This fic is based off of a story my grandfather told me the other day, wherein the characters were a very drunk sailor and a not so drunk lady, and the sailor who thereupon discovered that his method of hitting on the lady were not up to standard.
A heavy night of drinking and grumbling about his troubles had led to this moment. Completely drunk, almost to the point of paralysis, and Orphaner Dualscar had but one goal left in his sights. For a seadweller to be this drunk, he had to have consumed an insane amount of alcohol, probably enough to kill even an olive blood.
His legs were struggling to keep him upright. His cape was more of a trouble, rather than an extravagant announcement of his presence. On a good day, the wind would have it flying out behind him, he would look ravishingly handsome, and the lowbloods would cower whenever he walked on land. Now, he was staggering his way up the boardwalk from his ship, bottle of rum still in hand, accidentally- and yet angrily- pushing a lowblood into the sea from the wooden boards for no reason but he had gaped at the sight of the tall, staggering seadweller. It was rare enough to see a seadweller on land without a highblood retinue, let alone one who was having trouble walking in a straight line.
He knew where she would be- the same tavern they always met in, although navigating the few streets it took to get there would be difficult when you had consumed as much alcohol as Dualscar had. He tried, as he staggered, to work out what she would say when he strode up to her and demanded some sort of kismesis reunion, because that's what they did when they met somewhere. Of course, he had always been, mostly, sober before. He wasn't sure whether Mindfang had ever seen him this drunk, and he didn't really care.
The streets seemed longer, and his cape seemed heavier and a lot more awkward. Dualscar stopped briefly to take a sip from the bottle of rum he still gripped, determinedly, in one hand, before throwing it away in disgust when he discovered it was empty.
There was a startled shout when it hit a brown blood sweeper in the face, shattering on contact. The sweep would probably die- brown bloods tended to do that if you made them bleed- but Dualscar didn't pay that any heed. He was still hellbent on making his wobbly path to the tavern- The Grub Shack, it was called, for no particular reason. Sober Dualscar usually hated the establishment, as it was filled with lowbloods, servants, and a lack of decorum so filthy it made him shudder. However, as worryingly drunk Dualscar walked- slower now, as his vision was starting to blur- towards it, the glowing windows and faint sound of singing seemed beautifully inviting. He couldn't even smell the usual stench that accompanied the Grub Shack and its patrons.
With his legs wobbling, he threw open the door and stood in the soft orange light, cape hanging drably across his shoulders. The tavern went quiet, a fact that he was drunkenly pleased about as he stalked- or rather, meandered- towards the only troll who was not staring at him, the straight backed form of the troll with the long black hair, the beautifully tailored coat, and the feathered hat.
After a walk that took an embarrassingly long time- including a moment where Dualscar leant on a rustblood for support, before promptly pushing away from them with enough force to push them out of their chair- he was directly behind her. He could smell her perfume from that spot, the soft scent that did nothing to hide the much more powerful scent of salt and brine, which was the scent she usually ended up leaving all over his cabin.
He swayed on the spot for a moment, before she finally turned her barstool around and fixed him with a pointed glare. The tavern seemed to hold its breath- although, really, they should have all been used to it. The regular meeting of the Corsair and the Mariner, of the seadweller and his pirate kismesis. And, really, none of them stopped him. Firstly, who would have that big of a bulge to? And secondly, it was dramatic and always rather fun to watch, as long as you weren't that poor bastard who accidentally got in the way and ended up impaled on the end of Mindfang's curved sword, or smashed in the face with the butt of Dualscar's rifle.
Although tonight it didn't seem to any of the onlookers that the proud seadweller was in any shape to be face-smashing.
The eye contact between the two trolls remained, lasting long enough despite Dualscar's unfocused grimace, for the onlookers to get bored and go back to their drinks.
Only when this had happened, did Mindfang give a disinterested huff, and turn back to her drink, snorting a snatch of laughter.
"Are you going to stand there all evening, Orphaner? You smell like a brewery, and it's putting me off." She sniffed, turning to the troll next to her and winking, an action that sent a drunken scythe of jealousy through Dualscar.
"Aye, you and me be needing a room, wench." He garbled, although the look Mindfang shot him was one of confusion, something Dualscar's inebriated mind couldn't understand. In reality, he'd muttered a few indistinct words and then the word wench very loudly at the end.
He lurched forward, attempting to grab at her waist and pull her off the barstool and into his arms, but suddenly his feet seemed to be in the wrong place and instead of pulling her away, he only succeeded into draping himself over her, like a huge, drunken cape.
She gave an irritated shout of alarm, shoving him off and sending him staggering off into the crowd, where he landed amidst some loud drinkers, who, having been looking for an excuse to start fighting, starting punching each other. One might ask why they did not just punch Dualscar, but it was easy to understand when you realised that Dualscar would have come back and made sure they were all enslaved. Or at least he would have if he hadn't consumed the weight of a tealbloods lusus in alcohol.
He crumpled to the floor, on his knees, his cape pooled around him. The tavern was completely- and rather pointedly- ignoring him now, as if they were embarrassed to witness such a thing. It was probably best for their health if they didn't.
Dualscar pulled himself up, or at least attempted to, before realising it was easier to crawl towards his kismesis. He needed this, some kind of drunken fling, and he was intent on getting it. Minutes passed as he crawled towards the oblivious form of Mindfang as she chatted and laughed, clearly having expected her drunken kismesis to give up and go back to his ship.
Dualscar always accepted a challenge, especially from Mindfang.
So close… He reached a hand up, before pausing. No, Mindfang was just going to shove him away if he just grabbed her. He had to do something truly pitch to get her attention.
His eyes wandered from her horns to the barstool she sat upon, taking in every inch of the inattentive cobalt bloods form.
Before Mindfang could react to the altered gaze of the troll next to her, Dualscar had gripped one leg of the stool and pulled himself up, before promptly, and very shakily, bitten her hard on the ass.
There was a shriek from Mindfang, who clearly hadn't expected sharp, seadwelling teeth in her ass, before she whirled around and punched Dualscar in the face, toppling off the barstool as he gripped her leg and pulled her down on top of him in a writhing pile of cape, jacket, leg and fists.
The crash drew the attention of the tavern, which watched in stunned silence as landdweller and seadweller smacked at each other to get away from the other, Dualscar's face a picture of triumphant happiness, and Mindfang's one of outraged fury.
"You bit me on the ass!" she screeched, managing to pin the inebriated and laughing seadweller. "I told you I didn't want anything to do with you tonight!"
"It got your attention!" Dualscar slurred in reply, quite happy to sit under Mindfang as she glared at him in anger, before she got up, leaving Dualscar on the floor as the tavern rapidly descended into fighting- so as to prove they weren't watching, not at all, nope- and giving him a sharp glare.
He watched her glance at the spot where the troll from before was, and noticed with her that they were currently slumped on the floor, having been knocked out in the very first punches.
Her lips grew thin and she scowled, before picking the now passed out Dualscar up by his cape and dragging him out, the crowd parting for the easy stride of a pissed off pirate queen as she pulled open the door and strode out into the dark of the night beyond, heading for her ship, as Dualscar snored, a deadweight behind Mindfang.
The following evening, when Dualscar finally awoke, he would curse himself for being so drunk the previous night. This was for a number of reasons. Firstly, because he hadn't actually got any action that night anyway. Secondly, because he couldn't remember it even if he had. And thirdly, because he woke up in a barrel round the back of the Grub Shack, with a troll surreptitiously emptying a chamber pot into it and a pounding headache that spiked itself all the way to the top of his horns.
That same chamber pot troll would tell all of his friends about how an enraged seadweller rose from the barrel of compost like a troll possessed, almost broke one of his ribs pushing him out the way- at which point the troll would lift his shirt and show the handprint that had been Dualscars parting gift- and stomped away back to the piers, whereupon he would take note that his entire ship had been stripped and his crew tied up, and the whole port would hear the scream of pained rage that he sent up as he cursed his quadrant mate once more.
Although only Dualscar would know that, secretly, he would probably- and gladly- repeat it all again the next time he tracked her down- albeit hopefully, without the drunkenness next time.