megatrash

[18+] Pirates (Chicogal & megatrash)

He smiled at her agreement and rubbed his hands together. "Very well. We should be arriving tomorrow, about an hour after first light. We do our business in the morning, and usually at dusk we begin to celebrate the day's success. There is an inn that takes good care of us while we stay. You may even get a hot bath." He stood up and reached behind her to grab the map that he had slaved over since they took off on their voyage. "You see," he began as he flattened it out on his lap with it facing her. "Here is your port," he said as he pointed a finger to a small patch of green on the beige paper. "We are now here, hence the red dotted line. And here," he poked the map with a tad bit of force, "is Isla Imorda. One of the havens that welcomes heathens like myself with open arms." He smirked and rolled the map up.

As he stood up and reached over her once more to set it back in its place, his eyes lingered on hers for a moment. "Your eyes, the color - very rare in these parts." He leaned in closer to observe them in greater detail. "Green like the trees," he said quizzically as he backed away from her and stood up straight with his legs parted. "Well, it looks to be high noon. I will let you be as I attend to some important matters around the ship. Dinner usually starts as the sun sets, so I shall see you then, aye?"

Without waiting for a response, Victor swung the doors open and paused to take in the atmosphere - the warm sun beating on his face, the salty air filling his senses, the blue that surrounded him. Vic would rather die tomorrow at sea than spend the rest of his life on land. He turned around and closed the doors gently, but not without catching the gaze of Alice was last time. He paused for a moment and held her eye contact before he successfully shut them. It was strange, he admitted to himself, having a woman aboard. It had been roughly two years since Isa had passed, and he almost forgot the warmth a feminine touch could bring to a captain and his crew. She was someone he did not like to speak of - it brought him a feeling of vulnerability that he hated the sensation of. He was a hardened, bloody-thirsty man of the sea, and he would let nothing, including love and death, take that away from him.

He cleared his thoughts and continued down to the galley, where him and Piney hook inventory of their food supply. Vic also worked with Tiny, the young boy Alice had seen earlier, to check their stock of weapons and ammo. The Black Star had not seen a battle for a few months, which was truly a rarity for the crew, but they knew that it was only the calm before the storm. "Thanks, boy-o," Vic said to Tiny as he ruffled the hair on his head. At 6'3", he towered over the young lad, who he had come to see as a sort of little brother.

Vic finished his to do list before supper, and he decided to climb up to the crows nest to read a book he had stolen on his last plunder. The crew was still scurrying about below him, but Vic was tired. Usually, he would go retire until supper, but since Alice was occupying his quarters, this would have to suffice. He enjoyed reading. It was a vacation from the day to day grind that wore away at him. By his calculations, he would be roughly 28. But he felt old. Tired. Weathered. He had been on the sea for nearly a decade, and in that time had came within inches of death countless times. That is partly the reason he had earned the name Incubus. Foes of the crew thought he must have been otherworldly, or at least magical, for surviving as long as he did. The other reason for his nickname was obviously for his way with women. Whether they were of high social ranking or low class, they flocked to him wherever he was. He, of course, took advantage of this, usually having his way with a woman if she had shown her interest. He didn't see the need to harm a woman, since he usually remained satisfied from what he received voluntarily.

He was excited to arrive at Isla Imorda. Women, booze and food flowed freely there, and Vic felt like he deserved to indulge himself in all three. They had been out at sea, minus the short trip to Alice's port, for a while now. He felt more than ready to dive into the island as if it were the ocean itself. He envisioned the scantily dressed girls working at the inn who would rub his shoulders, feed him whatever he desired, and making sure that his pint was always full. As his imagination ran further, he shut the book and closed his eyes with a smile on his face while a large captains hat provided him shade.

[18+] Pirates (Chicogal & megatrash)

The sound of the woman's voice shook him from his intense focus on the letter he was attempting to write. "Aye, it's fine." He rolled up the parchment and slid it to the side of the desk, and as he stood, he stretched and walked towards where a linen shirt was hanging. He grabbed it and slid it on, turning back around to her. "Hate to make the lady uncomfortable," he mumbled as he finished dressing. He held out his hand to signal for her to take a seat on the chair, and after she obliged, he sat on the bed across from her.

"First and foremost, I hope that you have found The Black Star to be accommodating. I take great pride in my ship and my men. I understand they are probably looking at you as a dog to meat, but I assure you, their bark is worse than their bite. Unless you are the enemy, then they are indeed adequate." He ran his fingers through his hair, and then leaned towards her, clasping his hands together. "My intentions are not to harm you during your stay, but I do need to know that you'll stay put and do as your told. You'll return to your fine silver and elegant parties as long as you do not try to do anything that would make me doubt your honesty. Your father," he paused, clearing his throat, "has decided to cross not only myself and my crew, but the rest of the brave men of the seas who have done nothing but respect your port. Taking you was purely business. You are a very important piece in the game I am playing." He straightened his posture before continuing. "Now, let us imagine that your father does not listen to my very reasonable requests. What is to become of you?" he questioned her rhetorically as he smirked. "Well, let's just hope Daddy loves his daughter enough to listen to the Ol' Captain, aye?"

He stood up and straightened his garments. "Now, I am no animal. I may not be a refined gentleman that I assume you're so very used to, but I am a man of my word, and if there is something that would make your stay more comfortable, within reason, I shall honor it." He stuck out his large, scarred hand for her to shake in agreement. "As long as you do not try to escape, I will be the perfect gentleman."

[18+] Pirates (Chicogal & megatrash)

Vic was floating in the water when he looked up to see all of his men's heads focused on the middle of the ship. "Ah!" he yelled. "Sleeping beauty had decided to grace us with her presence!" He swam toward a rope hanging down the side of the ship and he climbed up. He was wearing nothing but breeches, which seemed pretty decent to his standards, and he climbed on board and shook himself off. His guess was correct, the men had gathered around the woman, staring at her either curiously or with hunger.

"I must have forgotten my manners," said Vic in a loud, stern voice as he strolled up Alice, taking a spot next to her. "My noble and honorable men of The Black Star, I would like to introduce you to the Governor's daughter, Alice Rohan. Now, I despise her father as much as you do, boys. But he will not adhere to our demands if we don't return her as the lady she was when she arrived. With that said, no horseplay. Do not touch her, do not hurt her. God knows what you scoundrels have ravaging on your bodies," Vic said with a smile as the crew erupted with laughter. "She will be making herself useful while she is here, so please, bring her any garments that need repair. She will be staying in my quarters temporarily." He looked to her and nodded before continuing. "We will be arriving at Isla Imorda tomorrow. Let's do what we need to do before we arrive. Mop the decks, collect what we'll barter with, make room for more rations. Thank you, my fine gentlemen." The crew yelled back an "Aye!" and they dispersed.

He turned to meet Alice's gaze. "Well, you may bathe if you wish," he said as he nodded to the ocean down below. "I need my quarters for mapping and to dry off," he said smiling, noticing her red cheeks, becoming aware of her eyes scanning his dark, scarred, and tattooed torso. She must have been very sheltered, he thought, as he recounted her actions since she'd been brought on the ship. Vic was used to only dealing with the drunken woman who were at the taverns, who were anything but innocent, or female pirates themselves. Seeing someone who seemed so pure and frightened was amusing, and it sparked a curiosity in him. She must have thought he was a monster. Maybe he was.

He bowed sarcastically to the woman and headed for his quarters. He removed the wet pants he was wearing and slipped on a dry pair, and he walked back out of his room momentarily to hang them. Upon returning, he plopped down at his desk and cracked his knuckles before picking up the feather and dipping it in a jar of black ink. When they arrived at Isla Imorda, he'd have a letter ready to be sent to the governor, demanding that he lift the ban on pirates accessing the island. The fact that the man could come and interrupt an unspoken agreement between the high class society and the pirates that had been held for a century infuriated Victor. The Pirates brought goods from other territories that those at the port greatly enjoyed, and the Vic and his crew would earn tremendously. They had tried to negotiate with the new governor to no avail, so Alice was his last resort. He sighed as he stared at he blank scroll before him, at a loss for how to word his ransom letter.

[18+] Pirates (Chicogal & megatrash)

As Vic exited the room, he took a moment to stand at the edge and watch the dark water lapping at the sides of his ship. He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. There was a possibility that this plan wasn't going to work and that the Governor would blow the Black Star out of the water, but Vic would die a bloody and noble death before he let that happen. He loved the ship, almost as if it was a beautiful woman. It had been his for 3 years, and in captain's years, it was probably that he would die soon, whether it be in battle or disease. Vic had accepted the fact that he would die young a very long time ago.

He rubbed his face and sighed, and began to walk down into the stomach of the boat. "Aye, boys, would you like a little company?" he asked in the most feminine voice he could produce. His men went along, beginning to hoot and holler at Vic. He drank heavily and talked with the men for a few more hours into the night, squeezing himself into a corner where he could fit and finally nodding off the sleep.

------------------------

"Aye, bloody hell," he mumbled to himself as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He immediately felt the rum from last night as he stood up from the corner he was sleeping in. His eyes scanned the room, his men still asleep on the floor, none looking alive. He began to rub his temples as he stepped over the snoring crew and made his way up to the deck. The sun instantly blinded him, and he loudly cursed as he stumbled across the deck to the Captain's quarters.

He swung open the doors and immediately remembered the presence of the woman in his room. "Aye! Alice," he said surprised as he saw the figure in his bed. "My apologies. I will only be a minute." He avoided making eye contact with her as he sat down at the desk in his room in front of the map that he had drawn himself. He used a quill to track the movements of the ship. He knew he looked rough and felt even rougher, and he didn't want to attract attention because of it. "You can get your rations," he spoke in a gravelly voice, "from Piney down in the galley. My men know of your skill and will begin to bring clothing to you." He cleared his throat and stood up, making eye contact with the girl. "You can borrow what you need if you want to change out of that," he offered as his eyes landed on the dress laying on the bed. "Once we hit land, you can buy something more...practical."

With that, Vic exited once again and made his way to the side of the ship. The water below them was crystal clear and a vibrant blue color which made him smile from ear to ear. He stripped down, but not without the whistles coming from his men. "Aye, enough, you savages," he yelled back with a smile as he dove head first into the water below. It felt exquisite, almost warm and cold at the same time. He loved the sea, and it loved him back.

[18+] Pirates (Chicogal & megatrash)

@Chicogal Posted, and good morning!

[18+] Pirates (Chicogal & megatrash)

"Ah, yes, Alice," he said slowly, satisfied and smirking. He turned his body away from her to look out the small window in his room. "Well, Alice, I'll tell you, the Black Star has never had a seamstress," he chuckled, imagining that his men's clothing was in retched condition. They had been at sea for a long time, and the fact they truly resembled a motley crew never bothered them, but who knows? It could be nice to have a woman's touch on the the dominant ship. Any women they came in contact with was usually at a port that they pillaged or taverns they frequented. Who knew that pristine ladies loved pirates so much?

Vic swiveled back around when he heard the labored breathing from Alice. "Aye, are you alright?" he asked with a raised eyebrow looking at her torso. He walked behind the trembling girl, examined the delicate buttons that laced up her back, and yanked on them, causing them to undo to her lower back. "One of those bloody things. I don't know how a lady does it," he said unamused, his rough fingers beginning to work at the ties that were obviously causing the woman pain. Once it was disassembled, he pulled from one side and somehow slid the piece off of her while her dress remained in place.

He strutted into her view once again, dangling the corset in his hand. "No need for such things on the Black Star, m'lady," he spoke sternly, the last work oozing with sarcasm. He threw it across his room into the corner. "Well, as much as you would probably assume I was, I am not a savage. And I must keep you alive. My men are quite... lively. So," his eyes darted towards his bed. "You can rest in here for the duration of your stay. I'll turn in with my men below the deck. Please don't do anything to upset your hosts." He turned towards the French doors that separated his room from the deck, grabbing his bottle of rum from the desk and exiting the room. "Sweet dreams, Alice Rohan."

[18+] Pirates (Chicogal & megatrash)

His name is Eric Balfour, an actor. And I'm actually turning in, it's 12am here! :) I shall post in the morning @Chicogal

[18+] Pirates (Chicogal & megatrash)

It Vic was 10 years younger, he'd be furious with himself for letting a poor girl become so frightened because of him. But because of what he'd seen, what he'd done, the trembling, small woman in front of him did not phase him a bit. He had a purpose which fueled his determination to get what he needed, no matter who or what he needed to step on to get it. That was one of his best and worst qualities. The selfishness to achieve what he wanted.

He sighed at her remarks and nearly rolled his eyes. "Look, I know who you are, but I don't know your name. You're the Governor's daughter." He stopped his pacing and stood in front of her, amused at how she flinched whenever he moved. "Well, if it makes you feel better. I'm Vic. Known in these parts as "The Incubus," although I never was fond of that name. You're on my ship, The Black Star, some miles away from your precious port." He grinned at his last comment. "We left an emblem where we borrowed you from. Your father will know you are with me and my men. I have to say, he's not our biggest fan."

His eyes scanned his room for the half empty bottle of rum he had left there. "Ah," he mumbled, walking over to his desk where it sat next to an intricately drawn map. He took a swig, slammed it back down, and walked over to the shaking girl in his wooden chair. He used the sleeve of his white linen shirt to remove remnants of the alcohol that were in his facial hair. "Alright, let us try this again. What is your name?" He glared at her unforgivingly. He did not want to waste this much time on mere conversation. "And do you have any skills to make yourself a useful prisoner while you are here?"

@Chicogal

Blackgate: LordOfTheNight & megatrash

In the time she had spent curled up on her bed, her mind wandered – trying to figure out where the confident, extroverted, and courageous woman she used to be had gone. She became so anxious and quiet that she was barely recognizable in the past few years. Yes, Keith’s death exaggerated these new traits in herself, but they didn’t appear overnight. New York City had probably wore away at her, she figured, along with the troubles that the couple had experienced, but she missed who she was. Freelancing was becoming harder, seeing as she was becoming more and more self-conscious of the artwork she was producing, and without Keith there to help with bills, she was getting distraught thinking about how she was going to afford anything. Selling the apartment would probably be first; she didn’t need something of this size for just herself. Maybe try vending some of the work she had done years ago that she had kept for herself. He had also bought her some expensive jewelry that was truly too flashy for her taste that she could probably pawn. She physically shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts away from her mind.

The wave of relief Caroline felt to hear Blackgates’ gruff voice on the other side of the door was so intense that it had almost knocked her over. The wait for him had been uneventful besides the whispers she had heard, speaking in a tongue she didn’t understand. She had her bruised legs up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, and she rocked back and forth as if it would bring her some comfort. Part of her desperately craved to clean up the mess that the mysterious entity had caused, but she concluded that it’d be best to leave the it where it fell as evidence. As Thomas spoke, she popped up to a standing position, smoothing out her large t-shirt and pajama shorts she had thrown on. “Yes, yes, I’m okay. The door is still jammed.” She walked up to it and wiggled the lever again to no avail. “Thank you for coming, Thomas,” She said quietly, the southern inflection of her voice extremely present. She felt better already knowing that she wasn’t alone in the house. “How’d you get here so quickly?”

Blackgate: LordOfTheNight & megatrash

When Caroline got back to her empty apartment around half an hour later, she fastened the deadbolt and leaned up against the heavy front door and shut her heavy eyes for a moment. Recounting the details of not only the murder, but her relationship as well took the microscopic amount of energy she had out of her. She tossed her purse and keys on the island in the kitchen and walked over towards the Bluetooth speaker to turn on some music. She had resorted to almost constantly having it playing, the louder the better, thinking that it would somehow scare off whatever had been lurking in her home. Not a good plan, she knew, but she decided comfort over logic would work best for her until she found out the answers to the questions she had.

Shitty Future by The Bronx filled the quiet house as she slid her long black dress off and walked towards the bedroom. She unclasped her black lace bra, threw it on the floor in the living room, and looked through Keith’s t-shirt drawer. Once she found the soft gray t shirt she wanted, she pulled it over her head and headed back to the kitchen. The cold, black granite felt glorious on her bare skin as she climbed up onto the island, knocked her purse on the floor, and lit a joint as she laid down. A cloud of white, milky smoke formed above her, and she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This was the best she had felt in weeks.

As the song ended, Caroline heard something shatter in the bedroom and immediately sprang up from her relaxed position – one leg bent with her foot resting the other, making a sort of triangle, with one hand under her head and another holding the paraphernalia. She licked her fingers to put out the lit joint and swung her legs over the edge of the island trying not to make a noise. After she hopped down, she turned off the speaker before it could start another song and tip-toed slowly towards her room. The familiar feeling of goosebumps crashed over her as she neared the doorway, and she immediately identified where the noise had come from. She ran over to the corner of her bedroom and picked up a large frame holding shatter glass that sat face down a few feet away from the wall, as if it’d be knocked off the wall forcefully. The picture that it held was from her and Keith’s wedding day. She had worn a flowing, beige, and beaded dress the clung to her curves, and Keith wore a dark gray tux. They had looked so happy in the picture that it always made Caroline wonder what had changed.

She noticed blood dripping from her finger as she held the wooden frame and set it down gently. She cursed quietly, stuck the finger in her mouth, and sucked on the metallic taste as she scurried to the bathroom. She stopped in front of the sink, staring at herself in only a large t-shirt, her hair flowing in every direction, and her finger in her mouth. The sight made her smile briefly. She took the finger out of her mouth and ran it under the water, then found a band-aid under the sink, wrapping it delicately around the slice. She heard a loud thump that she recognized instantly to be her bedroom door, closing her eyes tightly hoping that she would wake up in bed instead of having to deal with this any longer. After three seconds, she opened her eyes to see her reflection again in the mirror. “Damn it,” she mumbled as she walked over to the door slowly.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she repeated nearly with each step she took. Her hand reached out for the lever-style door knob, and as she attempted to open it, her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. It was locked. But how? It locked from the inside, and it was open. Caroline placed both of her small hands on the door knob and began to jiggle it up and down. That wasn’t working. Caroline jiggled the lever up and down and used her body weight to try to pull the door open. That didn’t work either. She began to feel nauseous at the thought of being locked in the room with whatever had been knocking things around in her apartment. She took deep, exaggerated breaths as she felt herself slip in and out of panic. After about a half an hour of trying to open the stubborn door and screaming curses that echoed against the walls, she grabbed her phone and scrolled down the contact list. Caroline’s least favorite role to play was a damsel in distress, but the situation was something she didn’t know how to deal with, and that trumped her pride momentarily.

The trilling seemed to go on for hours until a familiar voice greeted her on the other end. “Long time no see, Mr. Blackgate, or, uh, Thomas,” she said in a whisper. “Seems the malevolent forces want me to stay put for the night. My bedroom door is jammed. I’m stuck in here.” She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She was trying her hardest to keep her shaking body from effecting her voice, but she began to hear her voice wavering. “I have a key underneath the plant outside. Could you please come help me?”

Normally, she’d just call a friend to come help her out, but she really didn’t feel like trying to explain that something invisible had locked her in her room. They had already made her feel crazy enough with what she chose to share with them that the thought of her trying to explain her house being haunted was horrifying. But, she knew that no one could handle the current situation like Thomas. No matter how unconventional he was. That was what she hired him for, right?

Before he arrived, she scrambled to make herself decent. She remembered that she left her bra and dress out on the floor near the doorway, and the apartment probably stunk of pot. ”He’s going to think I’m fucking nuts,” she thought to herself as she sat on the foot of her bed, still on edge and head swiveling about as if to watch out for any uninvited guests. She couldn’t put up with this fear anymore. Maybe she should stay at a hotel. Maybe she should call a priest to come bless the house. Maybe she was fucking nuts. She wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. All she knew at that moment was that the air felt heavy on her body, as if someone was sitting on top of her making it hard to breathe. The minutes began to feel like hours.