Night fell rather quickly on the high seas, it seemed to Angela, though so far outside the reach of so many houses, lanterns, and street lights, the transition between night and day has lessened to quite the minor adjustment, for as soon as the sun disappeared, the crew was only met by a sparkling sky, the stars so magnified by their remote location atop the sea. While she worked, Angela would often steal glances up toward the sky, her home having fallen prey to the same light pollution that now allowed her so much awe at the sight of an endless assortment of stars surrounding her.

She even picked out her favorites, creating her own sorts of constellations, as she hadn't any prior knowledge to the official ones, though Junkrat had assisted her somewhat in naming the individual stars themselves, even if she learned quickly enough that he hadn't them named, but numbered, particular by the amount of times he'd used the brighter ones for calibrating the sights on his cannons. Lucio was, perhaps, the most knowledgeable on the topic, though even he knew a mere few of them: Cassiopeia, the Ursas, Dippers, and Orion being about all he knew off the top of his head.

Still, she wasn't afforded too much time for such ventures, as she was often scheduled for bed earlier than the others, taking up the morning watch alongside Hana, and while the stars flickered, she was beneath the fore of the ship, rustling in her bunk that was so much more uncomfortable from back home. She'd been told to work hard, if only because you couldn't fall asleep in the bunks unless you were dead tired enough not to notice.

On this night, of course, she hadn't even nearly reached that state, leaving her rustling in her bunk with her hair strewn across her pillow, sent flying every minute or so as she rolled back and forth, unable to find anything relating to comfort. On top of that, she had to contend with the snores of the rest of the crew, which echoed violently around the walls, the tiny porthole doing nothing to empty the sounds before they assaulted Angela's ears, leaving her without quiet nor comfort.

She sighed, yanking her pillow up over her face before her hands fall to her sides, staring into darkness as the feather-filled pillow fell down to her ears, only barely muting the noise as she sent her mind out to think, having had Lena's words on her mind since she'd heard them, having had no reason to expect such a spirited person to be a product of such a horrific past. Beyond that, she hadn't a clue that stowaways were as stigmatized as they were, and that their treatment wasn't exactly as concrete as she might have thought. Then again, as Jesse had mentioned, had it been a man, would she have indeed witnessed the death of somebody? Would her father have truly murdered another human being?

As distasteful as the thought had been, Angela still recognized the turbulent seafaring life was fraught with such terrors. It had to for it to work, she knew. Still, as her mind ran across the event that nearly ended in a lost life, she couldn't help but recall how quick her heart had raced, how breathless that she'd been left as that woman's body was dragged to the ship's edge.

What was her name, she attempted to remember. Fareeha? She had struggled so helplessly, cried out in utter fright, yet Angela could still feel that woman's arms around her, how strong they'd grasped ahold of her; had she truly wanted to, Angela might not have even been allowed escape. Why hadn't she fought back against her father?

The porthole in the wall allowed the faintest glow of starlight into the quarters, and with Angela's eyes having adjusted to the darkness, she pulled her pillow from her face, relinquishing any thought of sleep as she reached into her pocket, pulling out the necklace that woman had dropped onto her in exchange for her very life, Angela now knew. For all that woman had known, Angela had her very life in her hands.

She pulled the tiny vial that hung at the bottom of the dainty-looking chain of golden rings up to her face, examining it closely though finding nothing of interest. It was, surely, a vial, but it was empty, it's top still closed by an evil smaller cork of sorts. The thing was about as large as her pinky finger to its first knuckle she noted, even holding it against her finger in comparison; it certainly wasn't practical for anything Angela could have thought of. Why had the woman worn this at all? she wondered, her lips curling curiously as her hand fell back to her side, closing her eyes once more.

She'd said she was from Egypt, didn't she? Her skin attested as much, Angela figured, even recalling the golden skin that had covered her face. and she'd had some marking around her eye. Perhaps she was a palace guard, marked in service to her pharaoh? Angela rolled her eyes sardonically at how silly that all sounded, yet she couldn't deny how thrilling that might be. She seemed to be running away though… She'd been a guard, but a coup had occurred, and remaining loyal to her ruler, this woman had taught to her pharaoh's death, leaving her with little choice but to escape or die. Maybe she were in line to be a pharaoh herself, like Cleopatra, and the wrong people had decided to expel her by threat of violence?

May she was like Cleopatra, using her fanciful wiles to bring the most powerful men on the planet to their knees if only for a chance that they may catch a glimpse of her. For how strong she had felt this stowaway's grip, she certainly didn't appear all that masculine. She carried that strength like any woman without it. Perhaps this stowaway had been some Egyptian agent, that mark around her eye signaling her pledge onto death, using her bodily charms to follow men into bed, only to overpower them, forcing out their secrets, or even assassinating them?

Perhaps she had done the same thing to women?

A hot gasp escaped past Angela's lips before she realized what she'd been doing, her head rising up gingerly to find her hand tucked into the front of her breeches, her arm leading into a bulge that came to a point as her knuckles pressed out against the fabric at her crotch. Angela bit he lip fearfully as her eyes turned out from her bunk, which sat top-most along its accompanying bunk below, a frustrating, coiling mass of nerves welling up within the pit of her stomach as her finger tip rested in a benign touch above her lips.

She slid the vial out from her palm and onto her chest, leaving its chain rung along the crick between her thumb and index finger as she reached for her pillow, pulling it over her mouth as her fingers slid along the lips between her legs, a shiver crossing her spine as she did so, her teeth clenching suddenly at the fabric of her pillow, fighting the urge to relinquish even a whimper that might wake a single soul. Her breath grew shallow as her finger slid back and forth across her most sensitive skin, delicately trembling along the border between silence and pleasured moans.

Perhaps she had done the same thing to women. Maybe she'd only done such things to women, she thought with sultry delight. Her arm had been so powerful, yet so soft, as though every bit of her hair had been rubbed off, abbraised by the skin of so many other women. Maybe she had been some sort of interrogator for the pharaohess, taking suspicious women into her cell, tying them up, and done anything and everything to make them talk; exerted every means of entering them to extract every… little… ounce of-

A bursting snarl of a snore suddenly clutched the whole of Angela's attention as she bolted to her senses, quickly whipping her head to the side to find that nothing had changed, save for Lucio's body violently adjusting in his bunk, his massive snore apparently having roused something in his sleeping self. Angela sighed in relief, though she immediately caught herself having worked up a sweat from both her previous activity as well as her sudden fright. She groaned dissatisfactory as she pulled her hand from her breeches, wiping her fingers along her already sweated sheets before pulling herself up and turning from off her bunk, eyes narrowed as she eyed the doorway.

She hopped down to her feet, her toes curling inward in an attempt to quiet her steps as she lowered her shoulders as if wanting to not be seen despite everybody being asleep. She slid on her boots that sat alongside the others by the door before taking more liberal steps as she made her way up the stairway, hoping some fresh, cold air would quell the still-coiling nerves in her gut. She frowned at the situation she was in, having not given it a single thought before agreeing to this trip, and certainly having no means by which to ask any other soul on this vessel what she should do about such things.

Groaning as she stepped out onto the deck, greeted by the massive allotment of stars, Angela quickly wrapped her arms around herself, the cool night ocean breeze making sure to surround her, dampening her needs almost as quickly as they'd arisen, offering her something of a sigh of relief, if not one of sadness at not being able to take the moment for herself. Still, she began to carefully tarry along the deck, not at all sure who was currently taking lookout duty, though she hadn't seen anybody as she examined the length of the ship, rather confused by such a sight.

Suddenly, she recalled the rotation, which had been shaken up to account for Junkrat arising at some point to check on the stowaway, though she clearly remembered the man still sleeping, meaning Lena was most likely perched high up in her nest. Before being detected by the third mate, Angela crept back into the ship, a determined sort of look on her face, gradually coming to the idea of taking the initiative of checking the stowaway herself, even if a strain of guilt plunged into her stomach at the thought of disobeying her father. Perhaps she was dying of thirst by now; she'd be merely saving a life. Who could punish her for that?

Still, her body continued to crave release, and the very idea of being in the presence of that woman seemed a good way to sate such a desire, at least at this point in time. Angela quietly made her way deeper into the ship, winding along toward the back of the vessel, opposite the sleeping quarters, sneaking up to the doorway into the hold, catching her first glimpse of the stowaway since the scene of her father nearly tossing her.

Just beside the open crate from which she'd come from, the stowaway sat with her back against the closest vertical beam, her head held low, shielding her face with her jet black hair dipping low in front of her. Her right leg had been pulled up, giving her shape something at least resembling somebody not just left there, already dead, though her body moved little, if at all, as Angela quietly entered the hold, the darkness surrounding this woman suddenly causing a tremble to run down her legs as she approached her, slowly.

Without making any extraneous noises as she crept along, after taking a number of steps, the stowaway's head bolted upward, her face wearing a snarl as though expecting an attack, though it did more to force Angela into a recoil as she flinched backward, quickly barring her teeth angrily as her heart nearly shot out from her chest.

"What's your problem?!" she asked in offense, "I was just going to ask if you needed anything!"

The stowaway barked, "Yeah, my fuckin' necklace! Give it back, you skeevy little brat!"

Angela turned her body away with her hands at her chest, frowning defiantly down toward the stranger, "Excuse me, you gave it to me."

"It was a verbal agreement," she argued with a crooked face, "I give you that necklace and you don't get me fuckin' thrown off a boat in the middle of the ocean! You reneged, and if I weren't tied to this fuckin' beam, I'd already have your arm torn off trying to get it back! Now give it back, Rosewater, before I pry it outta you!"

Angela's head shot up indignantly, "Joke's on you; I don't even know what that means."

The stowaway snarled once again, "It means you're a petty sailor; you might as well be swinging the lead if you don't even understand how agreements work."

"Petty?" Angela retorted with incredulity, "This may be my first trip, but I've been all around this ship doing everything I can. At least I'm not a stowaway, you creep."

She was met with a fierce stare from the stowaway, whose eyes gleamed from underneath her wild hair, Angela catching just the slightest glance of the strange design that ran around her eye, feeling a shiver at being the recipient of such an incredibly deepening stare.

"My name is Fareeha," she spoke, coldly, "And if you call me that one more time, I'm gonna rip this beam right out of this ship and beat you, got it? I am not a stowaway. If not for your stupidity, nobody would even know I was here."

Angela lowered her head, glaring toward Fareeha with a sarcastically surprised look, pulling her hand away from here and dropping the necklace, allowing it to dangle from her fingers as Fareeha took in a sudden breath at the mere sight of it.

"Give it," she demanded, quietly.

Shrugging, Angela simply replied with a haughty air, "Apologize for calling me names, then."

Fareeha smirked, her eyes darkening as her head lowered ever so slightly, though her eyes never broke away from Angela's, "You think I'm the idiot? I've only had two people come down here- the pipsqueak and the guy with the bad hair. They were the only two to vote to ship me off, excluding your captain himself. He has them coming down here because they won't willingly get to know me; he trusts they won't be persuaded by me to do anything."

"So when I see you down here, princess, it doesn't take much of any thought to know you're not supposed to be here," Fareeha reasoned with an even voice, managing a shrug, "Even you might be able to figure that out if you try just a liiiitle bit."

Angela frowned, subtly biting her lip in frustration as Fareeha cocked her head to the side proudly, "If you don't give me that necklace, I'll make sure your captain knows you were picarooning around down here."

"Picarooning?" Angela asked suddenly, "You think I was picarooning? I most certainly was not!"

Fareeha's eyes rolled in exasperation as she groaned, "Look, I'm making this easy enough for your little brain to handle. Give me the neckless, or your ass is gonna get keelhauled, got it?"

While Angela knew very well that, were word to get out, she'd be facing some sort of punishment from her father, though she knew very well that Captain Morrison wouldn't tie anybody to the mast and toss them overboard to be roiled along the side of the ship. Still, she'd already figured out that these two were embroiled in a sort of bluff-calling match, even if this stowaway was very much unaware of who, or what, Angela was, which she knew gave her an edge.

She frowned, worriedly, her voice drawn aquiver as she spoke quietly, "W-What's that?"

Fareeha grinned, her point apparently having gotten through, "You don't know what keelhauling is? Oh, princess, you wouldn't last two minutes running on beneath this ship. You'd wish you were simply being rushed to Davy Jones instead of left there to return aboard."

She continued, smirking malevolently, "So why not quit being a brat and just give it here? save us both the trouble."

"Wow, that sounds terrible…" Angela mused, feigning terror as she gingerly took a step forward, "I certainly wouldn't want that to happen…"

She held out her hand gently, Fareeha immediately hopping up into a crouch with her hands still tied behind her back, pushing her way up to her feet as Angela eyed her with nervous eyes, just a few steps separating the two of them. Fareeha subconsciously nodded, her eyes fixed on the glittering band of tiny gold rings, before they immediately jumped out of her view, Angela yanking her hand away and behind her back, leaving her stowaway with a look of genuine horror as Angela made a rude gesture with her free hand as she hopped away.

"You know less about this ship than I do," Angela scoffed with a shrug, "Go ahead and tell 'em, I don't care. I'll probably get extended deckswabbing duty, so what. It's worth it just to see that pitiful look on your face like you had on when we were about to toss you, before I saved your ass!"

Indeed, Fareeha's face had transformed into a trembling mass of disappointment as she slowly lowered herself back toward the ground, falling the last little bit before lowering her head in realization that she had been made the fool, perhaps for the entire time, deciding to simply disengage from the situation rather than play along with this deckhand who obviously knew more than she'd let on. Instead of triumph, Angela's heart sank at the scene before her, a sigh leaving her lungs as she reached a finger up to her face, scratching her cheek nervously.

"Look, uh, I'm sorry," Angela groaned, trying to withhold her regret at being unable to be more horrible of a person at times, "I originally came down here to see if you needed anything, not to argue."

Nary a sound left Fareeha for the longest time as her head hug low beneath her shoulders, the silence beginning to nag at Angela's nerves before the stowaway finally spoke up quietly, "…I thirst."

Angela frowned, turning to make her way toward the nearby barrel that had been filled with fresh water, "I can imagine so if you spurt venom at every single person who crosses your path merely for assistance. I'd hate to encounter you as a legitimate threat…"

Fareeha didn't reply, though Angela still made her way over toward their stowaway, crouching beside her before reaching out the cup of water, her skin tingling at the thought of offering a woman water in such a way, lifting the small mug up toward her face, terrified of the possibility of an untimely blush.

Suddenly, Fareeha's face shot upward, her vicious eyes staring Angela dead in in the face, her body spinning toward her captor as her wrists crossed one another, Angela having come close enough for Fareeha to tackle her somewhat, pinning her against the wooden frame below the two of them. Fareeha slid her knees into Angela's sides to keep her in place, her teeth glimmering as they sat barred, her arms held up over Angela's head as she snarled once again.

"Give. Me. The. Necklace."

Caught in a dangerous vacuum of fear and surprise, Angela's eyes flew wide at the sight of this stowaway keeping her pinned to the floor, a churning collection of nerves shooting through her as her body fought with itself whether she should flee or fight back. Unable to use her hands to search her new prisoner's clothing, Fareeha was only able to stare at her in an attempt at scaring her into relinquishing her token, though as Angela's face began to darken in resolve, she took a sudden, sharp breath as if preparing to scream out in a pleading echo to alert the crew.

Fareeha's own eyes drew open in shock, though Angela immediately let loose with a cry, "AAA-!"

As if working only on sheer instinct, Fareeha's head shot down, her hands unable to silence this brat, her mouth taking the task itself as her lips covered Angela's, sending the newest crewman aboard the Splitstream into a crimson-laced look of shock, eyes wide as Fareeha seemed to draw her very breath from her, even if the stowaway's face only grew angry as though insulted by such a task. Whatever fear Angela might have felt immediately melted away in the presence of such brazen imposition, her body suddenly shooting full of retaliation, taking full offense at the prospect of being taken advantage of.

She immediately drew her hands up, swiping as hard as she could against whatever part of Fareeha was exposed, though still fearful of any noise she might burst out with, she remained clasped to Angela's lips, her face wincing at the blows until Angela finally drew an instinctive nerve, her teeth clenching in an instant, catching just enough of Fareeha's bottom lip, sending the stowaway recoiling back in an arch as her body followed where her hands remained tied to, her voice bursting forth in a pained anger.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" she cried out.

Angela whipped back up to her feet, her face in such an intense frown that it appeared to grow long, her hands hurriedly brushing off her breeches from the dirt of the wooden floor, "I'll see that my vote gets overturned. Hana was right; you're an animal. Who knows what you'll do if you were to ever free yourself?!"

Before she could spin away and stomp off, she was taken aback by Fareeha's lips curling into a smirk, the slightest trickle of blood running along the puffed stretch of skin that had already begun to swell, "I'm the animal? Princess, how does this look? It sure looks like you were down here trying to get a taste of stowaway. I'd hate to think how your crew mates may see you after that."

Angela's brow shrunk in furious indignity as her hand clutched tightly, knowing she'd been outplayed, by her own action no less. Fareeha merely chuckled to herself in accomplishment, shifting to something of a comfortable position where she sat, rolling her head along her shoulders almost playfully, like a cat teasing a mouse, refusing to kill it and miss out on its plaything.

"You can take your leave," Fareeha muttered authoritatively, despite her imprisoned state, "I will be getting that necklace back though, you can count on that. If you all only knew where all I'd been, what I'm capable of, you'd all have chosen to throw me off this ship."

Her eyes suddenly darkened, "But then you'd all be the recipients of my haunts. my curses. and if you don't want to know what evils trail after me, you'll give me that necklace."

Fareeha's head leaned back against the beam that kept her wrists in place, sighing with an accomplished air, "I can wait. I've got nothing but time now, as long as I've got this wound. If you turn me over to the authorities before you return what's mine, though, I can assure you you'll be seeing me very soon after that occurs."

She repeated for emphasis as her voice lowered in time with her closing eyes, "Very soon."

Angela felt her shoulders trembling as she stood there in listless reverie, unable to conjure up anything of a retort. She knew she'd been checkmated; her father could forgive her for checking on the stowaway, even if it would have displeased him tremendously, but for her mark to come across that same stowaway's lip… Her face curled angrily as she turned on her heel, stomping off as she left the stowaway with the only real retort that she had.

"See that you get a drink now," she challenged defiantly.

Fareeha merely shrugged behind her shut eyes, "Don't bother. I've had a taste of something much sweeter."

In a sudden halt, Angela's face blew a dangerous crimson as her eyes yanked wide, her head whipping around in a violent motion, staring deep enough into her stowaway's eyes that she could very well have burned holes into them. Fareeha only chuckled at such a sight, musing to herself as she happily rested her head back against the bean, rolling it from side to side.

"You're so easy to fuck with," she pointed with a peculiar sneakiness, "Must be an easy crew on here to deal with. That won't serve 'em well with the Shimada's rolling around these seas."

With that, Angela stormed off, not bothering to share another word as she disappeared beyond the threshold, regretting having ever decided to come down here. She returned to her bunk to stew until sleep finally overtook her an hour later, her mind too far gone to recall the necklace resting deep in her pocket, its golden strap quickly becoming the least of what bound the two of them together.