Igraine

Tides of Dusk: A Piratical Tale of Fantasy

She'd left the gentle palfrey in Sir Greene's stables this time. No, this ride required that vicious bastard Faustus, the ebony stallion who despised all humankind to the bottom of his black soul.

All humankind, but oh how he loved the Spider he bore, both of her hands clutching his mane as she leaned over his neck, bareback and heedless. She understood him, this Spider, like no other. No bit was ever shoved between teeth and gums, slicing into the tender edges of his muzzle. There were no saddle straps to pinch and confine, and no crop, no whip to lay stripes at his flanks.

Never a whip.

For her, he would fly. Faustus' hooves pounded like war drums over the dirt road, thankfully drowning Sir Greene's raucous laughter from his veranda in seconds. The leisurely carriage ride back to Nathaniel's had set her teeth on edge, an ivory barrier to the scream of frustration she kept barred inside, caged behind the smiles and polite laughter.

Played. Oh, she had been played as splendidly and exquisitely by the blind man and the grinning fool as the finest Micheli violin. Jax. Damn him. Damn him straight to the nethermost circle of hell! It'd be just like him to do some galling bit of impropriety like, say... Actually showing up to the event he'd been invited to attend! She had to talk to Thomas, to the First Mate - surely one of them could make the helmsman see reason - or whatever the hell passed for such in that head of his. Oh, he was going to be there tonight. Antonia just knew it, and she was running out of time.

She and Sir Greene were meant to arrive at Commander Murray's home within the hour, but the instant Robert rounded the corner of Nathaniel's drive on his bay, gentle Antoinette waving her fond farewells beside her beloved Oncle Nathaniel on the veranda? Antonia had fled into the house, tearing to Antoinette's rooms and dashing just as quickly back down once more, the hooded cloak thrown over her shoulders. The rogue hiked her skirts up in both hands, sprinting across the manicured lawns to the stables. And dignity was tossed to the four winds as the hooded woman tore on the demon black horse through Port Royal's filthy streets, her skirts hiked up to her thighs and streaming in their wake like an infernal banner.

That such a wanton should pull up at the Dusk Skate's berth likely surprised no one. The rogue slid from Faustus' back, taking a moment to kiss his velvet-soft snout in eternal gratitude before racing up the gangplank.

Preparations were well underway for their imminent departure, though Antonia's sudden, unexpected and rather spectacular arrival did not go completely unnoticed. She pulled the hood back, grey eyes meeting the surprised gaze of the closest crewman - Hill, she remembered.

"Silverfish?" she asked curtly, the nickname question and statement all at once.

Hill's eyes widened with genuine surprise and, wisely, he resisted the sudden urge to give Antonia the once-over. "Below deck, with the First Mate. But I'm thinking - "

A terse nod of thanks cut off whatever else Hill might have said as she turned on her heel. "Antonia, is that you?" Cooper shouted in a voice loud enough to make the rogue cringe, a disgusted snarl of irritation on her lips. "Ha! Well I'll be damned - who knew you even owned a skirt?" His voice seemed oddly thick, as if he spoke through a wad of cloth - not that Antonia could be bothered to inquire the reason.

Like the braying ass he was, Cooper immediately burst into full-throated laughter at his own weak joke. Antonia simply shot him a glare slathered generously with all the soul-deep contempt she could muster, an especially obscene finger sign for him as she rushed past.

Though she could count the number of times she'd been to the officers' quarters of the ship on one hand, the rogue moved surely enough to the First Mate's own, rapping quickly on the door even as she tentatively pushed it open, ducking her head within with a hopeful smile. She had seen what Nicolette could do to a man when she wished, and the rogue was rather fond of her unbroken neck. "Mademoiselle Beauchamp? Pardonnez-moi. C'est moi, Antonia. J'ai besoin parler - "

The words died a short, tragic death on her lips as, for the first time in living memory, the rogue was shocked to stunned silence.

She was a fool.

She was as big a fool as Jax could ever be, without the virtue of that mirthful, mischievous grin. Nicolette's arms were wrapped so tenderly about her lovely man, her angelic face buried in the soft hollow of his neck - the very place she once thought to discover herself one day, to find whether that tender flesh was near so soft and yielding as it seemed beneath her searching lips.

And how he smiled, with such tender affection as he held her, this exquisite, golden woman. Antonia suddenly knew exactly how she must appear beside the divine vision that was Nicolette: small and dark and so shadowy dim beside such a heavenly light. A light so brilliant, so luminescent that even the rogue forgot what reason brought her here in the first place, seared from her thoughts like a brand.

How... Stupid. How ridiculously, inexcusably naive she had been. Thomas was a man after all, and a privateer captain at that. When had he ever pledged his undying love for a rogue? Sworn eternal fidelity? Fallen on bended knee to ask a woman he knew very well was a thief, a liar, a murderer, to be his wedded bride? Ha! What right-thinking man ever would?

Ludicrous.

Laughable.

The mask fell before the tears ever had the chance, and she did just that. Antonia laughed - at herself, at her foolishness, at her complete blindness. Some lookout she must make. Likely only the grace of God had kept the Skate from being dashed to pieces against treacherous shores on her watch long ago.

Smashed to bits, rather like the torn, aching heart in her chest.

"Excusez-moi. I did not mean to interrupt." Swiftly she pulled the door shut once more, too quickly, too loudly, but Antonia was far beyond caring.

'Do not run. You will not run... ' But too-hasty steps still launched her up the narrow stairs and back onto the main deck. 'You will not run. You will not run. Do not - '

"Aye, now there she is like I said, Lady Antonia!" Cooper brayed, a thick coil of rope tossed over one shoulder, his other arm used to elbow the sailor next to him. "But there's nothin' like that eyeful of First Mate we had! Now there's a woman to make a man glad to rise in the morning - and at night, if you get my meaning. Damn, that Miss Beauchamp - oh HO! Aye, now that's a sight I'll be treasurin' to the end of my days! Worth the broken no- AAAAAAAAAARRGGGHHHH!"

Antonia did not break her long-legged stride as she reached into the silken folds of her dress waist. With a near absent flick of her wrist, the perfectly balanced throwing stiletto was buried to the hilt in Cooper's thigh.

His screams were far less satisfying than they should have been, though the obscenities he flung at her back were undoubtedly more creative than she would have ever given him credit for.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Oh that was amazing Dot - and yes, Veti will totally buy Daisy like, the entire top shelf is she likes, and just bring the hurt if they try to card the pink-haired teen

Cannot wait for the follow-up with semi-heroic life saving... soul-saving... stuff!

Enthralled in Ice (Clumsywordsmith x Igraine)

Clumsywordsmith said
The bad news is that I probably won't get my thoughts onto the page tonight... the good news is that I am not (as I originally thought) working tomorrow, so I'll have an entire open Saturday. Though I will give advance warning that it might wind up being a long piece of writing! This particular scene has had a few days to brew now.

I am going to hold you to that. *grins*

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

The whole world turned in a single moment.

Bain ordered her to Hoyle's side though she was already in motion, wrapping one powerful arm around the elder wolf's back, beneath the shoulder and pulling him upward. There wasn't time for words or niceties, only a few tentative, limping steps across the ruined, glass-strewn floor.

Silver. The dual scars on her back and her underbelly hissed with a phantom pain, remembered agony that burned like no other, she knew all too well. Yet even that pain was nothing compared to the horror on Aislinn's tear-soaked maw as the vampire all but dragged her away from her brother. Already bleeding from hundreds of little cuts - and now the cruelest of them all - Veti knew she could give precious little comfort, only the unseen, unspoken reassurance that her brother would not be abandoned.

Through her tears, Aislinn's attention turned to Thad, shouting to him for rain, rain to reveal the assassins - the very instant she was opened up by an invisible blade.

Semyon was already in motion, had been in motion from the moment he bolted back into the great room. The wight caught her gaze and he knew, the unspoken understanding passing between two soldiers as he took her place, some feet shorter but just as strong nonetheless.

Veti could barely bring herself to look to Reginald's stricken face, but she did. Yet again, Veti had no comfort to give, only steadfast resolve in her amber eyes, a tacit vow before she scrambled to Aislinn's side.

One black-tipped claw turned crimson as she reached beneath the wolf's belly, over the gaping wound as, tenderly as she might a child, Veti rolled Aislinn over. "Please, let me, Mr. Bain," she somehow managed to choke before she rose. One arm was wrapped surely about Aislinn's shoulders, her massive head cradled by Veti's hand to her thickly muscled chest. The other was wrapped about her back and haunches and lifted easily to the younger wolf's underbelly, her long legs and once-wagging tail hanging limply.

She had no shield for Aislinn but her arms, and a body as vulnerable to silver as any werewolf's, but Veti was not alone. The greatest strength of a wolf was always in her pack. The power that had first quickened the beast inside all those years ago thrummed through her body again, currents of sorcery wielded by her lover's deft hand coursing through her like furious rivers of fire and ice. Her brilliant lover, his mind the very match of hers, traveling alchemical and mathematical paths with a prodigious ease. Thad lifted his hands above his head with a cry that resonated to her bones, and conjured Aislinn's deluge. He was magnificent, and beautiful and by her side in an instant wielding a power that could still leave her breathless with awe.

The growl of Semyon's automatic pistol rumbled in her belly and, somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Atticus' triumphant shout over the torrent's sibilant hiss across marble and wood and leather. Siya would come, burning Siya of the shadows whose true depths she doubted anyone had yet seen.

Veti whined softly in the back of her throat, gently nuzzling the top of the old wolf's head where she lay in her arms, comfort and reassurance that might be futile as whistling in a wind storm, but it was all she had to give. Amber eyes snapped to the sword-wielding vampire once more, her own welling tears camouflaged beneath her lover's enchanted storm.

"Go. Please, lead us there Mr. Bain. Get us to the shade gates. I'll carry Aislinn."

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Derren Krenshaw said
Drunken study sessions are some of the best sessions you can have. I think it's been scientifically proven.

Truer words never said. TOTALLY retaining this stuff in my head...

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Oh, now this is fantastic - between Tirg and Heroes, the absolutely perfect way to come home from drunken study session! *cheers* Cannot wait to get to writing tomorrow morning!

Loki's Laugh

Yeah RR, having the sorta WiFi!

And good to see you about too Jinxer, and so glad your exams and dissertations are finally done! Best wishes on the wedding preparations too - I'd wish you something nice with the heavy work hours but... Yeah... I got nothing there :P

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Though I've said it before, I'll say it again: so very sorry Hellis for what you're dealing with at the moment - it's never easy *hugs*

So many lovely posts coming in the night - thank you all for some beautiful reading with my morning coffee. And so looking forward to all that will be coming, from T and Dot and Serge and LP too - such a wonderful bunch of people come together to play!

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Veti the werewolf - transformed - is also in there beside Aislinn (reflected in my last post). Henry Grimm the Nack is in there, as he was talking to Aislinn before the window was shattered. Beside Veti is a tall, slim blonde-haired man named Thad, who also happens to be a warlock/sorcerer. Semyon is in there now too, as reflected in Derren's last post as you already mentioned. Only Hellis (Henry Grimm) and tirgesfu (Thad) have yet to post for the people in the room. Yes, Heroes was simply implying that Aislinn was Zakhar's main focus.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Don't worry about deleting your post, simply modify it to reflect her arrival from the Bain & Hoyle branch office closest to Aoife's last location via a Shade Gate. It's simply a portal maintained by... Well, shades. Instantaneous movement from Point A to Point B. They are generally located in the basements/dungeons/lowest floor of the office, so she can be coming up from the bottom of the keep when the attack begins, and make her way to the great room. That would likely simplify things far more than trying to be seen just beyond an army of kamikaze wolves.