"You're a tough little tadpole t' love"
He found her in the storeroom, rum in hand. She turned swiftly, her white nightgown shimmering in the light of his candle. He stood before her, still clothed in the black coat he had purchased from the last harbour. The light bounced from its intricate violet embroidery, an epic scene of mertrolls sinking ships jumping to her eyes.
"Hush, love," Her words were silk to his ears. "I thought we could use a drink. Is that such a crime?" He scowled at her quick excuse. Ceruleans. Smooth-talking theives, the lot of them. "Shall we?" She walked past him, the hem of the gown flowing by his legs gracefully as she padded silently up the steps to the deck. Sighing, he complied.
The ship rocked rhythmically as they stepped onto the deck. The moonlight shone down on the splintering, unfinished wood in thick shards, scattered by the waves of netting and clothing hung to dry. The Imperial flag, flown proudly, fluttered lifelessly in the languid sea breeze. They heard the sound of shattering glass hitting the floor as she stopped, turning suddenly to him.
"I hate you."
The words emerged from her mouth in a clear growl, her eyes darkening. She lunged at him forcefully, nearly knocking the steady mariner over. Their lips crushed together, for a few mere moments a battle of teeth and tongue ensued. He stepped away swearing, grabbing her by the forearm.
"Not th' time, lass. Get in the quarters. It's time ya go t' sleep."
She grinned smugly, opening the door to his lavish lodgings. The room was adorned with mounted horns of various shapes and sizes, mounted on miscellaneous plaques of metal and wood. A desk sat in the middle, a single wooden chair standing before it, an unlucky seat to any who may need to walk the proverbial plank. A lush lavender velvet curtain hung near the far wall, obviously abused, judging by its frayed and tattered state. His oversize recuperacoon hid behind it, still open due to the pirate's absent mind. His mighty armchair was the centrepiece of the room. It was rumoured to be composed of the skin of his predecessors, which was definitely a likely theory given the colour and texture.
Mindfang plopped down in the chair, uncorking the rum and taking a lengthy swig, her eyes shutting, satisfied.
Dualscar sneered at her revolting, uncouth habits. "Use a fuckin' glass, Spinneret. Ya drink like a savage." She looked back up at him, her legs draped over one of the arms of the chair. She smirked before repeating the action. "Disgustin' wench."
He staggered past her, through the curtain, collapsing into the recuperacoon in exhaustion. He couldn't handle any of her ridiculous antics any longer. He had spent most of the evening teaching her about life on the sea, he had no idea where the younger troll was pulling all of this energy from.
"Can't keep up, old timer?" She peeped over the back of the back of the chair, kneeling on the seat. "Not going to stay up for another drink?" He rolled over, groaning at her, feeling her toothy grin at his back. He could hear her chugging, easily audible and equally repulsive. He rose out of the recuperacoon, shuddering with repugnance.
"Can a lad get some fuckin' sleep in his own damn quarters?" he swiped the bottle from her hands, grimacing at her lopsided smile.
"Of course, dear," she looked up at him pouting, her eyes full of mock innocence. "But won't you sit a while first? You look parched."
He glared at her. "Yer in me seat, Spinneret."
"And?"
"Don't be startin' this pitchflirtin' shit again. Move yer glute."
She did, only to sit back down, this time on his lap. She wriggled a bit, getting comfortable. Hypocritically, he took a swig from the bottle, her blue lipstick transfering from the rim to his mouth. She smiled, victorious, as their mouths met.
She tasted sweet on his tongue, with a bitter undertone he could not ignore. His bulge curled beneath her, and she broke away.
"Orphaner!" She was acting coy again, and he knew all too well what that meant. Not tonight. Not when they were so close to shore. "Such behaviour in company of a lady!"
Dualscar snorted, quirking an eyebrow. He stared at her, finishing the bottle with a few solid gulps. "Yer no lady, Mindfang." He stood, lifting her with him. "Time t' go t' sleep." He carried her to the recuperacoon as she kicked and bit, tossing her in carelessly before entering himself.
"Goodnight, Spiderbitch."
She shook as his arms wrapped around her. She couldn't sleep, not yet, not like this. It had been sixteen nights and counting since they had left shore, and not once had she intentionally laid down to rest. She had to stay awake, aware of the ship's every motion.
They docked at the Imperial City tomorrow. She prayed they arrived soon.
