She remembers.
She remembers waiting in the brig of that slaver for what easily amounted to a day or two. It makes sense, now, why they'd kept her separate from all the other girls in the hold. Emily was different, dangerous, and they weren't sure what to do with her besides. With only one leg, she wasn't exactly the sort of goods they were looking for.
.
"You'd fetch me a lovely price." It's the Captain. She's sees him clear, not like in her dream. He's short and old, and this makes the predatory way in which he circles her all the more disturbing. He takes her hair in his hands, leans in to smell it. "It falls like a waterfall, when cared for properly." She trembles, enraged and disgusted, as he pulls her chin up to face him roughly. "And those lips…"
But he doesn't kiss her. He sends her back to the brig, where she stays for days more.
.
There's a girl they send down, younger than Emily and more subdued. She comes once a day with a bucket of water, some cloths for washing, and soap – quite the luxury, and Emily wonders why they'd be wasting it on a pirate that's not actually of much use for their purposes.
Anyway, she doesn't complain. This is the only time she is left alone. Bathing requires clothing to be removed, and Emily stubbornly refused to do it the first time when her guards didn't leave, so now they do. They stand just outside the door, no doubt, but plans begin brewing all the same…
.
The girl is shy and quiet, but stronger than she appears, Emily thinks. She glares at the guards as she enters, insists on scrubbing Emily's long brunette waves herself – and over all, takes her sweet time. It's a quiet form of rebellion, but a form of it none the less.
"Where are you from?" Emily asks one day, quiet so the guards can't listen. "England?"
"Scotland." She replies in a distinct accent. "But the others, they're from somewhere 'round London."
"So there are others. How many?"
The boards outside the door to the brig creak. The girl freezes a moment, and then doesn't answer for several more. "Twenty of us even. We were all of us headin' for the colonies, ta a finishin' school in Virginia."
"Twenty. My gods. All kept well, like you?"
"They're careful not ta bang us up, if that's what yer meanin'."
A pause, Emily thinks this through. "Alright, now tell me this. If I told you I might very well be able to get us out of here, would you be willing to help?"
"And just how do yeh think yer goin' ta do that?"
"Well…I'm working on that. But first things first, they'll have to bring us in to port somewhere eventually. If I can find out when that's happening…"
The girl casts a glance at the door. "The boys on this ship, they're awful frisky. Catch 'im lookin' at me when they let meh come down to help with yeh each day." There's a long pause, and she's just begun combing out the knots in Emily's hair. "Ah could find out where we're headed. Maybe even when we'll get there."
Emily turns sharply to her, eyes widening a bit. "No. That's hardly what I…"
But the girl is smirking, just a bit. "There's a reason mah parents decided to send meh away. Ah didn't say Ah think Ah can find out. Ah said Ah could." The smirk fades, and now she just looks nervous again. "But yeh'll have ta promise me it'll be worth it."
Emily stares at her, one hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. "Cheekier little thing than I thought, you are. What's your name, anyway?"
"Freya."
"Alright, Freya. I've got a trick or two up my sleeve, but you have to promise you won't go saying anything about it, not even to the others."
Her brows furrow a bit in bewilderment, but she nods. Emily brings her hand up, hesitating just a bit. This could go very wrong, depending on the girls reaction, but it's the best she's got, so she conjures up her magic. Nothing big or spectacular; she pulls a bit of water out of the small tub that had been brought down, and plays with it a little. It winds its way up her arm, snakelike, and then Emily sends it shooting out to splash her new friend.
The girl giggles softly, sounding delighted. "Yeh're one of the chosen ones! Now why didn't yeh tell me that from the start?"
"Chosen ones?"
"It's what we call those touched by a goddess. Meh mum's got the gifts, too."
"Well, then you know what I have to offer. But I have to know when. Fighting back now won't do us any good, we've got nowhere to go."
"Now that, yeh just leave to me."
.
The next day Freya doesn't walk up to Emily's cell so much as she sashays, hips swaying, and she's smirking in a way that tells Emily they've got what they need. Emily finds herself amused as she watches the pretty little Scottish girl set down the tub and then turn to glare at the guards, expectant.
They scowl, but leave as they always do.
Freya turns back to Emily, hurried in her excitement. "Three days. And I know where we're stoppin'." Emily hushes her, worried the guards might here, but then gestures for her to go on. Freya does. "I heard the men goin' on about it when they thought I was sleepin'. They were tryin' ta come up with a plan ta keep us a secret because the closest port now is Port Royal."
"Port – Port Royal." Emily lights up at this. Really, this is a very good thing. Port Royal is an honest port, a respectable one. She can get the girls some help there. But… it presents a problem for her. She's heard rumors of the Navy trying to again make the port the stronghold it had been for them, and there's even been talk of the Admiral himself buying up some property there. Breaking free at Port Royal will mean safety for Freya and the other girls – and nothing short of the noose for Emily, or worse. "It would be there, wouldn't it?"
"What's the matter?" Freya looks worried now. "This is good, aye? If – if yeh use yehr gifts, maybe we can all break free there, and surely there'll be someone who'll help us."
"Oh, there'll be plenty willing to help you, Freya." Emily runs a hand through her hair, sighing. "You and the other girls, you'll all be just fine. I'll make sure of it or… well, I'll just make sure of it."
There's a pause, and Freya's bright mood didn't last long. "But you, yeh're not like us. Yeh never told me yehr name, yeh know."
"I'm called Peg. Captain Peg Leg Turner." She reaches down to knock on her wooden appendage.
"Captain… a pirate."
"A pirate."
"In Port Royal – oh, but pirates are hanged, though!" Her eyes widen, and one freckled hand comes up to hover over her mouth. "But surely, if yeh're helpin' us, Ah mean Ah've never heard if a pirate like you before, tryin' ta help us like yeh are, and…"
"Don't." Emily cuts her off, firm. "I said I'll make sure you get home. Beyond that, you're not to concern yourself with me." Her tone firm as if she were talking to one of her men on the Sea's Queen, telling them to keep to the code.
Freya plants her hands on her hips, looking frustrated now in a way that reminds Emily a bit of Jo. "Oh, and what sort of an order is that ta give? What kind'ah person would just leave behind the girl who's the only reason she's alive?"
Except Jo wouldn't argue. She'd scowl, look sorry, but she'd never argue because… "A pirate." Emily replies simply.
"Well, not that this is news to yeh I'm sure, but I'm not…"
"No, you're not, but if you act too friendly with me they could get the idea to hang you as well, so you'll do as I say!" Emily near growls, and this time Freya backs off a bit, startled. "Now, hush up. I think I've an idea of how to work this…"
.
Three days later Emily finds herself knelt at the front of her cell, hands clasping the bars desperately as she pleads with the men that are guarding her. "Please, I need to speak with him."
"What would make ye want to do that of sudden, anyway, girly?" Annoyed.
"Because – because I think I've an idea of how to settle all of this now."
"Cap'n ain' going to be interested in dealin' with you." Scoffing.
"Oh, but what if that deal could bring you all a real shiny penny? I'm worth a fortune, me, 'specially alive and well as you lot've been kind enough to keep me."
"Oh, really?" Curious, if skeptical.
"Don't tell me you haven't heard of Peg Leg Turner? I mean, s'not like you'll find too many others like me running 'round."
"S'ppose not…" Intrigued, glancing down at her leg.
"Come on, then, lads. What've you got to lose, anyhow? Tell that ole Captain of yours just what I've said."
.
They do. She waits minutes, maybe fifteen of them, before she's being escorted to the Captain's cabin. He's sitting behind his desk, looks up when she enters and shoos out the man who'd brought her.
"Speak." He says simply.
She hesitates, lets out a breath, gathering her wits and taking a few tentative steps further into the room. "You knew I'd be worth something. Else why would you have kept me? You don't seem like the sort to be bothered by the idea of just, erm, disposing of things you don't need."
"I've kept you, because a girl with so much spirit might intrigue the right buyer enough to have him paying double what I could get for any of the girls down in the hold."
"Well – be that as it may, you'd have a hard time of it, trying to sell such damaged goods, you said so yourself, so…" She stutters a bit, nervous, hesitant.
"Get on with it, girl, I haven't got all day." He spits, and she starts a bit.
"The Admiral, you know of him?"
"Yes, of course, everyone knows of him. And make no mistake, Captain. I know of you as well."
At once her eyes narrow, and she stalks across the room to lean over the desk. "Then you know of the price on my head. And the only reason you don't actually know what to do with me is because the Admiral isn't so willing to go off dealing with lecherous, scum of the earth old worms like you. Which is why you're going to listen to me, and listen well."
She expects he'll be angry now, so doesn't flinch when he shoots to his feet and raises a hand as though to hit her. He looks intrigued as well, though, when she doesn't back off. "Go on. But be very careful how you do so."
"All you're concerned about is the coin, and I can get you that." She stands straight, throws her shoulders back and plants a hand on her hip. "Let me loose soon as we make port. I'll make for the fort, turn myself right in, and point them in your direction. I'd bet my very life on them paying you off soon as they have me, just to be rid of you."
Now he laughs, loud and harsh. "You're very life, eh? That's just what you'd be doing, stupid girl! You'll be hanged by the morrow!"
"Admiral wanted me alive and well, I'll have you know, and that's all just trifles besides." She waves him off. "Point is, you'll be paid. And even if you aren't, you've got all those girls down in the hold. What do you need me for, anyway?"
.
Apparently, not for much. A few short hours and she finds herself marching up the docks of Port Royal, head held high and steps determined. Because the thing is, the plan she'd given Freya – involving Emily breaking the girls out by way of her magic – that had been a lie. Sure, she could've done it that way, and maybe she would've succeeded, but her magic is unpredictable, and especially when Emily is excited in some way. She wouldn't be able to guarantee it would all work out.
But this way – this way she knows will work. She'll wind her way straight up to the massive fort up on its cliff and turn herself right in and tell them all about the poor girls trapped on the ship at the docks. And they'll believe her because what other reason will she have for strolling straight into the lion's den? Some part of her scoffs in protest at this. What is she doing anyway? She's free. She should run for it. But there's nowhere for her to go, really, and she couldn't possibly. All those other girls…
She's not sure she could live with herself, leaving them to their current fate. Even now, it seems, she still has boundaries. One day they'll likely get her killed, but it's alright. She has a feeling today is not that day.
.
"Now. There's a good way to fulfill your own death wish." The voice is female and familiar, vaguely. The remark seems meant to be sarcastic, but there's a note of genuine surprise beneath it.
Emily freezes, unsure of why the words had jumped out at her from amidst the cacophony of other voices around her.
"Yes, I am speaking to you."
Emily turns slowly, scanning the groups of people around her until her eyes land on a woman – why is she so familiar? She's tall, perhaps even a bit more than Emily, but not as boyish slender. She's dressed quite fine, draped in what is no doubt the latest fashions, all lace and fine trimmings. Large, blue-green eyes study Emily as close as Emily is studying her.
Emily's brows furrow. "Beg pardon, miss?"
The woman opens her mouth, closes it, seems to be thinking. Speaks, finally. "Forgive me. I meant only that the people of this town may not take very kindly to a woman dressed so…" She raises a single brow. "Eccentric."
Brows furrowing a bit, Emily glances down at herself. Though she's been scrubbed quite clean by now and her hair lays over her shoulders, soft and shining, she's still wearing trousers with her wooden leg in full view. She looks back up to meet the eyes of the fine lady before her. "Ah. Well, not to worry, miss, I don't expect it'll matter much longer. If you'll excuse me."
"Now, wait a moment, please." The woman sounds a touch more urgent. "If you'll forgive a poor maid her nosy nature, why should it not matter any longer?"
"Why would it be any concern of yours?" Emily snaps, a bit more dangerous, trying to make her back off.
But the woman just throws her shoulders back, haughty. "Well, you make it sound as though you're in a bit of trouble. I was going to offer some assistance, but please, keep right on with whatever your original plan was. The occasional hanging is the only half interesting thing that occurs in this town, anyway."
Emily turns halfway to go, knows she should, she's even got directions from someone… but she just can't now. She turns back to the woman, wary. "And just who are you, miss, to think you could be of any help to me?"
"My brother's sister." She replies, rather cryptic.
Emily just stares at her. Familiar, familiar, where have they met before? "You're brother's…" She finds herself flashing back, months and months ago now, dressed all in finery no different than the woman before her, attending a party on Alex's arm, all the way in London. Her eyes widen a bit. "Miss Norrington. Forgive me, I've much else on my mind."
Laurel Norrington glances around a bit. No one seems to be paying particular attention to them, but… "It's alright Captain, I am quite sure I make a much less memorable personality overall than you and we have met but once. Come, with me. I was not exaggerating when I said I would be willing to offer some assistance."
Emily shakes her head. "I'm not sure how you could be of assistance."
"I have more pull in this town than you might think. Or hadn't you noticed that no one has glanced in your direction since we've begun speaking?" Emily had noticed. This demonstrates quite the level of respect for Miss Norrington on the part of the people around them. Laurel goes on. "Come with me to some place where we might discuss it more openly."
"Why would you so want to help me?"
"Because I've never met anyone willing to stand against my brother in such a way as you have and continue to do. Please."
It's another option. It's a long shot, but it's an option that at least puts off the plan that has Emily walking right off to some manner of certain doom.
She follows.
.
She lives in a mansion. Really. It's massive, set on a few acres of well-kept land atop a hill overlooking the rest of the town. All balcony's and glass doors and polished wood and crystal chandeliers, Emily wonders what would prompt the Admiral to gift his sister such a luxurious place to stay. Assuming…
"I presume your dearest brother is…well, he's not here, is he?"
"No. This was more a place to tuck me away all neat and sitting pretty so I'd leave him be. Not that I am complaining."
"Miss Norrington, welcome…" A man – the butler, maybe? – stops short as he catches sight of Emily, eyebrows raising.
Laurel steps in, quick and firm. "She is my guest, and she will be treated as such while under the roof of this house. We will be in the parlor, I expect not to be disturbed, understood?"
He hesitates, but nods, bowing a bit in difference. "Yes, Miss."
Laurel leads Emily into a lavish parlor room with a fireplace and cushy chairs and sofas and a large piano set in the corner of the room. A large set of windows on the far wall allows bright, beautiful sunlight to spill into the room and give everything an airy feel. Emily runs a hand through her hair as she looks around, feeling out of place as ever amongst all the light and finery.
"Please, sit Captain."
Emily shakes her head, blowing out a breath. "I don't have much time, Miss Norrington."
Laurel sits herself in one of the high backed chairs, straight and at attention. "Then you'd best start explaining so I can decide what to do for you."
"I don't know where to begin. Straight to the point, I suppose…" She sits herself across from Laurel, leaning forward. "How I've got here is a long story, but what's important is that there's a ship down at the docks with a hold full of innocent little ladies-in-training, and if I don't find some way to get to them, the ships going to sail off, probably to Tortuga, where the girls will be – just, that can't happen. I promised. I said I get them out. The best plan I could come up with was to turn myself in and hope the boys up at the fort would be willing to listen when I told them what I just told you."
Laurel scowls a bit. "Well, they might listen, but that was an awful plan all the same. You'd be at my brother's mercy."
"Aye, well… now you know why I didn't give myself much time to think on it."
"I suppose it's a very good thing I spotted you traipsing through town as you are here. I can go up to the fort myself and tell them of these girls, they'll listen to me, though they'll want to know how I got the information."
"So…you tell them." Emily replies, easy. "Journey through town for you gives me a little more time, anyway."
"I believe the point here was to keep you out of trouble, Captain."
"What is it with you people? That girl on the ship wasn't too happy with the way I had things planned, either." Emily shakes her head. "This is about the girls, Miss Norrington, I can look after myself just fine."
The hint of a smile tugs at Laurel lips. "Personally, I find enjoyment in anything that might get under my brother's skin. As for this other girl, perhaps it is that tales of a female pirate are unique enough to form quick and travel quicker, and not all of the things one hears are so nefarious in nature as you might assume. You're becoming something of a fairytale." With this, she stands, brushing off her dress. "Anyway, I shall come up with something. In the meantime, I insist you stay here. I'll have my lady's maid fetch you something more comely to wear, and we can discuss what's next for you when I return."
Emily brings a hand up to rub her temples. Impossible, stupid…why does no one listen? "Miss Norrington. Perhaps even you don't fully understand. Your brother may not be so forgiving if he finds I've even stepped foot in this lovely little castle of his. I'm effectively trying to keep the rest of you out of trouble as well, and you're making that far more bloody difficult than it need be."
Laurel just raises her eyebrows, apparently amused. "I'm beginning to get the idea you're a little too used to giving orders. It's no wonder you frustrate my brother so. Why not get some rest while you can, Miss Turner. You look as though you sorely need it." And with that Laurel Norrington sweeps out of the room, leaving Emily to collapse back into her chair tiredly.
She much prefers dealing with other pirates, she decides.
.
"Oh, do come now miss, ye'll only wear yourself out further with all that pacin' about." The maid frets over her, seeming genuine in her worry. "Why not come with me to the kitchens where I can find ye somethin' to eat, ye must be terrible hungry by now."
Emily just huffs as she trips over the dress the maid had found for her. It's a little big in odd areas, and she's not used to trying to move beneath so many layers. "I'll do whatever you say soon as your mistress returns."
"Oh, but you don't even know when that'll be. Miss Norrington's well liked in town, they'll listen to her, there's no reason to fret."
"No reason, indeed."
Emily spins around quick as the ever more cultured voice reaches her ears. Laurel is just sweeping into the room, looking tired but not discontented. "Good news, then?" Emily asks, hopeful.
Laurel nods. "They were quite curious as to how I came by the knowledge of this ship of yours, but willing to see to it all the same. I can't say for certain what will be done with the ship's captain and crew, but I can promise the girls will be well looked after until they are returned home."
Emily lets out a breath, collapsing into the nearest chair as the tension she'd built up eases all at once. "Thank you."
The maid, seeming to sense that any further conversation will be even less her business than usual, slips quietly out of the parlor, shutting the doors behind her.
Laurel is silent a moment, studying Emily. "You were truly worried for those girls."
Emily nods. "I was. They didn't deserve what they had coming to them and I made a promise. I don't do that unless I intend to keep it."
"An admirable trait for a – well, let's see, what are all of the official charges? Basic piracy, thievery, threatening the Admiral himself, escapes from custody."
Emily chuckles, shaking her head. "And yet you seem very intent on this thieving, degenerate fugitive staying here under your own roof."
"You amuse me." Laurel replies, simple. "And anyway, it's rather late now, you'd be far better off staying here."
So, somewhat against her better judgement, Emily does.
.
First for just a few days. When she tires of pacing the walls of the massive house, she slips out to wander the town a bit. She's nervous at first, tries to stay out of everyone's way, but it soon becomes apparent that no one's noticing anything too terribly off. In fact, everyone's being quite friendly in a way that she's not experienced since she was just a little girl.
And it's on this day that Laurel convinces her to really stay, just a while. They find her something just a touch nicer to wear, call her a distance cousin, and that is that. And it's all so strange, so surreal, but it's nice to realize she can maybe, just a little while, truly relax. She'll get bored of it eventually, she knows, but for now…
She figures it can't hurt to enjoy it while it lasts.
.
The calm and the quiet are so different from what she's used to. The town is peaceful, relatively, and the people kind and content. She wonders at how they notice nothing strange about her, for surely there are areas where it is more difficult to keep up the pretend. She worries on occasion that something in the way she speaks or in her mannerisms will give her away, but the people of this town really do adore the fiery but generous Laurel Norrington. On her word, they look the other way.
The problem is, Emily doesn't have any of the usual forms of distraction here. In fact, traipsing about pretending to be anything even halfway resembling a fine lady just makes her think of Alex; makes her wish he could see her now. Makes her wish she'd been brave enough to follow him when she had the chance.
And makes her wish she was strong enough now to forget him and move on, as she's sure he long since has.
.
His lips trail hot kisses along bare skin as she lets out breathy moans and soft chuckles. He's going slow, building her up with tentative ministrations and refusing to let her return the favors just yet. She's hyper aware of her surroundings – feels the ship swaying beneath them and the lightest of evening breezes gliding across her warm skin, hears the raucous noise of the general riff raff that occupies Tortuga going about their usual evening activities.
It comes in flashes, but it feels so real.
"Alex." She breathes, as he's moved down low and is paying her such special attentions. "Alex, goddess – wait, let me…" She tries to push him away, tries to make him stop before – wants him to enjoy it too. Why won't he let her?
He looks up at her, chocolate brown eyes soft and almost sorrowful. "My Emily."
"Alex. Alex, please." She sits up. Runs a hand over his chest, slow. Leans in to cover his lips with her own.
"My Emily." He's cupping her cheek, and his eyes – so full of hurt and sorrow and why? She doesn't understand.
"Alex – I lo-I lov-" But she chokes on the words, they won't leave her mouth.
"I always wanted to believe ye meant it."
"I did. I lo-… Alex, I mean it."
He's pushing her back down, kisses her stomach and lower again. "My beauty. My queen."
"Alex – let me, please…" She tries a last time. She doesn't like this, blast it all, he's supposed to be enjoying it to! "Alex, I lov…"
He pulls away. All at once, is glaring up at her with those eyes… "I always knew ye didn't mean it. If ye were so worried about me, after all, why'd ye let me leave?"
"…why'd ye let me leave…"
"…why'd ye let me leave…"
.
She gasps awake, tears threatening to spill as she stares up at the ceiling above her. Why does she keep having these awful dreams of him? She misses him so much it hurts. The dreams are just plain torture. And it's always the same. She tries to tell him, tries to show him how much she loves him, but he won't have it, won't believe her. And then he asks, he always asks, as if it really were her fault he'd left.
It wasn't, she always tells herself. It was not her fault. It made sense. She couldn't give him what he needed and she knew it and he couldn't give her what she needed and he knew it and then they both realized the other just – couldn't. And that was it. It made sense.
It made sense.
The thought occurs to her that she's beginning to miss Riley too now, in ways. He's been a close and constant companion since Alex's leaving, and though he is not Alex, he does his best to give Emily whatever it is she seems to need.
…which leads her to the thought that she's using him, plain and simple, and was that what it had all been about? Working so hard to make sure those girls would be alright. Some part of her still wants to be better, but freeing those girls hardly redeems her.
Now she desperately wants a drink, but she's not likely to find anything of the sort she's hoping for here unless she slips out to one of the taverns down by the docks. Say, that's not a bad idea…
Half hoping she might find a bit of trouble as well, she doesn't bother to change into anything less conspicuous than one of the few simple dresses Laurel had found for her to wear. With this, she also straps on the sword Laurel had managed to retrieve for her. Expecting she can probably make it back before the lady in question awakes for the day, she tiptoes her way down the stairs and to a side entrance through the kitchen's. With no one around, late as it is, she goes quite unnoticed as she slip silent out into the night.
.
She strolls in and across the tavern – the most raucous Port Royal has to offer, not that this is saying much compared to what she's used to – and even puts a bit of swagger in her step as she does so. She smiles as she feels countless sets of eyes trailing over to her, the activity around her dying down a fraction as she goes. Comfortable as can be, she strolls right over to the bar and leans over it a bit as the older woman behind it just raises a brow at her, looking half amused if Emily's not mistaken.
"Now, I don't know just wot you're 'opin' for, strollin' right in 'ere like that…"
"A drink." Emily replies, plain. "Strongest you've got."
The woman shakes her head, but gives Emily what she'd asked for. Emily produces a few coins and throws them down before the old barmaid, holding up her drink as she does. "Ta." She turns to survey the room as she sips from her drink – pleasantly surprised to find it is, in fact, rum.
"Quite the nightly escapade for a relation of the Norrington's, even a distant one, wouldn't you say?" It's a man, nothing about him particularly special. He's not tall, but not short, not young, but not old. His voice stands out a bit, but only because it is a tenor rather high pitched for a grown man. He's just come up next to Emily, watches the bars other patrons instead of looking at her.
She glances at him, and relaxes back against the bar, arms propped up behind her. "Very distant. I'm afraid Laurel's lavish lifestyle here gets rather boorish after a time. If I am quite honest."
He laughs now, and something about it is off in a way that doesn't sit right with her at all. "Ah yes, I suppose it would feel rather slow, for you."
Emily knows full well by now that something is up, but sees no point in getting worked up over it. It was about time, anyway. "Not quite what I'm accustomed to, is all." She fishes, wondering how he'll respond. Pretending not to be bothered, she takes a swig of her drink.
"Just what is it Miss Norrington tries to pass you off as? A girl of the lovely English countryside. Used to the relative freedoms allowed a farmer's daughter."
"Fair bit more than we're allowed 'round here, anyway." She relaxes her speech a little, baiting him.
"A young woman, slipping out in the dead of night to a rundown tavern full of drunken sailors?" He snorts at the ideas apparent ridiculousness. "That's a fair bit more freedom than a young lady ought to be allowed anywhere, I expect." A pause. He turns a bit to eye her up. "Unless, of course, she was foolish enough to think herself one of them."
No doubts about it, then. He knows. "Well." She watches as one group of men shout out drunkenly, demanding more ale, as another breaks into song – loudly, and rather off key. She holds up her mug to the man next to her. "I could hold my drink twice as bloody well, if nothing else." To prove the point, she brings the mug to her lips and downs what's still in it, wiping her mouth with her sleeve as she turns to shove the mug back onto the bar behind her.
"I was made aware you could be rather –," he pauses as she belches softly, looking disgusted, "good heavens. I was hesitant when they informed me it was a young lady I was after, but…"
"Lady? Did they call me that? Gods above." She snorts, and turns to him with a hand on her hip. "Look, mate, I could take a stab in the dark at who hired you and be right almost surely, and I'm not coming quietly. So why don't you do yourself a favor and walk away."
His brows raise. He looks genuinely incredulous. "I beg your pardon."
"Walk away." She reiterates, voice lowering dangerously. "Now."
… Well, the ensuing scuffle sees half the tavern in shambles, and the two of them clashing their way out onto the once peaceful streets of Port Royal as a lot of confused, drunken sailors stagger out of their way. Emily is grinning by now, feeling the usual rush that comes with a bit of a challenge, and even begins her usual dance, though she is hindered some by her dress.
He's pushing them further out of the town, more towards the beach than the actual docks.
The man, whoever he actually is, is gasping for breath by now. He pulls back and pauses as the last of the taverns patrons disappear into the night. "You fight like a hurricane."
"I had excellent instructors."
"You're a woman."
She smirks a bit as she twirls her sword. "I offered to spare your pride. It's been my experience that it's you men who are the more sensitive."
He straightens up, shrugging. "Now, you know, I really do feel sorry for this."
"Oh, I haven't taught you what sorry is yet."
"No, no. I feel sorry because the joke is on you, Miss Turner. Captain, Captain. Do forgive me, the idea is rather much to wrap my head around." He's sheathed his sword, is rolling out his shoulder. "Damn. I told them this style of fight wasn't my forte, you know, but when one is offered such a wondrous sum..."
Brows furrowed, she eyes him, sword still at the ready. "Care to share what this joke is?"
"The joke is that they tracked down a hunter just to get you out in the open, and you haven't presented too much a challenge for me. Though, I suppose one must be prepared for anything when dealing with such strange creatures."
"Hunter?" She's not sure what's going on anymore, but she knows this does not sound good. Goddess-given instinct begins to try and take over. That familiar pressure of her magic starts to build and, tentatively, she allows it to. "Hunting – what, exactly?"
"Why – you really don't understand? Oh, dear. By God, I really do feel terrible about this, but I've come too far now." And he glances over her shoulder, is eyeing up something behind her. "Good luck, Captain, I wish it to you truly. I should say you'll be needing it."
She feels it behind her, and continues to think it even after she spins around to find it's in the form of what must have once been a human woman. Because it is glowing. It's a haggish old crone with stringy, braided hair and beady eyes and it's glowing. Emily's never seen this before. She doesn't like it. She soon finds she's right to.
She knows well by now how to throw up a shield, something strong if not complex, and does so with ease. The shield itself holds as a blast of magical energies hits it full force. Emily, on the other hand, ends up buried up to her ankles in the sand, several feet back from where she had been to start.
The witch doesn't keep going, though. She stalks forward, beady, glowing eyes staring at Emily with a disturbing sort of curiosity. "Strong, strong, strong little thing."
Eyes widening, Emily stumbles a bit as she tries to back up, holding up two hands now glowing bright and faintly blue with her own magic. "Yes. Strong. Right. So – stay back."
"Strong, yes, show me." She pushes forward a little further. "Show, show, show."
Emily, feeling a strange sort of panic well up, sends two streams of raw magic shooting out to hit the witch full force. The witch is thrown back, further than Emily had been, but doesn't appear hurt. In fact, she laughs.
"Yes, yes, oh so strong his Captain!"
His? Oh, and there it is again. One guess, that's all Emily would need. "What do you want from me?"
"I want?" The witch's brows furrow now. "I want, I want… so silly, his Captain. He wants, wants you, wants...wish we could play more. Oh, what fun, what fun!"
Emily blinks, brows furrowing. She's trying to process this, it was just starting to make sense, but now she…she can't… "His Cap-I don't-who's he?" She understood, she thought, just a moment ago, where did it go?
"Oh, and he'll be so pleased. So easy. Thought you'd be more hurt, he did, but I can be clever too, can't I? Oh yes, yes, yes."
"Clev-clever?" Emily stutters, blinks, sways on her feet. Everything's going fuzzy in a way so unpleasant it couldn't possibly be from the rum (which she hadn't had enough of, besides.) She brings up her hands as a little voice that sounds awful like her goddess tells her she needs to throw up another shield, something different, something…but she can't. Can't think. The worlds gone so fuzzy and she's tired, goddess, she just wants to sleep.
Just…wants…
And…thus ends the longest chapter I think I've written yet. Hope you enjoyed! :)