A/N: Alright Guys I am TOTALLY making this up as I go. So be nice. Please. But I am a little worried about the characterizations...so any pointers? Let me know. R/R ; )
The door to the balcony opened with a quiet squeak of protest, but only one person heard it. With a single moment's hesitation, the brunette slipped through the door and shut it as quietly as she could behind her. To her, it was common knowledge that the guards that stood just outside her bedroom door 'for her protection' had doubtless dozed off …like usual.
A cool breeze hit her and already she felt a small sense of the freedom she had been longing for. Gracefully balancing on the top of the railing that surrounded her, she extended her leg forward and rested it on the sill of the window she had opened just a minute or two prior to coming outside. With one arm held out for balance, she grasped the edge of the roof that was at just about the height of her chin, before taking hold of it with her other hand. She forced herself to not look down; she knew how far down it was, and didn't want to look just now.
Moving her foot from the railing, she suddenly didn't feel so safe. Presley shut her eyes tight and placed her foot unsteadily on the window frame before shakily hauling herself up onto the roof.
Slowly rising to her feet, she padded silently along the roof until she could hop down to a lower roof then climb on to a tree that stood conveniently by the manor. Heaving a sigh, she spotted a few guards about 200 feet away from her. She knew she would be passed them long before they even knew she had escaped. Pulling her long chestnut hair into a pony tail, Presley took a deep breath and climbed down the tree as quietly as she possibly could. Once her feet were steadily on the ground, she pulled her hood up over her head, and ran swiftly in the direction opposite the guards, her black cloak billowing out behind her in the soft breeze.
Once she was away from home, deep into the empty streets she had seldom ever walked, she was easily lost. Sure there had been many times she had been outside of her home…even outside of her yard. Her best friend, Persilla Gibson, only lived a short ways away, and her home was Presley's home away from home. And vice-versa. Of course, Presley had to be escorted wherever she went by her trusty guards.
But she had earned that measure of safety on her own after she wandered away from home and ended up at the seaside. And we all know how dangerous that is.
She pulled her cloak tighter around her body and kept moving in one general direction. Presley was almost positive this was the right direction. She knew the clock was already ticking, and with only a basic plan, this would only prove to make her escape more difficult. The challenge was welcomed.
She tiptoed quickly through a dingy alley, with only a faint idea of where she was at. Her first step was to get out of this town. And without an ally, this was just yet another tricky dilemma. A chill ran down her spine as she started feeling a little wary of the dark alley she was in, and picked up the pace, until she was out of it, peeking around corners in case someone of importance was out for some reason and might see her. All was quiet with the exception of the slurred ramblings from several drunks at the tavern just a few streets over. Presley kept winding through streets, avoiding people at all costs until she found herself near the seaside.
Instantly drawn to it, she continued to approach a dock, and then stepped to its very edge.
It was better than she remembered.
She looked at the moon's reflection against the rippling water, too dark for her eyes to see into it. After looking around only briefly she lowered her hood so her long chocolate curls blew in the gentle wind. Closing her eyes Presley spread out her arms and felt the wind blow against her body, until an audible meow sounded from behind her.
Presley jumped and whirled around, instantly spotting the source standing just a few feet behind her. The girl quirked an eyebrow at a large orange and white, fluffy tomcat staring right back at her with big yellow eyes.
"What?" Presley asked the cat skeptically and paused a moment before taking a single step closer and kneeling, not wanting to get to close to the cat and threaten it. Extending her hand, she called to it softly and wiggled her fingers.
For a moment, the cat only blinked at her then finally padded over to her hand, pausing to sniff at her fingers. She ran her fingers through the cat's shaggy fur; It purred loudly then turned and dashed away. She watched it go and sighed, rising to her feet and shifting her eyes about her surroundings. That's when she saw it.
A huge majestic ship with black sails caught her attention and seemed to be calling to her. Pulling her hood back over her head, she approached it with perked ears, but heard no one aboard.
She frowned. It wasn't like anyone to leave their ship alone in the dead of night. Anyone could just come by to commandeer it.
After making sure no one was watching her, she climbed up the rope and onboard. No one was around it seemed, but she tip-toed around anyways, just to get a better look.
This would be perfect. If she could find a place to hide, she would be out of Portsmouth in no time. And no one would ever have a clue where she'd gone. Already her plan was thickening.
Presley silently started down a small set of stairs but froze midway.
Someone was snoring.
As she retreated as quietly as she possibly could, Presley wondered if that had been the crew's cabins and tried a door that was below the helm, but it was locked as she expected. Pressing her ear to the window, it was silent inside.
"Oh c'mon Roldan! You've climbed this ladder a million times! How could you possibly get your foot caught, you sniveling dimwit?"
Presley gasped and her head spun in the direction of the voices. Fumbling through her pockets, the run-away pulled a small wire from her pocket and bent it accordingly, kneeled down by the door knob and attempted to pick the lock, but her fingers were shaking so bad she could hardly get it in.
What if they found her?
What would she do?
What would they do?
She shook the thoughts from her head and took a deep breath. 'Come on, Pres, you can do this…you've done this countless times before…' she told herself and sure enough, within a few moments, the lock clicked and she opened the door. To her immense relief no one was inside. She exhaled and quietly shut the door behind her, locking it again. Willing her hands to stop shaking, Presley crammed them in her pockets, before really looking around the room.
She'd found herself in the Captain's quarters apparently. Like the rest of the ship, the walls and floorboards were dark mahogany, and the room seemed to be somewhat ordered. There was a large bed with black and white sheets, and matching pillows. Only a single window decorated the wall, but black curtains covered it and next to the bed, a small dresser with several items on top. Against the wall was a closet. Opening it slowly, she stepped inside and shut the doors. Slipping between the clothes, she moved as far to the back as she could then sat in the far corner with her knees pulled to her chest. Resting her head against the wall, all that was left for her to do was wait.
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She woke later without moving, except for opening her eyes. She could here the crew's voices and movement everywhere and the ship was rocking. She cursed herself silently for not having woken up sooner, and listened. She had no idea where they were going. All that mattered was that she was gone. Her life at Portsmouth had ended and her new life, full of independence and freedom had started.
This, she thought while hiding in a dark closet on a ship that only she knew she was on.
For what seemed like hours she sat, bored out of her mind, merely playing and fiddling with her fingers in her lap or the material of her cloak.
And…God, Presley was starving. She hadn't eaten for over a day and from the looks of it, there wasn't going to be any food in this closet.
Numerous times, she took the time to stretch out both of her legs because they were going numb and little prickles were spreading up and down each one, and occasionally she dozed off.
When she woke from a quick nap, she had to stretch out her legs again, but this time, just as she pulled her leg back against her body she heard someone step inside the captain's room and the familiar click of the lock. The footsteps were quiet, and they paced about the room for a moment before standing still. Swallowing hard, Presley couldn't move. Hell, she couldn't breathe. Her heart was pounding inside her chest so loud; she swore the person would hear it.
There was a quiet rustle of bed sheets and then clothes, a thud from boots hitting the floor, and then a squeak of the bed before it was quiet again.
And she waited.
It didn't even dawn on her that she started breathing again. All she could hear was breathing. Eventually she mustered up enough courage to actually stand, though gradually done so the floorboards wouldn't squeak beneath her.
Once she was standing her knees started to shake. She put her hands on them to hold them still, and once they stopped shaking she lightly pushed at the closet door, opening it just enough that she could squeeze through. Once she was out, she shut it quietly while forcing herself to suppress her curiosity by not looking at the sleeping captain.
She strode towards the door, slowly turned the lock and froze when it clicked. Her ears pricked when Presley could hear the man starting to stir, and hastily opened the door , shutting it behind her once she stepped out. But in her hurry to shut the door, she shut it a little too hard, and she knew she must've woken the man inside.
"Damn it," she whispered and started running on her toes and the balls of her feet. She had no idea where she was going. She ran towards another door and rushed inside, letting it swing shut behind her. In her rush, she nearly crashed into a long dining table in the process. Skirting around it, she pushed her way into the only other door and found herself in what appeared to be the kitchen. She whirled around in search for another door, but now she was trapped. Again.
Behind her, Presley heard the doorknob turn and her eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights. Facing the door she started backing away to the far wall. A masculine voice sounded from the other side as the door opened and in stepped the boat's captain.
"Twain, if you were messing about in my bloody room again, I –" the captain's eyes fell on her, and Presley found herself unable to move. A wave of shock flashed in his eyes as he stared at her for what seemed like hours. "A…. stow away?" He whispered his voice soft and staggered. Presley finally got her first look at the mysterious captain, with long raven-black hair and cobalt eyes. His beard was braided and adorned with a few beads and a long mustache curled around his upper lip. Releasing a shaky breath, Presley struggled to get a hold of her thoughts. She took a step towards the nearest corner of island in the middle of the room and he approached the opposite side. What would come next seemed to be obvious to Presley. She was the prey. He was the guarding the only exit. If she moved right, so would he; if she moved left, so would he.
There was no way out.
Presley swallowed hard, determined not to give up. Her eyes moved to assess the situation a little more. He didn't seem to have any wea—oh wait; she could see the hilt of a sword in his hand. The blade was hidden nonchalantly behind his leg, clad in loose black pants. It was a failed attempt to hide it from her sight and now she felt more defenseless than ever. Shifting her eyes to the counter, she saw a wooden block with slits in the top that stored several cooking knives. With a single quick step, she drew a knife and it made a subtle 'shhhhlik' sound.
Yeah, now Presley felt a little better.
The captain, seeing that she knew he was holding his sword, raised it a little though not as though he actually planned to attack her. Her mind was working overtime trying to come up with a plan. Then she got an idea. As soon as the thought crossed her mind she dropped down below the counter where he couldn't see her.
"Oi! wait! I just – "
His voice stopped dead as Presley shifted silently along the length of the table before something happened she did not expect. There was a thump on the tabletop and Presley looked up just in time to see the captain skid across the wooden surface. He landed gracefully on his feet right behind her, and suddenly, Presley was scared. She scrambled to her feet and rounded the corner as fast as she could as he dived to grab her, but she got away just in time, her cloak only grazing his fingertips. Shoving her way out the door she retreated through the mess hall and back out on deck. She sprinted to the side of the ship, fully prepared to make the plunge to freedom, but the shore was nowhere in sight. Her lips trembled as the wind roughly pushed her against the edge. The creak of a floorboard behind her made her whirl around, and the wind picked up more and her hood was blown off of her head and she was completely revealed to the captain.
She made to push her way past him no longer with a definite plan anymore, but he slung his arm around her waist and swung her back to where she had been, though not so hard that she fell. With wide eyes, Presley stared. In his eyes, a deep shade of blue that matched the waters that surrounded them, Presley could see the reflection of the moon, the silvery light shimmering against his contrastingly black hair.
"You've nowhere to run now, love," the Captain finally whispered in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver down her spine.
Presley swallowed because they both knew he was right. Pushing away the stray curls that the wind had blown across her face, the girl tore her eyes away and looked towards the bow of the ship.
"What's your name girl?" the captain's voice spoke, but she didn't answer.
Stories of stow-aways and mutinous pirates being forced to 'walk the plank,' and/or getting marooned on deserted islands played in her mind. Her plan had gone so wrong.
A quiet whistle emitted from the Captain's lips as he waved his hand in front of her face, effectively causing Presley's gaze to swivel in his direction. "Are yeh here, love?"
Presley stood silent, but her glossy eyes shifted over the man's shoulder. A man with silver eyes and shaggy hair to match was standing just as silent as she, watching her with a lopsided smile from the stairs that lead to the crew's cabins. Presley slowly pulled her gaze back to the captain, who seemed to tilt forward a little bit before pulling back, making her wonder if he was drunk.
"Presley…Presley… Parsons."
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