Who's Afraid of a Little Water?

Gentle waves caressed the hull of the Mirage as they rocked back and forth. The imposing caravel swayed to their rhythm, anchored as it was near a sandy shore. The undan port city of Reallo stood close, at an angle where the pirate vessel was hidden by the green hills. Aside them, there were no other ships at sea, just endless sky, interrupted only by the distant mountains of Ignis. It was a beautiful summer day; sun shining bright and no cloud in sight.

If one thing broke the peaceful silence of nature, it was the hustle and bustle on the ship. The bridge was the stage of something like a stampede, with the crew's incessant comings and goings. From where she stayed at the helm, leaning on the rail, Dulce observed her crew with a watchful eye. She was supervising their work, making specifications here and there. Overall, her men knew what their captain wanted, but there was always a margin of error with her. She wouldn't allow anything to be out of place for tonight.

''Cap'n Lara!''a gruff voice called.

A crewman straddled the rail, a bucket and paintbrush in hand. ''What'd ya say we had ta' name da' ship?''

She frowned inwardly. They were supposed to have done that already. Finding out her crew hadn't done something she'd asked for to the letter was like finding a bug under a rock. It was annoying, like a bee sting. She felt like slapping the man, but fortunately for him, the salty sea air of Unda blowing in her hair made short work of calming her down. A small breeze was starting to lift, just as hoped. She looked over at the crewman, and answered:

''La Reina de la Noche. Make the lettering nice.''

''Aye aye!''

On the right side of the ship was carved the name The Mirage, but seeing as it was notorious, it needed to be masked for her plan to work. She went over it again in her head. Accost at Reallo, let passengers board, set sail for Ignis. They would follow the coast on the way, allowing other pit stops. Once in Ignis, they would do the same. In the end, the ship would undoubtedly be filled to the brink. That was the point. Not all would stay aboard for long, too. Dulce chuckled as her limpid blue eyes turned to the water.

She walked brazenly amongst her crew while they moved about, taking care of whatever task she had assigned them with. She wanted the ship to be perfect. It was not to be a pirate ship this evening, to the eyes of the onlooker. It needed to be a lush cruiser. That's why she had her men clean all the decks until they sparkled, remove the pirate flag, change the name of the ship...They had set terran lanterns on the bridge, that would illuminate it at night, and changed all the worn down sails and ropes. She had personally gathered the finest delicacies of Carista to sit upon a large, inviting buffet on the bridge. The musicians she had no short of abducted would play sounds from across the land. It still wasn't much, but the ship glowed from the simplicity of the setting. None could take it for a pirate ship either. Only the upper deck – the bridge – was accessible. The levels below were off-limits, guarded by one of her men. While her personal quarters were luxurious, and salubrious – guests would find the rest of the ship...quite revealing of its true nature.

Dulce consulted her golden watch, a treasure she had stolen from an aristocrat, on a trip to Valetudo. She scowled, and impatiently shouted: ''Hurry up, you lazy sods! We enter the city in an hour at most.''

Whines and hissy fits ensued, but eventually the crew quickened its pace. They bitched a bunch but in the end they respected – or feared – the woman enough to shut their traps. Besides, they would all get their share of the prize in the end. As they rushed to finish their job, she retreated to her chambers. She slipped out of her tight, provocative clothes, moving in a way that made it look like a striptease, and put on something more conservative. She had a role to play. Denim pants, knee-length boots and brocade blouse bursting with fiery colors, tied to expose part of her belly. It was hot out: showing a little skin was acceptable. Her pistol was secured to her belt but once again it wasn't a problem; all sea captains carried weaponry, in case of pirate attacks. How ironic, she thought with delight.

The sun was starting to set, an orange light lazily spreading over the city and surrounding greenery. The color of the sky suggested the evening would be warm. The anchor was lifted and Dulce brought her ship to dock. She let down the footbridge giving access to the ship.

Since the beginning of the week she had contacts spreading the word about the cruise. Soon, they would be filtering in and she'd be greeting all of them with a sweet smile. She wanted them to feel at ease on her ship. She would allow a limited amount of people to board, and then it was off to Ignis. Entry came with a small fee – one, because of what she had spent preparing her ship and two, because she wanted to keep the poor away. She wasn't being unfair, on the contrary. She didn't want to involve the unfortunate in her plan. Since this leisure cruise would reveal itself, to the unsuspecting passengers, to be a hostage situation.

She turned to face her crew; huddled up together and looking up at her. Shoulders high, chest protruding and conquering smile in place, eyes burning with their typical fire, she claimed:

''We're starting this now. Be nice to our guests until I give the signal.''

Thus far, Ivan's search for the group of Brothers had been fruitless. As it turned out, he had greatly underestimated their abilities to travel unnoticed. He had lost them a ways into Terra and heard rumors of their surfacing again in Ignis, but he had stopped there. Ignis was not particularly hospitable to men of his field and he had been imprisoned there before rather recently. More than that, the Ignese were notorious for their political troubles and he loathed involving himself in those. Enough people knew his face around those docks that before long, he would be getting poorly disguised rebel visitors in the night, pleading with him to smuggle gunpowder for a minimal price. Justice did not pay well.

Ivan wasn't very bothered by the pause in his chase. Rumors traveled quickly and with the right winds, he could sail just as swift. Besides, more interesting pursuits had popped up and they were just too fun to miss.

He hadn't seen or heard much from Dulce Carriedo since the fated day she had unceremoniously chucked him overboard. Ivan doubted she was avoiding him, though she should have been, considering how terribly she'd behaved. Dulce was not a woman known for her shame, however, so he could only guess she had been in other parts of the world, gallivanting about in his former love. For a brief while, he had suspected that she might have been dead. Young, saucy captains often found themselves on the other side of living. That suspicion had been disproved by recent rumors he'd heard around the seedy taverns along the coastlines.

The new captain of Mirage was cooking up a scheme of some sort, a scheme to end all schemes. Around that time, there began buzz of a grand luxury cruise spanning Ignis and Unda. Anyone who was anyone would be there. Ivan was not a genius, but he was not dumb, especially when it came to schemes. He had tied one and one together and, hell, he had been in Unda anyway. Captain Carriedo would not be upstaging him in his own ship. Unacceptable. He would be the one to end the scheme that ended all schemes. Or something like that.

Whistling and tossing a pouch of coin up and down in his hand, he came upon the line stretching out from the gangplank of Mirage. Gorgeous as she had always been, and clean to boot. So maybe she had benefited from a woman's touch. Brand new letters had been painted upon her hull as well, a name as fake as the woman greeting her passengers. Dulce looked very nice too, but that was nothing new to him. The woman was pleasing to look at even when she was covered in soot. Her beauty gave credit to the vindictive viper her smile hid.

The line was very, very long, he realized with dismay. Too long for him to sit and wait through. He pulled back and assessed the crowd before he chose an attractive woman not much younger than himself somewhat near the front. She was with a younger girl who bore some resemblance to her - her daughter. Ivan ran a hand through his hair, recently trimmed, and straightened his coat. The occasion had necessitated some grooming and so the old pirate had groomed himself to the nines. It wouldn't have gone over well if he attempted to board Mirage in something shabby, considering that he was to rub noses with the creme de la creme of Unda and Ignis.

He turned on the charm, donned his smile, and inserted himself into the mother and daughter's conversation - and their place in line.

"I couldn't help but overhear you two ladies and I assure you, the weather in Ignis is absolutely lovely this time of year. Why, I was there just a month ago and..."

Before long, the ladies were deep in conversation with him, shooting meaningful looks at each other in a way they thought discreet. So he hadn't lost it after all. Good thing, too, since Ivan was hardly ready to turn in his title as the Silvertongue. At least fifteen minutes had passed since their conversation had begun and as he described to them in rich detail the exotic beauty of Ignese lava flows, he kept track of the line's progression. Anyone behind them who might have complained that Ivan had cut had long ago been swept into his words.

"...They glow this amazing shade of orange, comparable to a sunset across the sea. At night, it's truly a sight, for their light makes it seem as if the rest of the world is blacker than black. In the way the flows slowly trickle down the slopes, you get a sense that you are watching the earth's blood itself. The warmth reaches right to the bone. Ah, it seems like we're to board now."

He turned to walk the final steps up the gangplank, fully aware of the women whispering and sighing behind him. Yes, he still had it and he had it in spades. The rest of his attention was devoted toward Dulce, to whom he bowed his head and grinned. Her expression would be priceless.

"Captain. I think you'll find this payment suitable?" He offered forward the pouch of gold.

Utter shock. It passed through her face for a split-second, but the bastard certainly wouldn't miss it. Soon, while her lips remained slightly parted, the surprise cleared from her eyes and was replaced by fury. She was enraged at three things. One: herself, for not killing him when she had the chance, probably the only chance she'd have in a long time. Two: him, for being the cocky S.O.B who, as usual looked at her like he had her all figured out. Three: the world, for being so damn rotten. She wasn't even trying to hide her anger; lightning almost shot from her eyes.

She accepted the pouch in a tense hand, barely feeling the weight, eyes locked with Ivan still. As much as she willed herself to only feel hatred, she couldn't help but be...What, exactly? She could never deny the man had a strong presence in the first place, not to mention the time they had shared, the things they had done. The feeling was inexplicable, an odd mix of emotions; leftovers from old days and new ones. In the end, she settled for hatred.

''Ivan...'', she mouthed slowly, voice filled with poison.

What to do? Turn him down? It was her ship, after all. It would make a scene, though, make people wonder. Why would she refuse this man aboard? Moreover, she could see he already had a few fans among the passengers waiting in line. Rather, who was she even kidding? Like she could refuse the handful of money he was offering. She wasn't short on it, but she never had enough. Any money was good money, no matter who it came from.

She was boiling inside. If she let him aboard, he'd surely cause trouble. He'd ruin her plan and watch it happen with delight. Then again, she was never one to back away from a challenge. He was only one man. One she'd thwarted twice before, too.

Finally, she flashed a brilliant smile. ''It'll do quite fine. Welcome aboard!'' She had to keep the conversation short; the line was getting longer. She gave Ivan one last look, a look of warning, of challenge.

Her first mate, an undan youth named Rafael, was standing close to her as custom demanded. She motioned for him to come closer and he leaned forward, lending her his ear. ''I'll be keeping an eye on this man, have the rest of the crew do the same.'' The dark-skinned man nodded with a quick 'aye aye' before he excused himself – to go execute her order, no doubt. ''Next~'', she chimed.

”What the fuck, mate?!”

Lucio Romano is a gentleman, an entertainer, and an overall charming man who conjures up real magic on the stage while people shower him with gifts and praise. He is a man of exquisite taste and is usually dressed better than most royalty when he is performing, only pressing his asscheeks in the finest of leather. Long, flowing locks adorn his head along with his perfectly groomed facial hair. His nails manicured, his skin smoothed with premium oils.

But the man approaching one of the shipmates who was loading some of his luggage was not Lucio Romano.

”It’s not a common fucking whore, y’know…you don’t just bounce it around until it makes noise!” The sailor was carrying a crate full of glass bottles, presumably alcohol in nature. Some of the bottles were clinking together, enough to make Leslie irritated about the bottles cracking and spilling. Being caught on the finer things in life, Les enjoyed expensive spirits. The man carrying the crate looked to be quite pissed at Les calling him about, giving him a look before shifting the crate in his hands and walking a bit slower. The look elicited a similar look from Les—once the man had turned around and started walking away.

Taking a swig of some dark contents from a wine cask gripped in his right hand, Les was the opposite of Lucio Romano. He was crass, cursed incessantly, and was overall pretty damned offensive. His short cropped hair was messy and all over the place as if he had just woken up, and his beard was just some stubble that would never turn into a full-fledged beard anytime soon. He walked with a drunken swagger but wasn’t completely drunk. Not yet. He watched one of the sailors lifting a bag with items in it and being very careful about how he handled it.

”Well you don’t have to be a complete nancy about that one, now do you? C’mon, in you go.” Les walked behind the man, encouraging him to move faster as he took another swig from his bottle. Spotting Dulce Carriedo after hearing her say “Next,” he had no idea that she was the captain of the ship. Given her extremely good looks, he thought perhaps she was a prostitute that was going to be working on the ship. His comments would have been less sexual toward her had he the sense to realize she owned this vessel.

”Well aren’t you a filthy little tart?” He gave Dulce a little wink before he staggeredswaggered up to her. ”Tell you what…how about…” Les paused, looked at the boat, and thought of being a bit witty. ”…you meet me in my cabin, drops your sails and prepared to be boarded, yeah?” Oh, Les thought he was pretty clever with that little line. He made a raunchy facial expression that he was normally save for the bedroom, but again, he was nearly drunk. And a horrible, horrible person.