The whole world cracked open in her skull, consumed in a sheet of blinding light and searing heat in an instant of hot agony. She had no sense of the siren that wanted to devour her, nor the First Mate who saved her neck, but the fork of lightning that blasted both apart enervated every last cell in the rogue's body. Small sparks dancing across her skin like golden swamp lights for a moment before coalescing over her chest, and sinking within.

Antonia's back arced wildly, her whole body lifted feet from the deck where she lay. Her eyes opened wide as she gulped in an enormous, tortured breath into lungs suddenly opened once more, her heart pounding painfully behind her ribs. And just as quickly, she flopped to her side, gasping and helpless for a long moment, groans of pain lost in the crash of surf, the howling winds and the deafening blows of thunder.

[i][b]'No no no, little sister. You cannot leave dis world... Not [/i]yet.[i] Not while dere's still a debt to pay... '[/i][/b] Brother Sogba's voice laughed a wicked inferno through her head as Antonia desperately tried to pry open her eyes. She felt hands on her then, hands on her arms and shoulders, about her waist and legs. They weren't hurtful hands, not cruel or unkind but Antonia fought them anyway, weakly batting at them in protest, writhing feebly.

"Put me down... Stop. [i]Put me down! Arrêtez![/i] Thomas? [i]Luc?[/i] Where... Where are they?" Antonia thrashed a bit more, feeling the grip on one calf loosen with a curse, and the heel of her boot hit the deck.

"Please sir, set her down! I'll help her... [i]S'il vous plaît![/i] The ones with Captain Lightfoot, they could use help, getting him to his cabin." That small voice she heard, calmed her like precious little else could in that moment, knowing Luc was fine, he was alive and well - but the words... Thomas? [i]Help Thomas to his cabin?[/i] 

She felt herself lowered to the deck, torrential rains and wind whipping around her and through her as she rolled to her stomach. The rogue pulled her knees beneath her as she unfolded her aching body to a wobbly standing position, finding just enough strength in her arms to pull Luc close, and hug him as tightly to her as she could.

And Luc returned that hug about Antonia's waist with a fierce love. He had heard the voices within his hiding spot in the hawse hole, where Jax had told him all cabin boys through the ages had ever run, and where [i]Tante[/i] 'Tonia ordered him to go below deck. No, not the painful voices of the hideous silver-grey sea snake women, nor even the heartrending voices of the drying crew members, or [i]Mademoiselle[/i] the First Mate, or Captain Lightfoot or even Jax. 

No, he heard [i]them[/i], the bringers of the storm in his head. They talked to his [i]Tante[/i] 'Tonia, though her voice was far too faint for him to make out much more than the familiar cadence and cant. And then there were screams, the human ones, and then the not-so-human ones, and still he remained obedient to the orders given, as he knew Captain Lightfoot would wish him to be.

Until, he heard the one voice again. Like an endlessly whirling wheel of the winds, a whisper and a howl, a voice still somehow substantial and ephemeral all at once, and flowing through his thoughts and his small body as if he were as well. [i][b]'Go to her, little broder. To your Antonia. She is tired, and Broder Sogba burn her bad - she cannot hear me. You tell her breade on him, and Broder Bade fill him. You tell her dis... '[/i][/b]

Luc did not understand in the least what that voice told him to do. But he felt something lift him from the hawse hole, animate him up the stairs and hold him steady on a stormy deck that should have tossed his slight body to and fro like a rag doll. And that strength let him wrap his arm about her waist, Antonia's arm about his surprisingly steady slender shoulders as they staggered after the men carrying Thomas. 

The rogue whined deep in her throat at the sight of the men with Thomas, staggered, nearly stumbled to her knees again - and would have, if Luc hadn't somehow managed to keep her upright. Antonia turned toward the First Mate as they passed, seeing her own gaze turned toward the helm, to Jax, and saw the light of relief flood those beautiful blue eyes. She could not begrudge the woman this happiness, no matter how she ached for her own. And Antonia did not look away from the golden angel of a woman until after they passed from the storm, into the relative calm of the aftcastle, to the officer's quarters.

Luc stopped short as the crew members carried their captain carefully into his room, to lay him on his bed before speaking to Antonia. Somehow he was sure, that this charge was not a thing meant for the ears of others. "Brother Bade," he said softly as his face turned up from her side, searching for his aunt's shadowed above him. "Brother Bade told me to tell you, to breathe on him. That if you did, Brother Bade would... Fill him? I don't understand... "

Antonia blinked slowly, tearing her gaze from the door to Thomas' cabin, where the men were only just leaving. She leaned down to kiss Luc's forehead softly. The rogue was still shaking, still exhausted and terrified for Thomas, though she hid it all behind the thinnest of masks for the boy's sake alone. "Luc... Thank you... The First Mate will have bandages, medicines... Go on. Bring her now... [i]Please[/i]..." Antonia knew very well that Nicolette would be here any moment, that she wouldn't need any encouragement from Luc to hurry at all and certainly not a list of needful items to see to her own profession. 

But no matter the storm water that saturated her thick locks of black hair that ran rivulets still down her face and neck - Antonia did not want the boy to see her broken, or the tears she knew she could not stop from falling.

Luc was a good boy, and did as he was told, disappearing to find Nicolette in an instant. And the moment he was gone, Antonia slipped into Thomas' quarters. Closing the door behind her, she dashed across the cabin, collapsing to her knees beside the bed they had shared only a single night before. Loving, shaking fingers gently traced the cold lines of his battered face, the bruise from a fist from the Boar still dark, the long cut on his cheek where she struck him with fist and eyepiece fresh and crimson - and she wept. 

Her vision swam with tears as she tried to exam that angry bite at his side. Almost as wide as a shark's it seemed, and still bleeding dark and viscous fluids, blood mixed with some vile substance she knew instinctively she did not have the ability to right on her own. Antonia choked on her own sobs as she swiftly made to unbuckle the his pistol holsters, his belt and dagger sheaths before tearing open his ruined wet shirt, using it as best she could to gently, so carefully wipe the running blood from torn flesh.

[i]'Breathe'[/i]

The rogue stopped in mid-stroke, looking back up to Thomas' too-still face. Slowly she leaned forward, took the deepest breath she could, tears be damned, and blew so softly across his cheek, across lips and nose until she had not the least breath left in her.

And yet, he moved not at all. Not a flicker of an eyelash. Not a twitch, or a twinge. Nothing at all... 

Antonia fell back to her knees, her head dropped to her chest, defeated. She had nothing left, not an ounce of strength left to her and the rogue fell forward, her head resting against the bed's edge as she buried her face in the sheets. Something strange tugged at her hair, tickled at her temple, and her fingers reached for the side of her head. 

The rogue whimpered with anguish when she saw what she pulled free.

Her Amazon lily. Her precious morning gift from Thomas. Somehow that lily had stayed plaited in her hair all this time, even sad and wilted and crushed as it had become. Antonia reached for the long, cold fingers of Thomas' hand and lay against the bed once more, placing his palm over her head, through her hair as she rested against the mattress. The fingers of one hand curled against her chest, wrapped about the lily's stem, while the other lovingly stroked the cool skin of Thomas' hand where it lay.