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Thalia wasn't the only one softening. At least not in her estimation. He didn't try to stop or fight her when she stepped out of his hold and this time he didn't follow her when she walked away. What was said had been said and they were at a stalemate. She wouldn't accept anything less than being taken home, and he wouldn't take her home. So there was nothing left to say.
Thalia went back to the temple and set about keeping herself busy. She wished she could train. She missed the back and forth; the physical exertion of it. It'd been days and she felt like she was already getting soft; out of practice and out of shape. She plucked the wildflowers up and found a rather ornate vase that was sitting atop one of the crates. Getting some water from the springs, she placed them inside and set them at the center of the table. She sighed because no matter what she did, nothing seemed to better the look of the temple. It was just far too much of a hodgepodge and nothing was set up correctly. She pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them on the floor before removing the pillows so she could remake it. Flicking the bottom sheet over the bed, she tucked it in around the corners so it would be tight. When she'd rounded to the side of the bed her fingers grazed against something hard and she furrowed her brow curiously before lifting the mattress enough to find the dagger tucked beneath it. Her eyes widened and she glanced at the back of the temple before dropping the mattress unceremoniously. Internally, she crowed in triumph. It was all she needed. ....But there was nothing she could do with it right now. She'd have to bide her time.
Hastily she made up the rest of the bed; draping the top sheet over it and a blanket before tossing the pillows back on. Artemis wandered back in and hopped up onto the bed; finding a comfortable place in the middle. Thalia straightened out the items from her basket; placing the candied fruits in a bowl and cleaned the rest away. When he wandered through later, she paused to watch him. But he didn't acknowledge her; simply passed back through to the front of the temple and down the path. She padded slowly after him; crossing her arms over her chest and raised one hand to toy with the lotus flower necklace. She watched him make his way down to the ship from the portico of the temple and leaned against one of the massive columns.
The island had a certain magical beauty to it when staring down at it from above. She could see why the temple was built here; it would give Ares adequate view of his subjects and elevate his status in the hills. From here all of the crew looked like tiny ants; scrambling about the boat and docks to load the crates. Even when she went home she would remember this.
The day grew long and the sun began to set; casting shadows over the village. She moved back inside and through the springs to the cliffs behind the temple and she sat down on the edge of the world so she could watch the sun sink into the water; it's fire burning across the sea as the stars peaked out overhead; the sky fading from yellow to orange and pink, to a dark indigo. The western breeze was warm on her face and it carried with it the smell of the sea. She closed her eyes and breathed it in.
When she returned, the servant girl had come and laid the table out with food and she ate alone as Lukos stayed away. The temple could be eerily quiet when no one else was there; with its dark shadows flickering around the perimeter from the lamps that were lit. After a time, she climbed into bed to settle in for the night; wishing she had a book or something to write with at the very least. She wasn't much of a reader, but it at least passed the time.
With nothing better to do, she finally laid down and went to sleep. The good thing about the temple was that, at the very least, it was a lot like her own home at night. She was used to the ancient house with stone floors and breezes that passed through the open gossamer drapes. Her quarters were not as dark and cool as the temple was, but the architecture was similar.
She didn't hear him when he slipped in; or feel him as he leaned over her. Aside from giving a soft sigh, she was perfectly still until the cuff clasped around her wrist. She gave a soft purr and made to move her hand but it wouldn't budge. In her unconsciousness, she fumbled through her confusion; furrowing her brow as she opened her eyes. She started as she saw him hovering over her "What're you..." Realizing that her wrist was cuffed she scrambled up in the bed; attempting to pull her hand free; adrenaline flooding into her system as she wrapped her hand around the chain and yanked it. Her eyes flashed and that same fight and fury came roaring back from two days ago. "Let me go.." Her voice was about as low and menacing as it could get. The fact that he'd slipped in under the cover of darkness when she was sleeping was....cowardly, even if it was effective. What exactly was his end game? After everything that had happened this afternoon? It was all a ruse to get her to trust him and it worked. Her face contorted in anger... anger at herself for letting her guard down and anger at him for taking advantage of it.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Thalia wasn't the only one softening. At least not in her estimation. He didn't try to stop or fight her when she stepped out of his hold and this time he didn't follow her when she walked away. What was said had been said and they were at a stalemate. She wouldn't accept anything less than being taken home, and he wouldn't take her home. So there was nothing left to say.
Thalia went back to the temple and set about keeping herself busy. She wished she could train. She missed the back and forth; the physical exertion of it. It'd been days and she felt like she was already getting soft; out of practice and out of shape. She plucked the wildflowers up and found a rather ornate vase that was sitting atop one of the crates. Getting some water from the springs, she placed them inside and set them at the center of the table. She sighed because no matter what she did, nothing seemed to better the look of the temple. It was just far too much of a hodgepodge and nothing was set up correctly. She pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them on the floor before removing the pillows so she could remake it. Flicking the bottom sheet over the bed, she tucked it in around the corners so it would be tight. When she'd rounded to the side of the bed her fingers grazed against something hard and she furrowed her brow curiously before lifting the mattress enough to find the dagger tucked beneath it. Her eyes widened and she glanced at the back of the temple before dropping the mattress unceremoniously. Internally, she crowed in triumph. It was all she needed. ....But there was nothing she could do with it right now. She'd have to bide her time.
Hastily she made up the rest of the bed; draping the top sheet over it and a blanket before tossing the pillows back on. Artemis wandered back in and hopped up onto the bed; finding a comfortable place in the middle. Thalia straightened out the items from her basket; placing the candied fruits in a bowl and cleaned the rest away. When he wandered through later, she paused to watch him. But he didn't acknowledge her; simply passed back through to the front of the temple and down the path. She padded slowly after him; crossing her arms over her chest and raised one hand to toy with the lotus flower necklace. She watched him make his way down to the ship from the portico of the temple and leaned against one of the massive columns.
The island had a certain magical beauty to it when staring down at it from above. She could see why the temple was built here; it would give Ares adequate view of his subjects and elevate his status in the hills. From here all of the crew looked like tiny ants; scrambling about the boat and docks to load the crates. Even when she went home she would remember this.
The day grew long and the sun began to set; casting shadows over the village. She moved back inside and through the springs to the cliffs behind the temple and she sat down on the edge of the world so she could watch the sun sink into the water; it's fire burning across the sea as the stars peaked out overhead; the sky fading from yellow to orange and pink, to a dark indigo. The western breeze was warm on her face and it carried with it the smell of the sea. She closed her eyes and breathed it in.
When she returned, the servant girl had come and laid the table out with food and she ate alone as Lukos stayed away. The temple could be eerily quiet when no one else was there; with its dark shadows flickering around the perimeter from the lamps that were lit. After a time, she climbed into bed to settle in for the night; wishing she had a book or something to write with at the very least. She wasn't much of a reader, but it at least passed the time.
With nothing better to do, she finally laid down and went to sleep. The good thing about the temple was that, at the very least, it was a lot like her own home at night. She was used to the ancient house with stone floors and breezes that passed through the open gossamer drapes. Her quarters were not as dark and cool as the temple was, but the architecture was similar.
She didn't hear him when he slipped in; or feel him as he leaned over her. Aside from giving a soft sigh, she was perfectly still until the cuff clasped around her wrist. She gave a soft purr and made to move her hand but it wouldn't budge. In her unconsciousness, she fumbled through her confusion; furrowing her brow as she opened her eyes. She started as she saw him hovering over her "What're you..." Realizing that her wrist was cuffed she scrambled up in the bed; attempting to pull her hand free; adrenaline flooding into her system as she wrapped her hand around the chain and yanked it. Her eyes flashed and that same fight and fury came roaring back from two days ago. "Let me go.." Her voice was about as low and menacing as it could get. The fact that he'd slipped in under the cover of darkness when she was sleeping was....cowardly, even if it was effective. What exactly was his end game? After everything that had happened this afternoon? It was all a ruse to get her to trust him and it worked. Her face contorted in anger... anger at herself for letting her guard down and anger at him for taking advantage of it.
Thalia wasn't the only one softening. At least not in her estimation. He didn't try to stop or fight her when she stepped out of his hold and this time he didn't follow her when she walked away. What was said had been said and they were at a stalemate. She wouldn't accept anything less than being taken home, and he wouldn't take her home. So there was nothing left to say.
Thalia went back to the temple and set about keeping herself busy. She wished she could train. She missed the back and forth; the physical exertion of it. It'd been days and she felt like she was already getting soft; out of practice and out of shape. She plucked the wildflowers up and found a rather ornate vase that was sitting atop one of the crates. Getting some water from the springs, she placed them inside and set them at the center of the table. She sighed because no matter what she did, nothing seemed to better the look of the temple. It was just far too much of a hodgepodge and nothing was set up correctly. She pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them on the floor before removing the pillows so she could remake it. Flicking the bottom sheet over the bed, she tucked it in around the corners so it would be tight. When she'd rounded to the side of the bed her fingers grazed against something hard and she furrowed her brow curiously before lifting the mattress enough to find the dagger tucked beneath it. Her eyes widened and she glanced at the back of the temple before dropping the mattress unceremoniously. Internally, she crowed in triumph. It was all she needed. ....But there was nothing she could do with it right now. She'd have to bide her time.
Hastily she made up the rest of the bed; draping the top sheet over it and a blanket before tossing the pillows back on. Artemis wandered back in and hopped up onto the bed; finding a comfortable place in the middle. Thalia straightened out the items from her basket; placing the candied fruits in a bowl and cleaned the rest away. When he wandered through later, she paused to watch him. But he didn't acknowledge her; simply passed back through to the front of the temple and down the path. She padded slowly after him; crossing her arms over her chest and raised one hand to toy with the lotus flower necklace. She watched him make his way down to the ship from the portico of the temple and leaned against one of the massive columns.
The island had a certain magical beauty to it when staring down at it from above. She could see why the temple was built here; it would give Ares adequate view of his subjects and elevate his status in the hills. From here all of the crew looked like tiny ants; scrambling about the boat and docks to load the crates. Even when she went home she would remember this.
The day grew long and the sun began to set; casting shadows over the village. She moved back inside and through the springs to the cliffs behind the temple and she sat down on the edge of the world so she could watch the sun sink into the water; it's fire burning across the sea as the stars peaked out overhead; the sky fading from yellow to orange and pink, to a dark indigo. The western breeze was warm on her face and it carried with it the smell of the sea. She closed her eyes and breathed it in.
When she returned, the servant girl had come and laid the table out with food and she ate alone as Lukos stayed away. The temple could be eerily quiet when no one else was there; with its dark shadows flickering around the perimeter from the lamps that were lit. After a time, she climbed into bed to settle in for the night; wishing she had a book or something to write with at the very least. She wasn't much of a reader, but it at least passed the time.
With nothing better to do, she finally laid down and went to sleep. The good thing about the temple was that, at the very least, it was a lot like her own home at night. She was used to the ancient house with stone floors and breezes that passed through the open gossamer drapes. Her quarters were not as dark and cool as the temple was, but the architecture was similar.
She didn't hear him when he slipped in; or feel him as he leaned over her. Aside from giving a soft sigh, she was perfectly still until the cuff clasped around her wrist. She gave a soft purr and made to move her hand but it wouldn't budge. In her unconsciousness, she fumbled through her confusion; furrowing her brow as she opened her eyes. She started as she saw him hovering over her "What're you..." Realizing that her wrist was cuffed she scrambled up in the bed; attempting to pull her hand free; adrenaline flooding into her system as she wrapped her hand around the chain and yanked it. Her eyes flashed and that same fight and fury came roaring back from two days ago. "Let me go.." Her voice was about as low and menacing as it could get. The fact that he'd slipped in under the cover of darkness when she was sleeping was....cowardly, even if it was effective. What exactly was his end game? After everything that had happened this afternoon? It was all a ruse to get her to trust him and it worked. Her face contorted in anger... anger at herself for letting her guard down and anger at him for taking advantage of it.
With the first cuff locked, the game was over. Even with her free hand, there was nowhere to go. He knew this and made no effort to hurry to imprison her other hand. She stirred, pulling her hand. The chain rattled and he leaned his knee on the bed at her side. All at once her eyes flew open and for a single second of confusion, she looked almost betrayed. He set his jaw against the look.
She shot up, gripping the chain. He laughed as she yanked it hard, attempting to pull free. The gesture did not move him. He kept one foot on the floor while his knee remained leveraged on the bed. After a second, she demanded that he let her go. In answer, he jerked the chain back, slinging her forward. His bicep bulged with the effort. When she crashed against him, he snaked his other arm around her waist and forced her back onto the bed.
It could have been an identical fight to the one when he’d collared her but he had not come to make her angry or toy with her. He’d come to take her to the ship. Making sure to keep his face out of reach, he slid his body across hers until he could half kneel on her body, effectively pinning her down. The harder he pressed his knee onto her chest, the harder it would make it to breathe.
No matter how she writhed beneath him or shouted or clawed, he ignored it and if she hurt him, he applied more pressure to her chest, stopping only when he thought her sternum might crack. Lashing out, he finally caught her flailing other hand, clamping down on it. In another swift motion, he had her other wrist cuffed. Immediately he backed off her but did not give her time to recover before ripping the chain up again so that she flew up.
Lukos caught her about the waist again and without stopping to assess her, he popped her up over his shoulder, and strode from the room out into the night. He kept the chain pulled taught, forcing her hands against his back while his other arm held her firmly on her thighs. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary to have done it this way. Perhaps he might have simply asked her to come. She might even have done it, knowing what would happen if she did.
More likely, he thought, she would have tried to sway him, give him some reason to either keep her here or take her home. He wanted neither. What he wanted was to be free of her. She was occupying too much of his thoughts, too much of his time, his space. Whatever he liked to pretend, she wasn’t a slave and likely never would be. Which made her useless to him.
He hadn’t thought through taking off his boots and didn’t bother to stop for them. She was shrieking like a harpy, making it difficult to ignore her noise. Her fists pounded his back with what little freedom she had but he kept walking, barefoot, down the hill. The few people who had been awake were gathering at the base of the hill, with more following. The sun would soon be up and it was just as well that they got an early start.
“Make ready!” Lukos roared over her screaming to Arktos who was shrugging into his shirt, just meeting him at the dock. Arktos glanced at her backside and then at Lukos but did not offer to take her. With the crowd, Lukos had about as much as he could take from her. He slapped her backside hard enough to leave a handprint and started forward again but it didn’t have the desired effect.
All the way to his cabin he fought her until he kicked open the door and slung her on the bed. The chains hit the wall and he lept on her, squeezing her hips with his thighs and covering her mouth with his hand. “Shut up!” he hissed.
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With the first cuff locked, the game was over. Even with her free hand, there was nowhere to go. He knew this and made no effort to hurry to imprison her other hand. She stirred, pulling her hand. The chain rattled and he leaned his knee on the bed at her side. All at once her eyes flew open and for a single second of confusion, she looked almost betrayed. He set his jaw against the look.
She shot up, gripping the chain. He laughed as she yanked it hard, attempting to pull free. The gesture did not move him. He kept one foot on the floor while his knee remained leveraged on the bed. After a second, she demanded that he let her go. In answer, he jerked the chain back, slinging her forward. His bicep bulged with the effort. When she crashed against him, he snaked his other arm around her waist and forced her back onto the bed.
It could have been an identical fight to the one when he’d collared her but he had not come to make her angry or toy with her. He’d come to take her to the ship. Making sure to keep his face out of reach, he slid his body across hers until he could half kneel on her body, effectively pinning her down. The harder he pressed his knee onto her chest, the harder it would make it to breathe.
No matter how she writhed beneath him or shouted or clawed, he ignored it and if she hurt him, he applied more pressure to her chest, stopping only when he thought her sternum might crack. Lashing out, he finally caught her flailing other hand, clamping down on it. In another swift motion, he had her other wrist cuffed. Immediately he backed off her but did not give her time to recover before ripping the chain up again so that she flew up.
Lukos caught her about the waist again and without stopping to assess her, he popped her up over his shoulder, and strode from the room out into the night. He kept the chain pulled taught, forcing her hands against his back while his other arm held her firmly on her thighs. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary to have done it this way. Perhaps he might have simply asked her to come. She might even have done it, knowing what would happen if she did.
More likely, he thought, she would have tried to sway him, give him some reason to either keep her here or take her home. He wanted neither. What he wanted was to be free of her. She was occupying too much of his thoughts, too much of his time, his space. Whatever he liked to pretend, she wasn’t a slave and likely never would be. Which made her useless to him.
He hadn’t thought through taking off his boots and didn’t bother to stop for them. She was shrieking like a harpy, making it difficult to ignore her noise. Her fists pounded his back with what little freedom she had but he kept walking, barefoot, down the hill. The few people who had been awake were gathering at the base of the hill, with more following. The sun would soon be up and it was just as well that they got an early start.
“Make ready!” Lukos roared over her screaming to Arktos who was shrugging into his shirt, just meeting him at the dock. Arktos glanced at her backside and then at Lukos but did not offer to take her. With the crowd, Lukos had about as much as he could take from her. He slapped her backside hard enough to leave a handprint and started forward again but it didn’t have the desired effect.
All the way to his cabin he fought her until he kicked open the door and slung her on the bed. The chains hit the wall and he lept on her, squeezing her hips with his thighs and covering her mouth with his hand. “Shut up!” he hissed.
With the first cuff locked, the game was over. Even with her free hand, there was nowhere to go. He knew this and made no effort to hurry to imprison her other hand. She stirred, pulling her hand. The chain rattled and he leaned his knee on the bed at her side. All at once her eyes flew open and for a single second of confusion, she looked almost betrayed. He set his jaw against the look.
She shot up, gripping the chain. He laughed as she yanked it hard, attempting to pull free. The gesture did not move him. He kept one foot on the floor while his knee remained leveraged on the bed. After a second, she demanded that he let her go. In answer, he jerked the chain back, slinging her forward. His bicep bulged with the effort. When she crashed against him, he snaked his other arm around her waist and forced her back onto the bed.
It could have been an identical fight to the one when he’d collared her but he had not come to make her angry or toy with her. He’d come to take her to the ship. Making sure to keep his face out of reach, he slid his body across hers until he could half kneel on her body, effectively pinning her down. The harder he pressed his knee onto her chest, the harder it would make it to breathe.
No matter how she writhed beneath him or shouted or clawed, he ignored it and if she hurt him, he applied more pressure to her chest, stopping only when he thought her sternum might crack. Lashing out, he finally caught her flailing other hand, clamping down on it. In another swift motion, he had her other wrist cuffed. Immediately he backed off her but did not give her time to recover before ripping the chain up again so that she flew up.
Lukos caught her about the waist again and without stopping to assess her, he popped her up over his shoulder, and strode from the room out into the night. He kept the chain pulled taught, forcing her hands against his back while his other arm held her firmly on her thighs. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary to have done it this way. Perhaps he might have simply asked her to come. She might even have done it, knowing what would happen if she did.
More likely, he thought, she would have tried to sway him, give him some reason to either keep her here or take her home. He wanted neither. What he wanted was to be free of her. She was occupying too much of his thoughts, too much of his time, his space. Whatever he liked to pretend, she wasn’t a slave and likely never would be. Which made her useless to him.
He hadn’t thought through taking off his boots and didn’t bother to stop for them. She was shrieking like a harpy, making it difficult to ignore her noise. Her fists pounded his back with what little freedom she had but he kept walking, barefoot, down the hill. The few people who had been awake were gathering at the base of the hill, with more following. The sun would soon be up and it was just as well that they got an early start.
“Make ready!” Lukos roared over her screaming to Arktos who was shrugging into his shirt, just meeting him at the dock. Arktos glanced at her backside and then at Lukos but did not offer to take her. With the crowd, Lukos had about as much as he could take from her. He slapped her backside hard enough to leave a handprint and started forward again but it didn’t have the desired effect.
All the way to his cabin he fought her until he kicked open the door and slung her on the bed. The chains hit the wall and he lept on her, squeezing her hips with his thighs and covering her mouth with his hand. “Shut up!” he hissed.
With a swift pull, he tugged her forward and off her axis. She yelped as her body slammed against his; her face too close. She could smell the wine on his breath and she wondered if he was drunk again.. but the hardness in his eyes and his control lead her to believe that no, he was quite sober. She sucked in a breath and the fire in her eyes wavered for a moment; a glimmer of fear betraying her features as she remembered the last time he'd been like this; how he'd pinned her down.
He pushed her down forcefully onto the bed and pressed his knee against her chest and she flailed against him; beating at his thigh and chest with her fists; the chains buffeting them. He pushed down harder on her chest; into the bed. The harder she fought, the more he leaned his weight on her; crushing her breasts until she was gasping for breath.. She turned instead to push at him; trying to get him off her chest and he took her other hand and wrapped the iron around it; Fingers clawed at his hands as her face contorted in rage leaving red bloody streaks where her nails tore the skin from his arm. If only she could get to the edge of the bed, she could find the dagger and end this right now..but she was too firmly pressed down.
With the second cuff secured, he immediately got off her and she sucked in a breath of painful air just before he yanked her forward by the chains. He wrapped his arm around her waist and twisted her until she was propped atop his shoulder. Immediately she set to punching and kicking him as hard as she could, but he gave a yank and tightened his grip on her chains and he tugged them so she couldn't move them. She screeched viciously; her voice echoing off the high ceilings of the temple; frightening Artemis away. Without a second thought, he stomped out of the temple and down the path to the village; all while she screeched so loud, there as no way she would have a voice by tomorrow. She elbowed and kicked and flailed...to hell if she fell off, she'd never let him get her back on his shoulder. What was it with these brutes, anyways. She was perfectly capable of walking. Did it make them feel more powerful to completely incapacitate her by flinging her over their shoulders?
the crowd seemed to follow them down to the boat in some messed up procession and Lukos stopped long enough to greet Arktos; all while she railed. When he reared back and slapped her ass, she gave a yelp in pain and paused her screeching out of surprise before she doubled down on her rage and screeched even louder; arching her back and punching his ribs. He carried her aboard and down the stairs to his quarters; pushing through the door before he flung her off his shoulder onto the bed. She gave a grunt as her back slammed into the hard surface and she immediately started screeching again.
His body clambered atop hers; squeezing her hips with his own and his hand pressed down firmly over her mouth; muffling her screeches. As they were rendered useless, she stopped enough to attempt to catch her breath; her chest heaving beneath him as she narrowed her eyes at him; fingers fisting into the chain. She grabbed its length with both hands and swept the chain up; slamming it against his shoulder; his head; his arms; using its weight and length as the only weapon she could against him. She'd continue hitting him with the chain as hard as she could until he either let her go, or was able to get her under control.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
With a swift pull, he tugged her forward and off her axis. She yelped as her body slammed against his; her face too close. She could smell the wine on his breath and she wondered if he was drunk again.. but the hardness in his eyes and his control lead her to believe that no, he was quite sober. She sucked in a breath and the fire in her eyes wavered for a moment; a glimmer of fear betraying her features as she remembered the last time he'd been like this; how he'd pinned her down.
He pushed her down forcefully onto the bed and pressed his knee against her chest and she flailed against him; beating at his thigh and chest with her fists; the chains buffeting them. He pushed down harder on her chest; into the bed. The harder she fought, the more he leaned his weight on her; crushing her breasts until she was gasping for breath.. She turned instead to push at him; trying to get him off her chest and he took her other hand and wrapped the iron around it; Fingers clawed at his hands as her face contorted in rage leaving red bloody streaks where her nails tore the skin from his arm. If only she could get to the edge of the bed, she could find the dagger and end this right now..but she was too firmly pressed down.
With the second cuff secured, he immediately got off her and she sucked in a breath of painful air just before he yanked her forward by the chains. He wrapped his arm around her waist and twisted her until she was propped atop his shoulder. Immediately she set to punching and kicking him as hard as she could, but he gave a yank and tightened his grip on her chains and he tugged them so she couldn't move them. She screeched viciously; her voice echoing off the high ceilings of the temple; frightening Artemis away. Without a second thought, he stomped out of the temple and down the path to the village; all while she screeched so loud, there as no way she would have a voice by tomorrow. She elbowed and kicked and flailed...to hell if she fell off, she'd never let him get her back on his shoulder. What was it with these brutes, anyways. She was perfectly capable of walking. Did it make them feel more powerful to completely incapacitate her by flinging her over their shoulders?
the crowd seemed to follow them down to the boat in some messed up procession and Lukos stopped long enough to greet Arktos; all while she railed. When he reared back and slapped her ass, she gave a yelp in pain and paused her screeching out of surprise before she doubled down on her rage and screeched even louder; arching her back and punching his ribs. He carried her aboard and down the stairs to his quarters; pushing through the door before he flung her off his shoulder onto the bed. She gave a grunt as her back slammed into the hard surface and she immediately started screeching again.
His body clambered atop hers; squeezing her hips with his own and his hand pressed down firmly over her mouth; muffling her screeches. As they were rendered useless, she stopped enough to attempt to catch her breath; her chest heaving beneath him as she narrowed her eyes at him; fingers fisting into the chain. She grabbed its length with both hands and swept the chain up; slamming it against his shoulder; his head; his arms; using its weight and length as the only weapon she could against him. She'd continue hitting him with the chain as hard as she could until he either let her go, or was able to get her under control.
With a swift pull, he tugged her forward and off her axis. She yelped as her body slammed against his; her face too close. She could smell the wine on his breath and she wondered if he was drunk again.. but the hardness in his eyes and his control lead her to believe that no, he was quite sober. She sucked in a breath and the fire in her eyes wavered for a moment; a glimmer of fear betraying her features as she remembered the last time he'd been like this; how he'd pinned her down.
He pushed her down forcefully onto the bed and pressed his knee against her chest and she flailed against him; beating at his thigh and chest with her fists; the chains buffeting them. He pushed down harder on her chest; into the bed. The harder she fought, the more he leaned his weight on her; crushing her breasts until she was gasping for breath.. She turned instead to push at him; trying to get him off her chest and he took her other hand and wrapped the iron around it; Fingers clawed at his hands as her face contorted in rage leaving red bloody streaks where her nails tore the skin from his arm. If only she could get to the edge of the bed, she could find the dagger and end this right now..but she was too firmly pressed down.
With the second cuff secured, he immediately got off her and she sucked in a breath of painful air just before he yanked her forward by the chains. He wrapped his arm around her waist and twisted her until she was propped atop his shoulder. Immediately she set to punching and kicking him as hard as she could, but he gave a yank and tightened his grip on her chains and he tugged them so she couldn't move them. She screeched viciously; her voice echoing off the high ceilings of the temple; frightening Artemis away. Without a second thought, he stomped out of the temple and down the path to the village; all while she screeched so loud, there as no way she would have a voice by tomorrow. She elbowed and kicked and flailed...to hell if she fell off, she'd never let him get her back on his shoulder. What was it with these brutes, anyways. She was perfectly capable of walking. Did it make them feel more powerful to completely incapacitate her by flinging her over their shoulders?
the crowd seemed to follow them down to the boat in some messed up procession and Lukos stopped long enough to greet Arktos; all while she railed. When he reared back and slapped her ass, she gave a yelp in pain and paused her screeching out of surprise before she doubled down on her rage and screeched even louder; arching her back and punching his ribs. He carried her aboard and down the stairs to his quarters; pushing through the door before he flung her off his shoulder onto the bed. She gave a grunt as her back slammed into the hard surface and she immediately started screeching again.
His body clambered atop hers; squeezing her hips with his own and his hand pressed down firmly over her mouth; muffling her screeches. As they were rendered useless, she stopped enough to attempt to catch her breath; her chest heaving beneath him as she narrowed her eyes at him; fingers fisting into the chain. She grabbed its length with both hands and swept the chain up; slamming it against his shoulder; his head; his arms; using its weight and length as the only weapon she could against him. She'd continue hitting him with the chain as hard as she could until he either let her go, or was able to get her under control.
He kept his hands on her mouth, glaring, only his hold easing as her shrieks subsided. Her breath was hot against his hand and for a moment, they were both still. Their breathing synchronized. As if to prove how much he could underestimate the woman beneath him, he foolishly assumed that she might cow down and be civil. Leaning back, he looked down at her, seeing the fiery rage that gave him pause. The chains clinked beneath him.
All at once pain burst through the muscle of his shoulder. Instinct took over. He raised that shoulder as though to block another blow on that side but he mistook which direction she would take. The chain slammed across his face. Agony exploded inside his head. His mouth tasted like the chain had ripped through it. She reared back again but he caught the chain with his arm before she could do further damage.
It wrapped around his forearm like a snake. He grabbed it in his fist and ripped her up while at the same moment driving his fist into her gut. Keeping her up against him, he swayed on his knees, blinking hard, attempting to maintain focus. Having her this close, her face almost against his, her arms wrenched up as he held the chain high above his head, was making him dizzy. The perfumes that she’d used cascaded down over him and his stomach lurched.
He spit blood, only just managing to turn his head. The hand he’d used to punch her clutched her back, his fingers digging into her skin, holding on like she was his anchor to consciousness. For several heart beats, he fought to keep awake. The ringing in his ears was deafening.
Their chests were pressed together and he timed his breathing with hers, mentally counting but his lips were moving, unaware that he was saying words aloud. Dots swam across his vision but they were clearing. Without easing his hold on the chain, he forced her down until she was flat on her back so that he could pin her there. He rested his forehead on her chest. His jaw ached and he tongued the jagged cut inside his mouth.
“Fuck you,” he breathed into her skin. Then, louder, “Fuck you.” Taking his arm out from underneath her, he reached up to her face and caught her by the jaw, squeezing the pressure points until he was sure she was hurting just as badly. Bringing his face up, he dragged his tongue across her mouth, leaving a smear of blood before he shoved violently away from her, backing off the bed and standing pressed against the door.
“Fuck you,” he said a third and final time.
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He kept his hands on her mouth, glaring, only his hold easing as her shrieks subsided. Her breath was hot against his hand and for a moment, they were both still. Their breathing synchronized. As if to prove how much he could underestimate the woman beneath him, he foolishly assumed that she might cow down and be civil. Leaning back, he looked down at her, seeing the fiery rage that gave him pause. The chains clinked beneath him.
All at once pain burst through the muscle of his shoulder. Instinct took over. He raised that shoulder as though to block another blow on that side but he mistook which direction she would take. The chain slammed across his face. Agony exploded inside his head. His mouth tasted like the chain had ripped through it. She reared back again but he caught the chain with his arm before she could do further damage.
It wrapped around his forearm like a snake. He grabbed it in his fist and ripped her up while at the same moment driving his fist into her gut. Keeping her up against him, he swayed on his knees, blinking hard, attempting to maintain focus. Having her this close, her face almost against his, her arms wrenched up as he held the chain high above his head, was making him dizzy. The perfumes that she’d used cascaded down over him and his stomach lurched.
He spit blood, only just managing to turn his head. The hand he’d used to punch her clutched her back, his fingers digging into her skin, holding on like she was his anchor to consciousness. For several heart beats, he fought to keep awake. The ringing in his ears was deafening.
Their chests were pressed together and he timed his breathing with hers, mentally counting but his lips were moving, unaware that he was saying words aloud. Dots swam across his vision but they were clearing. Without easing his hold on the chain, he forced her down until she was flat on her back so that he could pin her there. He rested his forehead on her chest. His jaw ached and he tongued the jagged cut inside his mouth.
“Fuck you,” he breathed into her skin. Then, louder, “Fuck you.” Taking his arm out from underneath her, he reached up to her face and caught her by the jaw, squeezing the pressure points until he was sure she was hurting just as badly. Bringing his face up, he dragged his tongue across her mouth, leaving a smear of blood before he shoved violently away from her, backing off the bed and standing pressed against the door.
“Fuck you,” he said a third and final time.
He kept his hands on her mouth, glaring, only his hold easing as her shrieks subsided. Her breath was hot against his hand and for a moment, they were both still. Their breathing synchronized. As if to prove how much he could underestimate the woman beneath him, he foolishly assumed that she might cow down and be civil. Leaning back, he looked down at her, seeing the fiery rage that gave him pause. The chains clinked beneath him.
All at once pain burst through the muscle of his shoulder. Instinct took over. He raised that shoulder as though to block another blow on that side but he mistook which direction she would take. The chain slammed across his face. Agony exploded inside his head. His mouth tasted like the chain had ripped through it. She reared back again but he caught the chain with his arm before she could do further damage.
It wrapped around his forearm like a snake. He grabbed it in his fist and ripped her up while at the same moment driving his fist into her gut. Keeping her up against him, he swayed on his knees, blinking hard, attempting to maintain focus. Having her this close, her face almost against his, her arms wrenched up as he held the chain high above his head, was making him dizzy. The perfumes that she’d used cascaded down over him and his stomach lurched.
He spit blood, only just managing to turn his head. The hand he’d used to punch her clutched her back, his fingers digging into her skin, holding on like she was his anchor to consciousness. For several heart beats, he fought to keep awake. The ringing in his ears was deafening.
Their chests were pressed together and he timed his breathing with hers, mentally counting but his lips were moving, unaware that he was saying words aloud. Dots swam across his vision but they were clearing. Without easing his hold on the chain, he forced her down until she was flat on her back so that he could pin her there. He rested his forehead on her chest. His jaw ached and he tongued the jagged cut inside his mouth.
“Fuck you,” he breathed into her skin. Then, louder, “Fuck you.” Taking his arm out from underneath her, he reached up to her face and caught her by the jaw, squeezing the pressure points until he was sure she was hurting just as badly. Bringing his face up, he dragged his tongue across her mouth, leaving a smear of blood before he shoved violently away from her, backing off the bed and standing pressed against the door.
“Fuck you,” he said a third and final time.
The chains hit his shoulder with a sickening thud. Had she been more in control of her emotions, she may have stopped there. But she wasn't. She reared back and swung them again; hitting true so the folded chains slammed across his face; wrapping around his head and he fumbled in his hold for her. Each time she hit him she let out a grunt of effort as she didn't have the room to swing very well, she was going off the sheer force of will and what little strength she had.
The third time she swung he caught the Chains and hauled her up to him; slamming his fist into her stomach. Diomedes had practiced throwing punches with her when they trained. She was good at blocking each one. He'd even made her tense her stomach up so she could take a punch. But she always knew he was holding back. Still, there was a difference between being ready for a punch, and being sucker punched. all at once, all the air flew from her lungs and she felt like she would throw up. She coughed violently; unable to wrap her arms around her stomach for comfort. He gripped her torso to him and she coughed into his shoulder; her nails digging into her palms. She felt him wavering over her and when she finally stopped coughing, she wheezed against him; trying to suck air back into her lungs. His heated breath exhaled numbers into her ear as he counted incoherently. She fought her own stars before he finally pushed her arms back; laying her down on the bed. She didn't fight him. She couldn't if she wanted to.
His forehead buried itself between her breasts and she stared up at the ceiling; taking short, gasping breaths. They were the only thing her diaphragm allowed her to do. They lay there; he crouched and bleeding over her and her trying to keep from throwing up, for a while before he finally murmured against her chest. As the adrenaline faded from her system she felt..exhausted.. spent and close to passing out. She couldn't raise a fist against him if she tried.
He pushed himself off her and cursed her again and through her panting, she stared up at him. His fingers curled around her jaw and tightened into the pressure points along it. She winced and gave a whimper as his hand tightened unmercifully against her face. She parted her lips enough to tell him to stop and he leaned down and licked her mouth which she'd pursed closed. She gave another whimper as her eyes welled up with tears.
Finally, he pushed off her and she sucked in a deep breath; curling into a ball so she could cradle her stomach with her arms as he cursed again and went to the door. She didn't get up to follow him or even watch him leave. They were both fighting as if their lives were on the line...only hers was the only one that was. And sooner or later one of them was going to kill each other. "Just.... Go..." Her voice came out watery and guttural; as if she was on the verge of throwing up. And the way her stomach throbbed and roiled, she was close to doing just that.
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The chains hit his shoulder with a sickening thud. Had she been more in control of her emotions, she may have stopped there. But she wasn't. She reared back and swung them again; hitting true so the folded chains slammed across his face; wrapping around his head and he fumbled in his hold for her. Each time she hit him she let out a grunt of effort as she didn't have the room to swing very well, she was going off the sheer force of will and what little strength she had.
The third time she swung he caught the Chains and hauled her up to him; slamming his fist into her stomach. Diomedes had practiced throwing punches with her when they trained. She was good at blocking each one. He'd even made her tense her stomach up so she could take a punch. But she always knew he was holding back. Still, there was a difference between being ready for a punch, and being sucker punched. all at once, all the air flew from her lungs and she felt like she would throw up. She coughed violently; unable to wrap her arms around her stomach for comfort. He gripped her torso to him and she coughed into his shoulder; her nails digging into her palms. She felt him wavering over her and when she finally stopped coughing, she wheezed against him; trying to suck air back into her lungs. His heated breath exhaled numbers into her ear as he counted incoherently. She fought her own stars before he finally pushed her arms back; laying her down on the bed. She didn't fight him. She couldn't if she wanted to.
His forehead buried itself between her breasts and she stared up at the ceiling; taking short, gasping breaths. They were the only thing her diaphragm allowed her to do. They lay there; he crouched and bleeding over her and her trying to keep from throwing up, for a while before he finally murmured against her chest. As the adrenaline faded from her system she felt..exhausted.. spent and close to passing out. She couldn't raise a fist against him if she tried.
He pushed himself off her and cursed her again and through her panting, she stared up at him. His fingers curled around her jaw and tightened into the pressure points along it. She winced and gave a whimper as his hand tightened unmercifully against her face. She parted her lips enough to tell him to stop and he leaned down and licked her mouth which she'd pursed closed. She gave another whimper as her eyes welled up with tears.
Finally, he pushed off her and she sucked in a deep breath; curling into a ball so she could cradle her stomach with her arms as he cursed again and went to the door. She didn't get up to follow him or even watch him leave. They were both fighting as if their lives were on the line...only hers was the only one that was. And sooner or later one of them was going to kill each other. "Just.... Go..." Her voice came out watery and guttural; as if she was on the verge of throwing up. And the way her stomach throbbed and roiled, she was close to doing just that.
The chains hit his shoulder with a sickening thud. Had she been more in control of her emotions, she may have stopped there. But she wasn't. She reared back and swung them again; hitting true so the folded chains slammed across his face; wrapping around his head and he fumbled in his hold for her. Each time she hit him she let out a grunt of effort as she didn't have the room to swing very well, she was going off the sheer force of will and what little strength she had.
The third time she swung he caught the Chains and hauled her up to him; slamming his fist into her stomach. Diomedes had practiced throwing punches with her when they trained. She was good at blocking each one. He'd even made her tense her stomach up so she could take a punch. But she always knew he was holding back. Still, there was a difference between being ready for a punch, and being sucker punched. all at once, all the air flew from her lungs and she felt like she would throw up. She coughed violently; unable to wrap her arms around her stomach for comfort. He gripped her torso to him and she coughed into his shoulder; her nails digging into her palms. She felt him wavering over her and when she finally stopped coughing, she wheezed against him; trying to suck air back into her lungs. His heated breath exhaled numbers into her ear as he counted incoherently. She fought her own stars before he finally pushed her arms back; laying her down on the bed. She didn't fight him. She couldn't if she wanted to.
His forehead buried itself between her breasts and she stared up at the ceiling; taking short, gasping breaths. They were the only thing her diaphragm allowed her to do. They lay there; he crouched and bleeding over her and her trying to keep from throwing up, for a while before he finally murmured against her chest. As the adrenaline faded from her system she felt..exhausted.. spent and close to passing out. She couldn't raise a fist against him if she tried.
He pushed himself off her and cursed her again and through her panting, she stared up at him. His fingers curled around her jaw and tightened into the pressure points along it. She winced and gave a whimper as his hand tightened unmercifully against her face. She parted her lips enough to tell him to stop and he leaned down and licked her mouth which she'd pursed closed. She gave another whimper as her eyes welled up with tears.
Finally, he pushed off her and she sucked in a deep breath; curling into a ball so she could cradle her stomach with her arms as he cursed again and went to the door. She didn't get up to follow him or even watch him leave. They were both fighting as if their lives were on the line...only hers was the only one that was. And sooner or later one of them was going to kill each other. "Just.... Go..." Her voice came out watery and guttural; as if she was on the verge of throwing up. And the way her stomach throbbed and roiled, she was close to doing just that.
Blood pooled in his mouth. He stood there, pressing his back against the door, watching her cry, and debated whether or not to spit it out as he’d done before, or swallow it. Swallowing blood always made him queasy for hours; knowledge gained from being hit more times than he could remember but never by a woman. Not like that.
A sudden burning on the back of his hand made him look down. Three clear, red nail tracks glistened against his ripped skin. Somehow he hadn’t noticed before now that she’d scratched him too. He spit the blood out and haphazardly wiped his uninjured hand across his mouth, blood now coating this one too.
His breathing evened out but the ringing headache remained, lending a certain hardness to his eyes as he watched her curl into herself on the bed. Her order for him to leave did not inflame him the way it might have but instead made him feel cold; like there was a hollow emptiness inside his chest. He resisted the temptation to walk over to her, to see if she was alright. Certainly he hadn’t meant to punch her quite as hard as he had.
Lukos raised his hand up to his eyes and curled it into a fist. He twisted it this way and that before looking over it at her. She looked small. Very unlike the demon that had been wailing on him with shrieking rage. Dropping his fist, he turned, opened the door, and shut it softly behind him.
He did not have the luxury of collecting himself alone out in the passage. Arktos and Bianor stood at the base of the steps, one crossing his meaty arms over his barrel chest, while the other stood wide eyed and tight lipped. Lukos swiped at his mouth again but the action only brought fresh pain. His face was pounding. As he neared Bianor, the old man pointed at him and said, almost in a whisper, “You’re bleeding.”
“That bitch,” Arktos offered a grimy rag from his belt. Lukos stared at it for a second and then dabbed at his face, actually surprised when he pulled it away to find there was a goodly amount of blood on it. There was a thin gash on his cheek from where the chain first struck him. It was superficial at worst but wounds to the head tended to bleed a good deal.
“Give the word,” Arktos continued.
“Shut up,” Lukos mumbled, shoving between them to walk up the stairs. The sun was just beginning to rise but there was no flurry of activity on board the ship. The members of the crew and village that were present stood still and only started moving when they heard him coming up on deck.
From the bottom of the stairs, Arktos called up “Want to keelhaul her?”
Lukos spun around, regretting it immediately and clung to the railing for support. His vision jumped but he stood firm. “Shut. Up.” He hissed from between clenched teeth. Even that hurt. Arktos glanced down at Bianor who did not take his eyes from Lukos.
There was no time to indulge the pain or nurse his headache. He simply had to keep going, keep walking, keep waving off questions or looks. It took several hours but at last all the cargo was on board, stored down in the hold. The slaves were situated much like they had been before, most on the middeck, some down below.
For his part, Lukos made a show of being seen, working, hauling, cursing; though none of it was done with his usual undaunted vigor. Late afternoon found him on the top deck, sitting under the railing. After hours and hours, his headache finally abated. The bleeding had stopped on his face and in his mouth. At some point he’d ordered that the girl be brought food and water and that someone should clean his blood off the floorboards of his cabin.
All this was done and still he did not go down the stairs. Evening fell and Bianor and Arktos came to give reports. Both knew better than to ask him how he fared. When they were sent away, he sat alone for several more hours until the sun had fully set below the water. Stars shone above him, ambivalent to the violence and pain below.
He had a notion that he might sleep up on deck but the wind passing over him was not warm. Sliding his tongue over the ragged imprints of his teeth inside his cheek, he at last hauled himself to his feet. His reluctance to face her surprised him. She’d beat him with the chain. Slamming his fist into her wasn’t necessarily uncalled for. Yet he could not forget the way his knuckles had met no resistance, only soft flesh and the way she’d clung to him afterward.
The walk across the deck was a long one and descending the dark stairs was worse. He moved gravely to the cabin door and pushed it open with his fingertips, moving sideways inside so as to offer as little of his body to her as possible. There was no immediate attack, however and he lowered his fist. His gaze took in the room, the window. Her. At last, when he was sure she wasn’t going to come at him, he shut the door and pulled off his boots, kicking them under the bed.
He would not look her in the face. Instead his eyes would rest on her shoulders or her hands or her legs. Never higher than her chin. The empty feeling in his chest had persisted the entire day and showed no signs of easing. With nowhere else to sit, he took the end of the bed but changed his mind and laid his full body on it, inching up so that his head rested on the pillow with an arm underneath it. His gaze lingered on the beam running across the room.
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Blood pooled in his mouth. He stood there, pressing his back against the door, watching her cry, and debated whether or not to spit it out as he’d done before, or swallow it. Swallowing blood always made him queasy for hours; knowledge gained from being hit more times than he could remember but never by a woman. Not like that.
A sudden burning on the back of his hand made him look down. Three clear, red nail tracks glistened against his ripped skin. Somehow he hadn’t noticed before now that she’d scratched him too. He spit the blood out and haphazardly wiped his uninjured hand across his mouth, blood now coating this one too.
His breathing evened out but the ringing headache remained, lending a certain hardness to his eyes as he watched her curl into herself on the bed. Her order for him to leave did not inflame him the way it might have but instead made him feel cold; like there was a hollow emptiness inside his chest. He resisted the temptation to walk over to her, to see if she was alright. Certainly he hadn’t meant to punch her quite as hard as he had.
Lukos raised his hand up to his eyes and curled it into a fist. He twisted it this way and that before looking over it at her. She looked small. Very unlike the demon that had been wailing on him with shrieking rage. Dropping his fist, he turned, opened the door, and shut it softly behind him.
He did not have the luxury of collecting himself alone out in the passage. Arktos and Bianor stood at the base of the steps, one crossing his meaty arms over his barrel chest, while the other stood wide eyed and tight lipped. Lukos swiped at his mouth again but the action only brought fresh pain. His face was pounding. As he neared Bianor, the old man pointed at him and said, almost in a whisper, “You’re bleeding.”
“That bitch,” Arktos offered a grimy rag from his belt. Lukos stared at it for a second and then dabbed at his face, actually surprised when he pulled it away to find there was a goodly amount of blood on it. There was a thin gash on his cheek from where the chain first struck him. It was superficial at worst but wounds to the head tended to bleed a good deal.
“Give the word,” Arktos continued.
“Shut up,” Lukos mumbled, shoving between them to walk up the stairs. The sun was just beginning to rise but there was no flurry of activity on board the ship. The members of the crew and village that were present stood still and only started moving when they heard him coming up on deck.
From the bottom of the stairs, Arktos called up “Want to keelhaul her?”
Lukos spun around, regretting it immediately and clung to the railing for support. His vision jumped but he stood firm. “Shut. Up.” He hissed from between clenched teeth. Even that hurt. Arktos glanced down at Bianor who did not take his eyes from Lukos.
There was no time to indulge the pain or nurse his headache. He simply had to keep going, keep walking, keep waving off questions or looks. It took several hours but at last all the cargo was on board, stored down in the hold. The slaves were situated much like they had been before, most on the middeck, some down below.
For his part, Lukos made a show of being seen, working, hauling, cursing; though none of it was done with his usual undaunted vigor. Late afternoon found him on the top deck, sitting under the railing. After hours and hours, his headache finally abated. The bleeding had stopped on his face and in his mouth. At some point he’d ordered that the girl be brought food and water and that someone should clean his blood off the floorboards of his cabin.
All this was done and still he did not go down the stairs. Evening fell and Bianor and Arktos came to give reports. Both knew better than to ask him how he fared. When they were sent away, he sat alone for several more hours until the sun had fully set below the water. Stars shone above him, ambivalent to the violence and pain below.
He had a notion that he might sleep up on deck but the wind passing over him was not warm. Sliding his tongue over the ragged imprints of his teeth inside his cheek, he at last hauled himself to his feet. His reluctance to face her surprised him. She’d beat him with the chain. Slamming his fist into her wasn’t necessarily uncalled for. Yet he could not forget the way his knuckles had met no resistance, only soft flesh and the way she’d clung to him afterward.
The walk across the deck was a long one and descending the dark stairs was worse. He moved gravely to the cabin door and pushed it open with his fingertips, moving sideways inside so as to offer as little of his body to her as possible. There was no immediate attack, however and he lowered his fist. His gaze took in the room, the window. Her. At last, when he was sure she wasn’t going to come at him, he shut the door and pulled off his boots, kicking them under the bed.
He would not look her in the face. Instead his eyes would rest on her shoulders or her hands or her legs. Never higher than her chin. The empty feeling in his chest had persisted the entire day and showed no signs of easing. With nowhere else to sit, he took the end of the bed but changed his mind and laid his full body on it, inching up so that his head rested on the pillow with an arm underneath it. His gaze lingered on the beam running across the room.
Blood pooled in his mouth. He stood there, pressing his back against the door, watching her cry, and debated whether or not to spit it out as he’d done before, or swallow it. Swallowing blood always made him queasy for hours; knowledge gained from being hit more times than he could remember but never by a woman. Not like that.
A sudden burning on the back of his hand made him look down. Three clear, red nail tracks glistened against his ripped skin. Somehow he hadn’t noticed before now that she’d scratched him too. He spit the blood out and haphazardly wiped his uninjured hand across his mouth, blood now coating this one too.
His breathing evened out but the ringing headache remained, lending a certain hardness to his eyes as he watched her curl into herself on the bed. Her order for him to leave did not inflame him the way it might have but instead made him feel cold; like there was a hollow emptiness inside his chest. He resisted the temptation to walk over to her, to see if she was alright. Certainly he hadn’t meant to punch her quite as hard as he had.
Lukos raised his hand up to his eyes and curled it into a fist. He twisted it this way and that before looking over it at her. She looked small. Very unlike the demon that had been wailing on him with shrieking rage. Dropping his fist, he turned, opened the door, and shut it softly behind him.
He did not have the luxury of collecting himself alone out in the passage. Arktos and Bianor stood at the base of the steps, one crossing his meaty arms over his barrel chest, while the other stood wide eyed and tight lipped. Lukos swiped at his mouth again but the action only brought fresh pain. His face was pounding. As he neared Bianor, the old man pointed at him and said, almost in a whisper, “You’re bleeding.”
“That bitch,” Arktos offered a grimy rag from his belt. Lukos stared at it for a second and then dabbed at his face, actually surprised when he pulled it away to find there was a goodly amount of blood on it. There was a thin gash on his cheek from where the chain first struck him. It was superficial at worst but wounds to the head tended to bleed a good deal.
“Give the word,” Arktos continued.
“Shut up,” Lukos mumbled, shoving between them to walk up the stairs. The sun was just beginning to rise but there was no flurry of activity on board the ship. The members of the crew and village that were present stood still and only started moving when they heard him coming up on deck.
From the bottom of the stairs, Arktos called up “Want to keelhaul her?”
Lukos spun around, regretting it immediately and clung to the railing for support. His vision jumped but he stood firm. “Shut. Up.” He hissed from between clenched teeth. Even that hurt. Arktos glanced down at Bianor who did not take his eyes from Lukos.
There was no time to indulge the pain or nurse his headache. He simply had to keep going, keep walking, keep waving off questions or looks. It took several hours but at last all the cargo was on board, stored down in the hold. The slaves were situated much like they had been before, most on the middeck, some down below.
For his part, Lukos made a show of being seen, working, hauling, cursing; though none of it was done with his usual undaunted vigor. Late afternoon found him on the top deck, sitting under the railing. After hours and hours, his headache finally abated. The bleeding had stopped on his face and in his mouth. At some point he’d ordered that the girl be brought food and water and that someone should clean his blood off the floorboards of his cabin.
All this was done and still he did not go down the stairs. Evening fell and Bianor and Arktos came to give reports. Both knew better than to ask him how he fared. When they were sent away, he sat alone for several more hours until the sun had fully set below the water. Stars shone above him, ambivalent to the violence and pain below.
He had a notion that he might sleep up on deck but the wind passing over him was not warm. Sliding his tongue over the ragged imprints of his teeth inside his cheek, he at last hauled himself to his feet. His reluctance to face her surprised him. She’d beat him with the chain. Slamming his fist into her wasn’t necessarily uncalled for. Yet he could not forget the way his knuckles had met no resistance, only soft flesh and the way she’d clung to him afterward.
The walk across the deck was a long one and descending the dark stairs was worse. He moved gravely to the cabin door and pushed it open with his fingertips, moving sideways inside so as to offer as little of his body to her as possible. There was no immediate attack, however and he lowered his fist. His gaze took in the room, the window. Her. At last, when he was sure she wasn’t going to come at him, he shut the door and pulled off his boots, kicking them under the bed.
He would not look her in the face. Instead his eyes would rest on her shoulders or her hands or her legs. Never higher than her chin. The empty feeling in his chest had persisted the entire day and showed no signs of easing. With nowhere else to sit, he took the end of the bed but changed his mind and laid his full body on it, inching up so that his head rested on the pillow with an arm underneath it. His gaze lingered on the beam running across the room.
Her face throbbed from how he'd gripped it. It was the reason why her eyes were watering, though leave it to him to think she was crying. She saved that for private. She'd never let him see her cry. And the muscles in her stomach felt bruised and injured. Like she had a knot coiled inside of it. Her hands remained tight around her waist as if she could somehow hold in her insides if she just gripped her torso hard enough.
She heard him panting across the room; still not having left and her nails bit into her palms. If she had the strength she would have stood for round two. But she just didn't have it in her and since he wasn't fighting her anymore, she wasn't going to chase him. Finally, she heard the wooden door creak open and then close silently behind him as he stepped out. She heard muffled voices beyond, but no one came back in.
When her stomach finally felt like she wasn't going to throw up if she rolled the wrong way, she uncurled from the ball on the bed and slid a shaky foot to the floor. She stood to open the back window; needing some fresh air. She leaned out on the sill; careful not to press her torso against the hard wall and glanced out. They were moving away from the port; the boat gliding back smoothly; slow enough at first that she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it. She closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to her folded arms. She took a deep breath from between the circle of her arms and then stepped back away from the window. The only question she kept asking herself was "why"? She wasn't so naive as to think he would keep her on the island, and even then she didn't want to stay. If he'd come and asked her to go to the boat, she would have. Granted, she probably would have asked him if he was taking her home, but by this point, she was growing accustomed to the idea that he wasn't going to.. that he was likely going to try and sell her. Her leverage would come when he did so. She would offer the person who purchased her four times what he paid. Because not everyone was as unreasonable as Lukos.
She took a shuddering breath before laying back down on the bed; pulling the drape she'd brought on board two days ago over her slender frame. She tucked the pillow beneath her head and willed herself to go to sleep. It was still incredibly early out and he'd woken her up while it was still dark. Instead, she just laid there staring at the door; listening to the heavy boots that moved across the deck and the muffled orders of the men. The steady drumbeat as the crew rowed below deck.
When breakfast was brought in, she stared at the man who brought it. He set it up on the table; glancing at her in wide-eyed fascination; even desire. Thalia glared back at him. She'd like to see anyone try anything with her. As if in emphasis, she gripped her hand tighter around the chain.
The man left her with the food and she ignored it. Instead, she turned her back to the table and tucked her chin to her chest; willing herself to sleep...and she did. Fitfully.
The day at sea passed by as slow as they always did. She couldn't leave the room, but it was better than the cage. She could only sleep so much and she didn't feel like doing anything save look out the window or lay in bed. Darkness fell over the ship and they set it to drift for the night. Thalia sat in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up; wide awake as she'd not spent a lick of energy. Finally, the door was pushed open and Lukos moved inside with his fist raised protectively. Her lip quirked up in the corner, but otherwise, she didn't move; simply stared at him over her folded arms she propped atop her knees in front of her.
He closed the door and moved across the room; kicking his boots off and tossing them below the bed. She expected him to tell her to get out of the bed. He looked at her...well.. he looked everywhere but at her face and she frowned; still not moving from her seat. But he said nothing. Instead, he sat on the foot of the bed; his shoulder to her. And after a while, he lay down; scooting himself up until his head found the pillow. There was nothing said, and whatever strife they'd had earlier that morning had now devolved into uncomfortable companionship.
She closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to her arms; her voice muffled and soft as she spoke. "You could have just asked. ...Why didn't you just ask..?"
JD
Staff Team
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Her face throbbed from how he'd gripped it. It was the reason why her eyes were watering, though leave it to him to think she was crying. She saved that for private. She'd never let him see her cry. And the muscles in her stomach felt bruised and injured. Like she had a knot coiled inside of it. Her hands remained tight around her waist as if she could somehow hold in her insides if she just gripped her torso hard enough.
She heard him panting across the room; still not having left and her nails bit into her palms. If she had the strength she would have stood for round two. But she just didn't have it in her and since he wasn't fighting her anymore, she wasn't going to chase him. Finally, she heard the wooden door creak open and then close silently behind him as he stepped out. She heard muffled voices beyond, but no one came back in.
When her stomach finally felt like she wasn't going to throw up if she rolled the wrong way, she uncurled from the ball on the bed and slid a shaky foot to the floor. She stood to open the back window; needing some fresh air. She leaned out on the sill; careful not to press her torso against the hard wall and glanced out. They were moving away from the port; the boat gliding back smoothly; slow enough at first that she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it. She closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to her folded arms. She took a deep breath from between the circle of her arms and then stepped back away from the window. The only question she kept asking herself was "why"? She wasn't so naive as to think he would keep her on the island, and even then she didn't want to stay. If he'd come and asked her to go to the boat, she would have. Granted, she probably would have asked him if he was taking her home, but by this point, she was growing accustomed to the idea that he wasn't going to.. that he was likely going to try and sell her. Her leverage would come when he did so. She would offer the person who purchased her four times what he paid. Because not everyone was as unreasonable as Lukos.
She took a shuddering breath before laying back down on the bed; pulling the drape she'd brought on board two days ago over her slender frame. She tucked the pillow beneath her head and willed herself to go to sleep. It was still incredibly early out and he'd woken her up while it was still dark. Instead, she just laid there staring at the door; listening to the heavy boots that moved across the deck and the muffled orders of the men. The steady drumbeat as the crew rowed below deck.
When breakfast was brought in, she stared at the man who brought it. He set it up on the table; glancing at her in wide-eyed fascination; even desire. Thalia glared back at him. She'd like to see anyone try anything with her. As if in emphasis, she gripped her hand tighter around the chain.
The man left her with the food and she ignored it. Instead, she turned her back to the table and tucked her chin to her chest; willing herself to sleep...and she did. Fitfully.
The day at sea passed by as slow as they always did. She couldn't leave the room, but it was better than the cage. She could only sleep so much and she didn't feel like doing anything save look out the window or lay in bed. Darkness fell over the ship and they set it to drift for the night. Thalia sat in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up; wide awake as she'd not spent a lick of energy. Finally, the door was pushed open and Lukos moved inside with his fist raised protectively. Her lip quirked up in the corner, but otherwise, she didn't move; simply stared at him over her folded arms she propped atop her knees in front of her.
He closed the door and moved across the room; kicking his boots off and tossing them below the bed. She expected him to tell her to get out of the bed. He looked at her...well.. he looked everywhere but at her face and she frowned; still not moving from her seat. But he said nothing. Instead, he sat on the foot of the bed; his shoulder to her. And after a while, he lay down; scooting himself up until his head found the pillow. There was nothing said, and whatever strife they'd had earlier that morning had now devolved into uncomfortable companionship.
She closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to her arms; her voice muffled and soft as she spoke. "You could have just asked. ...Why didn't you just ask..?"
Her face throbbed from how he'd gripped it. It was the reason why her eyes were watering, though leave it to him to think she was crying. She saved that for private. She'd never let him see her cry. And the muscles in her stomach felt bruised and injured. Like she had a knot coiled inside of it. Her hands remained tight around her waist as if she could somehow hold in her insides if she just gripped her torso hard enough.
She heard him panting across the room; still not having left and her nails bit into her palms. If she had the strength she would have stood for round two. But she just didn't have it in her and since he wasn't fighting her anymore, she wasn't going to chase him. Finally, she heard the wooden door creak open and then close silently behind him as he stepped out. She heard muffled voices beyond, but no one came back in.
When her stomach finally felt like she wasn't going to throw up if she rolled the wrong way, she uncurled from the ball on the bed and slid a shaky foot to the floor. She stood to open the back window; needing some fresh air. She leaned out on the sill; careful not to press her torso against the hard wall and glanced out. They were moving away from the port; the boat gliding back smoothly; slow enough at first that she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it. She closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to her folded arms. She took a deep breath from between the circle of her arms and then stepped back away from the window. The only question she kept asking herself was "why"? She wasn't so naive as to think he would keep her on the island, and even then she didn't want to stay. If he'd come and asked her to go to the boat, she would have. Granted, she probably would have asked him if he was taking her home, but by this point, she was growing accustomed to the idea that he wasn't going to.. that he was likely going to try and sell her. Her leverage would come when he did so. She would offer the person who purchased her four times what he paid. Because not everyone was as unreasonable as Lukos.
She took a shuddering breath before laying back down on the bed; pulling the drape she'd brought on board two days ago over her slender frame. She tucked the pillow beneath her head and willed herself to go to sleep. It was still incredibly early out and he'd woken her up while it was still dark. Instead, she just laid there staring at the door; listening to the heavy boots that moved across the deck and the muffled orders of the men. The steady drumbeat as the crew rowed below deck.
When breakfast was brought in, she stared at the man who brought it. He set it up on the table; glancing at her in wide-eyed fascination; even desire. Thalia glared back at him. She'd like to see anyone try anything with her. As if in emphasis, she gripped her hand tighter around the chain.
The man left her with the food and she ignored it. Instead, she turned her back to the table and tucked her chin to her chest; willing herself to sleep...and she did. Fitfully.
The day at sea passed by as slow as they always did. She couldn't leave the room, but it was better than the cage. She could only sleep so much and she didn't feel like doing anything save look out the window or lay in bed. Darkness fell over the ship and they set it to drift for the night. Thalia sat in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up; wide awake as she'd not spent a lick of energy. Finally, the door was pushed open and Lukos moved inside with his fist raised protectively. Her lip quirked up in the corner, but otherwise, she didn't move; simply stared at him over her folded arms she propped atop her knees in front of her.
He closed the door and moved across the room; kicking his boots off and tossing them below the bed. She expected him to tell her to get out of the bed. He looked at her...well.. he looked everywhere but at her face and she frowned; still not moving from her seat. But he said nothing. Instead, he sat on the foot of the bed; his shoulder to her. And after a while, he lay down; scooting himself up until his head found the pillow. There was nothing said, and whatever strife they'd had earlier that morning had now devolved into uncomfortable companionship.
She closed her eyes and lowered her forehead to her arms; her voice muffled and soft as she spoke. "You could have just asked. ...Why didn't you just ask..?"
If she had spoken in harsh tones, glared at him, jumped on him and started hitting him again, he would have known what to do. He lay there, muscles tensed, ready for anything. He supposed he’d been ready for anything. She draped herself over her knees and as much as he was just staring at the ceiling, he could see her movement, or lack of it, in his peripheral vision.
"You could have just asked. ...Why didn't you just ask..?”
He sucked in a breath to answer but held it instead. Under his head, he could feel the tendons in his arm flex as he made a fist. The fingers of his other hand toyed with the fabric of the blanket and at last, he turned over so that his back was facing her. It was preferable to stare at the wall. But the question pursued him, soft as it was, unobtrusively asked. Her words dogged him no matter where he tried to look. His breath seethed out slowly between parted lips.
He pictured her sprawled out on his bed, her arms draped carelessly, her naked thigh open, inviting touch. The moonlight obscured everything but her skin. She had been peaceful and he wondered, now, belatedly, how she seemed to be so comfortable wherever she found herself, whatever he did. Almost whatever he did.
Lukos half turned and stared at her back. She was exposed, her posture not ready to fight. With a sigh he sat up so that he was beside her. Looking down at his hands, he turned one over and inspected the scratches extending from his wrist to his knuckles.
“Phaedra,” he began with a light tone that did not match his expression. “Wake up. I would greatly appreciate it if you would walk with me down to the ship and sleep with me in the cabin. We are leaving at first light and it would make my life easier if I had all my slaves onboard before daybreak. You don’t mind leaving everything behind, do you? Good. Thank you for being so understanding that you’ll never see any of this or your family again.”
Reaching over, he slid a finger under her chin and forced her to look over at him. Serious dark eyes searched hers and he narrowed his gaze, running his rough thumb over her bottom lip.
“That would have worked?” his voice matched hers. Soft. Incredulous. Withdrawing his hand he pushed back onto the bed again, laying down. Gods he was tired. He wanted to shut his eyes but she was still chained. A strong part of him considered hooking her to the metal ring again to take away her option of hitting him. Yet that would definitely result in another fight and his lust for that had been more than filled.
Reaching out, he curled his fingers into the back of her chiton in an effort to get her to lay back. There was no sleeping if she was going to be so obviously awake. He didn’t trust her like she obviously wanted him to. He wanted her stretched out beside him, sleeping. Once she was down, he would remove the cuffs.
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If she had spoken in harsh tones, glared at him, jumped on him and started hitting him again, he would have known what to do. He lay there, muscles tensed, ready for anything. He supposed he’d been ready for anything. She draped herself over her knees and as much as he was just staring at the ceiling, he could see her movement, or lack of it, in his peripheral vision.
"You could have just asked. ...Why didn't you just ask..?”
He sucked in a breath to answer but held it instead. Under his head, he could feel the tendons in his arm flex as he made a fist. The fingers of his other hand toyed with the fabric of the blanket and at last, he turned over so that his back was facing her. It was preferable to stare at the wall. But the question pursued him, soft as it was, unobtrusively asked. Her words dogged him no matter where he tried to look. His breath seethed out slowly between parted lips.
He pictured her sprawled out on his bed, her arms draped carelessly, her naked thigh open, inviting touch. The moonlight obscured everything but her skin. She had been peaceful and he wondered, now, belatedly, how she seemed to be so comfortable wherever she found herself, whatever he did. Almost whatever he did.
Lukos half turned and stared at her back. She was exposed, her posture not ready to fight. With a sigh he sat up so that he was beside her. Looking down at his hands, he turned one over and inspected the scratches extending from his wrist to his knuckles.
“Phaedra,” he began with a light tone that did not match his expression. “Wake up. I would greatly appreciate it if you would walk with me down to the ship and sleep with me in the cabin. We are leaving at first light and it would make my life easier if I had all my slaves onboard before daybreak. You don’t mind leaving everything behind, do you? Good. Thank you for being so understanding that you’ll never see any of this or your family again.”
Reaching over, he slid a finger under her chin and forced her to look over at him. Serious dark eyes searched hers and he narrowed his gaze, running his rough thumb over her bottom lip.
“That would have worked?” his voice matched hers. Soft. Incredulous. Withdrawing his hand he pushed back onto the bed again, laying down. Gods he was tired. He wanted to shut his eyes but she was still chained. A strong part of him considered hooking her to the metal ring again to take away her option of hitting him. Yet that would definitely result in another fight and his lust for that had been more than filled.
Reaching out, he curled his fingers into the back of her chiton in an effort to get her to lay back. There was no sleeping if she was going to be so obviously awake. He didn’t trust her like she obviously wanted him to. He wanted her stretched out beside him, sleeping. Once she was down, he would remove the cuffs.
If she had spoken in harsh tones, glared at him, jumped on him and started hitting him again, he would have known what to do. He lay there, muscles tensed, ready for anything. He supposed he’d been ready for anything. She draped herself over her knees and as much as he was just staring at the ceiling, he could see her movement, or lack of it, in his peripheral vision.
"You could have just asked. ...Why didn't you just ask..?”
He sucked in a breath to answer but held it instead. Under his head, he could feel the tendons in his arm flex as he made a fist. The fingers of his other hand toyed with the fabric of the blanket and at last, he turned over so that his back was facing her. It was preferable to stare at the wall. But the question pursued him, soft as it was, unobtrusively asked. Her words dogged him no matter where he tried to look. His breath seethed out slowly between parted lips.
He pictured her sprawled out on his bed, her arms draped carelessly, her naked thigh open, inviting touch. The moonlight obscured everything but her skin. She had been peaceful and he wondered, now, belatedly, how she seemed to be so comfortable wherever she found herself, whatever he did. Almost whatever he did.
Lukos half turned and stared at her back. She was exposed, her posture not ready to fight. With a sigh he sat up so that he was beside her. Looking down at his hands, he turned one over and inspected the scratches extending from his wrist to his knuckles.
“Phaedra,” he began with a light tone that did not match his expression. “Wake up. I would greatly appreciate it if you would walk with me down to the ship and sleep with me in the cabin. We are leaving at first light and it would make my life easier if I had all my slaves onboard before daybreak. You don’t mind leaving everything behind, do you? Good. Thank you for being so understanding that you’ll never see any of this or your family again.”
Reaching over, he slid a finger under her chin and forced her to look over at him. Serious dark eyes searched hers and he narrowed his gaze, running his rough thumb over her bottom lip.
“That would have worked?” his voice matched hers. Soft. Incredulous. Withdrawing his hand he pushed back onto the bed again, laying down. Gods he was tired. He wanted to shut his eyes but she was still chained. A strong part of him considered hooking her to the metal ring again to take away her option of hitting him. Yet that would definitely result in another fight and his lust for that had been more than filled.
Reaching out, he curled his fingers into the back of her chiton in an effort to get her to lay back. There was no sleeping if she was going to be so obviously awake. He didn’t trust her like she obviously wanted him to. He wanted her stretched out beside him, sleeping. Once she was down, he would remove the cuffs.
When he turned away, she wasn't sure he was going to answer. And to be honest, she didn't have the fight in her to talk to him endlessly until he finally caved as she'd done so many times before until she got her way. Annoying the hell out of him just didn't seem to take on the same prideful satisfaction it did a week ago. But then again, living constantly on the defense was exhausting. Even in their worst arguments as adolescents, her brothers and she never stayed enemies more than a few days. She'd never had to carry on this level of vitriol for so long.
She leaned her shoulder against the wall; resting her forehead against the rough wood. After a sigh, he sat up beside her and she glanced at him from her peripheral vision. Using the name she'd given him felt..wrong. But she still wasn't willing to relent on that. After what he'd done to her today she'd take her name to her grave. She frowned at his long-winded and detailed request. Clearly, this man had never been a salesman. She turned enough so she could look at him when he tilted her chin. "Phaedra. It's time to get on the ship. We leave port in an hour."
She stopped at that. A lengthy explanation wasn't necessary. She knew all the details without reiterating the entire "arrangement" they had. It would have resulted in a lot less physical, as well as mental cuts and bruises. Why he thought it necessary to choose the most violent means necessary to take her down to the ship was beyond her....but then, Lukos did things in extremes. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. "That would have worked..."
He laid back silently and then after a moment, his finger grazed across her back and he tugged her chiton to lay down. She didn't fight him; laying by his side with his arm beneath her as if this was in any way natural. She sighed and turned towards him; resting her head on his shoulder since he was hogging the entire pillow. If he was going to stretch out on the bed as he was, this would have to do. The chains to her cuffs rattled as she tucked them between her and his body and after a minute she felt his hand take hold of one. Immediately, she tensed...but he wasn't forceful, so she let him turn it over so he could release them. (she really needed to watch when he did that so she could learn how) She lifted the other so he could repeat the steps and rubbed her bruised wrists when he pulled them away. They really were wholly unnecessary.
She considered thanking him for taking them off...but the idea seemed ridiculous. Like thanking someone when they gave you a salve after they'd beaten you. She stared at the door to the cabin and sighed. There was no way she was going to sleep. The walls were closing in on her and the cabin was too small. In the same quiet tones, she gave one final request. "...Take me for a walk?"
When he relented, she rose with him and clambered out of bed; following him out of the cabin an,d lifting her chiton, she climbed the stairs to the main deck. It wasn't as deserted as it was the night of the storm, but then, she was wearing more clothes now so that was fine. They were smoking doing a few last minute duties. So she walked over to the railing and leaned against it; taking a deep breath of the sea air. The evening breeze was cool and the sky was blanketed in stars; only a few skud clouds dotted the sky and she stared up in awe at its vastness. There were no trees or hills to break up the horizon so with the reflection of the water, she could almost imagine the ship was floating in an infinity of stars. She let out a breathy "...wow" of disbelief.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
When he turned away, she wasn't sure he was going to answer. And to be honest, she didn't have the fight in her to talk to him endlessly until he finally caved as she'd done so many times before until she got her way. Annoying the hell out of him just didn't seem to take on the same prideful satisfaction it did a week ago. But then again, living constantly on the defense was exhausting. Even in their worst arguments as adolescents, her brothers and she never stayed enemies more than a few days. She'd never had to carry on this level of vitriol for so long.
She leaned her shoulder against the wall; resting her forehead against the rough wood. After a sigh, he sat up beside her and she glanced at him from her peripheral vision. Using the name she'd given him felt..wrong. But she still wasn't willing to relent on that. After what he'd done to her today she'd take her name to her grave. She frowned at his long-winded and detailed request. Clearly, this man had never been a salesman. She turned enough so she could look at him when he tilted her chin. "Phaedra. It's time to get on the ship. We leave port in an hour."
She stopped at that. A lengthy explanation wasn't necessary. She knew all the details without reiterating the entire "arrangement" they had. It would have resulted in a lot less physical, as well as mental cuts and bruises. Why he thought it necessary to choose the most violent means necessary to take her down to the ship was beyond her....but then, Lukos did things in extremes. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. "That would have worked..."
He laid back silently and then after a moment, his finger grazed across her back and he tugged her chiton to lay down. She didn't fight him; laying by his side with his arm beneath her as if this was in any way natural. She sighed and turned towards him; resting her head on his shoulder since he was hogging the entire pillow. If he was going to stretch out on the bed as he was, this would have to do. The chains to her cuffs rattled as she tucked them between her and his body and after a minute she felt his hand take hold of one. Immediately, she tensed...but he wasn't forceful, so she let him turn it over so he could release them. (she really needed to watch when he did that so she could learn how) She lifted the other so he could repeat the steps and rubbed her bruised wrists when he pulled them away. They really were wholly unnecessary.
She considered thanking him for taking them off...but the idea seemed ridiculous. Like thanking someone when they gave you a salve after they'd beaten you. She stared at the door to the cabin and sighed. There was no way she was going to sleep. The walls were closing in on her and the cabin was too small. In the same quiet tones, she gave one final request. "...Take me for a walk?"
When he relented, she rose with him and clambered out of bed; following him out of the cabin an,d lifting her chiton, she climbed the stairs to the main deck. It wasn't as deserted as it was the night of the storm, but then, she was wearing more clothes now so that was fine. They were smoking doing a few last minute duties. So she walked over to the railing and leaned against it; taking a deep breath of the sea air. The evening breeze was cool and the sky was blanketed in stars; only a few skud clouds dotted the sky and she stared up in awe at its vastness. There were no trees or hills to break up the horizon so with the reflection of the water, she could almost imagine the ship was floating in an infinity of stars. She let out a breathy "...wow" of disbelief.
When he turned away, she wasn't sure he was going to answer. And to be honest, she didn't have the fight in her to talk to him endlessly until he finally caved as she'd done so many times before until she got her way. Annoying the hell out of him just didn't seem to take on the same prideful satisfaction it did a week ago. But then again, living constantly on the defense was exhausting. Even in their worst arguments as adolescents, her brothers and she never stayed enemies more than a few days. She'd never had to carry on this level of vitriol for so long.
She leaned her shoulder against the wall; resting her forehead against the rough wood. After a sigh, he sat up beside her and she glanced at him from her peripheral vision. Using the name she'd given him felt..wrong. But she still wasn't willing to relent on that. After what he'd done to her today she'd take her name to her grave. She frowned at his long-winded and detailed request. Clearly, this man had never been a salesman. She turned enough so she could look at him when he tilted her chin. "Phaedra. It's time to get on the ship. We leave port in an hour."
She stopped at that. A lengthy explanation wasn't necessary. She knew all the details without reiterating the entire "arrangement" they had. It would have resulted in a lot less physical, as well as mental cuts and bruises. Why he thought it necessary to choose the most violent means necessary to take her down to the ship was beyond her....but then, Lukos did things in extremes. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. "That would have worked..."
He laid back silently and then after a moment, his finger grazed across her back and he tugged her chiton to lay down. She didn't fight him; laying by his side with his arm beneath her as if this was in any way natural. She sighed and turned towards him; resting her head on his shoulder since he was hogging the entire pillow. If he was going to stretch out on the bed as he was, this would have to do. The chains to her cuffs rattled as she tucked them between her and his body and after a minute she felt his hand take hold of one. Immediately, she tensed...but he wasn't forceful, so she let him turn it over so he could release them. (she really needed to watch when he did that so she could learn how) She lifted the other so he could repeat the steps and rubbed her bruised wrists when he pulled them away. They really were wholly unnecessary.
She considered thanking him for taking them off...but the idea seemed ridiculous. Like thanking someone when they gave you a salve after they'd beaten you. She stared at the door to the cabin and sighed. There was no way she was going to sleep. The walls were closing in on her and the cabin was too small. In the same quiet tones, she gave one final request. "...Take me for a walk?"
When he relented, she rose with him and clambered out of bed; following him out of the cabin an,d lifting her chiton, she climbed the stairs to the main deck. It wasn't as deserted as it was the night of the storm, but then, she was wearing more clothes now so that was fine. They were smoking doing a few last minute duties. So she walked over to the railing and leaned against it; taking a deep breath of the sea air. The evening breeze was cool and the sky was blanketed in stars; only a few skud clouds dotted the sky and she stared up in awe at its vastness. There were no trees or hills to break up the horizon so with the reflection of the water, she could almost imagine the ship was floating in an infinity of stars. She let out a breathy "...wow" of disbelief.
He was not surprised when she laid back but he was when she turned her face into his shoulder. His whole body stiffened as she tucked her hands between them. What she was doing was something he had not experienced in time out of memory. He had to have been less than twenty the last time any woman had felt in the least bit comfortable enough around him to actually rest there. With a deft flick of his fingers the first cuff came off.
She held up her hand for the second one to be released. Lukos finally dragged his eyes to hers. Without looking away from her, he undid the cuff. It fell in a rattle onto his hip before sliding off onto the blankets. His gaze strayed down her arms to her wrists as she rubbed them. When he looked back at her, she was staring at the door and he knew in that moment that sleep would have to be postponed.
He sighed from deep inside his chest and sat up, grabbing his boots from under the bed. She wasn’t naked this time. Probably he could trust that she would remain unaccosted but the problem was he could not take the risk. These first days at sea, she would be fine. His men had only just left their families and the beds of their wives. Yet she was beautiful in a way that none of their wives could compare.
He glanced at her as she sat waiting before he rose and opened the door. The stale air of the passage hit him but he ignored it as they walked up the stairs into the cool night. Perhaps he might have dwelled on her behavior, or his own but he was exhausted. His face hurt. His shoulder hurt from the chain.
She walked across the deck and leaned over the railing, staring at the stars and the water. Lukos, meanwhile, stood with his arms across his chest. Someone drifted up beside him. He had only to glance at the book clutched in the withered old arms to know who it was. He turned his attention back to her far more pleasant form as Bianor spoke to him.
“I commend your restraint,” he said his voice carried as though he wanted Thalia to hear. Lukos shifted. “If a woman had done that to my face, she would not be recognizable.”
“A woman would have to be willing to touch you first,” Lukos retorted
“I’ll happily forgo the joy if the end result is what happened to you,” Bianor quirked his eyebrows.
Lukos glanced down at him and then back at Thalia. She had asked him why he had not simply asked her to come down to the ship. First, his real reason had been what he’d said: he hadn’t believed she’d come on her own. The second reason was that he truly did not want to show her any degree of kindness. Yet here she was, up on deck simply because she’d asked it of him. Without her shackles and that had been his own doing.
He did not like to examine his own behavior where she was concerned. At first he’d thought to treat her like she did not exist. Except she delighted in igniting his rage. And he loved the thrill of a fight. It was what he knew and she could fight him like no one else.
Leaving Bianor, he joined her at the railing, leaning out but he didn’t look at the water. “Where did you learn to do this?” he pointed to the angry red line on his cheek but it appeared black in the darkness. “You fight like an animal.”
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He was not surprised when she laid back but he was when she turned her face into his shoulder. His whole body stiffened as she tucked her hands between them. What she was doing was something he had not experienced in time out of memory. He had to have been less than twenty the last time any woman had felt in the least bit comfortable enough around him to actually rest there. With a deft flick of his fingers the first cuff came off.
She held up her hand for the second one to be released. Lukos finally dragged his eyes to hers. Without looking away from her, he undid the cuff. It fell in a rattle onto his hip before sliding off onto the blankets. His gaze strayed down her arms to her wrists as she rubbed them. When he looked back at her, she was staring at the door and he knew in that moment that sleep would have to be postponed.
He sighed from deep inside his chest and sat up, grabbing his boots from under the bed. She wasn’t naked this time. Probably he could trust that she would remain unaccosted but the problem was he could not take the risk. These first days at sea, she would be fine. His men had only just left their families and the beds of their wives. Yet she was beautiful in a way that none of their wives could compare.
He glanced at her as she sat waiting before he rose and opened the door. The stale air of the passage hit him but he ignored it as they walked up the stairs into the cool night. Perhaps he might have dwelled on her behavior, or his own but he was exhausted. His face hurt. His shoulder hurt from the chain.
She walked across the deck and leaned over the railing, staring at the stars and the water. Lukos, meanwhile, stood with his arms across his chest. Someone drifted up beside him. He had only to glance at the book clutched in the withered old arms to know who it was. He turned his attention back to her far more pleasant form as Bianor spoke to him.
“I commend your restraint,” he said his voice carried as though he wanted Thalia to hear. Lukos shifted. “If a woman had done that to my face, she would not be recognizable.”
“A woman would have to be willing to touch you first,” Lukos retorted
“I’ll happily forgo the joy if the end result is what happened to you,” Bianor quirked his eyebrows.
Lukos glanced down at him and then back at Thalia. She had asked him why he had not simply asked her to come down to the ship. First, his real reason had been what he’d said: he hadn’t believed she’d come on her own. The second reason was that he truly did not want to show her any degree of kindness. Yet here she was, up on deck simply because she’d asked it of him. Without her shackles and that had been his own doing.
He did not like to examine his own behavior where she was concerned. At first he’d thought to treat her like she did not exist. Except she delighted in igniting his rage. And he loved the thrill of a fight. It was what he knew and she could fight him like no one else.
Leaving Bianor, he joined her at the railing, leaning out but he didn’t look at the water. “Where did you learn to do this?” he pointed to the angry red line on his cheek but it appeared black in the darkness. “You fight like an animal.”
He was not surprised when she laid back but he was when she turned her face into his shoulder. His whole body stiffened as she tucked her hands between them. What she was doing was something he had not experienced in time out of memory. He had to have been less than twenty the last time any woman had felt in the least bit comfortable enough around him to actually rest there. With a deft flick of his fingers the first cuff came off.
She held up her hand for the second one to be released. Lukos finally dragged his eyes to hers. Without looking away from her, he undid the cuff. It fell in a rattle onto his hip before sliding off onto the blankets. His gaze strayed down her arms to her wrists as she rubbed them. When he looked back at her, she was staring at the door and he knew in that moment that sleep would have to be postponed.
He sighed from deep inside his chest and sat up, grabbing his boots from under the bed. She wasn’t naked this time. Probably he could trust that she would remain unaccosted but the problem was he could not take the risk. These first days at sea, she would be fine. His men had only just left their families and the beds of their wives. Yet she was beautiful in a way that none of their wives could compare.
He glanced at her as she sat waiting before he rose and opened the door. The stale air of the passage hit him but he ignored it as they walked up the stairs into the cool night. Perhaps he might have dwelled on her behavior, or his own but he was exhausted. His face hurt. His shoulder hurt from the chain.
She walked across the deck and leaned over the railing, staring at the stars and the water. Lukos, meanwhile, stood with his arms across his chest. Someone drifted up beside him. He had only to glance at the book clutched in the withered old arms to know who it was. He turned his attention back to her far more pleasant form as Bianor spoke to him.
“I commend your restraint,” he said his voice carried as though he wanted Thalia to hear. Lukos shifted. “If a woman had done that to my face, she would not be recognizable.”
“A woman would have to be willing to touch you first,” Lukos retorted
“I’ll happily forgo the joy if the end result is what happened to you,” Bianor quirked his eyebrows.
Lukos glanced down at him and then back at Thalia. She had asked him why he had not simply asked her to come down to the ship. First, his real reason had been what he’d said: he hadn’t believed she’d come on her own. The second reason was that he truly did not want to show her any degree of kindness. Yet here she was, up on deck simply because she’d asked it of him. Without her shackles and that had been his own doing.
He did not like to examine his own behavior where she was concerned. At first he’d thought to treat her like she did not exist. Except she delighted in igniting his rage. And he loved the thrill of a fight. It was what he knew and she could fight him like no one else.
Leaving Bianor, he joined her at the railing, leaning out but he didn’t look at the water. “Where did you learn to do this?” he pointed to the angry red line on his cheek but it appeared black in the darkness. “You fight like an animal.”
She expected to wander around the deck by herself. He didn't join her the last time; simply watched from the stern as if letting a dog go off leash. She didn't care. The ability to be outside in the fresh air made it rather easy for her to ignore whether he joined her or not. She glanced back as Bianor joined him but didn't say anything. She'd not found anything out for the man....but then again, she hadn't really been trying to.
She turned to look down at the bottom of the boat. The water had a faint ripple to it from the breeze and the ship rocked gently on the rolling water. It wasn't unpleasant, though. Like a mother lulling her child to sleep. The heavy thud of his boots let her know he was joining her before he leaned against the railing himself. When he asked where she'd learned how to hit him like that she raised a brow; fighting an amused grin. She lifted a hand and took hold of his jaw gently; turning it to the side so she could get a better look at his injury in the moonlight. She gave a playful wince and shook her head before letting him go. "I have three older brothers. They didn't care very much for dolls or playing dress up. So we battled. I learned how to fight from a very young age and, when I was older, my oldest brother began training me." She looked at his cheek. "That? ....That was sheer improvisation. But he taught me to use whatever I had as a weapon."
She stepped away from the railing so she could walk; waiting for him to fall in line with her. "...Were the fights fair....had you had given me a blade, I'd likely be able to take you or any one of your men on this ship. But you'll best me any day in size and sheer brute force. ...Or if your men outnumber me. My skill ends where size and strength are a factor." For a female, she was quite strong. Against another woman, she'd easily best them any day; even not training for a week. But men were a different story. She was holding off five of his men fairly well with her sword until they finally got the upper hand. Literally.
She folded her arms behind her and stared down at the deck boards as they walked slowly around the perimeter of the ship. Now that their battle from earlier had been resolved and a non-verbal truce was enacted, she felt less tense. Coupled with the fresh air and the ability to stretch her legs, it was much easier to talk to him. "....Did you almost pass out..?"
She glanced up at him; her hazel eyes glimmering with amusement. She couldn't blame him though. she'd hit him as hard as she could in her position. And Arktos had hit her so hard she did pass out. The bruises on her face were still there from it, though they were yellow and a horrid shade of green now. "I almost threw up when you punched me.." She shouldn't be doing this. Rehashing the blow by blow. For anyone else, it would have been considered macabre. That she would find the attack fascinating. But she'd grown up getting into all-out wars with her brothers, and then talking about it at length with them after; dissecting each assault so they could go over the play by play. It was second nature to her. Boasting about the next time. They'd never gone easy on her and she supposed she had them to thank for it now...otherwise, she'd likely be below deck in the cargo hold with the others.
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
She expected to wander around the deck by herself. He didn't join her the last time; simply watched from the stern as if letting a dog go off leash. She didn't care. The ability to be outside in the fresh air made it rather easy for her to ignore whether he joined her or not. She glanced back as Bianor joined him but didn't say anything. She'd not found anything out for the man....but then again, she hadn't really been trying to.
She turned to look down at the bottom of the boat. The water had a faint ripple to it from the breeze and the ship rocked gently on the rolling water. It wasn't unpleasant, though. Like a mother lulling her child to sleep. The heavy thud of his boots let her know he was joining her before he leaned against the railing himself. When he asked where she'd learned how to hit him like that she raised a brow; fighting an amused grin. She lifted a hand and took hold of his jaw gently; turning it to the side so she could get a better look at his injury in the moonlight. She gave a playful wince and shook her head before letting him go. "I have three older brothers. They didn't care very much for dolls or playing dress up. So we battled. I learned how to fight from a very young age and, when I was older, my oldest brother began training me." She looked at his cheek. "That? ....That was sheer improvisation. But he taught me to use whatever I had as a weapon."
She stepped away from the railing so she could walk; waiting for him to fall in line with her. "...Were the fights fair....had you had given me a blade, I'd likely be able to take you or any one of your men on this ship. But you'll best me any day in size and sheer brute force. ...Or if your men outnumber me. My skill ends where size and strength are a factor." For a female, she was quite strong. Against another woman, she'd easily best them any day; even not training for a week. But men were a different story. She was holding off five of his men fairly well with her sword until they finally got the upper hand. Literally.
She folded her arms behind her and stared down at the deck boards as they walked slowly around the perimeter of the ship. Now that their battle from earlier had been resolved and a non-verbal truce was enacted, she felt less tense. Coupled with the fresh air and the ability to stretch her legs, it was much easier to talk to him. "....Did you almost pass out..?"
She glanced up at him; her hazel eyes glimmering with amusement. She couldn't blame him though. she'd hit him as hard as she could in her position. And Arktos had hit her so hard she did pass out. The bruises on her face were still there from it, though they were yellow and a horrid shade of green now. "I almost threw up when you punched me.." She shouldn't be doing this. Rehashing the blow by blow. For anyone else, it would have been considered macabre. That she would find the attack fascinating. But she'd grown up getting into all-out wars with her brothers, and then talking about it at length with them after; dissecting each assault so they could go over the play by play. It was second nature to her. Boasting about the next time. They'd never gone easy on her and she supposed she had them to thank for it now...otherwise, she'd likely be below deck in the cargo hold with the others.
She expected to wander around the deck by herself. He didn't join her the last time; simply watched from the stern as if letting a dog go off leash. She didn't care. The ability to be outside in the fresh air made it rather easy for her to ignore whether he joined her or not. She glanced back as Bianor joined him but didn't say anything. She'd not found anything out for the man....but then again, she hadn't really been trying to.
She turned to look down at the bottom of the boat. The water had a faint ripple to it from the breeze and the ship rocked gently on the rolling water. It wasn't unpleasant, though. Like a mother lulling her child to sleep. The heavy thud of his boots let her know he was joining her before he leaned against the railing himself. When he asked where she'd learned how to hit him like that she raised a brow; fighting an amused grin. She lifted a hand and took hold of his jaw gently; turning it to the side so she could get a better look at his injury in the moonlight. She gave a playful wince and shook her head before letting him go. "I have three older brothers. They didn't care very much for dolls or playing dress up. So we battled. I learned how to fight from a very young age and, when I was older, my oldest brother began training me." She looked at his cheek. "That? ....That was sheer improvisation. But he taught me to use whatever I had as a weapon."
She stepped away from the railing so she could walk; waiting for him to fall in line with her. "...Were the fights fair....had you had given me a blade, I'd likely be able to take you or any one of your men on this ship. But you'll best me any day in size and sheer brute force. ...Or if your men outnumber me. My skill ends where size and strength are a factor." For a female, she was quite strong. Against another woman, she'd easily best them any day; even not training for a week. But men were a different story. She was holding off five of his men fairly well with her sword until they finally got the upper hand. Literally.
She folded her arms behind her and stared down at the deck boards as they walked slowly around the perimeter of the ship. Now that their battle from earlier had been resolved and a non-verbal truce was enacted, she felt less tense. Coupled with the fresh air and the ability to stretch her legs, it was much easier to talk to him. "....Did you almost pass out..?"
She glanced up at him; her hazel eyes glimmering with amusement. She couldn't blame him though. she'd hit him as hard as she could in her position. And Arktos had hit her so hard she did pass out. The bruises on her face were still there from it, though they were yellow and a horrid shade of green now. "I almost threw up when you punched me.." She shouldn't be doing this. Rehashing the blow by blow. For anyone else, it would have been considered macabre. That she would find the attack fascinating. But she'd grown up getting into all-out wars with her brothers, and then talking about it at length with them after; dissecting each assault so they could go over the play by play. It was second nature to her. Boasting about the next time. They'd never gone easy on her and she supposed she had them to thank for it now...otherwise, she'd likely be below deck in the cargo hold with the others.
Though she was gentle, every point her fingers touched stung. A half grin tipped up the corner of his mouth and he allowed her to turn him however she wished. He gingerly touched his jaw when she let go, listening to her in undisguised fascination as she spoke. It was easy to picture; her cleanly swept courtyard, her with three rough and tumble boys chasing after her. Their chitons white and clean. He could readily believe it too. If she was supposed to be inside at home, learning useful skills, then of course she would only be found outside, doing the opposite.
When her eyes fell to his cheek and she told him it was improvisation, he nodded, running his tongue along his teeth. “Well done,” he said flatly, not quite able to hide exactly how impressed with her he was becoming. Hours away from the injury made him look on it in a far more favorable light. Also, he had no mirror. He didn’t know what his face looked like or about the gruesome bruise spreading across it, though he might have guessed.
She turned away from the railing and he matched her, slowing his pace to fit hers and adopting an identical posture. The hollow feeling he’d carried around all day was gone, he suddenly realized. He could breathe in the salty air and enjoy it. Her eyes were to the deck but his were on the trough of water that made up the ship’s wake. After a minute of silence, she asked him if he’d almost passed out and he tipped his head back, fighting something between a smile and a grimace.
He made the mistake of looking down at her. Her eyes danced with amusement and for once it didn’t feel as though she was mocking him, exactly. She was prodding him like Arktos might. Shaking his head, he didn’t immediately answer. That part was a little vague in his memory but he was positive that he almost had. As they walked, he nearly reached for her but he only clasped his hands tighter together. He shouldn’t be doing this; letting her tease him.
“Yes,” he said at last after she admitted to nearly puking from his own punch. Being that he had nearly passed out, he was not going to apologize for sucker punching her to stop her onslaught. Given enough leverage, she could have killed him. Not easily, perhaps, but it could be done.
He brushed the backs of his knuckles down the bruised side of her face but he dropped his hand quickly. This must end. Now.
“I’m tired,” he said. “We’re going back down.”
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Though she was gentle, every point her fingers touched stung. A half grin tipped up the corner of his mouth and he allowed her to turn him however she wished. He gingerly touched his jaw when she let go, listening to her in undisguised fascination as she spoke. It was easy to picture; her cleanly swept courtyard, her with three rough and tumble boys chasing after her. Their chitons white and clean. He could readily believe it too. If she was supposed to be inside at home, learning useful skills, then of course she would only be found outside, doing the opposite.
When her eyes fell to his cheek and she told him it was improvisation, he nodded, running his tongue along his teeth. “Well done,” he said flatly, not quite able to hide exactly how impressed with her he was becoming. Hours away from the injury made him look on it in a far more favorable light. Also, he had no mirror. He didn’t know what his face looked like or about the gruesome bruise spreading across it, though he might have guessed.
She turned away from the railing and he matched her, slowing his pace to fit hers and adopting an identical posture. The hollow feeling he’d carried around all day was gone, he suddenly realized. He could breathe in the salty air and enjoy it. Her eyes were to the deck but his were on the trough of water that made up the ship’s wake. After a minute of silence, she asked him if he’d almost passed out and he tipped his head back, fighting something between a smile and a grimace.
He made the mistake of looking down at her. Her eyes danced with amusement and for once it didn’t feel as though she was mocking him, exactly. She was prodding him like Arktos might. Shaking his head, he didn’t immediately answer. That part was a little vague in his memory but he was positive that he almost had. As they walked, he nearly reached for her but he only clasped his hands tighter together. He shouldn’t be doing this; letting her tease him.
“Yes,” he said at last after she admitted to nearly puking from his own punch. Being that he had nearly passed out, he was not going to apologize for sucker punching her to stop her onslaught. Given enough leverage, she could have killed him. Not easily, perhaps, but it could be done.
He brushed the backs of his knuckles down the bruised side of her face but he dropped his hand quickly. This must end. Now.
“I’m tired,” he said. “We’re going back down.”
Though she was gentle, every point her fingers touched stung. A half grin tipped up the corner of his mouth and he allowed her to turn him however she wished. He gingerly touched his jaw when she let go, listening to her in undisguised fascination as she spoke. It was easy to picture; her cleanly swept courtyard, her with three rough and tumble boys chasing after her. Their chitons white and clean. He could readily believe it too. If she was supposed to be inside at home, learning useful skills, then of course she would only be found outside, doing the opposite.
When her eyes fell to his cheek and she told him it was improvisation, he nodded, running his tongue along his teeth. “Well done,” he said flatly, not quite able to hide exactly how impressed with her he was becoming. Hours away from the injury made him look on it in a far more favorable light. Also, he had no mirror. He didn’t know what his face looked like or about the gruesome bruise spreading across it, though he might have guessed.
She turned away from the railing and he matched her, slowing his pace to fit hers and adopting an identical posture. The hollow feeling he’d carried around all day was gone, he suddenly realized. He could breathe in the salty air and enjoy it. Her eyes were to the deck but his were on the trough of water that made up the ship’s wake. After a minute of silence, she asked him if he’d almost passed out and he tipped his head back, fighting something between a smile and a grimace.
He made the mistake of looking down at her. Her eyes danced with amusement and for once it didn’t feel as though she was mocking him, exactly. She was prodding him like Arktos might. Shaking his head, he didn’t immediately answer. That part was a little vague in his memory but he was positive that he almost had. As they walked, he nearly reached for her but he only clasped his hands tighter together. He shouldn’t be doing this; letting her tease him.
“Yes,” he said at last after she admitted to nearly puking from his own punch. Being that he had nearly passed out, he was not going to apologize for sucker punching her to stop her onslaught. Given enough leverage, she could have killed him. Not easily, perhaps, but it could be done.
He brushed the backs of his knuckles down the bruised side of her face but he dropped his hand quickly. This must end. Now.
“I’m tired,” he said. “We’re going back down.”
This was the closest thing to amicable they'd ever been; even more so than when he'd given her the necklace. It seemed wrong that the only time they were able to get along was after they'd had a massive blowout that usually ended up with her getting injured. At least this time she'd given what he gave. Perhaps that was the reason for the civility. ...But if things continued to escalate as they were, they would both end up desperately in love, but bloody and broken. Nothing good could ever come of that.
He finally admitted to the fact that he'd almost passed out and she allowed herself to grin. She could feel his gaze on her before he reached out and delicately traced the bruise on her face. Her smile faltered but she didn't look up at him. There was too much unsaid already to draw more attention to it.
Finally, he let his hand fall away and mentioned that he was tired. She took a deep breath of the night air and let her head fall back as if committing it to memory. She paused in her promenade over the deck and turned towards the sea again; the breeze catching a few stray wisps of her hair. The moon reflected in a long path of light along the surface of the water. Poseidon must have been quite at ease tonight as the sea seemed quite placid above the surface. As if in answer, the surface rippled and the long body of a whale broke through about 30 meters away; the light from the moon glistening off the top of its body. Thalia gasped and stepped back from the edge of the rail as another surfaced as well; its spine curved as it dove back down and its full tail broke from the water before sinking with it. She'd heard of great sea monsters as tales before; her brothers used them to scare her at night. But she'd never believed anything of the sort actually existed. "What was that?"
When he told her she stared out with even more interest; waiting for another to breach the surface. And they did again, but twice as many meters away and harder to see in the darkness. She glanced over the rail; wondering what else was beneath that calm surface; suddenly fascinated with the idea that there really were such great creatures that lived down there.
Finally, she allowed him to lead her back downstairs and she climbed back into the bed; shuffling until her back was against the wall. She didn't curl into him this time; maintaining a respectable distance in the bed...well... as much as one could in so tiny a thing. She folded her arm beneath her and pulled the drape over her as her makeshift blanket. The light from the window shone on his cheek; showing the jagged injury. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch it but she refrained. Instead, she grinned and said a final goodnight in the only way that seemed right for her. "Who knows...perhaps it will scar and make you look even more menacing than you already do..."
She fell asleep reluctantly after that; curled so tightly away from him so they didn't touch. ....But somewhere in the night she forgot where she was, or who she was with, or how much they were supposed to dislike each other and she rolled over to rest her head on his shoulder again; draping her arm casually across his torso. And with her leg pulled up over his? ...The tiny straw-filled bed was almost comfortable.
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
This was the closest thing to amicable they'd ever been; even more so than when he'd given her the necklace. It seemed wrong that the only time they were able to get along was after they'd had a massive blowout that usually ended up with her getting injured. At least this time she'd given what he gave. Perhaps that was the reason for the civility. ...But if things continued to escalate as they were, they would both end up desperately in love, but bloody and broken. Nothing good could ever come of that.
He finally admitted to the fact that he'd almost passed out and she allowed herself to grin. She could feel his gaze on her before he reached out and delicately traced the bruise on her face. Her smile faltered but she didn't look up at him. There was too much unsaid already to draw more attention to it.
Finally, he let his hand fall away and mentioned that he was tired. She took a deep breath of the night air and let her head fall back as if committing it to memory. She paused in her promenade over the deck and turned towards the sea again; the breeze catching a few stray wisps of her hair. The moon reflected in a long path of light along the surface of the water. Poseidon must have been quite at ease tonight as the sea seemed quite placid above the surface. As if in answer, the surface rippled and the long body of a whale broke through about 30 meters away; the light from the moon glistening off the top of its body. Thalia gasped and stepped back from the edge of the rail as another surfaced as well; its spine curved as it dove back down and its full tail broke from the water before sinking with it. She'd heard of great sea monsters as tales before; her brothers used them to scare her at night. But she'd never believed anything of the sort actually existed. "What was that?"
When he told her she stared out with even more interest; waiting for another to breach the surface. And they did again, but twice as many meters away and harder to see in the darkness. She glanced over the rail; wondering what else was beneath that calm surface; suddenly fascinated with the idea that there really were such great creatures that lived down there.
Finally, she allowed him to lead her back downstairs and she climbed back into the bed; shuffling until her back was against the wall. She didn't curl into him this time; maintaining a respectable distance in the bed...well... as much as one could in so tiny a thing. She folded her arm beneath her and pulled the drape over her as her makeshift blanket. The light from the window shone on his cheek; showing the jagged injury. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch it but she refrained. Instead, she grinned and said a final goodnight in the only way that seemed right for her. "Who knows...perhaps it will scar and make you look even more menacing than you already do..."
She fell asleep reluctantly after that; curled so tightly away from him so they didn't touch. ....But somewhere in the night she forgot where she was, or who she was with, or how much they were supposed to dislike each other and she rolled over to rest her head on his shoulder again; draping her arm casually across his torso. And with her leg pulled up over his? ...The tiny straw-filled bed was almost comfortable.
This was the closest thing to amicable they'd ever been; even more so than when he'd given her the necklace. It seemed wrong that the only time they were able to get along was after they'd had a massive blowout that usually ended up with her getting injured. At least this time she'd given what he gave. Perhaps that was the reason for the civility. ...But if things continued to escalate as they were, they would both end up desperately in love, but bloody and broken. Nothing good could ever come of that.
He finally admitted to the fact that he'd almost passed out and she allowed herself to grin. She could feel his gaze on her before he reached out and delicately traced the bruise on her face. Her smile faltered but she didn't look up at him. There was too much unsaid already to draw more attention to it.
Finally, he let his hand fall away and mentioned that he was tired. She took a deep breath of the night air and let her head fall back as if committing it to memory. She paused in her promenade over the deck and turned towards the sea again; the breeze catching a few stray wisps of her hair. The moon reflected in a long path of light along the surface of the water. Poseidon must have been quite at ease tonight as the sea seemed quite placid above the surface. As if in answer, the surface rippled and the long body of a whale broke through about 30 meters away; the light from the moon glistening off the top of its body. Thalia gasped and stepped back from the edge of the rail as another surfaced as well; its spine curved as it dove back down and its full tail broke from the water before sinking with it. She'd heard of great sea monsters as tales before; her brothers used them to scare her at night. But she'd never believed anything of the sort actually existed. "What was that?"
When he told her she stared out with even more interest; waiting for another to breach the surface. And they did again, but twice as many meters away and harder to see in the darkness. She glanced over the rail; wondering what else was beneath that calm surface; suddenly fascinated with the idea that there really were such great creatures that lived down there.
Finally, she allowed him to lead her back downstairs and she climbed back into the bed; shuffling until her back was against the wall. She didn't curl into him this time; maintaining a respectable distance in the bed...well... as much as one could in so tiny a thing. She folded her arm beneath her and pulled the drape over her as her makeshift blanket. The light from the window shone on his cheek; showing the jagged injury. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch it but she refrained. Instead, she grinned and said a final goodnight in the only way that seemed right for her. "Who knows...perhaps it will scar and make you look even more menacing than you already do..."
She fell asleep reluctantly after that; curled so tightly away from him so they didn't touch. ....But somewhere in the night she forgot where she was, or who she was with, or how much they were supposed to dislike each other and she rolled over to rest her head on his shoulder again; draping her arm casually across his torso. And with her leg pulled up over his? ...The tiny straw-filled bed was almost comfortable.
He had swung around to walk back to the stairs but her gasp demanded his attention. Turning, he just caught the last of the whale’s body as it sank beneath the surface of the water. For as long as he could remember he’d seen these creatures of the deep but he didn’t see them so often as he saw dolphins. Her excitement drew him over to the rail with her and he answered her question with the one word. “Whale.”
More broke the surface farther away but he was backing away again, tonguing in the jagged line inside of his mouth. With the dull ache returning, it was easier to remember that this could not continue. He refused to smile at her excitement and he would not look at her when she finally turned to follow him back to the cabin. Looks from the crew followed them both until they were in the passage, pitch black now in the dark.
He opened the door, waiting for her to pass before closing it behind them. Why he’d insisted they come back down as a way to get distance from their conversation, he couldn’t now say. The room was tiny. Stifling. As she sat on the bed he went to open the window. The gentle lapping of water against the ship broke the silence in the room.
Lukos stood at the window for a long minute, kicking off the boots and letting fresh air circulate in the room. He was aware of her climbing into the bed and when he turned, he found her curled against the wall where he had been last time. Good. His shoulders sagged and at last he felt it was safe to lay down. Like her, he was careful to hug the edge, touching her as little as possible. He did not remove his clothes like he usually did and, as uncomfortable as he was with her presence, he was unable to think about it long.
His eyes were heavy and his head relaxed into the pillow. He was almost asleep when she teased him one last time. A sigh escaped him in answer. “I have enough scars,” he mumbled, unequal to the task of bantering with her after a whole day and night of sleeplessness with a fight in between. Unlike her, sleep took him immediately. He shifted, forgetting to hug the edge of the bed and sank deeper into dreams.
Lukos was unaware when her head dipped onto his shoulder but snapped awake as her arm slid across his torso. He placed his hand gently on her wrist, about to remove it but her leg wrapped around his and he paused. The light was dim but he could just make out her features. Her face was expressionless in sleep. He let go of her wrist and gently pushed her hair away from her neck, exposing the curve of her shoulder.
His mouth took on a bitter twist as he lightly trailed his fingertips over the contours of her neck and shoulder. He could feel her breasts rising and falling against him, her stomach slowly moving in and out. All at once his mind turned to Imbrasus again but he shut that line of thought down right at the man’s name. Tonguing his cut again, he closed his eyes, letting his hand rest on her hip. If he didn’t think, then he didn’t have to make her move. Against his better, judgement, he moved so that her head fit neatly under his tender jaw and surrendered himself back into sleep.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He had swung around to walk back to the stairs but her gasp demanded his attention. Turning, he just caught the last of the whale’s body as it sank beneath the surface of the water. For as long as he could remember he’d seen these creatures of the deep but he didn’t see them so often as he saw dolphins. Her excitement drew him over to the rail with her and he answered her question with the one word. “Whale.”
More broke the surface farther away but he was backing away again, tonguing in the jagged line inside of his mouth. With the dull ache returning, it was easier to remember that this could not continue. He refused to smile at her excitement and he would not look at her when she finally turned to follow him back to the cabin. Looks from the crew followed them both until they were in the passage, pitch black now in the dark.
He opened the door, waiting for her to pass before closing it behind them. Why he’d insisted they come back down as a way to get distance from their conversation, he couldn’t now say. The room was tiny. Stifling. As she sat on the bed he went to open the window. The gentle lapping of water against the ship broke the silence in the room.
Lukos stood at the window for a long minute, kicking off the boots and letting fresh air circulate in the room. He was aware of her climbing into the bed and when he turned, he found her curled against the wall where he had been last time. Good. His shoulders sagged and at last he felt it was safe to lay down. Like her, he was careful to hug the edge, touching her as little as possible. He did not remove his clothes like he usually did and, as uncomfortable as he was with her presence, he was unable to think about it long.
His eyes were heavy and his head relaxed into the pillow. He was almost asleep when she teased him one last time. A sigh escaped him in answer. “I have enough scars,” he mumbled, unequal to the task of bantering with her after a whole day and night of sleeplessness with a fight in between. Unlike her, sleep took him immediately. He shifted, forgetting to hug the edge of the bed and sank deeper into dreams.
Lukos was unaware when her head dipped onto his shoulder but snapped awake as her arm slid across his torso. He placed his hand gently on her wrist, about to remove it but her leg wrapped around his and he paused. The light was dim but he could just make out her features. Her face was expressionless in sleep. He let go of her wrist and gently pushed her hair away from her neck, exposing the curve of her shoulder.
His mouth took on a bitter twist as he lightly trailed his fingertips over the contours of her neck and shoulder. He could feel her breasts rising and falling against him, her stomach slowly moving in and out. All at once his mind turned to Imbrasus again but he shut that line of thought down right at the man’s name. Tonguing his cut again, he closed his eyes, letting his hand rest on her hip. If he didn’t think, then he didn’t have to make her move. Against his better, judgement, he moved so that her head fit neatly under his tender jaw and surrendered himself back into sleep.
He had swung around to walk back to the stairs but her gasp demanded his attention. Turning, he just caught the last of the whale’s body as it sank beneath the surface of the water. For as long as he could remember he’d seen these creatures of the deep but he didn’t see them so often as he saw dolphins. Her excitement drew him over to the rail with her and he answered her question with the one word. “Whale.”
More broke the surface farther away but he was backing away again, tonguing in the jagged line inside of his mouth. With the dull ache returning, it was easier to remember that this could not continue. He refused to smile at her excitement and he would not look at her when she finally turned to follow him back to the cabin. Looks from the crew followed them both until they were in the passage, pitch black now in the dark.
He opened the door, waiting for her to pass before closing it behind them. Why he’d insisted they come back down as a way to get distance from their conversation, he couldn’t now say. The room was tiny. Stifling. As she sat on the bed he went to open the window. The gentle lapping of water against the ship broke the silence in the room.
Lukos stood at the window for a long minute, kicking off the boots and letting fresh air circulate in the room. He was aware of her climbing into the bed and when he turned, he found her curled against the wall where he had been last time. Good. His shoulders sagged and at last he felt it was safe to lay down. Like her, he was careful to hug the edge, touching her as little as possible. He did not remove his clothes like he usually did and, as uncomfortable as he was with her presence, he was unable to think about it long.
His eyes were heavy and his head relaxed into the pillow. He was almost asleep when she teased him one last time. A sigh escaped him in answer. “I have enough scars,” he mumbled, unequal to the task of bantering with her after a whole day and night of sleeplessness with a fight in between. Unlike her, sleep took him immediately. He shifted, forgetting to hug the edge of the bed and sank deeper into dreams.
Lukos was unaware when her head dipped onto his shoulder but snapped awake as her arm slid across his torso. He placed his hand gently on her wrist, about to remove it but her leg wrapped around his and he paused. The light was dim but he could just make out her features. Her face was expressionless in sleep. He let go of her wrist and gently pushed her hair away from her neck, exposing the curve of her shoulder.
His mouth took on a bitter twist as he lightly trailed his fingertips over the contours of her neck and shoulder. He could feel her breasts rising and falling against him, her stomach slowly moving in and out. All at once his mind turned to Imbrasus again but he shut that line of thought down right at the man’s name. Tonguing his cut again, he closed his eyes, letting his hand rest on her hip. If he didn’t think, then he didn’t have to make her move. Against his better, judgement, he moved so that her head fit neatly under his tender jaw and surrendered himself back into sleep.
