Chapter one

Nixe walked slowly, winding her way through fish stalls, cloth hawkers, fruit stands and slave traders. She kept her head low, and her eyes focused ahead of her, trying to seem as small and worthless as she could.

In the end she made it with only minor mishap, bothered by three youths near her own age. Who, had recognized her for what she was and thought they would get something for free considering that there were three of them and only one of her. Grabbing her roughly, they near tore off the sleeve of her dress, but scattered after the first received an unwelcome blow to his manhood, and a cuff to the ear. They cursed her wildly as they ran, calling horrible things over their shoulders. The girl merely shrugged and continued on, it would matter little later.

By the time she made it back to the Red Feather it was dusk. All manner of Caribbean bugs were swarming about the people still milling through the streets, and near the smoking and freshly lit oil lamps…

She walked in through the front door slowly; knowing one of the others would only curse her, and tell M'selle if she tried to sneak in the back. Not to say that she didn't expect to receive punishment for shirking her shifts at the tavern's bar. And she couldn't even say that her day off was worth it. She had nothing to show except salt encrusted feet and a torn dress.

Thinking about how she must look, with one ragged sleeve, and the other still intact, she reached up to tear the sleeve the rest of the way off, enjoying the sound of ripping fabric, and made the other one to match. Now her dress was held up only by her chest and the laces that bound it tight to her form. But that also mattered little. She wasn't in this business to look fashionable. Most of the men only saw, or imagined what was beneath the scraps of fabric anyway.

Nixe sat down at a rickety stool, and sighed, dropping her head into her hands.

"'E didn't come back, did'e?" a busty brunette woman drawled carelessly from the other side of the bar.

She cringed, but nodded.

"An you've already gone and dug yourself a heapin hole of trouble straying 'bout at the docks all day, looking lovesick at the horizon, righ'?"

She sighed this time, in accord. "Lord, pour me something to drink, will you?"

Marne raised an eyebrow. "Thought you were all too adaman' bout not dulling the wits with drink before you work?"

Sifting hands through her dark hair and wiping at the sweat that was already beading on her neck, she choked out "Tonight is an exception."

Marne consented, pulling out a small glass, and filling it with an amber liquid, the smell was heady and sharp. "Don't drink that all a'once. It's more potent when it's warm…" She warned.

But the contents of the glass had already disappeared down the dark one's neck before she had even finished speaking.

The other girl laughed, full and hearty at her friend's actions. "So, a fish in more ways then one, eh?" she drawled.

Nixe grimaced. She was used to the pokes at her name. Having once boasted proudly that her father had named her for a mermaid in a trader's language; the other girls had never let her forget it, coming up with nicknames such as Fish. She never made the mistake again, and it was a lesson well learned. Tell others what they need to know, and naught else.

"Was anyone looking for me?" Nixe rasped, the drink hitting her stomach hard. It was empty and with a threat, it rolled, and contracted in her belly.

"'Couple a gents. Not many a the girls' here'll do a standie for the price you charge…" Marne laughed.

"M'selle?"

Marne began plaiting her hair, a piece of rag in her teeth. She spat it out on the counter and tied off the end. "Passed ou' in her room all day. The heat finally got to her. More than one o' us told her not to wear tha velvet dress." She smiled widely, showing a gap between her front teeth.

"No one's told her I was gone?" She asked, running fingertips under her eyes to fix her kohl.

"Nah, and if they do, I'll tell her you was here wit me, all day, back in the kitchen, bleeding chickens."

Nixe nodded, grateful. Even though that's probably what she would be doing tomorrow. Marne was kind enough, but no one around these parts did anything for free. You got something, or you gave nothing.

She turned to scan the room for customers. Even after being in the business for only three short years, Nixe was able to pick out an honest sailor from a pirate. A man with a family, from the lads who were ready to put up schillings for a good time…she also had a mean eye for slave traders, who had a mean eye for women. Rare enough times they traipsed in, under the guise of seamen, but they were too looky, eyes settling on all the wrong places to be customers. They could be spotted, and when they were they were cleared out, and run off. But sometimes they did get lucky.

Her dark eyes settled on a great bear of a man. He was black as pitch, and clean shaven, from crown to chin, sitting alone at a table in the center of the room, no drink in hand. His coat was tailored, his shirt a crisp white, dark skin un-pocked. Perfect.

Nixe smiled, and turned to signal for a customer's ale. It was watered down enough that they weren't losing profit if the girls brought free drinks to customers, but not so much that it lost the taste of a brew.

"Reel hum in, sweet," cooed Marne in her ear as she passed her the mug.

And Nixe, walking to the table, chest puffed attractively out in front of her and ale in hand, had every intention of doing just that.

OOO

I had firstly intended this to be a one-shot. I was proving to my mum that I could monologue and pump something out just as quick as the next bloke. And this turned out well enough that I posted it. So here it is, my second part. And thank you to Chase 3 for finally realizing that it was Tia I'm portraying. Nixe is a temp name… I'm getting to how she becomes Tia Dalma eventually (it should be vair interesting!) Thanks for the compliments all around, and I hope you enjoyed chapter one, second part to my prelude.

Cheers,

PLK