The Lighthouse [Bene and Shiva]

[Bene]

The rain whipped against the side of the Going Merry, carried by the sharp wind that rocked it. The ship was a decent sized, but this was a decent storm. By the captain's guess, it was a tropical storm that made its way to the coastline. Not as strong as a hurricane but pretty damn close. This was not Captain Wynton's first storm that he had sailed through nor would it be his last if he had any say in the matter. He had been fishing in these waters for over a decade now and never once let a storm sink his ship. Especially with the haul he had brought in this time.

"Captain! We're taking on water!" a man shouted from the deck. Though the captain would not hear him. Nor would he see the water flooding his lower decks from the upper deck. It took most of his strength to just hold onto the wheel to keep the ship straight.

"Hang on boys! We're not sinking yet! Poseidon shall guide us! " he shouted back, not even sure what they had said. Captain Christopher Wynton, was a sailor born and raised. Since he could walk, he sailed the seas around Bar Harbour, Maine. When he was old enough, he got his own boat and started to make his living fishing. Business was great, and he had his own house right by the sea. It was there he moved in with the love of his life Sarah. The two lived happily for the past decade, before she fell ill one winter and passed the following spring. Her passing took a toll on the Captain, and he resigned himself to a life at sea. Being that he had no reason to come home anymore. The men onboard however did, so he would do his damnedest to bring them home safely.

It seemed the sea had other plans, however.

Not long after the captain shouted those words of encouragement, a rogue wave would knock into the ship and shatter its hull. Even sooner after that, the ship was lost to the sea. The last thing the captain would see would be the surface of the water.

Then blackness.

---

Some time later, the captain would wash ashore. The clothes he wore were soaked all the way through, which consisted of a white shirt with black trousers and suspenders. The coat and boots he wore would have been lost to the sea. His dark brown hair clung to his face, caked with salt and sand. The captain was tall, about 6 foot even, and had a decent amount of muscle to him from being on the ship. A small amount of blood would pool by his head, where he suffered a blow to the head that knocked him out.

By either dumb luck, or fate itself, the captain was alive.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

There were rarely sharks along that stretch of rocky coast. The sharks knew better than to intrude on the hunting grounds of creatures stronger and more clever than they were.

It wasn't long after the Going Merry had begun to sink that the pack began to slowly circle around the wreckage. Every now and then a wide, flexible tail with all the iridescence of oil on water would splash almost playfully against the waves, and a few of the men (before they met their inevitable ends) could have sworn they saw at least one pair of glowing blue eyes staring curiously at them from behind long black lashes. One man even saw a tress of bluish-green hair fall over his shoulder before he felt the teeth sinking into his neck, and another could have sworn he saw a bare-breasted woman staring at him from beneath the water, her wide mouth open in silent laughter as claw-like hands tore the cabin boy in half.

At first, the pack didn't notice the captain's body bobbing off in the direction of a rocky, fog-wreathed island off to the south. It was only after they had eaten their fill that the leader raised one white hand in warning against her sisters who might have dared to follow the corpse. "Leave that one for her," the leader instructed as the storm began to calm just enough to allow the burning gleam of a lighthouse to pierce through the dark. "She always throws them back to us when she's done."

*****
​

Some people on the mainland said the Siren Rock Light was cursed. Others said it was just the keeper that was bad luck, and what could you expect? Young ladies belonged in the home, looking after their children and their husbands, not manning lighthouses all on their own. But Elizabeth Burke's father had kept the light before she did, and his father before him, and his father had been the very first keeper almost one hundred years ago. Before that the Burkes were all sailors, so you couldn't say that young Eliza didn't at least have the breeding for it. But everyone agreed she was an odd duck, and perhaps it was best that she stay out there on the Rock rather than try to integrate into proper society.

Really it should have been her brother Charlie that had inherited the post after old John's passing five years ago, but poor Charlie Burke had died in the war at age of nineteen, so that was the end of that. John had handled the loss of his only son with surprising strength (as was expected of a proper lighthouse keeper), but his poor wife had thrown herself off the roof when she heard the news, leaving her husband with only their young daughter for comfort from that point on. Eliza stopped going to school and John stopped going ashore, and indeed when he finally had given up his post hardly anyone had noticed for the first year, seeing how the light remained lit night after night. On the first clear spring day (a rarity on that part of the coast) where the straights were safe enough to cross over to the island, authorities were shocked to find old John in a coffin outside the door, and young Eliza manning the facility all on her own.

At first they had tried to send her away, saying a lighthouse was no place for a young woman. But the girl had refused to go, and anyway even if she did, who would be there to light the beacon in her place? That did put the authorities in a pickle, and so they came to the agreement that when a replacement would be found, she would leave. But no replacement ever came. At first the coast was struck with such a bout of bad weather that the new man eventually gave up waiting for clear skies and accepted a post elsewhere. Then when another fellow finally did attempt the crossing, his boat was shattered to pieces on the rocks (caught in an errant current, no doubt) and his body was never found. So eventually the authorities gave up the matter and let Eliza have her way, with the warning that if she left failed to light the lamp she would find herself swiftly removed.

But night after night the lighthouse shone through the spray and the storms, warning the passing ships of the dangers of Siren Rock and the treacherous coast nearby. And Eliza never seemed to mind the solitude; in fact she seemed to prefer it. Sharp-eyed shore-dwellers could occasionally see her strolling along the little stretch of sand on the north edge of the rock, and some swore they could even hear her sing. If it was Eliza's voice that rang out across the straits, everyone had to sadly agree it was wasted on such a peculiar woman, when it could have been filling all the great concert halls of Europe and the Americas with its sweet, sad tones.

The singing could be heard out on the rock once the storm had cleared, and despite the darkness of the night Eliza didn't seem to need a lantern in order to make her way down to the beach. She had been sitting near the light, watching a ship go down on the horizon when she had noticed some piece of flotsam or jetsam floating her way, and not having much else to occupy her time she had decided to go down and look for it. If anyone had seen her, she could have easily been mistaken for some spirit of the wandering dead, with her pale skin and wild black hair caught on the night wind. What little light there was on the rocks was easily caught and reflected back by her dark blue eyes, giving them an eerie luminescent quality, and her body cut an unnerving silhouette against the sky.

Women on the mainland liked to gossip about how Elizabeth Burke never wore a corset, and instead seemed almost proud of her full, high breasts. But men whose eyes lingered too much on her chest couldn't help but notice the most unladylike muscularity of her arms and shoulders, no doubt developed by years of climbing the metal ladder to the light room. By contrast her legs were very thin and almost absurdly long when compared to her compact torso, and it was almost universally accepted that that the shakiness in them was due to drink. How else could it be that the woman moved like one who had barely ever walked before?

Still, Eliza managed to keep her balance as she made her way down to the beach, though her ill-fitting clothes didn't do much to help the cause. The calico dress had been her mother's, and was too tight in the chest and too short in the skirt, but she never had quite gotten the hang of sewing and so she made do. Her father's boots were much too big for her feet but at least they came almost all the way up her calves, and would therefore prevent too much scandal from any prying eyes. Tonight though, the only eyes that might have seen her were currently closed and almost sealed shut with sand and saltwater, and the young woman let out a cry of surprise as she fell down by the side of the man face-down on the beach.

"Sir...? Sir, can you hear me?" she asked in a voice with a soft, unidentifiable accent (then again Lucy Burke's people had come from overseas someplace, so it must have been expected her child might not talk quite right). The man didn't seem to respond to her, but Elizabeth could feel him breathing on her hand once she turned him over. His body was ice cold though, and his clothes seemed plastered to his well-sculpted form. If she didn't get him inside soon, no doubt the cold would finish what the sea had started.

With more strength than would be expected of a girl her age, Elizabeth lifted the stranger over one shoulder and began to carry him back towards the lighthouse. Her footing was still slightly unsteady, but she managed to get him inside and into her bed without dropping him, then immediately set about building up a fire in the cast-iron stove near the wall. Once the room was several degrees warmer, she stood over the bed staring down curiously at the man, wondering what else she could do for him. Despite what better society on the mainland might have thought, the next best thing she decided she could do was to get him out of his wet clothes, and so rather unceremoniously, she began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, her long nails scratching lightly at the fabric as she tried not to tear anything.

 

[Bene]

Everything was dark. And cold. Was this what dying felt like? Was he dead? Those were the only thoughts in his mind. It was almost peaceful, and he welcomed the warm embrace of death. His body grew warmer now. Surely this was it. Any moment now he'd be face to face with the Creator. If only he paid more attention at church when was young. Maybe, if there was a god, he would be merciful given that he died so unexpectedly. All he could do was wait now for this warmth to overtake him and he could be at peace.

But, once again, the fates had other plans for the captain.

As the captain slowly pried his eyes open, a wooden room slowly came into focus. Was he back on the ship? The decor was similar at least. Slowly, he attempted to sit up but a fit of coughs had him on his back once more as he coughed up seawater. It would fall onto his chest and onto the bed he was placed on. Soon after the coughing stopped came gasps, and even harder coughs with more water. Had he swallowed the damn ocean?!

Unable to speak, he panicked and looked around the room. It was certainly NOT his ship. No he was on the mainland and in someone's house. His blue eyes scanned the room, finding a young black-haired woman standing not a foot away from the bed. And if she wasn't the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Perhaps it was the near-death encounter and the thought of never seeing any women again, but this young woman looked almost like an angel. Chris opened his mouth to speak, and offer thanks, but only more coughs came out. His chest ached with the amount of coughing he had done to expel any water left in his lungs. But this would spare him pneumonia or some other sickness the sea brought with it. Minutes past, or so he would believe, and the man could finally clear his throat enough to speak.

"T-thank you. I can only as-" his voice was shaky, and he had to pause to cough more. "I can only assume your father pulled me from certain doom" he managed to get out as he sat up once more. Then more coughs. This girl would have been to small to move his 200-odd pound body to this room. But the girl's father was nowhere to be seen. Now that he had a bit more of his senses he got a better look at the room. The walls were old wood panels, and various portraits and paintings decorated them. The bed he laid on was opposite a stove, which was the source of the heat he had felt earlier no doubt. There were no windows in this room, so he could not see outside. Though the scent of salt on the air still meant he couldn't be too far from the sea.

Now that some more time passed, an intense wave of pain washed over his body. Every part of his body hurt, his chest most of all. There was also the pounding headache he had that was enough to send him on his back once more and into another fit of coughs. The pain was intense enough to almost make him wish he had died out there. Anything would be better than this.

Chris took some deep, albeit shaky breathes and tried to regain some composure. His head would turn to face the young woman once more.

"Where am I?" he asked in a raspy voice, followed by some more coughs.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

When the man started to cough, Eliza quickly jerked her hand away as though it had been scalded. She had sensed he was alive to some degree, but she hadn't expected him to start spouting water like an ornamental fountain. If Lucy Burke could have seen the water staining her hand-stitched quilt no doubt she would have thrown a fit, but the younger woman hardly seemed to notice as she cautiously approached the man's bedside. When the coughing threatened to choke him out entirely, she finally steeled herself and clenched her fist, then delivered one hard final blow to his chest in an attempt to drive out the last of the water.

"This is the Siren Rock lighthouse. You washed up on the beach," the girl said finally, sitting on a rickety chair beside the bed. "Were you on that ship that went down? I saw it hit the rocks farther north. Didn't you see the light?" She pointed one slender finger towards the ceiling, which was beginning to sag a little except where the winding stone stairs continued upward to the light room. A fair amount of rotating white light filtered down through the hole, illuminating the the room at least partially while a few dim oil lamps compensated for the rest of the shadows. For the most part Elizabeth preferred the dark, and rarely lit lamps beyond the largest one up top, but the stranger wasn't the first visitor she'd entertained, and she'd learned some time ago that most people preferred not to sit in pitch blackness.

It was for his benefit as well that she had taken a dipper of rainwater and filled the small copper teapot, then set it on the stove to boil. The art of making tea wasn't totally lost on her, but Elizabeth wasn't fond of the beverage herself. Luckily, that meant John Burke's enormous tea chest was still almost half full even after all these years, and before long the visitor would be able to warm his insides a bit with a steaming cup. Food was going to be a bit more of a challenge. The keeper did keep a small barrel full of fish in saltwater downstairs, but she almost never cooked them. On the prior occasions when Eliza's culinary aspirations had reared their ugly head, she almost always ended up either setting the slippery silver morsels on fire or boiling the flavor out of them entirely.

Ah, but what about the box of bread? At least, she assumed it was bread of some kind. The metal container had washed up on the beach a few weeks earlier, sealed tight and filled to the brim with strange, crunchy bread-like cakes. They weren't particularly tasty, but they did sate one's hunger, and maybe they would be more suited to the stranger's palate than her own. At the very least, if he dipped one of them in his tea they at least wouldn't break his teeth.

However, the more Elizabeth looked at her patient, she was beginning to doubt if he needed food at all. His breathing was still ragged even though no more water came up, and his eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing on anything but her. Sitting down by the bed again, the young woman placed one hand on his forehead, and the the other on her own, with the former being noticeably warmer despite the apparent chill in the rest of his body. "You're sick," she stated matter-of-factly, standing up and moving to the foot of the bed. There was a heavy sea chest resting there, filled with old articles belonging to the rest of the Burke family, but on the very top of the pile was a small bottle half-full of a strange colorless liquid.

Taking the bottle from the chest, Elizabeth returned to the man's side and knelt down beside him, her face startlingly close to his. "I can help you," she murmured softly, uncorking the bottle. "If you let me. Is it all right?"

 

[Bene]

Siren Rock? That was miles from where his ship was destined. That storm must have carried him farther south than he thought. But at least on solid land he would be safe. Chris would go to say something more to her, but instead of words he could only manage more coughs. Each one left him weaker and weaker. At this rate he would surely perish if he didn't receive some serious medical attention. His vision was going again too now, and the room seemed to spin.

"Please..." he said softly in response to her question, and fell back asleep a few moments later.

The darkness was back. It felt as though he was floating through some endless void, weightless and drifting for eternity. This had to be death. With how often that he had cheated it in the past, it was about time that death came for him. Chris would welcome it. It would allow him to see his beloved Sarah once more. Before her death, he promised her that he would see her again in the afterlife. That promise allowed her to die with a smile on her face. And now Chris would die that same way. As he passed he would think of the kind woman who at least pulled him free from the ocean.

The other men on his ship however, were not as fortunate. The four others in total: Charles, Matthew, Joseph, and Branden. Charles was the youngest at just 17 years old, then came Branden at 18, Joseph at 21 and Matthew at 25. Chris himself was about 30 now, but he stopped counting after 25. They were surely all lost to the sea now, and now Chris would join them as well. The first thing he wold do is apologize to them; it was his fault they were out there in the first place. But their families would surely mourn them as well.

His clothes were still soaked, and weighed about as much as he did. All of the water he brought with him would start to drip through the mattress at this point. The color in his skin began to fade now as well, and his pained breathing began to slow down.

It was time.

But once again, fate would have other plans.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Alarm began to bubble up in Eliza's chest, although she did her best not to let the stranger see it. Instead she began to hum softly beneath her breath, the otherworldly melody somehow filling the room with a sense of peace. It wasn't long before the man's eyes drifted shut, and she let out a soft sigh of relief. Very, very carefully her long fingers tilted the vial forward, spilling a single drop of the clear fluid inside on each of his closed eyelids. Elizabeth never knew what the subjects of her "cure" felt while being treated, but her current patient's breath seemed to slow and deepen somewhat, and she could only assume what pain he was feeling had been assuaged somewhat.

It was Nurse who had taught her the power of her tears, and Elizabeth would eternally be grateful for the knowledge the old woman had imparted. Heaven knew that over the years the lighthouse keeper had more than enough to cry over, but it was only a short time ago she had begun to preserve her sorrows in the little crystal vials. Whenever a poor soul had washed up on the Rock (the current stranger certainly wasn't the first, and probably wouldn't be the last either) she had found that no matter how sick or broken their bodies were, two tears was almost always enough to heal them. And as far as Eliza could tell by running her hands lightly over his torso and limbs, the stranger had no broken bones or serious lacerations. The ocean had been kind to him in that sense, but his fever still worried her and she decided she would need to watch him closely through the night.

Still singing her lullaby beneath her breath, the woman resumed undressing the man from his sopping clothes, draping each article carefully in front of the stove as it was removed. When he awoke in the morning she could give him a set of John's clothing, but in the meantime Elizabeth did her best to ensure he didn't wake up in the process. It wasn't that she felt any embarrassment at seeing him naked--far from it, in fact--but if he did awake suddenly to find his hostess leaning over him, her hands firmly on his hips as she tugged off his trousers, he was sure to get at least a little bit of a shock. In his condition, she didn't dare risk the strain to his heart.

But the man didn't awake, and eventually the woman got him firmly beneath the blankets with a few extra added for extra warmth. As she tucked him in, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice the remarkable symmetry in his face, and while his musculature was certainly impressive it wasn't intimidating. Other sailors that had washed up on her shore had uglier casts to their visage, or had been too old or young to really evoke any kind of emotional response from her. Worst of all, some of those that she had saved had grown savage in their recovery, ready to force themselves on their savior as soon as they realized she was a woman alone and seemingly defenseless.

Elizabeth had regretted saving those men, and had rectified the mistake very quickly once she realized it.

This man seemed different though. Perhaps it was the fever, but there had been a strange cast in his eyes before he's fallen asleep; a sadness that seemed to resonate with something deep in Eliza's heart. As daylight began to filter down from the light room and her own weariness was beginning to grow unbearable, she extinguished the lamps and stripped out of her own gown, then slid into the bed beside the man. Without even the slightest bit of hesitation, the woman curled her body around his, marveling at the warmth in his flesh that seemed so lacking in her own. Indeed, if the man were to awake he might have been shocked at the cool touch of her skin and wondered about her own health, but despite her natural pallor Elizabeth really was perfectly healthy, if a bit improper.

And so she slept all morning, her head pillowed on the sick man's shoulder while her mane of black hair spilled like a massive inkblot over the bedding.

 

[Bene]

Warmth. That is what the captain felt now. There was still darkness, but there was a peaceful warmth instead of the cold he felt moments ago. Everything felt so lucid. The captain was alive, but dreaming. And completely aware of it. Chris felt as light as a feather and simultaneously felt heavy as a brick. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not open his eyes. It would seem he needed the rest after the night he has had. A few moments later he let his thoughts empty, and drifted off into a much deeper sleep.

When he opened his eyes next, the sun was out. It's rays could be seen shining down the stone staircase up the light room. Most of the pain was gone, save for an ache in his chest and he could think clearer now. It was much warmer now too, the weight of the blankets he felt saw to that. As well as the girl curled up next to him. Wait. The captain lazily brought a hand up to his face to rub the gunk out of eyes to be sure.

And he was.

That black haired girl from last night was currently fast asleep beside him, her head resting on his opposite shoulder. If it weren't for the fact she had saved his life the night prior, he would've pushed her off. But letting her rest now was the least he could do for her. Now that he was more coherent, he could get a proper look at her now. Her hair was as black as the night, and her face had a very youthful glow about it. Yet there was a mystifying air about her that he couldn't quite place. And a beauty he couldn't put into words either. Almost like his beloved Sarah.

A few minutes would pass with him just staring down at her. There was peace in her warm touch on his own bare skin. It was about then he realized that he only felt the blankets about him. The captain laid beside her as nude as the day he was born. It made sense given that the clothes he arrived in were soaked and would have only done him more harm than good. What he didn't have an answer for was why she was also nude. Though he couldn't say he minded her touch.

Finally, and regrettably, it would be time for this brief moment to end. The captain sat up, the blankets pooling into his lap and the girl's rest was disturbed. The room now longer spun when he sat up, which had to be a good sign. A dull ache still remained in his chest, and he coughed a bit, but it was a marked improvement over how he felt the night prior. He stretched both of his arms above his head and let loose a low groan as he did.

Then he would turn his attention to the girl.

"Are you awake?" he asked, nudging her shoulder.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

She dreamed of the sea, the way she always did. Her glowing eyes had no trouble piercing the shadows of the ocean floor, but their sensitive vision also didn't detract from the beautiful, star-like flickering of the bioluminescent fish that fled before her outstretched hand. The fish knew a predator when they saw one. But she wasn't hungry at the moment, and only smiled and swam playfully forward, the light of the deep ocean vents reflecting off the shimmering scales of her lower half. Someone was singing--her sister?--and the voices were beginning to multiply, growing louder, and louder.

"Are you awake?"

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open and she took a sharp, deep breath, wondering at first why her lungs didn't fill with water. It took the feeling of a firm touch on her shoulder to remind her she wasn't under the water at all. She was laying in a bed, in a lighthouse, and with a surreptitous glance beneath the blankets she could see her legs were just that: legs, without a scale upon them. That wasn't all she saw though, and jerking her head up she stared directly into the face of the man she'd found on the beach the night before, realizing he was the one who had spoken and touched her.

"Yes..." she began slowly, propping herself up on her arms and shaking her head a little. "I am awake. Are you feeling better?"

Without even a shred of embarrassment, Eliza sat up straight as soon as she'd gathered enough strength, letting the blanket drop and exposing her almost blindingly white torso, the paleness only pierced by the small, jet-black nipples on her full round breasts. Again she laid one hand on his forehead and the other on her own, noting that while the man was still much warmer than she was, he didn't seem to burn as much as he had last night. "I think your fever is down somewhat, but you should still rest," the woman concluded, dropping her hand and slipping out of the bed. Despite her nudity and the relative chill of the room, she didn't seem even the least bit uncomfortable as she placed a few bits of what looked like broken furniture in the stove, then set about lighting it. That done, she re-lit the lamps until the space was yet again filled with a cheery glow, and only then did she pull on a heavy dressing gown that still only fell to her mid-calf.

After disappearing for a moment up the ladder into the light room, she returned with a rather apologetic look on her face. "I don't think you'll be able to get to shore any time soon. The seas are still rough. I can try to signal a ship, but they won't be able to come near," she explained, sitting back down on the bed and looking more closely at him.

"You are a sailor, are you not? What's your name?" Eliza asked, tilting her head.

 

[Bene]

The captain's eyes widened at the sight of her bare chest before he quickly averted his gaze. Not since his beloved died, had he seen another woman naked. Much less slept in the same bed as one. Without looking at her, he would reply.

"Yes... Though my chest still aches. I suspect a broken rib. Not my first and, God willing, my last. " he replied. This had not been his first shipwreck after all. Accidents were common out at sea, though in the last 10 years or so the seas grew much safer as boats improved. As she mentioned the fever, he did note he was still a tad lightheaded. So more rest would be right as she said. Soon she stood up and he laid his head back down on the pillow and sighed. At least he was safe now.

When she returned next with the news, he sat back up to find her clothed again. "My name is Captain Christopher Wynton, but you can call me Chris or Cap if you'd like. " he replied to her question, then raised one of his own.

"What is your name miss? And is it just you here? A lighthouse is a pretty dangerous place for just a young lady like yourself. " It was most unusual that her parents were nowhere to be seen, even if she were old enough to tend the lighthouse herself. Though it was hard to tell just how she was just by looking at her. She was a woman no doubt, evident by the form now hidden under her gown.

"And would it be too much to ask for some clean clothes? " he said, remembering he was till nude under these blankets. Blood was flowing down in his lower regions and legs once more, so he was more aware of the fact. Though with the just the blankets he was warm enough, it was still wrong for him to be his current state of dress around a young woman.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Christopher Wynton," the woman repeated slowly, committing the name to memory. Christopher, Christopher...there was something in John Burke's big black book about someone named Christopher. Yes, now that she thought about it, Christopher was the one who carried the little child across the water, never knowing He was his Lord and Savior. And that made him a patron saint of travelers, didn't it?

A pleased smile slowly tweaked the corners of Eliza's mouth. She'd remembered the story after all, and that was proof she was well on the way to her goal. And how ironic that a man with such a name should wash up on the shores of her lighthouse. It must have been a a sign. The man in black had told her God would send signs to her, proof she was making progress. Once John Burke's book had been fully committed to her mind, and she let the light of the Lord would surely enter her, and grant her--

"What is your name miss? And is it just you here? A lighthouse is a pretty dangerous place for just a young lady like yourself. "

Eliza had been so lost in thought that for a moment she almost forgot about Christopher's presence. She stared at him unblinking for a moment, and when she finally realized he had asked her a question, she needed to scramble somewhat to answer it. "Al..." she started, then froze solid. No, that wasn't her name. Not any more. Swallowing hard, the young woman shut her eyes a moment then started over. "Eliza," she corrected, letting out a soft breath and opening her eyes again. "My name is Elizabeth Burke. My father was John Burke, and my mother was his wife, Lucy. He was the keeper of this lighthouse until he died five years ago. I have kept it since then."

There was an odd, forced tone in her voice as she explained--no, recited was more accurate--her past. However, if Christopher needed further proof, she merely needed to point at the small family portrait hanging on the wall above the sparsely populated bookshelf. Sure enough, it depicted a middle-aged man who looked every bit the quintessential sailor and lighthouse keeper, with a plump but lovely dark-haired woman at his side. In front of the pair was a handsome young man with blonde hair and a small girl. It was hard to tell in the dim light of the chamber, but the girl's hair didn't quite seem to match that of the grown woman standing beside the painting, though they did have the same blue eyes and delicate bone structure. Artistic license on the part of the painter, no doubt.

Without another word, Eliza went to the small armoire near the spiral staircase, opening the door and letting out a vaguely moldy scent. Still, the men's trousers, shirt, and sweater were mostly intact if a bit frayed, and she laid them ceremoniously on the bed before him before sitting down in a chair near the wall. The woman's eyes never left the man's naked body, although there was more curiosity in her expression than lasciviousness. She was mostly focused on his chest; after the mention of a possible broken rib she was wondering if another dose of the tears was necessary.

But Nurse had warned her that she should never let a man see her use them, and Nurse was the wisest woman Elizabeth knew. So she kept them hidden, deciding she could wait until her guest wanted to sleep again before applying them. In the meantime, she had something else she needed to worry about.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, hoping the answer would be no. But perhaps if Christopher was well enough to get out of bed, he might be able to cook his fish himself? Otherwise he'd have to settle for the stale biscuits squirreled away somewhere downstairs.

 

[Bene]

"Well thank you Elizabeth. I am sorry to hear about your family, yet glad to see you running this place on your own. Not an easy feat for a girl your age." he said with a warm smile. The Burke's were not a family name he recognized from the area. Though he usually ported out of Bar Harbor a few more miles north of this lighthouse. The family seemed small enough, perhaps they were new to America? A lot of foreigners made their living on the coastline. Christopher's family was originally from Wales, but his grandfather came over decades ago. It was after that that his father, Jack, was born making Christopher a second generation american.

A few more coughs, and Chris had the strength to sit all the way back up again.

The captain was able to get out of bed finally when she laid his clothes down. They looked stiff from the saltwater, but it would be better than nothing. As he stood, he turned to face away from Eliza in an attempt at modesty. His body was worn from years at sea. Along his back were scars, on his flank was a patch of dark almost purple skin where he had taken the impact of something when he fell off the ship. As he reached for his clothes, he breathing grew more pained and the dizziness returned. But he would push through the pain as he slid his trousers back on. Right leg first, then left. For comfort, he opted not to redo his belt. From the bed, he grabbed his shirt and it over his head. The once white shirt was stained now with a mixture of saltwater and blood, giving it a darker grayish brown color.

Once dressed, the captain sat back down on the bed to wheezily catch his breath. The clothes he wore offered little comfort, but at least kept him modest before the young woman. Another question was asked by her, and he turned to face her.

"Starving, but I would hate to impose. You have done so much already, and I am thankful for that Elizabeth. " he said with a warm smile. Chris coughed a few more times and cleared his throat. It was easier to speak now, but not by much. "Have you any way to contact the mainland? I must let my friends know I am alive, and tell the families of my crew that they are not." he said with somber tone.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The sailor wasn't the first person to comment on Eliza's age, and her mouth twisted humorously at the comment. "I am older than you think, Christopher," was all she said, although the irony in her eyes was quickly replaced by alarm when he began to cough again. In an instant Eliza was on her feet, and a moment later the captain was as well, though she could tell from his body language that for now at least he didn't seem to want her near him. The young woman wasn't offended, but his modesty was a bit confusing to her. The other men she'd known over the past five years had been eager to show themselves to her, so foolishly confident that their aged, broken, and rum-wracked bodies could entice someone with Elizabeth's beauty. And while some of them did have one very specific appeal to her, the idea of attraction was utterly ridiculous.

Christopher's body was at least as bruised as many of the others had been, and while he might have been older than some he was far from the oldest. But his skin, though a little flushed from the fever, didn't have the yellowish cast she'd seen in many of the worst-smelling ones, and if she was being honest there still was a certain impressiveness in the muscles of his back and shoulders, and while his limbs might be shaky now his movements weren't without a hint of grace to them. At least, not until she him wavering a little.

"Careful!" she warned, moving across the room in a flash and wrapping one arm around his waist to keep him from falling. Beneath her hand, she could feel the smooth but distinct lines of his abdominal muscles, and it sent a strange sort of thrill through Eliza's body that she had never felt before. The closest thing that came to mind was she she was singing, and one of her sisters crept in and harmonized perfectly with her, giving the melody a power and dimension that could threaten to overwhelm them if they didn't keep control.

Does Christopher sing? the young woman wondered as he freed himself from her grasp and sat back down on the bed. Well, he probably wouldn't be singing in his current condition, but maybe once he was well again. In the meantime, there was the question of food, and how he would make his way off the Rock. The former was possible though inconvenient, but the second?

"I fly a red flag on the roof when I need supplies from the mainland. Sometimes the harbormaster comes on his own if I forget to ask, but he was here a few weeks ago before the weather got bad. I do not think he will return any time soon," she explained, beginning to rummage through the cupboards for cooking utensils. "Until a boat can cross the straits, I'm afraid you will have to stay here. Do...do you have a family waiting for you?"

It was a question she'd never bothered to ask any of the others. But Christopher was so different from the other men she'd known. If there were loved ones waiting for him, she wasn't sure she would be able to bring herself to do what would eventually have to be done. He seemed weaker and gentler than the others, and the idea that he wouldn't be missed in the wide world seemed highly unlikely.

 

[Bene]

The touch of her hand on his side filled him with more warmth despite its own coldness it had. The girl was thin, and probably didn't have much body heat of her own it seemed. Or it was the fact he still had a pretty strong fever and he himself was abnormally warm. It was not until he was sat back down that her hand left his side. Though he couldn't complain too much after all. A few more coughs replaced the words of gratitude he would tell her, but he felt he had thanked her with his words enough by now.

"Afraid not..." Chris started, and looked to the floor. "I had a wife, Sarah, but she passed last winter. Since then it's been just me. My folks retired down to New York few years back now too, there's no one waiting for me back home anymore." he said. He hadn't meant to bring down the mood mentioning Sarah, but it couldn't be helped. It had been months now, so he had already accepted her loss and moved on. Though now it just meant that he could stay here as long as he needed. Or was stuck.

Chris made one more attempt to stand up, and stay that way, by slowing inching away from the bed. A few more coughs once more replaced what he would say to her. It must be hard for the poor girl to be living here alone like that. But her job was an important one. This lighthouse saved countless lives no doubt, thanks to its keeper. This black-haired young woman with a strange sort of beauty to her. The kind that made him miss his Sarah even more.

"Elizabeth, might I trouble you for some tea?" he asked, voice still raspy. "It would no doubt warm my body enough to be rid of this damned cough. "

A few moments would pass with the captain doing his best to stay standing, despite a wobble or two. The room was not spinning as quickly as earlier, but it still felt as though he was still on the ship. Finally he submitted once more and sat back down onto the bed once more and coughed a few more times. After the coughs came more wheezes and some low groaning. The room grew darker and he soon realized he was falling back asleep. But he was able to fight it this time and remain consciousness despite the tug from the void.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Mixed feelings began to swirl through Elizabeth's mind as the sailor explained his familial situation. On the one hand, she pitied him for the loneliness he must have felt, knowing it couldn't be dissimilar from what she herself suffered. At the same time though, it was a relief to know that no one was depending on his safe return for their own survival. Some of the other men, when they had realized the fate that lay in store for them, had pleaded with her on behalf of their wives and children, insisting they would starve without a father and husband to look after them. Their begging hadn't saved them in the end, but Eliza still worried sometimes about whether or not she had condemned innocent strangers that she had never met, and often tried to pray for them when she remembered to pray at all.

"Your wife is in heaven?" the young woman asked, wondering if Christopher could tell her more about that nebulous subject that had so often occupied her lonely thoughts. If Sarah was in heaven, it seemed however that her husband was eager to join her, and Elizabeth let out a surprisingly cross sigh as she pushed him back towards the bed. "You must stop that," she scolded, adjusting the blankets over him. "Where do you suppose you can go? There is no stove downstairs and it is very cold, and you are not allowed in the light room. If you try to go outside you will slip and fall on the rocks and end up right back in the water. You had best stay in bed until you are well enough to stand."

Once he was settled, Elizabeth nodded obligingly at the mention of tea, and disappeared down the stairs a moment to fetch the water When she returned, she was carrying not only the filled kettle, but a small pot with a few fish floating in it as well. If tea couldn't serve to warm her guest up, perhaps a bit of broth could do the trick. In either case, Eliza herself was beginning to feel a bit peckish, although how she'd manage to eat without Christopher's notice wasn't a puzzle she'd quite worked out just yet.

As it turned out though, it seemed the man was well on his way to falling asleep. Perhaps that was the best for now. All she needed was perhaps ten or fifteen minutes to apply another dose of the tears and gobble down a couple of the fish, and that would be enough. Setting aside the fish and placing the kettle on the rickety wooden table rather than the stove, Elizabeth sat down beside the bed and ran her hand lightly through Christopher's hair.

"If you are tired, you should sleep," she murmured, a hint of melody in her voice. "I promise, no harm shall come to you here. But if you do not rest you will not get well." Very softly she began to hum, her fingers gently massaging his scalp.

 

[Bene]

The captain fought hard to stay awake, but ultimately submitted to the void once more. Elizabeth's soft hand through his rough hair was enough to send him back. This time it was warm. Still dark, but much warmer. Comforting almost. There were no images this time, just nothingness all around. The next time he saw light would be when he opened his eyes once more, about three hours or so later. At least he assumed given the lack of the sun's presence in the room now. All that remained was the soft glow from the lanterns she lit earlier.

"How long was I out?" Christopher murmured and sat back up once more. This time with more stability. More sleep seemed to work wonders for his condition. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead; a sign the fever had finally broke. But he knew better than to try and stand up once more. For now he would save his energy best he could. It took so much to even sit back up and stay that way. But he allowed himself lean back against the bed frame. Chris cleared his throat a bit before speaking again.

"I will thank you once again, Elizabeth." he said. There was more strength in his voice now than he had before. The wheeze in his breath was gone now too, and some color had returned to his skin. "If you wouldn't mind, that tea you started earlier would be quite lovely. Sorry I fell back asleep once, I think some of my energy is back now. Another day or so and I'll be back to my fighting self." he said with a hearty laugh.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Even Eliza was surprised at how quickly Christopher fell asleep this time, but it was probably a good sign that his body was fighting the fever. As soon as his eyes were closed she fetch the vial again, applying a few more drops and singing a few bars to keep him down just for good measure. That business seen to, she plucked one of the fish out of the pot on the floor, running her tongue along its cold, scaly side to get a taste of the heavy salt. Then, in a manner that might have horrified the sleeper beside her, the woman opened her mouth to an almost impossible angle and swallowed the entire thing whole, the fish's silvery-blue tail brushing against her lips as she gulped it down.

She repeated the act with two more of the dead herrings, then set the pot on the stove to boil the rest into soup for her guest. It probably wasn't going to be a very impressive dish, considering she had no vegetables on hand and only a bit of pepper for seasoning, but at least it would be hot. Elizabeth also began to boil water for Christopher's tea as well, fully expecting he would awaken a few minutes later when it began to whistle.

But still he slept, full on for several hours before he awoke looking much better than he had in the morning. "It is about twelve in the afternoon," Eliza replied when he asked how long he'd been asleep. She'd taken the kettle off the pot hours earlier when she realized just how deeply he was asleep (and she'd leaned dangerously close to his lips at the time, feeling for his breath just to make sure he hadn't died while her back was turned), but the soup had continued to cook continuously all that time, the herrings having completely fallen off the bone by now and floating around the clear, salty broth in chunks. "Will you eat a bit of food first?" the young woman offered, ladling the liquid into a rather elegant china cup, considering the dinginess of the room. The spoon she dipped in it as well also seemed to be of a good quality silver, although there was no sign of any similar utensils in sight.

"I am sorry I cannot offer you more than this," she apologized, carefully handing the cup to her patient. Her eyes watched his hands closely, ready to catch the vessel in case they were too shaky to keep from spilling. "I keep very simple stores here. But I have plenty of fish, if you would prefer one on its own." For one brief moment, she toyed with the idea of crossing the straits herself to fetch provisions that might be more appropriate for a sick man. Then again, even if she could make it to the mainland without being dashed to death on the rocks, how in the world could she bring anything back without getting it soaked?

You cannot keep him a voice inside her warned. Get him well, then rid yourself of him.

Elizabeth knew the voice was speaking wisdom, but the more she watched her guest, the more he seemed to spark strange thoughts in her mind. Now that some of his strength was back, there was a vein of courage that seemed more prominent than she had first thought. That combined with his kind nature, and a face that really was beautiful in its own way, was enough to make her wonder if perhaps she might not persuade him to stay. Ah, but it was pointless. Even if he knew her secret and could overlook it, she couldn't continue living this way with him at her side. Sooner or later, the vitae would run out, and then what?

Then again...there might be one way.

"Christopher," Elizabeth asked that evening after she'd straightened up the room and put a fresh pot of tea on the stove. "Where do you come from? I mean, when you are not sailing on your ship, where do you live?" Perhaps, if his home wasn't too far from the rock, it might be managed after all. She'd certainly gone to visit Nurse enough times, and she lived on the mainland, didn't she? Of course, she would have to be careful about her comings and goings, especially if Christopher lived in a real town, but towns always did fascinate her.

While she was building these castles in the air, Eliza failed to notice the curious song that seemed to be carried on the wind outside the lighthouse walls. To Christopher it might just sound like a particularly mournful ocean gale, but there was a warning on it.

Merrow...merrow...

 

[Bene]

The scent of cooked fished was on the air now; not exactly pleasant but with how hungry he was it smelt delicious. It had been more than a full day now since he last ate, as he shipwrecked just before dinner the night prior. Any food at this point would be great. Chris would happily accept the bowl from her, setting it between his legs on the bed. The warmth was also welcome.

Then would come another question from her. But in order to answer it, he needed to know where exactly he was. Elizabeth said this was the Siren Rock Lighthouse last night. Siren Rock was much further south than where he was from, but he wasn't too familiar where it was. But he was certain it was southward of where he was sailing, so he would use that as reference when he explained where he was from.

"A small Island off the coast of Maine called Bar Harbor, north of here I think. " he said. "I have a small cottage by the sea when I'm not at sea, though I rarely spend time there these days. Sarah, my wife, picked out the spot and I built it with my own two hands. I just can't bring myself to go back there now." he said in a melancholic tone. Months had passed since he was last there.

Now that it was a bit cooler, he reached down and spooned a bit of it into his mouth. The taste was a bit bland, but it warmed him to his core. He would spoon more into his mouth before asking another of her in return to her own question.

"Have you grown up here your whole life?" he asked. "It must get pretty lonely here, even with just your family."

The sounds aside bothered him not. The captain was far too old now to worry about whatever sounds the sea made during the day. Though this was a new one.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Elizabeth beamed when she saw Christopher heartily eating the soup. John Burke hadn't been much of a chef himself, and only taught her enough cookery to narrowly avoid burning down the lighthouse in her efforts. In the last five years she'd only had a couple dozen occasions to practice, and most of those times she had more supplies to experiment with than now. Perhaps she ought to hang the red flag after all and see if the harbormaster could bring her some nice vegetables or biscuits. Of course the odds of him getting there before her guest would inevitably leave her seemed unlikely.

As she listened to Christopher describing his home, a thought occurred to her and she went to the rolltop desk near the stairs. Rummaging through the drawers, she pulled out a large rolled paper, then spread it out across her patient's lap. It was a map of the New England coast and its lighthouses, with a large inked X indicated on a spot just south of Portland. "We are here," she explained, tapping the spot that was almost worn through with how many times it had been touched over the years. Although Bar Harbor was indicated on the map, her blue eyes scanned almost blindly over it. "The nearest town with a harbor is called Whitten. They are almost all fishermen in that place. I never see big boats there."

It was possible, she supposed, that there might be a boat that could take Christopher all the way back to his home, depending on how far away that was. But it seemed unlikely. He would have to go inland and make his own way from there, and she...she would have to stay behind.

He could have easily mistaken the sadness in her voice when Eliza next spoke for melancholy about her family. "I do miss them," she acknowledged, staring up towards the light room and the sea beyond. "I feel them near me sometimes. They want me to join them. But I cannot leave this place. Not yet. There are still things that I must--"

Her words died on her lips, and her eyes widened. Outside, the surf was a little calmer than usual, though not by much. It was the currents crashing on the rocks more than the wind, and if she hadn't known better Elizabeth might have thought it was going to be a relatively quiet night for that part of the coast. But there was something else she could hear, beyond the wind and waves. A heavy, wet, flapping noise.

Immediately, Elizabeth sprung to her feet. "I must go outside for a moment. Please stay here. I will return momentarily. Do not get out of bed." There was a strange force in her voice, harsher than any tone she had previously used with him. Her eyes were flashing so fiercely they almost seemed to glow, and without putting on a cloak or even shoes she immediately disappeared down the spiral staircase leading to the ground floor. A moment later came the sound of the heavy door of the lighthouse slamming, and then...nothing.

For nearly an hour, Christopher would have nothing but the sounds of the ocean to keep him company. The stove was beginning to die and the lamps were growing dim, when finally the downstairs door opened again. A few clattering noises echoed up the stairwell, followed by some dripping, uneven footsteps on the wooden stairs. Finally, Eliza stumbled back into the room, completely naked and somehow even more pale than her usual coloring, except for around her mouth, throat, and hands. These were all stained a deep, oily black.

Without a word, the young woman fell into her chair beside the stove, breathing heavily and letting her eyes drift shut. Her hands groped blindly for a piece of wood, and once her fingers closed around one she nearly dropped it in the process of feeding it to the stove. Only after the door had shut and she felt fresh warmth washing over her skin did she bother to look back over at her guest, praying he had fallen asleep while waiting for her.

 

[Bene]

The captain eyed the map as Elizabeth laid it out before him. It was a bit older than the one he has onboard his ship. The telltale sign was the fact a few islands were missing on it. Some towns were also not present either. The date on the map said 1850, about 20 years old by his count. Since then the coastline exploded in growth. Towns became cities, and cities became even more massive. Even his own Bar Harbor had grown in size from when he was a kid. The once small port was now a major hub and rally point for ships headed out further to sea.

Suddenly, she would get up and leave him alone with a stern order to stay in the bed. Without any further discussion she was gone with a slam of the door dodownstairs. How odd.

The captain saw to the rest of the soup in his lap, eagerly sipping the broth once the chunks of fish were gone. With it finished, he thought it rude to leave the empty bowl in bed so he would attempt to place it back on the counter. Standing up came easier now; soon he was a good ten steps away from the bed and to the counter. The floorboards creaked with each of his steps. Ten more steps and he was the counter where he sat the bowl down. Now that he could walk, and his caretaker gone, he thought it a good time to look around.

Nothing of real note came from his digging. There were portraits hung about the walls of Elizabeth and her parents. They were older, judging by the fade they had. Antiquity was a common theme with everything in this room. It would make sense, given she was alone and couldn't have my money to replace the older items. Given how carefree she was, Elizabeth probably didn't care about how old her belongings were anyway. That she shared in common with his Sarah.

Christopher would poke around the room for a few minutes. As more time passed, he grew ever more cautious Elizabeth would return and scold him for leaving bed. With how much aid she provided, it would be rude to go against her wishes much longer. So the captain returned to the bed and crawled back under the covers.

Time would pass and there was no sign of Elizabeth. The captain began to worry around the hour mark and was a few minutes from leaving the bed when he heard the door downstairs open. Good; she was safe.

Elizabeth returned, covered in some strange substance and naked once more. There was something in the way she moved now; panting and not saying a word while she fed the stove. Had she been hurt? The captain's own instincts would take over, and he quick climbed out of bed and cautiously approached her in the chair.

"Is everything alright Elizabeth? You need to put some clothes on, else you'll catch a cold. Where do you keep your clothing, I will fetch a gown for you. " he said. Each sentence, he took a step closer to her, till he was standing right over her.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

A soft, guttural noise like a curse escaped Elizabeth's lips when she realized Christopher wasn't asleep after all. Not only that, but apparently he was well enough now to walk, and was getting dangerously close to her. "I am fine," she said quickly, rising to her feet, unsteady as they were. "I...I feel on the rocks outside. I am just a little sore." Summoning her strength, she pushed past the man standing over her and made her way to the wall, where a raggedy old shirt was hanging on a peg. She began to mop up the dark patches of liquid on her skin, her legs shaking the entire time. Only when she was passably clean did she collapse on the bed, panting heavily.

There was a strange, tell-tale tingling in her legs that made her quickly cover them with a blanket. No please...it's too soon! she prayed in a panic, wondering how to stave off the change that was coming. Her eyes fell helplessly on Christopher, and without thinking she held out a beckoning hand towards him. Immediately Eliza regretted it and let it drop, but with every passing moment she was becoming more aware of what would have to be done. It didn't matter that the sailor had been nothing but kind to her, and that even now he still looked a little pale and not as strong as he could be. All she could hear in her mind was the creaking voice of old Nurse, knitting on her driftwood throne with her pupil at her knee.

"Take a man's essence in you, and you'll become as he is," the old woman had explained that afternoon so many years ago, when Elizabeth was just beginning to understand there was more to the world than the shadowy depths of the sea. "You'll have two eyes, two arms, two legs. If it's a strong man and healthy man, you'll have his strength and health for many a week. If you take one that's sickly, he'll barely last you a day. You needn't take it all if you don't wish, but I always recommend you kill him when you're done. Men are wicked creatures, and once they know what you are and what you've done, they'll try to kill you. Then you'll have no choice but to return home."

Elizabeth wasn't ready to go home. She had killed the men when she was done with them, drinking so deeply of their blood that that their hearts ceased to beat. That was why the magic always lasted so long, and why she always made sure the men were healthy before she lured them into one last sleep with the power of her voice. When their corpses were dry she threw them into the sea to let the greater predators finish them off, and as far as the young woman knew--if woman she truly was--none were ever found.

"Christopher?" she asked gently, swallowing her resolve and raising her hand again. "Will you lay with me, please? I am cold."

For once it was true, although the chill came from the depths of her heart rather than from the room itself.

 

[Bene]

Their roles now reversed, Christopher approached the bed once more and took his hand in own and wrapped it between his two calloused hands. Elizabeth was cold, much colder than he must have felt the nigh prior. With no real other thought, he climbed onto the bed and laid beside her. The fact she was naked did not bother him as much as it had prior. This would be his opportunity to repay the debt he owed her for saving his life. He would settle under the blanket with her, and then turn on his side to face her. Christopher outstretched his arm and wrapped it across her body and did the same with his legs over hers. This way he could share some of his own body heat with her.

"Does that help at all? " he asked, his face close to hers. "I owe you my life, so I will gladly lend whatever aid I can. Even if it is as simple as giving you heat." he added on. Just a simple task would hopefully do some good. With her size, she would be more susceptible to the cold than he was. Falling into the ocean would be a death sentence for a girl her size if not for the heat he provided her now.

This reminded him of a few years ago when his wife had a similar fall. Christopher was just coming back from a longer trip out at sea, and his wife stood at the docks waiting for him. A strong breeze knocked her off her feet and into the cold water. He rushed to pull her from the water and brought her inside where he took the same steps he took now. Luck was on their side that night, and she got through it with only a minor cold. Hopefully they would have that same luck now.

Chris would lay his head on her chest and close his eyes, humming a soft tune. It was an old tune that sailors hummed at sea for good luck. It had soothed Sarah back when she was cold.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Oh it was going to be such a shame. Christopher's body was warm and solid against her, and Elizabeth found herself pressing closer, aching to absorb him into her very pores. And his voice was so sweet and gentle in her ears, chasing away the horror that had nearly ended her on the rocks outside. Why couldn't all men be like him? And why, in a matter of minutes, would she be forced to still that resilient heart she could feel beating against her own, just regaining its strength? It wasn't fair. Christopher had only come to her a day ago, she should have had more time left.

Damn the merrows...damn every single one of them she thought bitterly, her fingers digging in frustration in the fabric of his shirt.

A moment later though she realized she might be causing her companion some discomfort and immediately loosened her grip, smiling sadly at him in the process. "That is very nice. Thank you, Christopher," Eliza murmured, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and just enjoying the sensation of being held for a few moments longer. How long had it been since she felt another's arms around her? Too long, far too long. And no man had ever held her like this, not even John Burke.

No, John Burke never touched her at all, he was much too frightened of her. The old lighthouse keeper had been a clever man. Eliza suspected he always knew what she was, and that was why even he, like all the other men, had to die. Just like Christopher had to die.

She would make it quick, she decided, resting one hand on his chest. Elizabeth could feel his heart beating against her palm; was it just her, or was it picking up ever so slightly? If so, it wasn't because he suspected, Eliza was sure of that. Her hand began to slide slowly upward, her fingers brushing against the collar of his shirt until their sensitive pads felt the pulse in his neck. There it was, the artery she'd have to quickly sever in order to ease the pain. He would bleed out quickly, she would make sure of that. A minute of agony, maybe less. Then he would be like all the others.

"You are wonderful," Eliza continued sadly, then raised her head just a little until her lips were pressed against his. It was meant to be a farewell, a small sign of apology for what she was about to do. But something inside her made her pause.

It was a soft, fluttering sensation in her stomach, rapidly dropping lower until it had nestled deep in her sex. Elizabeth could feel fresh warmth flooding through her body, and against her will her arms suddenly tightened their grip on the man. Her lips parted slightly as her breasts were crushed against his chest, and was only when she felt a slight dampness between her legs that she realized there was more in her kiss than she had intended, and certainly more than she could control.

 

[Bene]

The captain had went to say something else to her, but was interrupted by Elizabeth's sudden move to his lips. He would would sit there stunned by this for a good few moments before relaxing and returning her kiss. The taste on her lips was that of the sea; salty yet somehow sweet as well. It had not been since Sarah that he felt the touch of a woman's lips on his own. A few moments passed, and the young woman grew more eager. The sensation of her pressing her chest against his sent blood rushing to his lower extremity, which began to bulge in his trousers.

After some a few more moments, he pulled back and looked into her deep eyes. "T-thanks for that I suppose..." Chris said a few inches from her lips. He was eager to return to them, but wanted to be sure her intentions. Was this her way of saying thank you? Or was she delirious from the cold. "Have you been with a man before Elizabeth? " he asked in a soft tone. Back on the land, she was the prime age for marriage and eventually child-bearing. The captain wasn't eager to have a kid, but his own desires needed to be sated as well.

"I don't want to push this any further." he said and scooted a bit away from her. "You must be unwell from the cold, let me get you some tea or something to warm you up." he offered and then sat up to look down on there. This felt all wrong now that his blood was back in his brain and not his lower half. Elizabeth was too young for him, and they shouldn't be exchanging any saliva or anything else given that weren't married. Then there was Sarah to think about.

To put a bit of distance, he stood up from the bed and took a step towards the stovetop. When he turned to face her again, his own body would give away how much her really enjoyed her touch. "I'm sorry, but I can't continue that." he said softly, looking to the floor away from her.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Eliza knew what pleasure was. It was something she had rarely felt prior to casting Nurse' spell for the first time, but whenever she was under the influence the mood would occasionally strike her (usually after reading some of the old, well-worn novels tucked in the deepest corners of the bookshelf). She'd learned long ago how to tend to herself with her fingers, but the young woman also knew that it was possible that another person might be able to bring her to even greater heights if she allowed them. Many of the previous men she had rescued had certainly tried to have their way with her, and she'd even allowed a few of them to come close to doing the actual deed. But there was always something in their rough words or touch that gave her pause, made her change her eyes and push them away at the last minute.

Not so with Christopher. He was gentle and warm, and he even sang. Or at least, hummed. Elizabeth was sure it wouldn't be rough or painful with him, the last thing he seemed to want was to hurt her. In fact, he seemed so considerate of her feeling that he was actually pulling away from her, eliciting an exasperated little huff from her lips.

She tried to calm herself. Eliza knew from books and from the way the men of the mainland had treated her that gentlemen weren't supposed to make these kinds of advances towards women, but why couldn't a woman make them towards a man? Her heart was thumping hard in her chest and she couldn't help but press her hips a little closer to his, feeling his body responding to her exactly how she had hoped despite his hesitance. But he was so damned resistant!

A lie was beginning to form on her lips out of her desperate need, and only her thought of heaven and the sin of telling an untruth made her pause (the sin of lust, ironically, was utterly forgotten in that moment). "I have had sexual relations, yes," Elizabeth said finally, and it was the truth, though that particular partner couldn't have been called a "man" as much as a "male." All in all, that particular experience had not been a pleasant one, and she was eager to replace the memory of it with the face and body of the handsome sailor in her bed.

But no, this news only served to drive Christopher all the further from her. Eliza cursed herself silently. She shouldn't have said anything, she knew he would think her an adulteress now. Yet how could creatures who never married be anything but adulterers? It was a theological quandary that had puzzled her for countless idle nights, but it never seemed so crucial until now. Dark brows knitting in frustration, she slid one hand beneath the covers to gently try to soothe her need, but it was hardly any use with Christopher so near her.

"I had a sweetheart once," she said finally. "He died." It wasn't wholly untrue, if you believed a woman could fall in love with the narrator of a book who had died more than a century earlier. That was the closest thing the young woman had ever felt to romantic love, but as far as she was concerned that was a good enough comparison. Either way, it was a last-ditch effort to win Christopher back to her bed, and with the desperate note in Eliza's voice and the soft, pleading light in her eyes, she did seem to make a fair case of it.

"Please, Christopher," she begged softly, her other hand reaching out to him again in that beckoning stance. "I want this. I want you. I will never speak of it to anyone, I promise. But please, come to me and let me feel you." There was the slightest hint of melody in her words, a sweet, seductive tone that made her seem both weak and commanding, the Holy Mother and Mary Magdalene all in one.

 

[Bene]

The situation was spiraling now. The close she had gotten, the more his heart raced. Finally she made her final plea from the bed, and he felt as though he could longer resist her honeyed words. The captain was also a man, with his own needs and desire much like Elizabeth had hers. They were both adults and willing, so there was no real good reason to say no anymore. Desire had pushed the thoughts of his dead wife from his head, and replaced them with thoughts of lust. And a yearn for sexual release. "Okay Elizabeth. I shall lie with you, just this once. I cannot deny your beauty nor my own desires. " he said, oddly formal sounding. Truth be told this whole interaction made him very uncomfortable.

With no other words, the captain began to peel off his stiff shirt and toss it aside. He was partly thankful to be rid of it. Next would come his trousers once more, which he turned from her to remove. Despite the actions he would soon be taking with her, he still wanted some modesty as he removed them and let them fall to a pool around his feet. Goosebumps formed along his newly exposed skin despite the warmth from the nearby stove. With a hard swallow, he would turn to face her once more. Now she would get a look at his now hardened manhood, which had a considerable size.

Christopher stood there a moment to let Elizabeth have a good look at the man she would laying with. Overall the color had returned to his skin, and only a faint brownish color remained on his flank. The bruise ribs he suffered had healed considerably in the short time he had been here. A miracle to him.

After a brief few moments of silence, he would step closer to the bed once more. Another hard swallow, and he took her beckoning hand in his and lifted it to press a gentle kiss. That done he let it go and his lips curled into a smile. The captain would stop treating this as a favor, and now something he was excited to partake in. Easy to do now that more blood was flowing to his manhood.

The captain was never any good at foreplay, often times him and his wife would just have relations for the sake of trying to have a kid. Complications prevented that from happening, so they never had much sex after they found out she could not bear children. So having sex for pleasure would be something new for the captain. Maybe it would be something they could learn together he is stayed longer...

No.

That wasn't an option, he had to get back to old life. It was comfortable. Christopher would not forsake his current lifestyle to be with Elizabeth long term. This would have to be one time thing, else he could find himself trapped here forever.

As they were now, Chris stood just next to her still seated on the bed. Unsure of what to do next.