The shirt certainly wouldn't inhibit Automne's display. It hardly covered her thighs, only just reaching past her crotch leaving the entire length of her leg exposed for the world to see. The situation would have been unacceptable anywhere in the world, for Ladies Didn't Dress in Such a Way. But this was all she had between her and the horrifying possibility of nakedness, so it was only in this she walked out of Linc's gallery leaving the man behind her as she slipped out from the chamber.
Lincoln Dupre could only wish he were as stern and heartless as the man he pretended to be as he ordered her from his rooms. Watching Automne rise up and move away, his eyes strayed to the back of her thighs, the taper of her legs as they disappeared under the largely inadequate shirt just before her rear, a garment that would perhaps draw more attention to her than if she went out completely naked. For a brief moment, Linc was overcome with another vision of sex, of bending his little Firefly over his plotting table and taking her again, but he was tired and spent, and she had earned some peace from him. Instead, he would leave her to find her own way for now. Soon enough you'll find in me your only strength, Firefly. And then you'll acquire a taste for me, I think. Then you'll be as anxious for our eveningtide diversions as I am.<hr>The Myrmidon was racing through the waters at a fine clip, leaping and bounding like a stallion as it plowed through the choppy waters of the Seven Seas. The winds came from the West, and so the sleek, weatherly ship leaned stiffly to port, a slight angle to the deck that seemed to bother her crew not at all. Pushing out from the stern castle to the maindeck before her, Automne saw that very crew gathered around the ship, filling every spar above and every open space below with their bare-chested, languishing forms, clearly enjoying the fine sailing and clearly having nothing to do while the wind remained so constant.
And all eyes..all three hundred pairs of eyes...turned upon Automne at once, taking in first her face, then quickly moving to take in her form, her legs, and then what places her short did cover, though the shift quickly whipped around Automne's body in the brisk wind. Standing upon the raised sterncastle behind and above her, she heard Troy issue his orders..."Float the Log!" he ordered, cryptic comments that sent a boy charging down from the raised section behind Automne to disappear into the underdecks in search of whatever the log might be.
Troy was a massive man of dark complexion, one of the ones that had captured her aboard the Jewel...but his was not the hand she had bitten, and where he stood above her, just near the helm itself, he gazed down at her with open amusement. The deck had been loud and full of life and conversation as Automne emerged, but as soon as she stepped out, all talk had ceased and all three hundred souls aboard turned to watch her very, very closely to see what she might do.
From the Ashes~Aboard The Myrmidon
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"Damn." Automne cursed the wind quietly as she stared, shaken, at the eyes that stared back. She clutched the shirt tight around herself as to be modest. They will not-CAN not touch me. I am the captain's!...WHY DID I SAY THAT!? I mean... it's true but. Ah, Pan. She felt like falling down there, but that would be... well... rediculous. She heard a loud familiar voice call out something unintelligable to her ears, and spotted the man, making his face distinct to the monster in her mind.
"Damn. Damn. Damn." She began to approach him, "Mister Troy, I presume!" She called. That sick perversion crept back into her, as though Dupre's fiendishness had infected her. She felt like releasing her hold on the shirt and letting it flap about her so that the crew and Troy would know what they could not have. But she shuddered in disgust and in the knowledge that such tact would be unwise.
"Damn. Damn. Damn." She began to approach him, "Mister Troy, I presume!" She called. That sick perversion crept back into her, as though Dupre's fiendishness had infected her. She felt like releasing her hold on the shirt and letting it flap about her so that the crew and Troy would know what they could not have. But she shuddered in disgust and in the knowledge that such tact would be unwise.
The massive creature...he was indeed large and imposing...leaned forward against the rail and rested his arms upon it, standing above and to stern of where Automne emerged, his thick, bony, dark face gazing down at her with curious ambivalence. The bulk of the ship's crew were further to fore from her, in the opposite direction, leaving Automne to turn her back on them when she addressed Troy.
"Am Troy," responded the big man at once. Troy didn't bother to hide his close inspection and examination of Automne's form...he ran his curious eyes over her carefully...but unlike the other three hundred faces that peered at Automne's backside, his was not a gaze filled with lust, desire, or any apparent need to force himself upon her. Too small. Proper woman is much taller...much bigger. And she is thin. She is all bone and spare. "Before you talk to Troy, you get yer ass up here to Troy," he demanded, jerking a thumb to one side where a set of stairs led up to the raised deck upon which he stood.
There were 'stairs' on either side of the ship, each leading from the broad maindeck below up to the raised sterndeck to the rear. Stomping down the stairwell just then was another officer of the ship, a thin, gaunt man of only average height that appeared to notice Automne just then, his hand bandaged and his teeth dark...the same man Automne had seen betray the Jewel, and the same man she had bitten when she was captured, his hand bound in white cloth. His attire had changed, however, and now he looked very much the pirate he truly was, his lean, scarred chest displayed and his belt filled with no less than six knives of different sizes and shapes. He paused in surprise upon seeing her, paused halfway upon the steps.
"Am Troy," responded the big man at once. Troy didn't bother to hide his close inspection and examination of Automne's form...he ran his curious eyes over her carefully...but unlike the other three hundred faces that peered at Automne's backside, his was not a gaze filled with lust, desire, or any apparent need to force himself upon her. Too small. Proper woman is much taller...much bigger. And she is thin. She is all bone and spare. "Before you talk to Troy, you get yer ass up here to Troy," he demanded, jerking a thumb to one side where a set of stairs led up to the raised deck upon which he stood.
There were 'stairs' on either side of the ship, each leading from the broad maindeck below up to the raised sterndeck to the rear. Stomping down the stairwell just then was another officer of the ship, a thin, gaunt man of only average height that appeared to notice Automne just then, his hand bandaged and his teeth dark...the same man Automne had seen betray the Jewel, and the same man she had bitten when she was captured, his hand bound in white cloth. His attire had changed, however, and now he looked very much the pirate he truly was, his lean, scarred chest displayed and his belt filled with no less than six knives of different sizes and shapes. He paused in surprise upon seeing her, paused halfway upon the steps.
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Automne nodded to Troy and began hurridely on, towards the stairs. But suddenly that man appeared, that one man. That monster. HIS FAULT! Her mind screamed before she could recognize him. OH! Pan! Navanod! Captain November! What if they're all dead?! HIS FAULT! I'll.. I'll RIP is THROAT OUT! Her hands were shaking again, but now with new emotion. However, Automne knew she could do no such thing. She decided she would settle for other, smaller revenges, for now... until there was something else she could do.
She approached the stairs, anger and hurt giving her strength rather than depleting it. She released the ends of the shirt, letting the wind catch it. Face, eyes, fists, tense and fiery with anger as she bared him a toothy grin. "Captain's Whore coming through," she hissed. PERVERSION! Yelled her mind, But well done!
She approached the stairs, anger and hurt giving her strength rather than depleting it. She released the ends of the shirt, letting the wind catch it. Face, eyes, fists, tense and fiery with anger as she bared him a toothy grin. "Captain's Whore coming through," she hissed. PERVERSION! Yelled her mind, But well done!
The dark-toothed man did step to once side to allow Automne to pass. However, he moved only just to once side, forcing her to brush up against him as she passed, a deliberate tactic he used that brought her against him and left him free to reach out to her when she was near him. And reach out to her he did, his hand shifting out subtly to grip her left thigh very high, right at the hem of her rather inadequate shirt, his fingers hooked around and between her legs such that she could go no further.
"Don't you worry, Cap'n's Whore," he sneered quietly, his hot breath washing over her left each and neck and his hand upon her shifting up to come dangerously near her intimate place. "The Cap'n can't be everywhere...and 'e has ta sleep sometime. I'll come to know you soon enough..." he predicted, his words low and dangerous and full of open, undisguised lust. Naturally Troy noticed, his large, dark face turned to watch as Automne was man-handled by the malicious pirate, but his face was filled only with apathetic amusement.
As quickly as the moment came, it passed. Withdrawing his hand with only the slightest, briefest brush against her crotch, he slapped her upon the real and went stomping downward, a sparse roll of laughter coming from several of the watchers on the main deck below, none of which seemed to be entirely concerned about Dark Tooth's actions or liberties with the Cap'n's Whore. There were two men at the helm of the ship, both watching Automne as she rose up to the higher stern quarter, and Troy continued to lean upon the quarterdeck rail, his massive, dark form naked to the waist. He had turned his head to watch her approach, but he offered no words of his own initially, simply watching her...and watching body...beneath the flimsy shirt that shifted even more violently in the suddenly strong winds that swept over the aftcastle deck.
"Don't you worry, Cap'n's Whore," he sneered quietly, his hot breath washing over her left each and neck and his hand upon her shifting up to come dangerously near her intimate place. "The Cap'n can't be everywhere...and 'e has ta sleep sometime. I'll come to know you soon enough..." he predicted, his words low and dangerous and full of open, undisguised lust. Naturally Troy noticed, his large, dark face turned to watch as Automne was man-handled by the malicious pirate, but his face was filled only with apathetic amusement.
As quickly as the moment came, it passed. Withdrawing his hand with only the slightest, briefest brush against her crotch, he slapped her upon the real and went stomping downward, a sparse roll of laughter coming from several of the watchers on the main deck below, none of which seemed to be entirely concerned about Dark Tooth's actions or liberties with the Cap'n's Whore. There were two men at the helm of the ship, both watching Automne as she rose up to the higher stern quarter, and Troy continued to lean upon the quarterdeck rail, his massive, dark form naked to the waist. He had turned his head to watch her approach, but he offered no words of his own initially, simply watching her...and watching body...beneath the flimsy shirt that shifted even more violently in the suddenly strong winds that swept over the aftcastle deck.
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She felt like biting the man again. By that time I will have earned more than I need to kill you. It frightened her, this thought, but she felt it necesarry. She would have to kill that man eventually. He simply needed to die. She didnt bother recollecting her shirt as she reached Troy.
"Troy, Captain ordered me to scrub the uh... quarterdeck." She said this quickly, but slightly grateful, Troy's glance was slightly different than the others. However, this did not make her like him anymore. "I'd appreciate some direction."
"Troy, Captain ordered me to scrub the uh... quarterdeck." She said this quickly, but slightly grateful, Troy's glance was slightly different than the others. However, this did not make her like him anymore. "I'd appreciate some direction."
"HOLYSTONE!" called Troy at once, directing his massive, booming voice down to the deck below. Turning back to Automne, he glanced down at her waist...it wasn't much wider than his ankle...before he smiled, his white teeth flashing amid his dark skin. "You will use a holystone to scrub the decks. You must scrub with the seams of the deck..." Troy pointed to the planks beneath, all of them running fore-and-aft and all separated by a thin line of black caulking, the color stark and noticeable amid the teak planks of the vessel. "...back and forth, back and forth. And you must put all your weight into it."
One of the crewmen fetched up a holystone, a massive brick of sandstone with one very flat surface. Troy hefted it with one hand easily, but it must have weighed very much indeed. "We call it a holystone as you must be upon your knees to use it, Whore," he continued, glancing down at her bare knees. They will be raw and bloody before she is finished, he thought, imagining where he might find knee boots that might fit her. He would give her knee boots once she started, and no doubt that was what the Captain had planned.
"You'll rinse the sand way with water from the rear scuttlebutt here..." Troy motioned to a massive water barrel lashed to the rear mast just before the helm. The barrel was very large, reaching up almost to Automne's neck, and hanging around it were three wooden buckets of varying states of disrepair. "The quarterdeck is this here..." the giant stomped upon the planks beneath his feet "...the deck from here..." he motioned to the railing "...back to the stern of the ship."
It was a lot of space to scrub...the entire top surface of the stern castle...but at least it was strangely free of so many watching, undoubtedly messy pirates as the quarterdeck was typically reserved for the Captain and his officers only. Still, it was the highest point of the deck itself, and as such the wind was strong, gusting in almost from the direct rear of the ship. "Now get started, Whore, and if you do well enough starting out, maybe Troy will have surprise for you."
One of the crewmen fetched up a holystone, a massive brick of sandstone with one very flat surface. Troy hefted it with one hand easily, but it must have weighed very much indeed. "We call it a holystone as you must be upon your knees to use it, Whore," he continued, glancing down at her bare knees. They will be raw and bloody before she is finished, he thought, imagining where he might find knee boots that might fit her. He would give her knee boots once she started, and no doubt that was what the Captain had planned.
"You'll rinse the sand way with water from the rear scuttlebutt here..." Troy motioned to a massive water barrel lashed to the rear mast just before the helm. The barrel was very large, reaching up almost to Automne's neck, and hanging around it were three wooden buckets of varying states of disrepair. "The quarterdeck is this here..." the giant stomped upon the planks beneath his feet "...the deck from here..." he motioned to the railing "...back to the stern of the ship."
It was a lot of space to scrub...the entire top surface of the stern castle...but at least it was strangely free of so many watching, undoubtedly messy pirates as the quarterdeck was typically reserved for the Captain and his officers only. Still, it was the highest point of the deck itself, and as such the wind was strong, gusting in almost from the direct rear of the ship. "Now get started, Whore, and if you do well enough starting out, maybe Troy will have surprise for you."
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"Yes... Troy," Automne muttered. Automne retrieved the holystone from Troy, and she began with the farthest down and right edge she could get to. As soon as she was upon her knees she knew this was going to be a bother. Probably that sick Dupre's version of training for whoredom. She sneered at the rock as she pressed forward and back, forward and back, along the seams that connected the planks, her fingers gripping on the tiny grains of the sandstone brick.
I just... have to let my mind concentrate on other things.... Like... well let's see....
One scrub forward, hard, her elbows strained to do a good job, perhaps Troy would not play some wicked trick? Perhaps there would actually be something useful about him.
I... hm... hate Dupre.
One scrub back, lots of tinier shuffles along the way to really work out the grit.
I.... hate Dupre... tremendously!
A tiny inch forward, making her way across, knowing that by the end of this... she was going to hate Dupre sooo much more. At least she was working out her frustration.
And... I hate Dupre. As much as I hate lettuce even.
I just... have to let my mind concentrate on other things.... Like... well let's see....
One scrub forward, hard, her elbows strained to do a good job, perhaps Troy would not play some wicked trick? Perhaps there would actually be something useful about him.
I... hm... hate Dupre.
One scrub back, lots of tinier shuffles along the way to really work out the grit.
I.... hate Dupre... tremendously!
A tiny inch forward, making her way across, knowing that by the end of this... she was going to hate Dupre sooo much more. At least she was working out her frustration.
And... I hate Dupre. As much as I hate lettuce even.
"You found 'er, mate. It ain't right," shot one of the pirates, watching up towards the stern castle where the Cap'n's Whore collected a holystone and moved towards the stern to begin in a back corner of the vessel. He spoke to Attica, the dark-toothed bosun of the ship and a man that commanded more than some respect from a disturbingly large portion of the crew. "It's all about what's yours, mate, an whass' his. He's got ta be sharin' out plunder..."
"Stow it, mate," shot Attica in response, his calloused hands helping to coil down rope with the others around him. Oh, he agreed...she was his, and it should be him that kept her locked in his tiny cabin, bound and held for his own amusements after his watch was over. He had heard the way she had whimpered and struggled when Linc first took her to his cabin a few days ago, and he almost managed to work his way to her then. After all...the Captain couldn't he awake all the time, and he couldn't protect her forever. But for now, it was academic: the hulking form of Troy made any attempts upon her person hopeless just now. And there's always time, mates. I dursn't have ta be in a hurry. I'll get to her soon enough..."
But then she reached the back corner of the ship and dropped down to scrub at the deck, her shirt inadequate to hide her backside from all three hundred eyes that watched her every movement carefully. "[i]Bugger me!" gasped Attica's mate, staring right at the Capn's Whore's private place. Attica's eyes were among them, of course, and the very sight of her was enough to make a bold decision. "Strike that, mates. I need yer help. It's time the Capn started sharin' out his spoils properly..."<hr>Automne didn't hear the quiet conversation between the dark-toothed pirate and his mates, but she did hear something. Dropping down to her hands and knees, she braced the holystone in her hands and scrubbed the planks along the seams, the sandstone actually scraping them with almost surprising efficiency and speed. But the holystone was large and cumbersome, and it took much of her body to push it along effectively.
Once she began her work, she detected a complete silence from the crew behind her. That was wrong...there had always been a low hum of conversation from them since she had stepped out onto the deck a short time ago, but now they were...utterly, completely silent. A quick glance back proved that all eyes were upon her....or more specifically, upon her womanhood, the shirt too short to protect her modesty at all while she was in such a position. Only Troy seemed focused on something else, speaking softly to one of the helmsmen beside him though all four of the helmsmen no doubt failed to hear his words in favor of watching Automne work.
"Stow it, mate," shot Attica in response, his calloused hands helping to coil down rope with the others around him. Oh, he agreed...she was his, and it should be him that kept her locked in his tiny cabin, bound and held for his own amusements after his watch was over. He had heard the way she had whimpered and struggled when Linc first took her to his cabin a few days ago, and he almost managed to work his way to her then. After all...the Captain couldn't he awake all the time, and he couldn't protect her forever. But for now, it was academic: the hulking form of Troy made any attempts upon her person hopeless just now. And there's always time, mates. I dursn't have ta be in a hurry. I'll get to her soon enough..."
But then she reached the back corner of the ship and dropped down to scrub at the deck, her shirt inadequate to hide her backside from all three hundred eyes that watched her every movement carefully. "[i]Bugger me!" gasped Attica's mate, staring right at the Capn's Whore's private place. Attica's eyes were among them, of course, and the very sight of her was enough to make a bold decision. "Strike that, mates. I need yer help. It's time the Capn started sharin' out his spoils properly..."<hr>Automne didn't hear the quiet conversation between the dark-toothed pirate and his mates, but she did hear something. Dropping down to her hands and knees, she braced the holystone in her hands and scrubbed the planks along the seams, the sandstone actually scraping them with almost surprising efficiency and speed. But the holystone was large and cumbersome, and it took much of her body to push it along effectively.
Once she began her work, she detected a complete silence from the crew behind her. That was wrong...there had always been a low hum of conversation from them since she had stepped out onto the deck a short time ago, but now they were...utterly, completely silent. A quick glance back proved that all eyes were upon her....or more specifically, upon her womanhood, the shirt too short to protect her modesty at all while she was in such a position. Only Troy seemed focused on something else, speaking softly to one of the helmsmen beside him though all four of the helmsmen no doubt failed to hear his words in favor of watching Automne work.
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Automne was beginning to find she liked Troy more and more. Barbarians.... Automne thought of a million more words to describe the hollow faces, filled with other, more sickening emotions that dribbled through their eyes reflecting like dim fires... their lust. Pan's CURSES! Bullocks and the like! Automne attempted to tuck her shirt beneath her womanhood, which worked for a while. However, pressing forward with each scrub of the stone made the shirt inch farther and farther from where it was protecting.
She looked up at Troy, wondering if she could communicate a message to him about her uneasiness, if he cared to look. Something about the silence made her sick, but she, as realizing Troy would not return his glance, and the look of the crewman that he was talking to at her made her uneasy, turned back to her work, hoping that the silence would now fade to murmers. Pirate slander and sailor talk is MUCH more welcome than... this.
She looked up at Troy, wondering if she could communicate a message to him about her uneasiness, if he cared to look. Something about the silence made her sick, but she, as realizing Troy would not return his glance, and the look of the crewman that he was talking to at her made her uneasy, turned back to her work, hoping that the silence would now fade to murmers. Pirate slander and sailor talk is MUCH more welcome than... this.
Indeed, Troy didn't regard Automne or her frustrating situation. In truth, he didn't seem to give her much regard at all, never glancing in her direction or even admitting that she was present while she worked, the sandstone scraping over the decks actually doing a quite marvelous job of srubbing the decks clean. The grime from her cleaning was building up fast, tiny grains of sand littered over the deck along with rubbish formed from the dark soot she cleared away, a deck that would require a rinse very soon.<hr>"See what you can find for Troy. He will make it worth your while, he will," commanded Troy, sending the helmsman below to search their stores for...boots. And indeed, boots he found, smaller boots that might fit the little whore nicely. They were made of soft leather and stained a dark, dark brown, and straps buckled them up all the way from the bridge of the foot to the top of the boot's cuff, a cuff that should reach over her kneecap. At the very least, it would make cleaning the decks bearable. He turned to race back to the stern castle when Attica stopped him.
"Whatchu got there, mate?"
"Boots. Troy needs boots..."
"Them ain't for Troy. Them are fer the whore."
"So they be, mate. Ain't my concern..."
"Well, this is yer concern. You give Troy 'is boots, an then you go to the scuttlebutt fer a tin o'water. And then you burst the scuttlebutt an clear it, aye? You'll do it, too, er I'll have yer arse in a sling an tell the Cap'n about yer kemp stash."
"...aight, mate, I'll do it. Ain't a damn thing, anyhow...burstin' the scuttlebutt..."<hr>Automne had been busy scraping the holystone over the deck absently for the better part of an entire mark. Her knees were already raw and horribly scraped from the sand and loose grime she left behind, and her task was quickly becomming agony. She didn't notice when the helmsman returned and gave a pair of kneeboots to Troy before he wandered off to the nearby scuttlebutt to take a drink. Turning, Troy advanced, watching with some amusement at the Captain's Whore's displayed backside.
"To yer feet, Whore!" he commanded, standing over her. Right before her he dropped a pair of dark leather kneeboots, the footware made of soft leather and largely covered in buckles up the front. They would certainly cover her knees as well as her feet. "Troy thinks the Cap'n has other plans fer yer knees instead of you tearin' em off on the decks..."
Thunk! Gush....
Turning, both Troy and Automne watched as the helmsman had accidentally stove in the bottom of the scuttlebutt barrel nearby, the water within it flowing out and down to the main decks below. The helmsman looked sheepishly embarrassed for a moment before he replaced the scupper and retreated back to his place at the wheel. Troy offered no response, but Automne could hear his mutterings... "Damned awkward bastard... Anyway, you'll stop an put those on now, Cap'n's whore! An you need ta rinse down these decks before ya scrub any further."
"Whatchu got there, mate?"
"Boots. Troy needs boots..."
"Them ain't for Troy. Them are fer the whore."
"So they be, mate. Ain't my concern..."
"Well, this is yer concern. You give Troy 'is boots, an then you go to the scuttlebutt fer a tin o'water. And then you burst the scuttlebutt an clear it, aye? You'll do it, too, er I'll have yer arse in a sling an tell the Cap'n about yer kemp stash."
"...aight, mate, I'll do it. Ain't a damn thing, anyhow...burstin' the scuttlebutt..."<hr>Automne had been busy scraping the holystone over the deck absently for the better part of an entire mark. Her knees were already raw and horribly scraped from the sand and loose grime she left behind, and her task was quickly becomming agony. She didn't notice when the helmsman returned and gave a pair of kneeboots to Troy before he wandered off to the nearby scuttlebutt to take a drink. Turning, Troy advanced, watching with some amusement at the Captain's Whore's displayed backside.
"To yer feet, Whore!" he commanded, standing over her. Right before her he dropped a pair of dark leather kneeboots, the footware made of soft leather and largely covered in buckles up the front. They would certainly cover her knees as well as her feet. "Troy thinks the Cap'n has other plans fer yer knees instead of you tearin' em off on the decks..."
Thunk! Gush....
Turning, both Troy and Automne watched as the helmsman had accidentally stove in the bottom of the scuttlebutt barrel nearby, the water within it flowing out and down to the main decks below. The helmsman looked sheepishly embarrassed for a moment before he replaced the scupper and retreated back to his place at the wheel. Troy offered no response, but Automne could hear his mutterings... "Damned awkward bastard... Anyway, you'll stop an put those on now, Cap'n's whore! An you need ta rinse down these decks before ya scrub any further."
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Automne rose to meet Troy, confused at first, and then delighted by the gift. Offering him a weary, but as-pleasant-as-she-damn-well-tried-to-make-it, smile. She turned in surprise as she heard the water hit the deck. She felt that same uneasiness come over her, like a wave of sickness. Though, somehow, Troy's cursing under his breath made her feel a little better. Then this guy's just an idiot on basic terms...
She knelt to quickly unbuckle, then rebuckle, the boots on her legs, dusting the nasty grains from her prickled and dented skin. She frowned as she noticed a few nicks and felt minor bruises, but was grateful for being awarded this small break. "Thankee Troy." She stood and went to the scuttlebutt, grabbing a bucket, dipping it into the water reserves in the large... barrel... thing.
She knelt to quickly unbuckle, then rebuckle, the boots on her legs, dusting the nasty grains from her prickled and dented skin. She frowned as she noticed a few nicks and felt minor bruises, but was grateful for being awarded this small break. "Thankee Troy." She stood and went to the scuttlebutt, grabbing a bucket, dipping it into the water reserves in the large... barrel... thing.
Troy merely nodded at her gratitude and turned to depart, though there might have been the smallest hint of a smile upon his face...only a hint, however...before he was away, leaving her to apply the boots. The boots were thankfully very comfortable, and they did indeed reach up to just past her knees, a grateful relief to her flesh. They were also quite snug, the straps tightening them around her calves nicely, and in moments she had tripled the number of garments she wore.
Rising up, Automne went to the stern scuttlebutt to find it largely empty. Oh, it had a short puddle of freshwater at the bottom, sure enough, but nothing adequate to fill her bucket even if she could reach it...which she could hardly do without climbing into the barrel itself. The barrel had been recently broken, punched in from the bottom side of the construction as if it had been kicked accidentally upon a weakened board, and the angle of the deck along with the majestic lean of the Myrmidon at sail had done the rest, the waters flowing out and down and leaving her without any means to rinse...save for the next scuttlebutt, the one amid-ships, a shorter barrel perhaps up do her stomach that must hold water in it still, for around it were almost a dozen pirates, each taking their ease and a quick drink and chatting idly in the middle of the fine sailing day.That scuttlebutt was down the steps and a fair distance forward, among the pirate crew itself.
Rising up, Automne went to the stern scuttlebutt to find it largely empty. Oh, it had a short puddle of freshwater at the bottom, sure enough, but nothing adequate to fill her bucket even if she could reach it...which she could hardly do without climbing into the barrel itself. The barrel had been recently broken, punched in from the bottom side of the construction as if it had been kicked accidentally upon a weakened board, and the angle of the deck along with the majestic lean of the Myrmidon at sail had done the rest, the waters flowing out and down and leaving her without any means to rinse...save for the next scuttlebutt, the one amid-ships, a shorter barrel perhaps up do her stomach that must hold water in it still, for around it were almost a dozen pirates, each taking their ease and a quick drink and chatting idly in the middle of the fine sailing day.That scuttlebutt was down the steps and a fair distance forward, among the pirate crew itself.
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Automne took a breath, her heart starting to beat faster, as she gazed down towards the next scuttlebutt. That ass! Kicking it in! But Automne knew she had no choice, so she went onward, dread of coming closer to the crew than she had wanted suddenly very real. "They're just men." She took a few steps more, "Idiotic, slobering men, who... who-" She shut up as she got closer, subconsciously holding her breath. She prayed that whatever dominance Dupre had spread over her, would serve as some kind of parasol of DOOM for them. So she approached, reaching for a bucket that was hopefully there.
She had to descend from the stern castle, back down the steps, to the main deck below. The main scuttle barrel was lashed to the main mast itself, and as she stomped down the wooden steps one by one, more and more of the Myrmidon's crew seemed to gather there, watching her closely as if she might turn into a horse at any moment. From the deck itself, Automne could no longer see the barrel, but the crew parted...they had grown to perhaps thirty in number, all clearly curious about her...revealing her path to the scuttlebutt itself.
And to Attica, or the dark-toothed pirate she had come to know very well indeed. He stood leaning against the main mast on the far side of the scuttlebutt, the mast almost two full paces thick where it plunged into the deck. He also held the required pale in his hand, the only bucket Automne could see, though naturally Attica had contrived to toss away the others. On his belt were a pair of long, thin knives, and his own clothes, while clean and soft, were also somewhat shabby and thread-bare, a rather common situation for the long stretches of open sea sailing when no predator or prey were in sight in the waters.
"Here ya be, sweety," came Attica's mockingly pleasant words as he held out the bucket for Automne to use. "Ya know, we'm all shipmates, an we helps each other when we can..." he said, his the only voice that reached her ears, a very curious thing considering the perhaps three dozen souls that stood close around her, a ring of men that never took their eyes away from the scene before them.
And to Attica, or the dark-toothed pirate she had come to know very well indeed. He stood leaning against the main mast on the far side of the scuttlebutt, the mast almost two full paces thick where it plunged into the deck. He also held the required pale in his hand, the only bucket Automne could see, though naturally Attica had contrived to toss away the others. On his belt were a pair of long, thin knives, and his own clothes, while clean and soft, were also somewhat shabby and thread-bare, a rather common situation for the long stretches of open sea sailing when no predator or prey were in sight in the waters.
"Here ya be, sweety," came Attica's mockingly pleasant words as he held out the bucket for Automne to use. "Ya know, we'm all shipmates, an we helps each other when we can..." he said, his the only voice that reached her ears, a very curious thing considering the perhaps three dozen souls that stood close around her, a ring of men that never took their eyes away from the scene before them.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
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Automne felt chills wash over her, suddenly aware that this was a very, VERY, stupid thing to do. But certainly Attica would not attempt anything. She didnt want to risk baring her teeth at him, give him excuse to attack her, or worse. She stepped forward quickly, cautiously, in her new boots.
"Certainly, shipmates do." She grabbed for the bucket, wincing as she did, praying to take it away cleanly. She didnt expect herself to ever be this terrified, but she found she had to be. Certain things were already changing inside of her, and Automne felt that she had been changed into a child among a field of bullies. Or possibly perverted old men, but Automne quickly turned her thoughts from there. She aimed to grab the bucket and run, or perhaps, walk quickly, running might encourage them.
"Certainly, shipmates do." She grabbed for the bucket, wincing as she did, praying to take it away cleanly. She didnt expect herself to ever be this terrified, but she found she had to be. Certain things were already changing inside of her, and Automne felt that she had been changed into a child among a field of bullies. Or possibly perverted old men, but Automne quickly turned her thoughts from there. She aimed to grab the bucket and run, or perhaps, walk quickly, running might encourage them.
"Ah..." responded the dark-toothed pirate with an amused look on his face, the bucket withdrawn just as Automne had expected. It was empty as well, the scuttlebutt next to her having plenty of water with which she might fill the bucket...if indeed the damnable pirate would surrender the bucket to her. "Now now now, Cap'n's Whore!" he chided, holding the bucket high up , beyond her reach.
"You'll have yer bucket, hun, but first..." Attica shot an amused glance at his mates nearby "...first I'll have a kiss. A little gratitude fer yer shipmates, yeah? Right here, whore, and you'll be all squared away..." he said, tapping a finger upon his own lips and daring the woman to lean in to him, his height not quite as impressive as Dupre but still far taller than Automne's rather modest span.
"You'll have yer bucket, hun, but first..." Attica shot an amused glance at his mates nearby "...first I'll have a kiss. A little gratitude fer yer shipmates, yeah? Right here, whore, and you'll be all squared away..." he said, tapping a finger upon his own lips and daring the woman to lean in to him, his height not quite as impressive as Dupre but still far taller than Automne's rather modest span.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Guest
Automne knew this was a trap, Pan, and to let herself get this far. Pigs! She ran through the options in her mind. She could run now, run back... Dupre would probably punish her for the undone works, but it was surely better than this. Kissing this old goat would give him every opportunity he wanted... But could she really get out of here without getting caught? She managed to keep her face perplexed on the outside, as her eyes studied her surroundings... looking for a way out. If there was something she could climb... or run on. Like a rope or pole...
"How do you know I won't take your cheek off this time?" She smiled a charming smile, her heart beating a tempest of her blood. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, eyes frantically serene.
And then her thoughts, for one reason or another, returned to Navanod. Navanod the sun and stars. Navanod the possibly deceased. And who's fault was this? WHO'S FAULT? And who's fault she was gone? And who's fault she had to do this! It was him!
I know it! I'm such an idiot! How could I be such a fool!?.... She sighed on the inside. The only thing that should be done now is to shut up and get away somehow... unless I should kiss him? And when he makes his move, the Captain should save me! And then he'll pull a unicorn out of this guys ass and we'll fly away to magical fairytale land and have wonderful three-somes with Navanod and I! Navanod seems like the fellow that mi-Dear LORD Automne, shut yourself up a moment! Just... stay quiet and get out of the way.
"I honestly don't think I shall! But oh dear.... Master shall punish me... spank me... I know, but that's so much nicer a punishment than having to kiss your ugly ass! Or is that thing up there your face?" Her hands would have flown to her mouth, except she was already running. Damn, I really miss The Flower! "I'm dead! I'm so dead! I'm deceased! I am an ex-Automne!" She looked around for something she acrobat the hell out of to escape, at least she could run in boots.
"How do you know I won't take your cheek off this time?" She smiled a charming smile, her heart beating a tempest of her blood. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, eyes frantically serene.
And then her thoughts, for one reason or another, returned to Navanod. Navanod the sun and stars. Navanod the possibly deceased. And who's fault was this? WHO'S FAULT? And who's fault she was gone? And who's fault she had to do this! It was him!
I know it! I'm such an idiot! How could I be such a fool!?.... She sighed on the inside. The only thing that should be done now is to shut up and get away somehow... unless I should kiss him? And when he makes his move, the Captain should save me! And then he'll pull a unicorn out of this guys ass and we'll fly away to magical fairytale land and have wonderful three-somes with Navanod and I! Navanod seems like the fellow that mi-Dear LORD Automne, shut yourself up a moment! Just... stay quiet and get out of the way.
"I honestly don't think I shall! But oh dear.... Master shall punish me... spank me... I know, but that's so much nicer a punishment than having to kiss your ugly ass! Or is that thing up there your face?" Her hands would have flown to her mouth, except she was already running. Damn, I really miss The Flower! "I'm dead! I'm so dead! I'm deceased! I am an ex-Automne!" She looked around for something she acrobat the hell out of to escape, at least she could run in boots.
"Hahahahaha haha!"
The crowd around Automne roared to life, but they didn't for a moment move. Indeed, practicing upon the new hands...giving them such misery...was almost commonplace at sea, and it had been some time since they had enjoyed such torments, the last of which had been Jack Sprite who was ordered to carry around one of the scuttlebutts to collect rain water during a lengthy rain a week ago. Carry it he did...at least until it filled such that he could carry it no more.
In fact, the pirates all around seemed perfectly relaxed and lazy, watching with keen amusement at dark-tooth's taunting and doing nothing to interfere, whether they might think to do so or not. Even Troy, standing like some dark God upon the distant quarterdeck to stern, merely leaned his great bulk against the stern railing and watched on idly, a look of quiet boredom and disinterest plastered over his dark, expressive features.
"Aye, hun, a damned great risk, that, but I'm willing to take it," replied the dark-toothed pirate easily. Leaning down a bit to better present his face, he hardly noticed when Automne first moved to withdraw, and when she did he merely looked on with surprised amazement. "Now where are you going? Gonna hop ship? Come now, whore...I'm sure you ain't that bad at kissing...." he shot, words that drew even more laughter from the collected crew of the Myrmidon that made for a rather impressive ring around the pair though, perhaps surprisingly enough, they parted for Automne's movements, refusing to block her way.
While it appeared as if she might not need it, Automne quickly located an escape route just at hand that might prove useful. The scuttlebutt was lashed against the mainmast...and so she was standing near to it's great, towering height...and to either side of the ship were fixed the ratlines. The ratlines were great webs of rope that stretched up to form crisp triangles towards the crosstrees above, lines by which sailors could climb up to the spar above. Countless ropes and cords lifted up to it's height, and while they might be useful to descend from the crow's nest above, it was the ratlines that provided the way up, and Automne would have little difficulty reaching them instantly...
...though they would take her up very high to the first spar towering well over the deck where it held the main sail in place.
The crowd around Automne roared to life, but they didn't for a moment move. Indeed, practicing upon the new hands...giving them such misery...was almost commonplace at sea, and it had been some time since they had enjoyed such torments, the last of which had been Jack Sprite who was ordered to carry around one of the scuttlebutts to collect rain water during a lengthy rain a week ago. Carry it he did...at least until it filled such that he could carry it no more.
In fact, the pirates all around seemed perfectly relaxed and lazy, watching with keen amusement at dark-tooth's taunting and doing nothing to interfere, whether they might think to do so or not. Even Troy, standing like some dark God upon the distant quarterdeck to stern, merely leaned his great bulk against the stern railing and watched on idly, a look of quiet boredom and disinterest plastered over his dark, expressive features.
"Aye, hun, a damned great risk, that, but I'm willing to take it," replied the dark-toothed pirate easily. Leaning down a bit to better present his face, he hardly noticed when Automne first moved to withdraw, and when she did he merely looked on with surprised amazement. "Now where are you going? Gonna hop ship? Come now, whore...I'm sure you ain't that bad at kissing...." he shot, words that drew even more laughter from the collected crew of the Myrmidon that made for a rather impressive ring around the pair though, perhaps surprisingly enough, they parted for Automne's movements, refusing to block her way.
While it appeared as if she might not need it, Automne quickly located an escape route just at hand that might prove useful. The scuttlebutt was lashed against the mainmast...and so she was standing near to it's great, towering height...and to either side of the ship were fixed the ratlines. The ratlines were great webs of rope that stretched up to form crisp triangles towards the crosstrees above, lines by which sailors could climb up to the spar above. Countless ropes and cords lifted up to it's height, and while they might be useful to descend from the crow's nest above, it was the ratlines that provided the way up, and Automne would have little difficulty reaching them instantly...
...though they would take her up very high to the first spar towering well over the deck where it held the main sail in place.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant