For how long she had been unconscious, she did not know, yet when she woke up from the realm of the ghosts, she felt serene and at ease. What exactly had reactivated her primary instincts was confusing. Was it that lingering scent that seemed to be carved in her mind? Or was it the placid rays of the morning sunlight tickling her nose? Reaching for the covers, a slightly drowsy Miss Fortune found a very worrying object resting next to her.
A letter. Had it been another time, hell, even another morning, she might have been delighted. Today, she was furiously afraid. She had lost complete control of her life for a few hours, - days? - leaving her blatantly exposed to any form of possible threat. Cursing expressively - a few Krakens might have been involved - she took the rectangular piece of paper and threw it on the floor. Hiding under the covers by mere frustration, it was not surprising to hear a loud groud emanate from within the confines of her sacred bed. That´s when she realised. She was on her ship.
The covers went flying somewhere unknown, rats shrieked in fear - they still weren´t used to Miss Fortunes outbursts - whilst she paced around the room. Looking for her guns, she felt awfully relieved when she saw them laying reassuringly on the table. Her torn clothes had been washed and folded. The skin on her right arm was already starting to scar. She couldn´t have been gone for so long, could she? Only the letter could give her the necessary answers to end her torment.
Miss Fortune considered herself as an animal lover, with the occasional sport every now and then. However, she had a clear distaste for thieves, be it scarecrows, parrots or monkeys. It was not the first time she had seen him, but it was certainly the last time he´d be alive long enough to show his teeth. Or so she thought. It was slightly comical, two very different beings exchanging taunts. Hers was straight to the point, a butter knife flying dangerously quickly which ended up landing on the wall behind him. Her aim had been nerve-wrecking wrong since her encounter with the stranger, but that didn´t stop her from throwing metal glasses, books - a very interesting copy of ´´Pleasurable secrets´´ perished that day - and whatever she could find. The little demon´s laugh had invaded the room, to which a concerned sailor responded by openning the door to her appartments. Noticing the clear opportunity to escape,with the woman´s letter, the ferociously quick animal fled towards the young man, enticing a rather feminine shriek from him and a grunt of despair from Miss Fortune.
It certainly was pleasing to see a beautiful woman exiting her room dressed against the sands of time, but far more satisfying was to see the captain run after a devilish monkey. Red and white stripped trousers clinging desperately to her hips, putting on her left boot, and with far too small a shirt to hide her influencable body. If she had been praised in the men´s imagination - and a fair share of women, everything has to be said - she was unanimously far more arousing in reality. Mothers covered their childs eyes, although many escaped their stronghold to watch mouth agape the fantastic pursuit that was taking place. She had crossed half the city, throwing over some stalls, taking some gold coins here and there, crushing many fruits and cursing thoroughly throughout the hunt. It wasn´t until the monkey had found its master that she stopped to catch her breath. It took her longer than usual to recover, but after seeing who owned that dybbuk, she allowed herself a few more minutes.
She gritted her teeth, observing her surroundings. She had definitely attracted more attention than usual, although the main reason still hadn´t changed. Her fingers twitched slightly, nervous and desiring to dwelve into their hands the beautiful guns. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, reflecting the distressing hotness which had taken over her throbbing skin. Puffing, huffing and scolding herself, she approached her target. They exchanged looks. Defiant, provocating, conceited. Footprints forming a thin, straight line, she walked sensually closer. Rumours weren´t to be taken seriously, nor were they to be ignored. Hesitation couldn´t be part of her plan when she looked tentatively from under her eyelashes and bit her lip before purring lustfully into her objective´s ear ´´Hello, Sivir.´´