Antonia's brow lifted slowly as Nicolette browbeat her, loud animus falling like the torrential rains beyond these walls, all before Jax and Luc, and even Thomas - all for an edgy jest she whispered between them alone. For a single instant, the rogue considered rising to the bait, letting her own cold, undoubtedly cruel ire hold sway in the face of the woman's furious, overblown invective. Pride was never a luxury a woman like Antonia could afford to indulge, but there was precious little in her that would back down from a good fight, rank be damned. The rogue was no sailor born and, though she had danced in the shadows of honest and upright society for more than half her life, there was only one reason Antonia took up the pirate's mantle over a year ago - and he was sitting upright on the cot beside her. 

For Thomas alone, she would let this be. She held her tongue completely, wearing only a small, distant smile on her face as Nicolette berated her, yet another mask among thousands to hide her myriad confusion. Behind the smile, Antonia wondered how Nicolette could so easily toss aside even the small kindnesses she attempted as meaningless: the gift of the perfume for the price of a musket ball to a mutineer's brain pan; the deference and intervention she had shown the woman when she could barely bring herself to speak to Thomas during their gleek game at the Parakeet; the delicate respect for her pain and her privacy when she fled the French naval captain at the Port Royal ball; the promise of stories she also fled, despite the offer of companionship over shared glasses of brandy wine... 

The rogue sighed softly as her fingers ran gently over Luc's ebony curls, his head still by her knee as he sat still and stunned on the floor beside the cot. She did not have to see the boy's face to know he was horrified by the First Mate's fury with his [i]Tante[/i] 'Tonia. And yet she felt him relax by degrees beneath her gentle, loving touch, even as Jax carefully wrapped a blanket about the First Mate's shoulders. 

It was Thomas' words that drew her attention to the spreading crimson stain over the blanket at Nicolette's shoulder, and the rogue's brow furrowed with concern despite the small hurts she nursed within. Perhaps she had been hasty in her judgment then, and suddenly Antonia did not regret holding her tongue in the least. Perhaps Nicolette's bitter words were a matter of pain, or the delirium of venom or blood loss then, with no true intent... 

Antonia [i]chose[/i] to believe this, the truth of the matter be damned. There were far weightier matters to attend in this moment than bruised feelings. No matter the lightness of Thomas' sweet kiss on her cheek, the words he spoke were crafted of lead, heavy and dire, and the rogue felt this sudden gravity all too well. Not even the second peck to her cheek could allay her dread, though she stood from the cot as he moved to take up the wax-sealed bottle and change of clothing for Jax. 

Lifting Luc from the floor, she wrapped her arms about his thin shoulders as her lover moved to retrieve another set of dry clothes. She said nothing at all when Thomas whispered in her ear, grey eyes turning to meet his troubled gaze, reading in an instant the intent that plagued her love to his very soul. Words of explanation were not necessary, and Antonia turned to follow him - until a flash from the corner of her vision stopped her, fingers wrapped about a small, slender shoulder.

[i]"Non Luc. Non[/i]... You should not be out in this storm - your [i]Maman[/i] and [i]Papa[/i] would be furious with me if I let you catch your death of a chill. You would not wish me to face their ire, now would you? [i]Capitaine[/i] Lightfoot and I will be back soon enough. You mind [i]Monsieur[/i] Jax, sweet boy, and do exactly as he tells you, yes?" Antonia looked to the helmsman who, for no reason she could imagine, had thus far been given to unasked kindness to Luc, her eyes begging the man to indulge this kindness just a while longer. What she and Thomas intended was nothing for Luc to know. Not now. Not yet.

"But what of the voices?" Luc asked plaintively, biting his lip softly, worriedly.

"Voices?" Antonia asked, her brow suddenly furrowed with worry once more.

"The voices in the storm," he said softly, somberly. "The one who spoke of... Bade? Who told you to breathe for [i]Capitaine[/i] Lightfoot?"

The sudden light of understanding animated the rogue's grey eyes, and she knelt swiftly before the boy, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Brother Sogba is in the lightning, and Brother Bade within the wind: they will bring you no harm Luc." Her hands lay lightly on his shoulders as she leaned forward to kiss his dear forehead lovingly. Antonia smiled as she pulled back just a little, peering into that sweetly innocent face. [i]By whatever dear price I've yet to meet, I have at least secured your life my littlest love... [/i] 

"And Brother Agau drives us to safety even now, never fear. Why, if you like? I bet you might yet see them out the captain's window if you look hard enough. You hear them, yes?" 

Luc nodded his head slowly, his dark, amber-lit eyes somber and thoughtful. "Aye, then I do not doubt you will see them as well, even sense them as they move to and fro over the face of the waters. 'Tis a gift of our people, of our family, and nothing to dread. But we shall keep this secret between us, yes? We will talk more when I return, but for now only know there is nothing to fear."

Antonia stood to her full if diminutive height, her fingers running through the damp ebony curls of his head once more. She left a reassuring smile for Luc that disappeared the instant she turned from the boy to the door, her definite strides following after Captain Lightfoot out of the sanctuary of his cabin and back into the uncanny stormy night.