiraling in chaotic agitation above the salacious, decorative reliefs wherever they could be seen.

Turning to walk to the quarter deck towards the stern of the ship, clearing his throat as he expected her to follow. The back decks were three levels high with two sets of stairs going from main, to quarter(with the steering wheel), to the poop deck at the top. Doors were placed strategically and Drown stopped by the bottommost stairs to point upwards to the other levels.-

"Wheel's up there. Poop deck higher. My quarters are over here."

-leading her to the gorgeous black and red double doors in between the two sets of main deck stairs, Drown sniffed lightly as he opened them and stepped inside. A flutter tickled in his heart and an adoring mewl inside his head when he took in the room. She'd lit candles for him and aired out the room so that it didn't smell stuffy once he stepped inside. The ship was a blasted, thoughtful thing...

After his private moment of appreciating the endearing efforts of his ship to welcome him home, Drown shot another discerning look at the woman who was with him, tracing over her features as she too took in the lit candles sitting around the room. Moonlight spilled in through the big, curtain-laced windows that lined the back wall, the open ocean beyond Craven's Hollow seen clearly behind the ship. A large, ornate desk sat in front of them with a globe beside it. Along one side of the room was a book shelf and a large chest. Along the other, a canopied bed with wide, deep mattress was practically built into the ship's frame, looking cozy, fluffy, and inviting.-

"This is where you'll find me, if I'm not on deck or in the kitchen."

-Gesturing at the bed, he shrugged awkwardly, not really sure about the parameters of their arrangement, so, uncertain how to offer her hospitality without telling her where to go.-

"You can...you can sleep here, if you want. With me. The bed's plenty big enough. If not, I have a couple rooms below where you can stay. I'll leave it up to you."

-so long as she was available when he wanted, Drown didn't much care whether she slept in his bed or not. Leaving the room, Drown led her to the door and ladder in the deck floor right outside, going down first. Drown took her down the cramped hallways showing her the galley and the kitchen before leading her towards the cabins. Silence still ruled over the ship, the only sounds were their pairs of boots alone, even though every door they opened into a lantern lit space, as if someone else had been there and just left a moment before. It felt that way too, that ghostly sensation of a presence or being watched continuing throughout the tour through the depth of the ship.

Taking her to one of the first cabins, it was about a third the size of Drown's room but the bed here was just as big with a small set of wooden drawers in the corner and a tiny table. Both table and drawers had candles sitting lit up on top of them, making the room feel lived in even though the sheets on the bed looked like they hadn't been touched in almost a year. Folding his arms and casting a judgemental look around, making sure everything was alright, Drown leaned against the wall to let her inspect the room herself.-

"This can be your space if you want it. The door locks from the inside. I have a key but I promise not to use it if you want to use the room. What is your name, by the way? Sorry, we didn't get properly introduced. You can call me Drown."

 

[incendonocturne]

“Oh?!”

-she managed to squeak past her lips as he jerked her forward. Stumbling slightly, her free hand rising to press against his chest. Her already tossled hair, tosling even more, obscuring the amused glint that rested in her right eye. Though it would be seen in her other and in the chuckling part of her lips.-

“I would not call that man merely a madman then. I would call that man a smart madman.”

-she tsked lightly. Patting her hand against his chest as she drew back just slightly. Her own eyes watching as his moved over her. Growing ever more curious about the man offering her passage aboard his ship.

She followed his lead, hiking the front of her skirts slightly as her boots clapped rather gracefully along the ramp as she ascended to the waiting ship.

Leaving her skirts to flutter back into place, she stilled, hands smoothing against her hips, as she peered around at the empty vessel. Her expression stoic, a dull thrum rippled through her, vibrating up through her feet it seemed. Perhaps it was little more than the water as it lapped against her sides or the crap of his boots as he dropped to the deck behind her.

She felt his warmth draw up beside her but she did not immediately grace him with her attention. Still letting her eyes roam the ship in silence before finally her gaze cast sidelong toward him, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

She followed again, her eyes casting up the step to take in the bowsprit from where she stood, though immediately dropping away to find the more interesting decorations scattered before her. Fingers reached tentatively to stroke over one such decoration. Caressing over the detailed suckers of a tentacle as it reached toward the sky.

She turned and followed at the clear of his throat. Silent in her movements, as if she were listening with more than just her ears as he guided her through the tour. There was nothing erotic in her touch of the feminine displays, curious, yes. As well as appreciative of the craftsmanship.

She watched him too, curiously, as he opened the doors to his quarters. And while he had his private moment, she stepped forth, passing quietly by him and into the room boldly. Her destination, the large window overlooking the waters beyond.

In the flickering light of the candles, he would find her gaze moving over everything as she turned back toward him and the doors, again that appreciative roam of her eyes as her fingers did the same over the lines of the desk as she made her way past it again. She too, approached the bed, fingers curling lightly around a post as she leaned against it to peer into the shadowed depths of the canopy.-

“Hmmm...”

-she murmured as she made her way back toward Drown, a finger tapping gently beneath his chin as she reached him.-

“I guess we’ll see. It depends on whether you’re really the simple madman or the smart madman.”

-her chin lifted softly and she winked up at him as the words purred from her lips and she slipped past him, standing to the side to allow him room to continue his tour.

In the kitchen, she took a little longer, going through cupboards and shelves, taking note of what was in stock and what was not. Mentally making a list of what she may need. When her curiosity had been quenched, she rejoined him with a simple, quiet nod and followed to the crew’s quarters, though still quite lacking in crew. She seemed unperturbed by this, though like everything else, she was curious about it. Especially with the distinct feeling of eyes upon them. Still, for now, she remained silent on the matter.

When the cabin door was opened, she leaned against the frame. Her bosom pressing warmly against the wood as her eyes caressed the interior with the same fervor they had in his own quarters before she finally stepped in to venture around the smaller space. Once again, the window drew her attention and she drew up at the end of the bed to stare out at the moonlit waves that sloshed and slapped softly against the ship where she rested in the waters.

She turned to face him when he spoke again, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow around her form as she answered.-

“Some call me Witch. Others call me The Lady of the Lapping Lands. Friends call me Carmine. Carmine Langley.”

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Moonlight silvered her skin, like a pearl glowing in the cozy, dimly lit chamber, causing things to stir within his chest and his loins as he traced the elegant lines of her curves. It hadn't been super long since Drown had indulged, in fact, just 5 days past, he'd spent a whole night awake in one of the island's many brothels; it had been an itch he'd satisfied as soon as he landed in Craven's Hollow. So, he found himself both wary and tempted by this strange, magnetic draw between them. Was she truly a witch? Had she cast a spell on him? He doubted it; other beings, much more powerful and incomprehensible already had a claim staked upon him and they were jealous gods.-

"Hm. Crimson but prettier. Pleasure to finally meet you, Carmine...after we've already made a deal to fuck each other wet and salty for however many months this takes."

-he said with a faint curving of his lips and nod of his head, running a hand through the short spikes of his hair. Jerking his chin back towards the door, he said,-

"How about we get this lady cast off, aye? She's practically breathing down my neck to get going."

-and she was. The Heartless rocked a bit more than usual with the waves, her body groaning persistently around them, like a harridan nagging and he found himself gently rolling his eyes in loving amusement as suddenly she seemed to still beneath them. The mere mention of getting on the go and she assumed she was going to get her way. Sometimes he truly forgot that she wasn't an actual woman.

Leading the way back into the corridor, Drown stopped a moment, remembering a part of the tour he usually left out. Well... "Usually" didn't come into it; the few people he'd had on his vessel since the curse was cast hadn't been on the ship for more than a handful of days, so, there wasn't much to tell them. Since the journey, even going to Jaoil, was going to be much longer, he couldn't take the risk that Carmine might wander the ship and stumble upon something she shouldn't poke into. Pinching his lips with thoughtful fingers for a moment, Drown released a sigh and looked over his shoulder at her as she stepped from the cabin.-

"Just...one more thing... Below....in the brig, in the farthest...deepest corner at the stern of the ship...there is a door. You'll know it by the reddish color...and the tentacle skull marking it." A tooth worried at the corner of his bottom lip and he released another sigh, smirking faintly and without humor as he gave her an unwavering look. "I need you to stay away from it. Don't open it. It's locked, so, don't try to open it. Don't go near it. You can have free reign of the entire ship; the Heartless is your home as much as mine for however long this takes. But that door...that door is mine. Leave it alone."

-pressing his lips together, he held her gaze steady for a minute longer until he was certain that she understood the grim weight of what he was demanding of her. Briefly, his eyes went distant as his mind drifted to the door below their feet...thinking of the rows of casks, the weapon stock, the ropes, and assorted repair items...and there...further beyond them...hidden in the dimness against the farthest wall in the back of the ship...the red door... 5' tall...old wood gleaming with the greasy shine of the faded, grimy red paint...the black iron hinges spreading out from the edges...the faded mark of the skull with tentacles dangling where its mouth should be... And through the wooden barrier...the sound...the throb of something deep and dreadful...a rhythmic pounding...like a pulse...

He briefly spooked himself out of it, imagining that he could hear the beat of it from here, could feel it under his boots... Shaking his head a little to clear it as his eyes snapped back to awareness, Drown blinked at Carmine. Sweat was cooling on his neck and sideburns and his breathing was a notch deeper than it had been a moment before but quickly, he recovered. Sniffing stoutly and rubbing at the moisture on the nape of his neck, Drown turned back towards the ladder that led up onto the deck, going ahead of Carmine.

As soon as Drown was walking up the steps to the Quarter deck and the wheel, the Heartless was pulling her anchor up. The wind caught her sails, filling them up billowing and glowing softly by lantern light.-

"Casting off! Trim the main course sail!"

-Drown shouted in a deep voice that carried across the empty ship, taking his place at the wheel, standing firmly and looking out over the deck with confidence. He was...by all appearances calling out orders to no one. Yet of their own accord, the lines and sail obeyed his will, the wind seemingly moving the ropes in precision to follow his command.-

"Hoist the rigging! Heave up the braces!"

-his eyes caught sight of Carmine on the deck and quickly, he avoided meeting her gaze, wary of her questions. Especially as the ship pulled away from Craven's Hollow's harbor, the backsides of the other ships at the dock coming into full view and growing smaller, the further they went. It did him no good to focus upon what his guest thought; they would have the discussion eventually but for now, he looked ahead, enjoying the launch. And boy did he ever. The Heartless was jubilant beneath him, her bow slicing through the dark waters, moonlight glittering through the spray she kicked up in her stead. She showed off for their guest too, swooping to the lee side, tilting slightly, forcing Drown to adjust his weight and footing, a small smirk touching his lips, watching as she literally let the wind brush through the wings of her sails. The wind and the salty spray caressed over him too, his hair swept back by it, his eyes closing and a pleasant sigh leaving him. Here they were, together again and out to sea, everything feeling right.

For almost an hour, Drown stood at the wheel, steering with the Heartless, the island behind them turning into a black slug upon the deep navy horizon. Eventually, he knotted a rope to a spoke on the wheel to keep her steady as he turned away from it to approach Carmine. It'd been pulling at him, the allure of her, the promise of her succulent warmth and now that the were finally on their way, he was free to give in...to finally stop struggling against what his body craved to do. Stepping up to her, he let his heavy-lidded gaze pet over what skin she bared to the world, the heat in his eyes burning brightly before finally he grabbed ahold of her. Sweeping an arm smoothly around her, pressing into her back to pull her flush against him, Drown let her meet his smoldering gaze before lunging forth with a commanding fire, his lips pressing against hers.

Passionately he kissed her, drinking deeply of her, a ghost of a groan reverberating from his throat as her warm, plush lips answered back, easing some of his suffering. Coarse fingers stroked at her back in encouragement, even as they tugged fiercely at the clothes that caged her, his other hand weaving into the mess of wild curls that her hair was. The hand on her back slithered down to her buttocks, groping her full-handed through her skirts, breaking the kiss to hiss in agonized delight as the grope pulled her up against the bulge in his trousers. Feverishly, he planted panted kisses against her jawline and throat, suckling hotly at her skin, even as he rolled his hips, finding the delicate dip between her thighs through the layers of her skirts. There was something beautiful and right about kissing her in the open night air, the ocean speeding by around them.

 

[incendonocturne]

-her lips curved into a coquettish smirk. Fingers toying against the collar of her bodice, she said nothing. Giving a soft roll of her shoulder, she started toward the door as he turned to exit through it.-

“Let’s.”

-she said simply. She felt the curious tickle inside when it came to him, though she tried not to dwell on it. She recognized on some level a power greater than her own. What was it about him? She was certain he was not a witch. So....what was that pull?

Her hand on the edge of the door as she was pulling it closed. The room beyond now lay in darkness, though she’d been almost right behind him, candles and lanterns extinguished. The only light was now that of the moon shining through the windows barely seen in the sliver of space the closing door created.

Her eyes lighting on him curiously as he turned back to look at her. Her features remained stoic as he delivered his warning to not go poking around behind the door below, that he’d told her exactly where it was. Of course it raised her curiosity ten fold. She neither confirmed nor denied just how seriously she took his warning. One simple nod of her head before she pulled the door closed completely behind her. A mere acknowledgement that she’d at least heard him.

When he came back from whatever thoughts he’d been lost in, he’d blink to find her standing closer. Her eyes boldly watching him curiously. Noting the dampening of short hairs at his temple, the quickened rise and fall of his chest. She’d witnessed it all. Something had spooked him and it wasn’t her. Making his warning curiosier still. A brow lifted but once again, no question left her lips.

She merely followed silently behind him, in the silence of the ship around them, she heard the distinct rattle and roll of the anchor rising from the depths as she mounted and climbed the ladder behind him. Did she expect to see the crew topside when her head crested from below? Where had they been if they were?

As she stepped onto the otherwise empty deck, her eyes sliding over the space and lack of crew toiling away until her gaze found him above. Her brows lifting in curious, silent question. Still, she got no sense that this magic was brought on by him. No. Not him. Once again, she let her gaze trail along the deck, caressing instead over the frame of the ship herself.

The smallest of stumbles as the Heartless tipped and swayed upon the waters during her cast off, drew her attention away from her Captain and only crew. Steadying herself, she made her way to the waist deck railing as they set sail.

The moonlight shining down upon her bared, pale shoulders as the wind whipped stray hair about them in tangled curls, dampened by the spray of salt water beneath them. It had been some time since she’d been on a ship. Once or thrice, when she’d been a young girl and not yet completely disowned by her father. Her lips pursed softly in thought the further they sailed away from Craven’s Hollow. She missed it.

She was lost in thought but felt the shake of deck boards beneath her own still feet as Drown approached behind her. She was turning to face him as his arm slipped between her arm and side. Instinctively her hands shot out, pressing into his chest as if to push him away before she came to her senses, seeing the heated glaze of his eyes, reminding her of the deal they’d made. The press of her hands, the clear fight that was about to erupt from her ceased, barely a breath of a second before his lips crushed against hers.

A soft murmur escaped as she relaxed into him. Her lips responding in kind, albeit awkwardly for the briefest of seconds. She felt the loosening of her corset as his fingers tugged against its ties. A soft groaning grunt rattled from her throat as his groping hand jerked her against him. Plush lips parting from the broken kiss in a pant as her head lulled back into the grip of his hand tangled in her mess of curls. Her own fingers tossling up and through the hair at the nape of his neck, as she offered the slender column of her throat to his hungry lips. Her plush frame shifting softly against him as the ship rocked against the waters.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Lips of fire licked and sucked at her neck, greedy for her. Eventually, when he'd had enough of the youthful dry humping, littering her neck with purple and red marks from his mouth and teeth, Drown lifted his head to look at her with a lust-blasted gaze. A gentle hand swept along her cheek and jaw cradling her to keep her still as his lips pressed to hers for a couple of excited smooches, a warm contentment overtaking him. She was not a whore, despite the deal they'd made, and he took courage that at least some of his expectations for intimacy could be folded elegantly with the sex. Taking her by the hand, he turned and led Carmine to the double doors of his chamber, the Heartless discreetly closing them behind them once they were inside.

There were less candles lit now, giving the room a moody atmosphere, the canopy over the bed casting the plush covers and mattress in cozy red and purple shadows. Abandoning his jacket to a hook on the wall, Drown heeled his way out of his leather boots, leaving them discarded on the floor as he came to stand at the bedside. The heated kissing continued as Drown's wandering hands helped relieve Carmine of her dress, layered thick skirts rustling as they slipped free of her shoulders and hips, dropping to a heap at her feet. Practical delicates met him underneath and with a warm hum against her lips, Drown stroked fingers down the whale bone corset to her hips, cupping her ass cheeks through the thin layer of her cotton panties. Ushering her backwards onto the bed, Drown let her drop down to sit, his eyes heavy lidded with desire as he helped her out of her already loosened corset, his fingers persistent and needy as they swirled and stroked at her freed breasts.

While he was still standing, he took the opportunity to free himself of his own vest and shirt, tossing them aside onto the floor, candlelight playing tricks with the ink on his skin and the shadows flickering over his chest as he loomed nearer to the bed. As it was, the weak orange light only offered glimpses of the purple and white scar in the middle of his chest, the violence of the old wound barely disguised by the healed ridges of contorted skin. But with his arms covered in tattoos, surreal sea monsters and raunchy harlots climbing his shoulders, death, blood, wings, keys, and stars, all the way down to the knuckles of his fingers, the scarred pit in his chest was hard to distinguish from the artwork all over the rest of him. It was assumed by his status, living and breathing, that he hadn't lost anything vital from the wounding but one hand pressed to his chest and the hollow silence that would follow, would articulate otherwise.

Kissing Carmine further, urging her back onto the bed fully, letting her lift her legs onto the rich, fluffy bedclothes, Drown crawled to follow, loosened trousers slinking down his hips as he crawled out of them with ease. Joining her in the warm cavern of the bed, hands groped earnestly at breasts exposed as her loose undershirt draped low enough to bare them to him. Finding her undergarments again, Drown smirked against her lips as he tugged them down her waist, slipping them free of the warmth between her legs.

"Time for this clever madman to finally prove his insanity is that of genius," Drown muttered against her, slender, hard fingers stroking at her intimate petals, dipping inside the syrupy warmth at her core.

Cock twitching with upright interest, Drown kissed his way down her body, pausing to suckle harshly at a nipple, moving all the way down to put his face between her thighs. She smelled fragrantly feminine, heat ghosting off of her pussy lips, long before he actually pressed his mouth to kiss her there. Like magnets, his hands swept across the sheets and down her side to meet at each side of her hips, holding her steady for him as he dived into his salacious meal. Licking up her cleft, finding the points that had her twitching, inner thighs clenching, Drown wrapped his lips around her clit and alternated between abusively grinding against her and swirling his tongue teasingly at it.

 

[incendonocturne]

-her fingers curled around his hand, lips still parted, panting softly from the tingling fire that coursed through her and not just over the path his lips had taken. Despite the cool, wet air around them, she could feel it throughout her skin and raging along the tender inner flesh of her thighs.

When they passed through the doors, she noted the candles, there were less lit than had been when they’d been in here earlier. Curiousity nibbled at her again because she knew they’d both not been back in here since. Hearing the soft click of the doors behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, brows furrowing softly though the corners of her lips tugged upward. The small, curious smile greeting him as his fingers drew her attention back onto him. The expression consumed in the heated kiss he grabbed her up in again and any curiosities about the candles and the doors fleeing in the wake of passions flaring.

A soft hum reverberated against his lips as her skirts swept over the curve of her hips, the heat of his touch following behind as they fell around her booted feet. Kicking the skirts to the side as her own fingers gracefully teased against his chest and stomach, loosening the ties of his shirt before she tumbled back into the shadowy depths of the bed.

Her eyes traced over the shifting ink of shadows until she could distinguish shadow from ink. Fingers painting against the lines and following them in a broken pattern until she reached his neck, her fingers curling around the back of it as he leaned in, crushing her plush lips beneath his. Her grip steady as she fell back against the bed beneath him, lips returning the heated hunger.

A soft gasp breathed across his lips as the wet chill of the air met the exposed globes of plush flesh, nipples tightening even more from the heat of his fingers as they teased against the dusky nubs. Her hips lifted as he slid the panties free of her frame and again as his fingers pressed and explored over and between the warm and tender lips. Her teeth nipping lightly against his bottom lip as a playful chuckle escaped her slender throat.

Before she could utter a word, she felt the taut pull of her nipple, the light scrap of his teeth against the sensitive flesh drew a pleasured hiss from her as her back arched.

Her fingers tightened softly against the back of his neck, nails scraping against flesh as his lips trailed lower, tangling into the hair at the back of his head, clutching tightly. A deep and heady groan echoed against the walls as her hips rolled beneath his grip.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Since she was so eager, and Drown was supremely turned on by her movements beneath him, he loosened his hold on her hips, allowing her to hump up against his face, even as he chased her clit with a swirling grind of his lips. Carmine was gorgeous, her stomach rolling as she moved her hips, draped in her loose under shirt, her breasts swaying lazily, the dim flicker of candlelight painting warm shadows over the plush mounds. And Drown groaned softly at the fist of her fingers in his hair as he edged her closer, her thighs, still dressed in stockings clenching closer.

But that was the moment he chose to back off, ignoring her clinging hands as he lifted up, his short beard glittering with moisture and a wolfish grin on his face. Crawling over her on the bed, Drown lowered his hips between her lewdly spread legs, her arousal slicking her up so much that his throbbing length slid in with one thrust. A hungry gasp left him, her smooth tightness hugging him close and he stilled, hovering above her as he shivered at the pleasure of her warmth. Looking down at her, a hand came down to stroke her elegant cheek, thumb lazily dipping to the corner of her mouth. With a smirk, Drown lowered himself further, holding her body close to his and kissing her lazily as he began to thrust slow and deep into her silken pussy. A hand swept down to cup her ass, lifting one of her stocking-clad legs up his hip, angling deeper into her with hard, driving strokes.

The clap of their bodies increased in frenzy, slowing to a pressed rocking, barely leaving her at all as he kissed her lips warmly, Drown edging his own orgasm, dragging this out. He saw the way she'd looked at the room below deck and if he were honest, he didn't want her to leave him just yet. Her warm, soft body was a welcome comfort in his bed and the magic that swirled between them sent electric tingles rippling over his skin. He barely knew this woman, yet already he was clinging to the intimacy and companionship she promised, even if it was just someone warm and soft to snuggle with in the cold, damp night.

It couldn't go on forever, though, and Drown lifted himself up again, using his tattooed arms as pillars, hands planted firmly on the bed beside Carmine's shoulders. Pounding more fiercely now, the pirate captain drew close with passion, growling and panting heatedly as his pleasure reached a crescendo. As it finally crashed over him, a ragged groan tore from his throat, mouth hanging agape in ecstasy as his cock pumped deep inside her. Riding out his orgasm, Drown thrust several more times, humming in delight as her silken insides milked him of every drop of seed he had to give.

Panting, dripping with sweat, Drown finally fell to his side on the bed beside her, laying back with a lazy sigh of satisfaction. The scar on his chest rose and fell with his breaths as his body cooled and the adrenaline slowed in his veins. Reaching to the small shelf in the interior wall of the bed, Drown pulled a cigarette free from the metal box that laid there, lighting it with a match. Cinnamon smoke engulfed the bed in a heavy haze as he drew deeply upon it, exhaling the aromatic smoke with a sigh. As he put an arm behind his head, Drown took the cigarette from his lips and offered it to Carmine for a drag.

"What's the verdict? Will you stay, or am I just a simple madman?"