Igraine Member
- Last Seen: 10 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Igraine
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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- Igraine 12 yrs ago
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You're very welcome Lil, and I second that, cannot wait to get everyone back together... Finally...
That was a wonderful solution there Lil, thank you for coming up with that and putting it all together like that!
I hope it goes without saying that I'm here, and... Is the house really on fire? Are you all right and safe? o.o
Antonia listened without interruption to the First Mate's otherwise fantastical tale, sifting truth from fabrication as only a truly professional liar could. Even if Nicolette intended on taking her lovely man and the seemingly-awestruck helmsman for all the coin in their purses, the poor thing still had a tell, and it was a fairly brutal one. The spider's eyes saw the flutter of fingers to Nicolette's face, the forced tension as she pulled them away. A lifetime of cruelty witnessed filled in all the blank spaces that mattered in the rest of that tale.
So had it been "la putain?" Or perhaps "la pute?" Maybe even "la poufiasse" or simply "la prostituée?" It didn't matter really, the result was entirely the same: Mademoiselle Beauchamp's loyal service and dedicated work had been betrayed by a man - or far more likely men, after seeing the woman fight - in the crew she once trusted.
Antonia, the woman beneath the rogue, the spider, the thousands of masks - that woman could feel for the First Mate's plight, see far better now the source of her often grim, tight-lipped and humorless ways. But she was wise enough to let it be, and even kind enough to wish the woman well in whatever game she played this night with her captain and her helmsman.
The rogue plucked a tangerine from the pile of fruits at the tray, leaning back in her chair as her fingers ran lightly over the slightly waxy, aromatic skin. She adored the luxury, the tangy sweet richness of the flesh, and the bitter oils of the rind in her wine. Ah yes, their helmsman who, it seemed, was far more at home aboard a ship than sandwiched so precariously between two women. The only response Jax's new offer of employment elicited for a single heartbeat, was the lift of one vaguely amused, slightly incredulous eyebrow.
And then Antonia set the tangerine in the cradle of skirts in her lap, both hands reaching behind her head to deftly lift the lengths of ebony curls.
"Jozua. Arie. Xander." Every word of his given name was punctuated with warm, salty promise, a Caribbean breeze ripe with fragrant spices, the rocking of wave after lapping wave and the most exotic fruits a man would ever know. Those grey eyes never left Jax's face as she braided the lengths loosely in just a moment over one shoulder, all the better to display the subtle curve of her slender neck, her supple shoulders and the perfect, inviting shadow of a path between those firm rounded hillocks he seemed to admire so much.
As she lay the thick rope of hair aside, the long, slender fingers of one hand traced the line to her collarbone, and then dipped down back into the crevice of her cleavage, as if she wondered whether Jax might like to see the wares a little better before making a final decision about finalizing her new employment.
But when those fingers emerged, a small, thin-bladed knife was held almost delicately, its razor edge flashing lethal silver in the candles' glow. She rolled its handle easily between the tips of her fingers, lackadaisically as she leaned forward once more, the tangerine returned to her other hand.
"Jozua."
"Arie."
"Xander... "
With every word, the blade sliced across the small, delicate fruit in her hand, skin thick and no more, making a tiny star on its surface that only just released the first hint of the its oils. Antonia breathed deeply, smiling with satisfaction as the aroma greeted her nostrils.
"Too bad really, 'tis a lovely name that flows from the tongue like cream. But if you prefer 'Jax?'" Antonia pouted prettily, as if such a thing truly mattered to her. "No, not nearly so nice - too harsh, I say. But as you will of course."
"And you offer me new employment as well? Oh, I'm afraid I already serve at the will of our captain here." The blade she set neatly in front of her on the table, as if it were simply another bit of cutlery, no matter its true origin.
"But what do you think, Captain Silver Fish?" she quipped with a sidelong gaze toward Thomas, neatly peeling the tangerine skin from the fruit, squeezing the pieces of skin over her own cup of wine before setting them aside. "With my limited skills and usefulness, I might yet prove of some utility aboard the Skate as wet nurse to Jax here. Could I be spared for the task? Although I imagine suckling the helmsman while he steers would be nightmarish - perhaps we could fix something up with ropes, pulleys... Suspend me bare-breasted from the rigging perhaps?"
Antonia smiled widely, only just peeling her tangerine into sections, popping one easily into her mouth. The smoldering fire in those grey eyes though, said something not entirely at odds with the mirth on her full lips, but with the full and true intent of her words that she felt sure Thomas would read just fine:
'How angry would you be with me, if we were short one helmsman by the morning?'
So had it been "la putain?" Or perhaps "la pute?" Maybe even "la poufiasse" or simply "la prostituée?" It didn't matter really, the result was entirely the same: Mademoiselle Beauchamp's loyal service and dedicated work had been betrayed by a man - or far more likely men, after seeing the woman fight - in the crew she once trusted.
Antonia, the woman beneath the rogue, the spider, the thousands of masks - that woman could feel for the First Mate's plight, see far better now the source of her often grim, tight-lipped and humorless ways. But she was wise enough to let it be, and even kind enough to wish the woman well in whatever game she played this night with her captain and her helmsman.
The rogue plucked a tangerine from the pile of fruits at the tray, leaning back in her chair as her fingers ran lightly over the slightly waxy, aromatic skin. She adored the luxury, the tangy sweet richness of the flesh, and the bitter oils of the rind in her wine. Ah yes, their helmsman who, it seemed, was far more at home aboard a ship than sandwiched so precariously between two women. The only response Jax's new offer of employment elicited for a single heartbeat, was the lift of one vaguely amused, slightly incredulous eyebrow.
And then Antonia set the tangerine in the cradle of skirts in her lap, both hands reaching behind her head to deftly lift the lengths of ebony curls.
"Jozua. Arie. Xander." Every word of his given name was punctuated with warm, salty promise, a Caribbean breeze ripe with fragrant spices, the rocking of wave after lapping wave and the most exotic fruits a man would ever know. Those grey eyes never left Jax's face as she braided the lengths loosely in just a moment over one shoulder, all the better to display the subtle curve of her slender neck, her supple shoulders and the perfect, inviting shadow of a path between those firm rounded hillocks he seemed to admire so much.
As she lay the thick rope of hair aside, the long, slender fingers of one hand traced the line to her collarbone, and then dipped down back into the crevice of her cleavage, as if she wondered whether Jax might like to see the wares a little better before making a final decision about finalizing her new employment.
But when those fingers emerged, a small, thin-bladed knife was held almost delicately, its razor edge flashing lethal silver in the candles' glow. She rolled its handle easily between the tips of her fingers, lackadaisically as she leaned forward once more, the tangerine returned to her other hand.
"Jozua."
"Arie."
"Xander... "
With every word, the blade sliced across the small, delicate fruit in her hand, skin thick and no more, making a tiny star on its surface that only just released the first hint of the its oils. Antonia breathed deeply, smiling with satisfaction as the aroma greeted her nostrils.
"Too bad really, 'tis a lovely name that flows from the tongue like cream. But if you prefer 'Jax?'" Antonia pouted prettily, as if such a thing truly mattered to her. "No, not nearly so nice - too harsh, I say. But as you will of course."
"And you offer me new employment as well? Oh, I'm afraid I already serve at the will of our captain here." The blade she set neatly in front of her on the table, as if it were simply another bit of cutlery, no matter its true origin.
"But what do you think, Captain Silver Fish?" she quipped with a sidelong gaze toward Thomas, neatly peeling the tangerine skin from the fruit, squeezing the pieces of skin over her own cup of wine before setting them aside. "With my limited skills and usefulness, I might yet prove of some utility aboard the Skate as wet nurse to Jax here. Could I be spared for the task? Although I imagine suckling the helmsman while he steers would be nightmarish - perhaps we could fix something up with ropes, pulleys... Suspend me bare-breasted from the rigging perhaps?"
Antonia smiled widely, only just peeling her tangerine into sections, popping one easily into her mouth. The smoldering fire in those grey eyes though, said something not entirely at odds with the mirth on her full lips, but with the full and true intent of her words that she felt sure Thomas would read just fine:
'How angry would you be with me, if we were short one helmsman by the morning?'
Just got home - thank you Walrus for posting all that, and thank you Idle for taking a look at it all, much appreciated!
Oh, and Idle? Your new signature is just creepy as fuck. Had to be said! ;)
Oh, and Idle? Your new signature is just creepy as fuck. Had to be said! ;)
HA! Dot, you ALWAYS live up to - and then run right past - all those expectations! Fantastic post, and yes, if Derren or Andastra have something to toss in there? All the better too.
Hope you all are having... Going to have?... A lovely morning ;)
Hope you all are having... Going to have?... A lovely morning ;)
Dot? You had me at "Grainsy... " *grins and cuddles*
Yuppers, for a few seconds here, Veti has gone full-on irresponsible girly-girl, even if Hell itself plans on vomiting up all over them. Sometimes you just gotta give a girl a moment, you know? 
Even if she honestly gave a damn at that moment, Veti couldn't have done a single thing to stem the rising tide of hell and death like some obscene afterbirth after Max was in her arms again. Her whole world had stopped, coalescing impossibly into a single pinpoint of blinding, hot light. He was here, her love, her beating heart, and she laughed with a joy so great it damn near broke her, painful and beautiful and perfect.
And he called her name and he leapt on top of her and knocked her off her feet, the very last thing she'd ever expected, ever imagined to be unlocked from that vault. Veti couldn't have cared less, because he was warm and laughing and solid and so blessedly alive, her beautiful, infuriating man. No, he would have never returned to his world in any other way, would he.
Veti laughed, and then she wept, and laughed all over again as streams of tears rolled from the corners of her eyes, running down her cheeks and into her dampening hairline where she lay beneath him. Her shaking hands cradled the face she'd very nearly given up ever seeing again in this world. The man for whom she'd almost tossed aside breath and beating heart, just to find and join again - all too soon, of course. All too soon! She should have known, she should have believed and had faith in him, that between Max and the brilliant Thad, he'd survive even death, and find a way back...
"I love you baby," she managed to choke past the lump in her throat, sapphire blue eyes swimming with elated tears, smiling, laughing almost hysterically, peppering his face with kisses that finally ended in one long, warm embrace, lips and tongue and fingers and warm living flesh for long, precious seconds. "I love you," she whispered huskily as she pulled away, looking up into those dark eyes, smiling widely when she saw that flash there just behind. The golden man she loved, with those pale blue eyes just behind Max's deep mahogany brown.
"I see you," she whispered, even through the tears. "All of you, every last piece of you. I see you and I love you... Oh God how I've missed you... " And for once in all her life, perhaps for the very first time, Veti set aside all thought of responsibilities and need and danger, and let herself - just this once - savor the feeling of perfect happiness, fulfilled - simply, a woman in love.
No matter if that feeling couldn't have come at the worst possible moment, of course. Feelings are fickle things, after all.
And he called her name and he leapt on top of her and knocked her off her feet, the very last thing she'd ever expected, ever imagined to be unlocked from that vault. Veti couldn't have cared less, because he was warm and laughing and solid and so blessedly alive, her beautiful, infuriating man. No, he would have never returned to his world in any other way, would he.
Veti laughed, and then she wept, and laughed all over again as streams of tears rolled from the corners of her eyes, running down her cheeks and into her dampening hairline where she lay beneath him. Her shaking hands cradled the face she'd very nearly given up ever seeing again in this world. The man for whom she'd almost tossed aside breath and beating heart, just to find and join again - all too soon, of course. All too soon! She should have known, she should have believed and had faith in him, that between Max and the brilliant Thad, he'd survive even death, and find a way back...
"I love you baby," she managed to choke past the lump in her throat, sapphire blue eyes swimming with elated tears, smiling, laughing almost hysterically, peppering his face with kisses that finally ended in one long, warm embrace, lips and tongue and fingers and warm living flesh for long, precious seconds. "I love you," she whispered huskily as she pulled away, looking up into those dark eyes, smiling widely when she saw that flash there just behind. The golden man she loved, with those pale blue eyes just behind Max's deep mahogany brown.
"I see you," she whispered, even through the tears. "All of you, every last piece of you. I see you and I love you... Oh God how I've missed you... " And for once in all her life, perhaps for the very first time, Veti set aside all thought of responsibilities and need and danger, and let herself - just this once - savor the feeling of perfect happiness, fulfilled - simply, a woman in love.
No matter if that feeling couldn't have come at the worst possible moment, of course. Feelings are fickle things, after all.
Almost, Antonia had been perfectly content. This night, she'd had the stars with her lovely man, his touch, that low, hypnotic voice as much comforting lullaby as an invitation to the paradise he'd whispered of, a sweet promise found on the waves, somewhere beneath their Home Star. But for that one lost kiss, she truly was content. Antonia knew herself well enough to know that even in this delightful disappointment, this ache of anticipation, Thomas Lightfoot had somehow led the woman behind all those masks far closer to a genuine happiness, a joy she hadn't known from the time she'd been a small, innocent and much-loved child.
And so when he heard the voices below, announcing the untimely approach of the first mate and the helmsman, she let Thomas go with a warm giggle, a guileless woman’s laughter who somehow trusted the words of a pirate captain above all others. There truly would be another night, just as he had said. With a small smile and utterly without complaint, she snatched up her stockings and her shoes, slipping them on quickly before she moved to join him. And then she snapped her fingers with an exasperated roll of her eyes, turning to snatch up the nearly-abandoned wine bottle in one hand.
Thomas had already leapt back into the open window just beneath them. Antonia waited ‘til she was sure he was well out of the way, and then simply stepped off the roof, skirts billowing as she twisted lithely in midair to grab the roof’s ledge with one hand. Light as a falling leaf, she dropped silently into the hallway as Thomas strode away. Antonia was in no hurry really, gleek being a three-man game after all, and so she was only just coming down the stairs behind him. Turning toward the kitchens instead of the main tavern she missed utterly Thomas’ quip concerning the loveliness of the view (which would have pleased her), and Jax’s crack concerning the pirate captain pulling his pants back up (which would certainly not).
Probably for the better, really.
That precious, half-filled wine bottle still in hand, Antonia let herself into the pantry, moving straight for the covered loaves of bread and fresh butter, a large hunk of cheese and whole tropical fruits neatly ripened, lovely just-soft mangos and limes, sweet papayas and tangerines, a large knife and a few wooden plates. All these she arranged neatly on a wide tray along with the wine, and made her way back to the tavern proper.
One dark eyebrow arched in amusement, though her caramel-skinned face remained passive as the walls about them as she walked in, and heard Mademoiselle Beauchamp’s protestations of ignorance concerning… ”Gleet,” was it? Really, it was all Antonia could do not to chuckle to herself, and somehow keep the mirth from her face as she approached the table, only the soft silken rustle of her dove grey skirts to mark her arrival.
Oh, whatever game the First Mate had up her sleeve, Antonia was only too glad to give the woman a wide berth and watch the fun. Was she about to make the helmsman pay with every coin he had, for whatever words may have tripped lightly from that utterly unconquerable tongue of his? Or was dear Silver Fish about to find himself stripped bare – in more ways than one – by yet another woman he never saw coming?
The anticipation was simply delicious, and it honestly did not occur to Antonia that she should warn Thomas of a single thing to come. He wanted the full measure of his crew, of those men and women closest to him? Oh, it seemed he was about to get that and more in spades and, since it likely involved nothing more dangerous than a great deal of fun and only a negligible loss of dignity, entirely without a hint of bare steel at that lovely, well-muscled back of his?
There was simply no downside that she could see.
Besides, Antonia honestly had to admit to herself – the idea of finally seeing the First Mate truly enjoy herself, in anticipation of an honest laugh from the woman? Oh, that would be worth most Thomas’ coin without a doubt! If Mademoiselle Beauchamp handily relieved him of every last copper, she might even consider loaning him some of her own, just to keep the spectacle ongoing.
“Good evening Mademoiselle Beauchamp, Monsieur Jozua,” she said easily in her warm, thick Creole accent as she set the tray to the side of the table. She turned to Thomas with a wink, setting another empty mug before him, pouring it to the rim – just as he liked – with the deep red wine.
“Please, do help yourselves if you’re hungry, or thirsty – my tab is always open here at the Parakeet. Though let’s just keep this between us, hmm? My friends may not appreciate being overrun utterly with the crew of the Skate. So… “
Antonia poured herself a cup of wine, raising the rim to her lips and taking a long sip before she settled gracefully into a chair at the table. “Was there an explanation forthcoming then, for our Mademoiselle Beauchamp?”
And so when he heard the voices below, announcing the untimely approach of the first mate and the helmsman, she let Thomas go with a warm giggle, a guileless woman’s laughter who somehow trusted the words of a pirate captain above all others. There truly would be another night, just as he had said. With a small smile and utterly without complaint, she snatched up her stockings and her shoes, slipping them on quickly before she moved to join him. And then she snapped her fingers with an exasperated roll of her eyes, turning to snatch up the nearly-abandoned wine bottle in one hand.
Thomas had already leapt back into the open window just beneath them. Antonia waited ‘til she was sure he was well out of the way, and then simply stepped off the roof, skirts billowing as she twisted lithely in midair to grab the roof’s ledge with one hand. Light as a falling leaf, she dropped silently into the hallway as Thomas strode away. Antonia was in no hurry really, gleek being a three-man game after all, and so she was only just coming down the stairs behind him. Turning toward the kitchens instead of the main tavern she missed utterly Thomas’ quip concerning the loveliness of the view (which would have pleased her), and Jax’s crack concerning the pirate captain pulling his pants back up (which would certainly not).
Probably for the better, really.
That precious, half-filled wine bottle still in hand, Antonia let herself into the pantry, moving straight for the covered loaves of bread and fresh butter, a large hunk of cheese and whole tropical fruits neatly ripened, lovely just-soft mangos and limes, sweet papayas and tangerines, a large knife and a few wooden plates. All these she arranged neatly on a wide tray along with the wine, and made her way back to the tavern proper.
One dark eyebrow arched in amusement, though her caramel-skinned face remained passive as the walls about them as she walked in, and heard Mademoiselle Beauchamp’s protestations of ignorance concerning… ”Gleet,” was it? Really, it was all Antonia could do not to chuckle to herself, and somehow keep the mirth from her face as she approached the table, only the soft silken rustle of her dove grey skirts to mark her arrival.
Oh, whatever game the First Mate had up her sleeve, Antonia was only too glad to give the woman a wide berth and watch the fun. Was she about to make the helmsman pay with every coin he had, for whatever words may have tripped lightly from that utterly unconquerable tongue of his? Or was dear Silver Fish about to find himself stripped bare – in more ways than one – by yet another woman he never saw coming?
The anticipation was simply delicious, and it honestly did not occur to Antonia that she should warn Thomas of a single thing to come. He wanted the full measure of his crew, of those men and women closest to him? Oh, it seemed he was about to get that and more in spades and, since it likely involved nothing more dangerous than a great deal of fun and only a negligible loss of dignity, entirely without a hint of bare steel at that lovely, well-muscled back of his?
There was simply no downside that she could see.
Besides, Antonia honestly had to admit to herself – the idea of finally seeing the First Mate truly enjoy herself, in anticipation of an honest laugh from the woman? Oh, that would be worth most Thomas’ coin without a doubt! If Mademoiselle Beauchamp handily relieved him of every last copper, she might even consider loaning him some of her own, just to keep the spectacle ongoing.
“Good evening Mademoiselle Beauchamp, Monsieur Jozua,” she said easily in her warm, thick Creole accent as she set the tray to the side of the table. She turned to Thomas with a wink, setting another empty mug before him, pouring it to the rim – just as he liked – with the deep red wine.
“Please, do help yourselves if you’re hungry, or thirsty – my tab is always open here at the Parakeet. Though let’s just keep this between us, hmm? My friends may not appreciate being overrun utterly with the crew of the Skate. So… “
Antonia poured herself a cup of wine, raising the rim to her lips and taking a long sip before she settled gracefully into a chair at the table. “Was there an explanation forthcoming then, for our Mademoiselle Beauchamp?”
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