PotC: At Sea

[Sebastian de la Jolla]

Sea, miles and miles of it was all he saw, and the shadow on the horizon. The shadow of his very own ship. A days journey behind the slightly larger vessel was the small one he'd managed to bargain for. Wind filled the sails, at least with the smaller lighter ship he'd be able close the distance between the two ships. Hands gripped the spokes of the helm, correcting when needed to, while dark brown eyes watched the horizon. Unfortunately he'd not slept in that time, even though there was one other with him to tend the ship, is true owner. Eyes closed a moment standing there, memories going back to the prior night before his expected leave.

-Four Nights Ago-
The Taberna del Sol Mar was in its usually upbeat manner, and full. Merchants, sailors and other such travelers coming to the port cities small tavern and inn. Located at the southern most part in the city of Valencia, Spain. Of course there was a much larger port, but for locals this one did just fine. Talk echoed about the tavern until someone brought up the Black Pearl. It always seemed to hush a crowed that cursed ship. Perhaps why it intrigued him so. He'd been going about his tasks until he stopped his cleaning to listen. For him it never got old, this life was different and new compared to the one he'd left.

His home had been in Barcelona for as long as he was in years, he'd been born there, as he was sure his siblings, his father and his father before him were. A legend of Don's from the Spanish Court. A life his father had wished for him, but one he did not wish for himself. Upon his twenty-first birthday he left. In away his father understood claiming that out of his sons, Sebastian had a love for the sea, adventure and trouble. It was why when ever there was business to attended or travel to be made, Sebastian accompanied his father. For now he was trying to live life, preparing to fufill his dream after six months of living in Valencia. A slap against his shoulder pulled him from the thoughts. " Sebastian dreams of that ship. Isn't that right, hijo?"

"Aye, Si. Perhaps even one day I'll come across it upon the oceano." There was a smile from the woman who'd slapped his shoulder. She was the wife of the Bartender and Owner. When he showed up she took him in as a son. Talk resumed around the open room and he stepped out into the heavy marine layer that tended to roll in on warm days, making for cool nights. That's when movement caught his eye and the slight sound of waves pushing against the dock and a boats bow. Moving he went to get a closer look. A small band of pirates were taking over a ship, when his eyes fell upon the marking of the Spanish designed vessel, jaw dropped and feet rushed him forwards.

"Espera! PARE! Oi, dios...that's my ship!" his voice shouted with the accent influenced from his living. Boots shuffled against the planks before he jumped onto loading crates, hands gripping against the fishing net still hung lose on the crane to swing himself forwards. Letting go his momentum carried him until hands gripped the wooden railing of the port side of the ship, boots searching for side molding or design to help push himself up. Brown eyes looked up to see the heel of a boot coming down upon his left hand. "Aie! You bandit, this is my ship. I'll not let you take her." elbow moved trying to pull himself up against the side as well. A laugh, they were laughing at him. Splash, moments later he found himself flailing about the chilled water, swimming to the small wooden ladder. Rushing back to the tavern he burst through the doors, water dripping from him. Maria shrieked "Hijo...what happened?"


Eyes reopened feeling his form being shaken. "Sebastian, amigo, wake up. Perhaps you let me take it, no?" Blinking the young man pulled back from the wheel and looked to the elder as he spoke. "You won't catch her unless you sleep, amigo. Go, get some rest." he moved to protest but the elder gentleman shooed him away. "Gracias, Lenardo. You and Maria have done so much for me. I hope you'll let me repay you." Lenardo smiled, "Es no problema. Maria took you in as her hijo, as did I, not having any children of our own. That is enough. Now sleep." Turning his eyes once more gazed to the darkened horizon, out there was his ship 'Diosa Marina'. Still his determination pushed him on, from what he knew they were heading south. Away from Spain, away from everything he knew.

-Sebastian

[Caitlyn Segrave]

As for Caitlyn the journey was far from pleasing. She spent most of the trip trying to keep her stomach from turning inside out and the other half wishing she could just wake up in her bed and find that the last seven years was some kind of bad dream. Caitlyn was one of those girls with a free-spirited personality that in this day in age was unique. While most were out talking of their engagements, planning dinner parties and trying on dresses, Cait could be found at the bar shooting darts or standing on the roof of a building shouting to the heavens or anyone that was listening that the fix was in and the sky was falling. And it was this unique aloofness that often led her into obscure situations; case in point, the very situation she was in. Perhaps it was that she lived everyday like it was her last that spelled trouble, or perhaps it was simply the pretty face, from an outside perspective it was hard to tell.

One wouldn’t exactly say she was in a tough situation, but the spontaneity of stealing a boat with the random strangers she’d made friends with in about seven minutes at the bar and without enough supplies to make the journey to the Americas could be considered bad planning on her end. This was exactly what she was learning while holding a conversation with the crew in the galley. It was time for a decision to be made. Their water supply and food stuffs were dangerously low, and in fact the only thing they had no worry about was the abundance of citrus fruits. Several of the crewman suggested sacking a passing ship, but that plan was a desperate one.

“So you mean to tell us that that you want to attack another vessel… With what, you’re sharp wit? It’s not like this ship has any weapons.” Cait argued. “Andrew tells me that we won’t make it to Florida without a miracle, so unless you have a better plan I suggest we find the closest island and take the time to try and gather what we need before we die out here!”

Flint gave her a hard look, “and just what exactly do you think we’re trying to do ‘Miss. come on let’s steal that ship and ignore the galleon’, you were the one that insisted we do this low-key and now thank to you were…” What Flint was about to say was interrupted but a shouting above deck, “Land-ho!” the voice screamed. Their faces lost the angry expressions and they all scrambled topside. On the horizon the tiny island was slowing making itself clear. The helmsman turned the wheel aiming the small vessel in a direct line for it. It didn’t take long for the anchor to drop and for the majority of the crew to swim to shore to see if this scrap of land was the salvation they were in desperate need of.

-Cait

[Sebastian de la Jolla]

Sleep hadn’t found Sebastian, the rocking of the waves hitting against the bow of the small vessel was little to calm him. When he caught up with his ship, and those thieves who stole it. Images ran through his mind, ones his fencing instructor had always warned against. But it was part of his temper, out of all his family, his temper was the hottest. But secrets had been kept, there was an uncle much like himself.

The sun had risen across the skies, the blue of the deep starting to grow lighter, barely. “Amigo! Do you see what I see?” the elder man pointed and Sebastian turned around. They were catching upon his stolen vessel, which at the moment had seemed to stop. So they hadn’t counted upon his supplies to last them long. But in his preparations it would have been enough from himself and another to make the journey to Port Royal.

His hand gripped the rope as he jumped up upon the ships side, watching as their distance was closing. Was that land he saw starting to peek from the waters, the thieves stopped from desperation. He couldn’t deny that it had been almost a thrill to set to sea after his own ship, the hunger for adventure in him sparking. “I will get you yet, you banditos.” Boots clomped against the wooden deck as he moved up leaning against the mast, hand resting upon the hilt of his Spanish styled sword.

[Caitlyn Segrave]

As the helmsman pulled the boat pulled as close to the shore as possible, Caitlyn stripped herself of the heavy dress and leather coveralls that would only prove to weight her down. She sized up the swim to shore, kicked off her boots, and set them aside with the tidy pile of clothes. A few of the other crew were boarding the lifeboat, but she wasn’t about to let this rare opportunity go to waste. Never in all her years had she seen an ocean like this one. The waters in the United Kingdom were slate grey, with beaches of dark pebbly sand. The blue/green waters and milky white beaches of the Caribbean were surreal to her eyes. Caitlyn leapt from the lip of the ship, submerging herself into the crisp clear water. The fabric of her under dress instantly weighed down. As she kicked and pulled underwater she could feel the drag of water logged cotton, and the silent threat of the ocean’s intention to draw her down to the briny depths.

The boat reached shore before the raven haired woman, but a few of the crew waited for her to reach the shore before vanishing into the lush forest of trees. “You two go on ahead I need a few minutes to catch my breath.” She breathed. She did in fact look quite out of sorts, but the pair surmised it was the humidity and allowed the woman a bit of privacy. Dripping with sea water, Cait paused for a moment to wring out her chemise and then her water soaked locks of ebony. She was just turning to admire the view when her face grew deadly pale. Perhaps it was a mixture of the humidity, a few days lacking food and water, or the strenuous swim to shore, but as the sun dazzled her emerald hued eyes, and she felt her knees give. Caitlyn passed out on the shore looking like a victim of shipwreck with her sodden clothes (or lack there of) and loose locks of shadow lying strewn amid the bright grains of sand.

-Cait

[Sebastian de la Jolla]

In a few hours time the small ship was close enough to swing to, and he did just that. Being as silent as he could, Sebastian made his way about the deck before heading below towards the galley and a voice stopped him. “ ‘E ye bloke… don’t be rememberin’ your mug as part’o the crew. Stowaway are ya?” Turning his head just slightly he looked over his shoulder towards the man that had stopped him, who was now pulling a dagger from his belt. Turning dark eyes looked at the man and he paused a moment. The man was slightly pudgy, dirty and smelt unwashed in who knew how long. “Senor, I am not a stowaway. I own the ship.” Came the strongly accented voice.

Hand gripped against the hilt of the long blade and pulled it up quickly, swiping his arm forwards guiding the blade against that of the small dagger. The other hadn’t been ready for such things and moved back after losing his weapon, only to charge forwards at Sebastian. Both men tussled about the deck, his blade being knocked aside by the other who now had his hands upon his throat. With a growl Sebastian pressed his back against on of the crates while pulling at the man’s wrist, right boot came up against the man’s chest and then was kicked back. Stumbling back the man hit the port side rail and went over it backwards followed by a splash of water.

The other man he found had been easily dealt with, seeing as he had been caught unawares. Dragging the man up the stairs to the deck he tied both around the mast. Curses came from the soaked man towards the Spaniard. He tried to remain as if he didn’t hear them. Eyes focused upon the piled clothing. Using the tip of his blade he lifted the cloth watching it unfold against the deck, it was a dress. With a scowl he turned to the man putting the tip of the blade against the hollow of his throat. “Who else. How many were there?” the man spat back “I donno what yer talking about.” Applying pressure to the blade he leaned forwards “Where are they?” Realizing the man who held him there wasn’t joking he coughed up the answers “Seven, seven. Shore…we’s run outa supplies.”

“Gracias.” The blades tip was pulled away from the mans throat but his closed fist and hilt came down upon his head. He didn’t want any trouble from them while he was on shore. Removing his boots, he lept over the side of the ship landing within the water, making the swim to shore, hindered only by his blade and the weight of wet cloth. Slicking back his black hair the young man looked around, no one save for a woman lying upon the ground, and the small life boat pulled against the sand. Feet sank against the warm sand as he moved walking towards the fallen body, hand ready over the hilt.

She was unconscious, and scooping her up from the sand hadn’t been much trouble. Getting her on deck was slightly more of a task. He’d taken the lifeboat back, leaving what other men were on shore there. Lying the woman against the deck he, tied her wrist with some rope, around one of the railings from the small set of stairs that led to the helm. Seating himself against a crate one boot remained upon the deck as well as the tip of his sword, the other re-boot clad foot was pulled resting on the crate, arm draping over his knee. She’d wake up soon enough, with plenty of explaining to do.

-Sebastian

[Caitlyn Segrave]

Caitlyn felt the strong arms lift her, and although for a brief moment she fought to regain consciousness the strength was lost and as he slipped her into the small lifeboat, her mind fell back into the cloud of dreamland. Her head lolled back and forth with the fulcrum of the boat and then again as he hefted her onto the deck. Lifeless was her frame as it slumped across the smooth wooden boards. As again her mind returned a bit toward the land of awareness she idly wondered why she was wet and where her clothes were. She could feel the cool air on her skin lifting the little hairs on her arms, the chill of her right leg’s exposure as her chemise had risen up, and the revealing way her chemise was pressed against her stomach and bosom. Her eyes fluttered a little and then as her frame was again shifted her voice sighed and she was again unconscious. The sing of his blade against the deck was what roused her the third time.

“Stop… please I don’t …stop.” Cait was talking in her sleep of some deep seeded pain that obviously still haunted her.

When her sluggish movements were daunted, the veil of dream was drawn back. Instantly her sage eyes flashed open as she tried her grasp for the knife that was usually in its sheath at her wrist. When her arms wouldn’t move her senses sharpened a bit more and that’s when Caitlyn saw him. She had no idea who he was but his eyes seemed to hold something in her memory. For the moment it was lost to her. Utterly confused and altogether pissed off the Irish/English woman was a spitfire of irrational anger and it was directed fully at the Spaniard who had bound her limbs.

“Where am I?! Why have you restrained me?” She said with a coarse voice. It was clear that she was dehydrated and near passing out again. The lack of water was showing its effects on her. “If you don’t release me right now you’ll regret it I promise you!” she threatened. But it was an empty threat. Cait had no idea if the crew was going to back her up or if the Crew had sold her out as a devil’s dowry to pay off this guy for something. As far as she knew he was about to take whatever he wanted from her mind and body and was simply waiting for her to wake so he could hear the variations in her screams.

-Cait

[Sebastian de la Jolla]

The Spaniard seemed almost taken aback when sound was uttered from the woman’s lips. His black shirt clung wet to his chest, untied in the front, showing slight curls of dark hair that gave him even in youth a manly look. The blade twirled back and forth creating a small divot in the deck, dark hair had been slicked back, but started to curl. When he realized she had fully awaken brown eyes turned towards her.

Standing he made his way over, positioning himself so when he knelt one knee was at her stomach and his face neared hers to a distance where she was restrained. His temper boiled and lips remained pressed against one another until he spoke. “Senorita…you stole my ship.” His accent held his upbringing, the education, and gave away his home. The r’s rolled and a’s were like sighs of air. “It there should be anyone, a making threats, it would be me.”<br>
Shifting his weight eyes studied her, the fire that was growing in the depths of her green orbs. While he tried to remain calm, there was only so much he could do, especially in the face of the who who’d arranged to steal his ship, and make a mess of his careful planning. “If you don cooperate, I will…how you say, send you to a Davey Jones locker, understood, Senorita?” When he said Jones it came more as an h sound, his English well taught to him, still tongue clung to the accent.

With a whistle the man he’d traveled with crossed the plank set up between the two small ships, bringing a ladle of water. Taking it Sebastian reached down slightly taking the back of her neck tipping her head up, pouring water against her lips. “ Though, I could always leave you banditos upon this island. Rations ran out, tsk tsk, shame you chose the wrong ship to steal.” Sliding his hand back he raised to his feet and stepped over her lying body crossing to the man giving him back the ladle. He spoke in his native tongue to the man, asking how his preparations were for his travel home, Sebastian planed to get what he needed and sail on to another island in the Caribbean.

-Sebastian

[Caitlyn Segrave]

With a sword tipped at the hollow of your throat the mind becomes suddenly clearer than it has ever been. This was the same for Caitlyn Segrave. Her wide-eyed gaze of true green reflected the glint of the blade and her internal fear perfectly. She could feel a dull ache in her head, but that pain was irrelevant. What begged attention at the moment was the angry Spaniard about to run her through. He was still a few feet away, his form seeming relaxed until her voice stirred his frame to move. As he turned she noted the chords of his neck standing out and the clean cut line of his collarbone press more firmly against the wet fabric of his fencing shirt. As Sebastian stalked forward she was lost in his eyes. The half moons of ivory contrasted against his lower lids while irises of chocolate bore into her. The Spaniard moved like a dancer; long legs propelling his body toward his target and just as she feared his blade would make its final dissention into her breast, fluidly he knelt.

She could practically smell the anger boiling from him, and the simmer was almost worse. He clenched his teeth together flashing the pearly whites and drawing in a sharp intake of breath. This action pulled his cheeks against his chiseled cheekbones giving his expression an added edge. Cait could feel his breath flutter across her damp skin and if not for her predicament it would have roused fantasy instead of fear. Her eyes broke the gaze at the creak of floorboards and the elder voice, but quickly returned as he clutched at her throat and began to force her to drink. Tears rimmed her lids as her eyes again met his smoldering stare. Coughing and sputtering Miss. Segrave fought the ladle of water; half swallowing half spraying the fluid as she found her voice of protest again.

“Unhand me this instant!” she demanded as soon as her fit was under control. “You say that it is you who should be making demands… how you dare assume to know what my role in all of this was. Did it not occur to you that I might be here against my will?

Caitlyn craned her neck and body as far as it would turn toward the pair of men speaking Spanish. Her wrists rubbed against the hemp twined rope painfully and already her pale skin was reddening in response to the friction. Long straight threads of hair had fallen into her eyes and she tossed her head to the side and blew an angry breath of air to free her from the annoyance. The chemise was loosely threaded, as the swim to shore had pulled at the chords and therefore much more of her skin was revealed that was socially acceptable. The swell of her breast pushed up at the twist of her torso and the majority of her right leg was exposed.

‘Will you not at least allow me the civility of clothing, or do they not address the rights of a woman where you come from?” Caitlyn Segrave was clearly livid, and not about to take the threats of this Spaniard lying down… or tied up for that matter.

-Cait

[Sebastian de la Jolla]

Breath, just breath. He thought but she had the nerve to test his temper, with her tongue. Eyes looked over her as he moved. The curve of her hips as she lie upon the deck, slender legs and arms, her hair falling behind her in wet tresse. He stopped only a moment when her eyes caught his. There was something in them. Fear maybe, anger, threats. Though she held herself with a boldness.

He’d not force her any more water and shifted as she ordered him about once more. Her voice struck a cord with him, like he’d heard it before. That night his ship was stolen. Her voice was the last he heard before dropping into the water. “Senorita, if you did not have some hand in it…an where as you say, captive against your will. I’d not let you from my sights. Were I them. But I’m not.”<br>
Moving he picked up the dress “Perhaps I am a fool…but I donna think that they would leave you be, long enough to go for a swim.”he stepped quickly to her once more holding the dress above her. Jaws clenched the muscles becoming taught for a moment before he breathed. Crouching he cut the rope and grabbed her arm pulling her to her feet guiding her back into the corner just before the door way down to the belly of the ship, and the stairs to the helm. “You test me, Senorita.” Moving back slightly he placed the dress upon the tip of his blade and extended it out towards her, but did not move after that.

[Flint Halifax]

His brief argument with Caitlyn had been interrupted by the sighting of land. As usual she got the last word but he was more interested in what this new land held in store for him rather than making his point known to the woman. His focus was on resupplying the ship and keeping his crew happy and the only way his men would be happy by the two arguing would be if a fight broke out or somehow her corset was to be removed in entertainment. Growling he placed his attention on the island in front of them. Hopefully they could find food and fresh water that would hold them over so that they could begin their journey again.

Whomever’s ship they had comandered would be likely to be searching for their vessel so it was likely that their time was scarce. He picked out five of his shipmates and ordered them to make their way to the island. As the men made their way off the ship and into the life boat Flint led them to the shore. Caitlyn wasn’t far behind but she had decided to swim to shore. As he reached the shore he paused almost kissing the white sand beneath him. He was most comfortable on the water but he appreciated salvation when he saw it. Walking forward he rendezvoused with the rest of the men.

“Ok, men. We need fresh water and food. Grab whatever you can carry.” He turned momentarily eyeing Caitlyn as she made it to shore. Two of his men waited for her but they soon caught up and passed him joining up with the rest. Chuckling he turned and made his way into the brush figuring the woman would catch up eventually. He followed the men and made his way through the lush greenery, slashing away at the vegetation with his cutlass. Some of the men had already begun to grab fruits from the trees and others had muskets in hand searching for animals. Suddenly a yell was heard from ahead. “Captain! We’ve found a fresh water!”

He moved up through the crowd to see that the men had found a fresh water pool. Kneeling down near the water he cupped some water in his hands and splashed his face before taking a drink. He had needed that and it brought his mind to Caitlyn as he figured the woman might have appreciated some fresh water herself. He eyed the area but she was no where to be seen. “What is that wench, up to?” he wondered as he stood to his feet. “Grab what ye can then meet me back at the ship.” He then took off back towards the beach. When he arrived he made his way over to the last spot that he saw the woman.

Eyeing the area he noticed that her form was indented in the sand. She had never made it past this point and as he examined further he noticed something else. Footprints next to her body. They stopped at this point and then made their way back towards the water. The life boat was also gone. Everything was beginning to make sense, she collapsed in this spot from the exhaustion and someone stole the boat and carried her back to the ship. The question now was who it was and he was determined to find out. Running into the ocean he dove in and swam back to the vessel. They had taken the ship fair and square and he wasn't going to let anyone take it back and have him and his crew stranded there.

[Caitlyn Segrave]

‘Damn it all,’ she thought, ‘he wasn’t buying the bullshit.’ Externally her face kept its poker bluff. Caitlyn watched him pace from the elderly man to her attire, her eyes and head rolling up a bit to spy at the dangled article. Again his jaw clenched, tightening the line of muscle as he sighed angrily. She could sense he was on the verge of a decision. She’d seen men behave like this around her before. Usually that was the face she saw before the decision between striking her or kissing her was made. Her frame tensed as she waited for the inevitable punch to the mouth. Sucking in her cheeks she whistled, mocking his anger with a cynical note. It wasn’t until he again closed the distance enough to lean over her and cut the bonds that she found her voice was caught in her throat. Her full lips fell open as she felt the cold metal slide against her skin.

He pulled her roughly to her feet, dragging her down the stairs and toward the back of the ship. Cait was surprised at the strength in his arms, and although she fancied a grapple with him so that she could make her escape, this was not the opportune moment. Best wait on a move like that once the chance presented itself. Against everything that she wanted to do the woman tried to keep her muscles from tightening. If she wanted to fool him into thinking she was nothing more than a weak little girl, the definition of her toned figure could ruin any chance that he would underestimate her. Her mind wildly scanned the contents of the Sloop and a flicker of hope lit in her breast as she remembered her blacksmithing tools were in the small back cabin.

“You’d not let me from your sights?” she scoffed snatching her dress from the end of his blade. “Does that policy apply in our current situation?”

“You test me, Senorita” he said.

Oh how this infuriated her. How she longed to disarm him and reverse their roles. Unlike most of her other adversaries, this man knew not to hold back just because she was a woman… and that was indeed unfortunate for her. Caitlyn’s brow knit together as she hesitated dressing herself, wondering if he was going to give her any privacy. Her hand turned the knob to the small captain’s quarters gently she pulled the door toward her, opening it slightly. She began to cross the threshold, her dress tucked against her chest as she continued to disclose her reticence.

-Cait

[Flint Halifax]

So his ship had been boarded. He eyed the small ship that had paused next to his and the plank that connected the two. How many were they? There was no room to speculate but there was a plus side the situation. It wasn’t a battle ship. They hadn’t the means for a ship to ship battle. Besides he was more likened to hand to hand combat himself. It wasn’t a surprise that they had been followed but his mind had wondered what part Seagrave had in all of this. There were only two possible scenarios. One, Caitlyn had been kidnapped and taken back to the ship. He imagined her becoming the perpetrator’s concubine and her skills could be useful on the voyage. Two, she had betrayed them. She lagged behind and waited until they had disappeared and then made her way back to the ship planning on stranding them their. Knowing the woman and her temperament he figured the latter more likely. His blood boiled with the potential thought of her betrayal.

He treaded water for a moment then built up his strength to climb back up to the deck of the ship. As he peered over he noticed a few of his men bound to the mast. One man started to speak causing him place his finger to his mouth in an attempt to hush him. He slipped onto the ship and pulled out a knife from his belt. As he kneeled next to them he took his knife and cut his men’s bounds enough to loosen them. “Don’t want ye arousing any suspicion. But then again a distraction would be in order.” Whispering in the men’s ears he told them to make a break for the life boat and head to the shore and warn the other men. The commotion would be sure to bring the perpetrators out and give him a chance to get into the cabin unseen. The men nodded and he rose to his feet slipping making his way towards the captain’s cabin. That was where he had stashed his pistol and he figured that he needed such to gain an advantage on whoever had attempted to take his ship.

He waited and watched as the men freed themselves and made their way to the lifeboat. Once he heard the splash of their bodies hit the water he slipped around the deck and maneuvered himself to slip in through the window of the captain's cabin. He needed to know the whereabouts of Caitlyn and wasn’t surprised to see her standing in the quarters. He was how ever surprised to eye the woman’s bare backside and as she looked distracted, her head turned towards the door, he entered unnoticed for the moment and made himself comfortable. His knife grasped in his hand he watched and waited. From his view point it looked as though she had been having quite the good time. And he had to admit that he did like his view. Slipping behind her he placed the knife to her throat and pressed the blade against her skin. “It would seem as though ye been enjoying yourself, traitorous wench. No need to be getting dressed on my account, not where ye be headed.”

[Sebastian de la Jolla]

This woman could have gotten under his skin. She was infuriating at best, she and her crew had taken his ship yet they were acting as if it had been rightfully theirs, just by stealing it, and that didn¡¦t sit well with him. Moving once again eyes watched the woman as she was trying to sneak into the cabin to dress herself. But something didn¡¦t feel right to him.

Turning he looked around the area around him, listening. Once she was in the captains cabin he moved away into the swinging shadows of the ship. He wasn¡¦t about to give up his ship once again, not that he had the first time. Even his breathing slowed as he waited in silence. Then someone started heading down the stairs and into the cabin, shifting from his place Sebastian listened.

"It would seem as though ye been enjoying yourself, traitorous wench. No need to be getting dressed on my account, not where ye be headed." So, the woman had dangerous company, no doubt together they stole his ship. He could only assume the man now thought it belonged to him. Pulling up his blade he moved and entered the room. Tip against the back of this new mans neck. "Senior, you'll be meeting her there if you move an inch."

[Caitlyn Segrave]

It was as she hoped, the Spaniard was kind enough to give her a moment of privacy so she could get herself dressed. Peeking out from the small crack at the door, she noted that he was staying close, so this had to be quick. Green eyes darted around the room as she tried to remember where her blacksmithing gear was stowed. It was in a small trunk, along with a few other oddities that she had packed… but where… Caitlyn faltered a little at the soft thud of boots near the door. Already she’d been in here for too long. She backed further into the darkened room and quickly began to change out of her wet clothes. Clothes first, weapons second. – This decision would prove her undoing.

Cait laid her dress onto the tiny chair at the desk. It was more of a utilitarian outfit really. The brown skirt was sewn into twin legs, allowing her to have the appearance of womanly attire (when she was standing still) yet the mobility and freedom that came from wearing men’s pants (for her time at the anvil and fire). The last thing Cait wanted was to have the ends of her skirting catch fire. The upper part of the dress hugged her like a pair of coveralls, yet laced at the front and with wide enough collars to fold back on itself and reveal glimpses of skin. At first glance she might seem the a-typical tomboy, and partly that was true, but it wasn’t as if she never felt the lure of her feminine side. Yes her face was usually dirt stained and her hair awry, regardless of the long braid; but in unguarded moments, when mood or necessity struck, Caitlyn Segrave had been known to polish herself a little and work her charms. Today it seemed, was turning out to be one of those days.

Running her hands though her still somewhat damp hair, the brunette managed to loosen the knots and tangles the seawater and surging winds had twisted it into. Slipping out of the wet undergarment, she peeked toward the slit-open door again, hoping that she was not being observed. The “Fleur-de-Lis” brand on her shoulder was fully revealed, noting her mark as a criminal in the eyes of France. She was just leaning to the chair to grab the dress when she heard the soft sound of water plinking onto the smooth wooden floorboards. It was behind her. Her head turned slowly, as if on a hinge toward Flint, her eyes widening to reveal sage irises edged with white.

Her bare skin perked up with goose-pimples, half from the shock of the intruder half from his wet clothes pressing against her bare skin and the rivulets of icy water dribbling down her shoulders from Flint’s dangling hair. She had been grabbed roughly, her voice choking out a cry of protest. This just wasn’t her day. She froze at the threat of the blade against her throat, drawing in a sharp breath at the pressure of the edge.

“It would seem as though ye been enjoying yourself, traitorous wench. No need to be getting dressed on my account, not where ye be headed.”<br>Her fingers pried at the hand holding the blade, the second coming up re-double the efforts only to be thrust up and behind her back Fight any harder and he’ll dislocate the elbow… she noted. The pain of muscle near tearing at her shoulder was exquisite so much in fact that it was too hard to hold back the cry of pain. “Enjoying myself? That’s-” Cait was jerked a little her voice cracking as it fell silent.
“Senior, you’ll be meeting her there if you move an inch.”<br>
She tightened her muscles preparing for a painful escape of a bloody miracle.
She wanted to say something, anything that might get her out of this rock and hard place, but would it do any good or simply seal her fate? For the first time in a while Caitlyn Segrave was left without a punchline or a biting retort.

-Cait

[Flint Halifax]

No one ever said the life of a pirate was an easy one. If anything, at times it seemed more trouble then it was worth. There were pluses, the freedom of riding the open seas not knowing where the wind will take you. The smell of sea air, that brings about a mysterious comfort and strange excitement. And then there is the adventure of what lies in the distance as well as beneath you. But there are the negatives as well. The life of a pirate is not a glamorous one. For every gold coin stolen there is a gambling debt to be paid, a ship to maintain, someone to bribe and a crew to keep reasonably happy. Then there is the fact that you are considered the scourge of the sea. That makes you a target of not only fellow pirates but any naval sea captain that may wish to make a name for himself or simply bears hatred towards those that command themselves. No matter, a pirate’s life is just as much a part of him as him acquiring it through circumstance. He had acquired his through circumstance, one of the many roles he had taken on in his life.

Whether it was his stint as an assassin, or his roles swindling unsuspecting nobles with his wit and charm he had found himself able to slip into any situation and blend in with the smallest bit of effort. He had found that this role seemed to fit well as it covered all the bases of his existence. To be a good pirate you needed the wit and charm of a con-artist to keep your crew from becoming restless and when dealing with the many encounters with those that would so quickly string you up if they were to realize your true intentions. Caitlyn seemed to have been playing him all of this time and his pride would not allow it to continue. And that brought him to the present and the blade that he had pressed firmly against Caitlyn’s throat. This was the role that he dreaded. The one that had him taking another person’s life. Defense of ones own life was one thing but this would be an act of revenge, plain and simple. He was very much set on making the woman pay. There was a speck of hurt in his heart at the prospect of her betrayal but more so he could feel the rage building and that didn’t bode well for her survival.

Luckily for him the floor boards of the ship had a way of announcing movement and he was aware of the approach from behind. His reaction was swift, moving the instant he felt the tip of the blade touch his neck. “Senior, you’ll be meeting her there if you move an inch.” That was all the time Flint need and he turned quickly switching his attention and Caitlyn’s to eye the Spaniard and his out-stretched sword. He could feel the blood trickling down the back of his neck from the nick received from the blade as well as the sting of the salt in his hair as it laid on the flesh wound.

“Back away, Spaniard. You may want to place your attention on my men who will soon be returning to re-take my ship. No hard feelings.” There was a coy smile as he knew that once the message had been spread his men would be returning on the life boat to reclaim what they had taken as theirs. “Well, I understand why ye strayed, Seagrave. Spaniards can be quite persuasive.” He smirked, his focus still on the man in front of him and his sword as he could hear the thumps of boots as they hit the deck floor. His men had begun to re-board the ship.