By mid-morning, the stone walls of Atlasdam are a distant memory as the ship sails briskly through the deep blue waters of the inner sea. Primrose retires to the cabin while the crew bustles around the decks, opting to remove herself from sight so as not to be a distraction to the men. Olberic puts up a small objection but she merely chuckles, giving him an all too knowing glance. The knight was painfully aware of the stares that were directed at the dancer. He was perfectly willing to make an example out of as many of them as necessary, but he also knew that slashing his way through the crew was not a move that was going to endear him to Leon Bastralle. His possessive streak was a new development and it no doubt bore examining, but he chose instead to volunteer to assist the men, opting to throw himself into physical labor rather than focus on introspection.
The day passes quickly as Olberic throws himself into whatever tasks the mate sets for him. The banter and easy companionship of the sea reminds him greatly of the camaraderie of life in the barracks and he feels right at home amongst the deck hands. Bastralle seems surprised at first to see the warrior hard at work, then nods at him approvingly before continuing on to supervise his ship. The tension between the men had evaporated once they hit open water; out here the captain was all business and any ambitions he may have had regarding Primrose appear to have dissipated like a breeze. Part of him was relieved; he respected Bastralle as a warrior and a captain and did not wish to have any discontent between them, especially aboard the man's ship. Mostly, however, he had quite enjoyed the swell of pride and smug satisfaction when the dancer had shut the former pirate down, claiming Olberic as hers. It was, perhaps, not the most noble character trait that Primrose had drawn out of him recently, but he found he could live with it.
Dinner was a quiet affair. The deckhands ate in the galley while the couple enjoyed a private meal with Bastralle. The captain seemed to think it wise to maintain their aliases so Primrose followed his lead, keeping the conversation focused around light topics. Her ease in social situations always impressed Olberic; he was at his best with a sword in his hand, but she seemed to navigate small talk just as gracefully as she maneuvered on the battlefield. The evening slipped by pleasantly and Bastralle excused himself with a slight bow sometime after the second glass of wine, citing a need to update his logbook before he retired for the night.
As the door clicks shut, Primrose rises, draining her glass. "That was fun. Leon is a fascinating man, I'd love to visit him again when this is all over and we can relax our guard a bit."
"Indeed. I am sure he would be amenable to that, he certainly took a shine to you. Not that I can blame him." Olberic takes her hand and then draws her close to him with a slow grin. She slips her arms around his waist, resting her head against his broad chest and sighing happily. "Care for a stroll above decks? You've been inside all day, you must be tired of looking at these walls."
"It was not so bad, really. I took advantage of my idle time to stretch a bit and practice a new routine I have wanted to work on. I had a sneaking suspicion that you would be more comfortable if I did that sort of thing behind closed doors."
He breathes a sigh, leaning back to look at her face. She studies his eyes, her expression carefully neutral. "You are very difficult to read, you know."
"Occupational hazard. I very rarely want a man to really know what I am thinking," she replies smoothly.
"I trust you, and I know that you are quite capable of taking care of yourself," he continues.
"This is also true."
He shifts his weight. "I cannot tell if you are annoyed with me or not."
Her lips twitch in a small smile and some of the tension eases out of his shoulders. "I am not annoyed, no. You are protective by nature. I would be a fool to expect anything less from you, especially since it's one of the things that drew me to you in the first place. I obviously enjoy the attention that I get from flaunting myself the way I do, but watching you puff up that big chest of yours and flex around Leon was very..." she trails off, nibbling her lip and eyeing him in a way that made his groin twitch to wakefulness. "Well, we can explore my thoughts on that a little later." She slips out of his arms, tugging him towards the cabin door. "Come on then, I want some fresh air before you take me to bed."
A flush creeps up his neck at that thought and he follows her outside, trying not to stare at her gently swaying hips and failing miserably. She glances back over her shoulder and he snaps his eyes upward a moment too late, shrugging helplessly in reply to her soft peal of delighted laughter. Suddenly he deeply regrets his suggestion that they leave the privacy of their cabin.
Primrose glides over to rest her hands on the railing, peering over the side as the water rushes past them, then tilts her head back to gaze at the stars in the cloudless sky above. The moon is low and bright, bathing her skin in a faint silvery glow as the breeze teases a few loose strands out of her loosely braided hair. She closes her eyes and begins to move, quietly humming a tune he doesn't recognize, her lithe body moving to a rhythym all her own.
Olberic stands in the shadows, breath caught in his throat, afraid to move and break the spell woven by this goddess of the night before him. He's seen her dance before; several times in fact. Her movements were always precise and measured, her transitions smooth. Every man and woman who watched her command the stage felt as though she danced just for that person alone. Tonight, as he watches her undulate hypnotically with only his eyes upon her, he wondered if perhaps for the first time it was true. He has no idea what he has done in his life to deserve the trust and affection of this bewitching creature, but he swears by all the Twelve that he will never make her regret choosing him.
Abruptly she stops, her wrists crossed and arms raised over her head, front leg bent slightly at the knee and pointed straight at him. Her eyes open slowly and she locks gazes with the knight, her lips parting slightly as she attempts to control her ragged breathing. She lowers her arms, extending one towards Olberic, crooking a finger to beckon him closer. He doesn't hesitate, striding forward and sweeping the dancer into his arms and crushing her to his chest, claiming her lips hungrily. After a long, breathless moment they separate. She smiles against his lips, nipping him gently and he chuckles, reluctantly lowering her to the ground.
"So," she murmurs, running her hands over his biceps. "Overall, can you think of anything I could improve? I'm pretty happy with the-" Primrose lets out an indignant squeak as the knight scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder, striding briskly towards their cabin without a word.
