forum Space Cult Spin-off: Pirate and a Prince ((Private rp))

Started June 24, 2020 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

It was only a half hour later, maybe longer, that Amira was finally forced to go deal with her wounds. Under the threat of a couple more debilitating ones being added–courtesy of her beloved second mate–the captain headed down to her quarters, grumbling the whole way.

A mix of office and sleeping room, the space was littered with cushions that had been accumulated from various places and through various means. There for visitors. Every time Koi had a nightmare and needed a safe place to sleep, every time a meeting was being held, someone was in need of her attention, or just wanted somewhere to hang out, the cushions provided comfort.

Where the other rooms and quarters had beds, usually bunks, bolted to the wood of the ship, all Amira had was a cushion-laden hammock hung in a corner. However, that wasn't where she was. Instead, she was at her desk, which was, in fact, bolted down. Covered in stacks of books and papers that only stayed put through a miracle at the least, it encompassed her personality perfectly. Harried, busy, and littered with unnecessary knick-knacks.

She had acquired some supplies from Markus, the ship's doctor, who was currently dealing with the mess that had become of Koi's small mistake earlier with a loaded gun. Lead would be fine.

Her bandages were removed slowly, hesitantly, as though she was afraid what had already been underneath was too worth hiding to deal with what had been added. And to her, hiding the lightning scars covering her arms was very much worth it. But, with Malakai curled up in front of the desk and Mouse in a small bowl on the desk, she figured she could deal. As long as no one came in.

It wasn't long before boredom struck, and Rhysand's troublesome habits kicked up. At first, he paced back and forth, but he quickly grew bored with that. Then he found a stick-like object—possibly a pen, possibly a broken splinter of wood, he didn't care—and threw it around the room for Nox to fetch and bring back. More often than not, the ass would fetch and not bring back, so the disgruntled prince was forced to fetch it from the original fetcher to throw it again. And thus the staggered pattern continued until Rhysand couldn't take it anymore.

Surprisingly, it wasn't hard to get to the captain's quarters. All he has said was that he needed something from her, and Diego had taken him with minimal question. Now he stood alone in front of the door to the captain's quarters, debating. Nox croaked and picked at the fabric at his shirt, undoing the already frazzled threads and poking holes with his nails. Rhysand hushed the obnoxious bird, then decided barging in like the asshole he was would be the best entrance.

So he did.

"Your crew really are lax if they let prisoners just walk around like–" His eyes landed on the captain, and his voice stalled for just a moment. The wounds from Nox caught his attention first, the blood. But then the scars… "–heathens," he eventually continued, slowly closing the door behind him and unconsciously leaning against it. He didn't know what to think, but his eyes flitted away from the scars to her face, more focused there than the actual reason for his hesitation.

When the door burst open, Malakai rose, a low growl rumbling in his throat as Amira froze. No one was supposed to come in here. And everyone on her ship knew to knock. Who the hell had let the prisoner into her quarters like this, unguarded and on his own? Diego. It had to be. No one else would-

"Can I…help you?" Amira asked slowly, a forced calm in her voice as she motioned to Malakai, who ceased the growling but continued to stand on guard. The tiger eyed the newcomer warily, very obviously not happy to have been interrupted from his nap by a possible threat to his friend. "Most people find it polite to knock, especially as captives aboard a foreign ship." She pointed out, very carefully continuing her removal of her bandages. "Malakai, at ease. This man is no threat to me, of all people." Her words seemed to soothe her beastly companion, who plopped back down and rested his head on large paws, still watching the happenings in the room.

The scars on her arms, underneath the scrapes and the blood she was now wiping away, were decorated with even more scars. They themselves held a different hue from normal scars, almost pinkish against her skin, which was lighter under where the bandages lay regularly. They spiraled like the forks of lightning that crossed the sky during a storm, but seemed different. Where most normal lightning scars curled like ferns, hers were jagged and sharp, and there were far too many for her to have accidentally grabbed some pole as it was struck.

Nox dipped his head and released a sound very similar to that of a hiss, the feathers around his throat ruffled and raised in alarm at that beastly growl. "Ruhk." The bird's signature croak for his owner was low and hesitant as Nox shifted from foot to foot on Rhysand's shoulder. He made no move the fly away, however. In fact, he pressed himself against the side of the prince's head, his own head still low and beady eyes watching the large cat warily.

Rhysand, on the other hand, had all eyes for the woman in front of him. His gaze flicked between those scarred and bloody arms and Amira's face and back again. His mouth opened and closed and opened again. He didn't know what to do with himself, but then he was moving before he could really think about it. "I told you grabbing my dumb bird wasn't the smartest idea," he muttered as he walked over to the captain, ignoring the irritated snap of a beak right next to his eye. Rhysand swiped some clean towels and made sure they were at least damp before coming up to Amira. He stopped, though, before he could reach the 'danger zone' and held out his hands placatingly.

"Call it an apology," he said softly, glancing to the tiger as if to extend that statement to the large cat, then back over to Amira. Thanks to all of the fights he got into, Rhysand knew a decent amount about first aid, so patching her arms up would be no issue for him. Ignoring the scars was an easy choice—he could dwell on them later. Right now his focus was on the scratches she had gotten because of his bird.

"I do not need your apology." Amira managed to get out as Rhys approached. That was all she could really do, though, likely due to the shock of having the formerly dickish captive start to clean her wounds. She didn't pull away, instead letting him wipe up the blood, brow furrowed as she watched his hands. For a few minutes, that was all that happened. Malakai drifted off soon after, apparently content in his companion's safety.

"I knew what could happen, when I grabbed your bird." She said finally, glancing up at Rhys. "I have handled nastier birds than that one, that's for sure. Scary creatures, when they want to be. But if you grab them and hold them still long enough, or offer them a treat, they tend to calm right down." That might have been a joke. In fact, it was, but sometimes it was harder to tell when she was speaking with a serious tone. Humor tended to carry strangely in her accent, while serious.

"Who let you out of your cell? And why was it you chose to come here."

Rhysand rolled his eyes at her insistence that she didn't need his apology, marking his attempt to be civil, useless. Bent over to be closer to his work, the prince was quiet for the most part as he worked to clean the wounds. It took him a bit to answer, busy concentrating on cleaning off the pirate's arms to remember to respond. Eventually, he flicked his eyes up to Amira's face before they lowered once more. "I should hope he's not particularly nasty. I didn't raise him to be feral—he's just been a brat the whole time." The prince hardly flinched as Nox squawked in indignation and poked at his neck, but he did glance over and arch a brow when the bird settled down and against his neck. "A brat that thinks affection will earn forgiveness." Nox trilled and closed his eyes, burrowing further against his owner's neck and cheek. Rhysand huffed a small laugh and reached for the disinfectants, Amira's arms devoid of blood.

Without all the red blocking them, the pirate's strange scars were on full display to the prince. Rhysand cocked his head slightly, mismatched eyes curious as they flicked over them, then once again ignored them in favor of lightly grasping her arm in one hand and gently spreading the disinfectant over the cuts. "I wasn't let out, because my cell wasn't even locked in the first place." He looked back up to her with a flash of a smirk. "And I'm nosey and bored."

When Rhys mentioned his cell not being locked at all, Amira's eyes flashed, and her arm jerked like she intended to pull it away. Still, she kept it there, after the initial instinct. "I am going to kill Diego." She muttered, jaw tense as her free arm adjusted to tap on her leg. "We have a child on board, just because we were lucky you were smart enough not to try to kill someone doesn't mean the next one of his social experiments will be-" She brought her hand up, dragging it through her hair. After a moment of thought, she looked to Rhysand, eyes flicking from his hands working diligently to clean her arms, to his face.

"If you touch anyone on this ship, if you harm them with any sort of malice intended–we are pirates, scuffles are expected–I will not hesitate to string you up on the main mast and leave you there to starve. These people are my family, and I do not care if you are a prince, a peasant, or the goddamned king." She said, her voice strangely soft. There was an underlying note of seriousness, but she talked about her crew the way one would about someone they cared deeply for. Because she did. "On that note, I do not see any reason to lock you in your cell. Your only way off this ship without us is overboard, and the ocean would soon make quick work of you." Reaching out her free arm, she tapped his hand to get his full attention. "I am offering you a hesitant truce. Your behavior is what keeps it in affect, should you take it. Free reign of the ship, with exceptions to certain places for privacy reasons. And no one will try to kill you when they see you out and about."

Rhysand hardly paid attention to her as she talked to herself, more focused on disinfecting her arms. His hands slid over her scarred skin, focusing on the cuts themselves, his own calloused fingers likely rough to her. He registered that she began talking to him, and it took a moment, but he soon realized she was threatening him. Again, however, he hardly paid attention the moment he realized, humming in acknowledgement and not lifting his eyes from his task.

The tap on his hand did pull his attention towards her, at least for a moment. He flicked his gaze up to meet hers, held it there for a moment, then dropped it back down when she finished. A sharp smile cut across his features as he huffed dryly, unamused and frankly tired of the threats and assumptions that he'd cause trouble on purpose. Of course, he never really helped himself by being an arrogant asshole, but still. "Noted, pups," he said, the only thing he really cared to say as he went back to tending to her wounds. Disinfectant on, it was time for bandages. He swapped the former for the latter, then moved his grasp towards her elbow, starting the wrapping with a casual ease of an expert. He didn't offer any explanation as to why or how he knew any of this, only worked in silence with a blank look of concentration on his face, hands firm but not forceful or harmful in any way—just hard enough to make sure she didn't move and mess up the bandaging.

He wasn't bad at this. Amira had to admit that, especially seeing as she was the one who's bandages were being rewrapped. It was hard, for her to do them herself. Trying to wrap your entire forearm and up with only one hand wasn't exactly a cut-and-dry, easy process. But watching someone else do it, she was at least glad that they were secure. For years, she had refused to let Markus re-do them, adamant about the fact that this was her problem, her issue. They were her scars to hide. Her past to keep under wraps–literally–and to herself. She trusted Markus. She really did. But what the royal family had become out of the eyes of the public was her own secret to carry.

And now, a prisoner who'd been on her ship for merely a few hours, had seen them full force. But he didn't mention them. That counts for something, right? He seems like the type with his own secrets, and should he even try to bring them to light, all it takes is your denial to rid your crew of the thought.

"You know," She started suddenly, tilting her head as she reached across her desk with her free arm to grab a small glass bottle of something, pulling the lid off with her teeth to smell it. She made a face, returning it to the desk and repeating the process. "You almost rival our on-board doctor with your bandage tying skills. I may have to throw you overboard, to protect his job." Snorting at her own joke, she finally found what she was looking for, taking a long drink from the small bottle and scrunching up her face at the taste. "I am sure he would like you, though. He seems to like anyone, regardless of pretty much anything. The al'abalah." She spoke fondly, even when insulting her crewmates.

Rhysand was happy to sit in silence while he finished with the bandaging of her arms, finishing with one and moving onto the other. It let him pretend that they weren't enemies, that he wasn't a prisoner—pretend that so many real things were fiction. But alas, that fantasy could only thrive for so long before he'd have to pull away and remind himself of his reality. The prince pulled his gaze back up to the pirate when she suddenly spoke, watching her with amused curiosity as she sought and grabbed a drink. He had to admit; they had quite the captain. Few leaders cared for their people. She reminded him of his mothers, in a way, with how fondly she spoke of her crew.

He flashed a quick grin at Amira. "I'm pretty sure you don't need a reason to throw me overboard. But," he continued, putting on a fake nonchalant face, "I wouldn't be so quick to do so, for that particular reason. I have no formal training, at least when it comes to medical things. I kind of had to teach myself through trial and error, copying what the palace nurses and doctors did." Though he pretended to be calm and indifferent about what he was telling the pirate—a secret for a secret—he made it a point to keep his eyes down on his task, as if it required all of his attention and then some. "No one taught me because I didn't want them to know. Well, I mean, they knew, obviously, but, they didn't know. They didn't get that most fights I got into, I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to get into in the first place. Or sometimes I did, and it was to get hurt on purpose, because I felt like I deserved it. A lot–a lot of the people I fought left it way worse than how I did. And it just… I don't know. I hate it, but I also don't. I hate it because I get people hurt, but it also makes me feel a little less worthless and helpless, at the time at least. Doesn't usually last long," he grumbled, then rolled his eyes and dismissed everything he said with a humorless snort. "Pathetic, I know. Just ignore me." His focus zeroed in on his task, a muscle working in his jaw at what he spilled. He had said more than he intended, and now he couldn't take it back. Damn this damn pirate.

"Are you normally this stupid, or is today some sort of special day for your stupidity?" Amira asked, after giving him a long moment of silence to work. Her tone carried no mal-intent, and generally didn't seem like she was insulting him, so much as poking a bit of fun, even if she said it so casually.

"It is far from pathetic to feel, even if you can barely make sense of what you are feeling." She took another drink, following it up with a deep inhale and exhale. Apparently, to deal with the taste. The drink was something like pure caffeine and sugar, just enough other in it to keep from killing her. "You fight. You fight even though you do not wish to, and I could tell you that that comes from deep rooted fear, but I could also tell you you simply need a new outlet. Either way, you leave with skills that help." She chewed on her lip for a moment, fingers tapping on the desk once she had set down the small bottle.

"You know, you sound like you hate that part of you. But what of the good things that come from it? What of the medical skills that could save your life, or someone else's in a pinch? What of your ability to defend yourself from someone who wants to kill you and is ready to? The world is a give and take, and every bit of bad comes with a bit of good somewhere. I could tell you all about that." An expert in the bad that follows good, really. But for this, I can pretend.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and tied off the last bandage, pulling away from Amira as if her touch burned. Nox, strangely quiet throughout the entire interaction, squawked at the sudden movement throwing him off balance. He flapped his wings, then hopped down onto the floor and trotted over to the giant cat, head cocked and beak clicking in curiosity.

"More like the tongue-lashings I get from mum every time," he grumbled, then shook his head and turned away, backing up a few steps. "Just forget it, alright? It was an offer—a secret for a secret. Insurance, you could say." He spared the pirate a glance and gestured to her freshly bandaged arms. "I won't tell so long as you don't."

He didn't need her pity or advice, not when all he could think about was a certain face that he could never escape. In fact, getting kidnapped probably was the best thing that could happen to him, theoretically, because he could just be alone for a while without resorting to slipping away and inevitably getting into fights. Rhysand shook himself from those thoughts and leveled a bored stare on Amira, waiting for her response while also dividing his attention between her and his raven, which was likely close to getting eaten by the tiger.

Amira watched him for a moment, before snorting, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stood from her chair. "You are one of those people. I get it. Fine, ignore the great words of wisdom coming from someone who understands more than you think, my sage advice is unappreciated and I can see and accept that. Your secret is mine, the same as my own. Now, in other news-" She clapped her hands together, then scooped the small skeletal mouse out of the candy dish and set it on her shoulder. "Food. I am sure Sockeye'll be ecstatic to have someone else to compliment his food aboard."

The candle light in the quarters cast a glow upon her skin, similar to what one might imagine the sun might do. She seemed entirely unconcerned by his behavior. So unconcerned, in fact, that she was smiling, looking over to her feline companion as he warily eyed the incoming bird. "Malakai, that is a friend. He is small, like the Mouse, so just be careful not to squish him." As she spoke, the tiger glanced to her, making eye contact before seeming to nod, and look back at the bird. She had never been quite sure if he was a normal tiger, or something else, but it didn't matter to her. Malakai stood slowly, moving towards Nox at a nonthreatening pace, stopping before him. And then he licked him.

Rhysand opened his mouth to protest, that he wasn't that kind of person, he just—he didn't even know what he was thinking or meaning, just that he did think and mean something. Instead, he closed his mouth and scowled, though the expression resembled that of a pout more than a scowl. He didn't deign to respond to her, though he did perk up a fraction at the mention of food, as well as the final realization that there was a dead—living?—mouse on her desk. The prince eyed it warily as Amira scooped it up and hardly heard the mention of the cook's name, or the implication of the guarantee of him complimenting it.

At her final words, he tore his gaze away from the skeletal mouse and diverted it back to his dumb raven, who was in for quite the treat. Nox watched the giant cat with intrigue and didn't back away at Malakai's advancement. However, when he was met with a face and front full of slobber and lost feathers, he squawked in outrage and puffed his slobbered feathers up. Rhysand cracked a smile and huffed a small laugh, then crouched down and held out his hand for Nox to retreat to should he want to. The raven seemed to pout, just like his owner, and croaked to himself while poking at the tiger's fur in a futile retaliation.

"Nox."

The bird looked back at the prince, then at the tiger, then back at Rhys. "Ruhk."

"Yes, I know what he just did. Don't be a tattle tale, that's not how I raised you."

"Ruhk." Nox seemed to stress the sound, tilting his head slightly and fluttering his wings. The feathers of them were slightly crooked from the friendly assault.

"Nox," Rhys returned, angling his head as well. The bird gave up in his attempt to get payback and strutted back over to his owner, hopping into Rhysand's hand and turning around to stare at Malakai.

Without any more theatrics, Malakai made his way over to Amira, wrapping around her legs and purring. His eyes were on the raven, slightly curious and mostly looking pleased with himself. Amira let out a laugh, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. "Very good job. That is how we greet friends, right?" Malakai let out an answering huff, headbutting her hand. "If it makes your bird feel better, he did the same thing to Diego. He bent down to pet him, and Malakai got his entire face in one go. The poor man was retching for an hour, but now they are best of friends."

She shook her head, still chuckling at the event. Carefully, she detached herself from Malakai, moving towards the door and motioning for Rhys to follow. "You are a minorly free man now, which means you need to eat. Even prisoners deserve good food, and we have the best. On another topic, I do not believe we have ever fully introduced ourselves."

Rhys watched Malakai interact with Amira with a mindless smile, and so did Nox, but the raven's glowering stare was more resentful than his amused owner's. The prince glanced over at his bird, rolled his eyes, and jostled his hand, causing Nox to flutter his wings to keep his balance. "Knock if off." The raven huffed and transferred himself to Rhysand's shoulder, then began the process of preening himself and resetting his feathers. Rhys shook his head and followed after Amira. This bird is such a drama queen.

"Well, at least I'm a minorly free man," he drawled, side-eyeing her with a lingering bit of amusement. "As if I didn't just walk out of my cell and bust into your quarters unsupervised. And no, I don't think we have. Prisoner to captor—just a bit rude, in my opinion."

Without warning, Amira stopped walking, spinning around and bowing at the waist with a dramatic flourish to rival Nox. Eyes sparkling, she tilted her head up to look at him. "Amira Sultan, captain of Orion's Hand, the ship you stand upon now. Oft referred to, you may come to find, as the Tiger of the Nuevic Seas." For a moment, she paused, making a face and thinking. "Is that all? I feel as though I am missing somethi–ah! Bastard of Rynok! Another one on a long list of titles, and frankly, my favorite." Somehow forgetting the title of former Crown Princess she had to her name as well, she stood, arching a brow and awaiting Rhys' introduction of himself. Malakai had continued down the hall, completely ignoring his companion's theatrics.

He nearly run into her as Amira spun around to dramatically introduce herself. Rhys came to a halt just in time, and couldn't hide the small huff of laughter at her introduction. When it was his turn, he bowed deeply and twirled his hand with a flourish. "Rhysand Oulixes, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Creston. Son of Queen Alona of Creston and Queen Vekra of Kølistýri." He almost tripped over the pronunciation of his mother's Northern homeland, but thankfully he wouldn't earn her wrath and managed to wrangle his tongue through the strange sounds. "Scourge of the local bars, Bastard Child, and Raven-Bearer—all lovingly given to me by the palace soldiers." The prince rolled his eyes at that and stood up straight. Nox flew after Malakai and landed on the tiger's back, too lazy to fly and ignoring Rhys and Amira as they formally introduced themselves to each other.

Amira snorted, raising a closed fist with her pinky extended. It was a 'cheers' like gesture common in her homeland, that may or may not be recognizable. "Ah, to bastardry. Is yours a birth-related bastardry, or reputation related? That will truly determine whether or not we have that in common, as mine is entirely founded upon reputation." She said, carrying on down the hall once more. "And where is it your mother–Queen Vekra– is from again? I would like to try nailing down the pronunciation, as I have only ever seen the place-name written, and once at that. Perks of high class, even getting to know of it. I may have a million questions for you, though." She was much more talkative, now, especially given something that interested her.

Rhys vaguely recognized the gesture from his international studies, but feared he didn't know enough to return the gesture without looking like a fool. Instead, he feigned ignorance—which truly broke his soul and ego—and grinned. Then he tipped his head back and forth in a weighing manner. "Well, you could perhaps call it both? Mainly reputation—entirely, if you go around asking people." He quickly dropped the subject as he followed after her, directing it towards a subject he was more keen on entertaining. "Ah, yes. Kølistýri. Lots of tongue twists. keyu-lee-stih-ree. Land of the north, full of furs and crazy shit. I would be happy to divulge as much information as possible without compromising any information that a pirate would be particularly interested in. My mother would castrate me, then toss me to the literal wolves to be eaten alive." He snorted, lip quirking up in amusement. "She loves that land more than life itself."

Amira thought for a moment, making strange faces, before trying her hand at the pronunciation. "Kølistýri." It didn't sound quite right, almost like her own accent was overlapping. So she tried it four more times. And while none of them landed the best, the final came close, while still carrying her accent in a way that almost blended the two. "If I wanted to know something compromising, I would simply have you 'questioned'." She said, making air quotes. As they got closer to the ship's meal hall, noise could be hear, a loud bustle of raucous laughter and slamming drinks. "My questions are numerous, which means they may have to be saved for a later time. Anything you speak of in here is likely to be related to food, alcohol, or adventure. Or just a straight fight, if Hawk gets to you in time."

With that, she pushed open the door, greeted almost immediately by a bottle thrown at her with maybe a bit too much force. Still, she caught it, cracking the cap off with an appendage of her belt and raising it to cheers.

"Hoy! Meet our newest prisoner, save you who were implicit in his 'escape' from his cell. The arrogant prince-boy, in the flesh. And our current ransom." She winked at Rhys, stepping aside and dropping into a crouch to drink from the bottle and pet Malakai, who had made himself comfy by the door, with Nox hopping excitedly around him.

Rhys grinned in amusement at Amira's attempts to pronounce his mother's homeland, though he did feel a twinge of sympathy for the girl. He still struggled, and the only reason he was familiar enough with the tongue-twisting language was because of Vekra, so he didn't tease her about it. Instead, he offered a simple bob of his head in approval of her last attempt. As she talked about the questions she might have for him, he listened with a note of curiosity, wondering what it might be that she'd ask. At the mention of a fight, though, he let out a short bark of laughter and ran a hand through his hair. "A fight? I think I can handle that over recounts of adventure. Alcohol I can do, too."

He didn't get much introduction before he was sent into the wolves, and no amount of court training could prepare Rhysand for the hustle and bustle and absolute chaos that was a pirate meal hall. He tipped his head back just in time before something flew past his face, a brow raised in question at the unnamed projectile. Concerned for both his and his corvid's safety, he whistled for Nox, the bird croaking and flapping up to his offered arm.

"I'm going to die from flying booze rather than a flying fist, I see," he commented with a glance over at Amira.

"Nonsense!" A man's voice boomed, the man in question being the source of the thrown bottle as well. "Cap'n's too good a catch to let ya get dead over a bottle." The man looked to be somewhere near thirty, and looked like he'd been in way too many bar fights and won. He had his own bottle in hand, this one large and half empty. "This is your prince, Cap?"

"Aye." Amira confirmed, standing and taking a seat on top of one of the wooden tables, next to a very bored looking Morrigan. The latter had a knife in hand and was peeling an apple with it, handing the peel bits to a young boy who munched on them happily. The ship was anchored for the night, so everyone was there, grouped off together but still together. Amira loved it. The sense of comradery, of family, a family she had built and run and kept together. "And just because he says he can handle a fight does not mean anyone wants their dinner ruined by one, Hawk. The barnacles on the hull could always use a good scraping."

Hawk just laughed at that, taking another needlessly long drink. He was in high spirits, Amira noted, and it probably had something to do with a story or money. He passed a smaller bottle to her, which she offered to Rhys, motioning for him to take a seat somewhere.

"Mr. Prince-boy!" Diego shouted excitedly, snatching the bottle from Amira to give to Rhys, unfortunately in on Hawk's scheme to get the prince inebriated. He bumped Rhys' shoulder with his own, grinning ear to ear. "I see you didn't get murdered for wanderin', that's good. I was a little worried about the possibility of that."

Morrigan snorted, leaning forward to whisper something in Amira's ear that had her rolling her eyes.

Nox didn't seem too fond of the loudness and sudden onslaught of people, as he pressed himself against Rhys' neck and squawked a nervous "Ruhk." The prince chuckled and patted the raven's head, though that did nothing to ease the steadily puffing-up feathers. Nox only burrowed further into Rhys' neck as Diego swung by and got too close for the corvid's comfort. Rhysand, on the other hand, grinned brilliantly and nudged the pirate with an elbow.

"Ah, my most wonderful rescuer!" he exclaimed, clutching at his chest. "Unfortunately, no, I wasn't mauled by a tiger. Nor was I cat meat, luckily. Thanks for warning me about that, by the way," he drawled with a roll of his eyes. Though Diego had failed to mention the very real tiger living on the ship, he was grateful for the pirate—something he never thought he'd ever think—for letting him out of his cell. It had led to him making a finicky truce with Amira, which then led to freedom on the ship.

"Scout's honor may not include leaving prisoners' cells open, but it does include dishing about Mal too early. Sorry bud. Had to let you find that one out yourself." Diego's grin was only barely apologetic, mostly because everyone knew Malakai only hurt people if he was decently pissed. All in all, he tended to laze about and expect scratches on his belly. He cast a glance over at Amira and Morrigan, who were whispering quietly between the two of them, Morrigan's apple now freshly peeled. The redhead still handed alternating slices to the boy, the rest being nibbled on when they were cut off. "I feel like we're bein' talked about. No offense to you, of course, but I'm hopin' Hawk starts shit and gets barnacle duty before I do."

"After that? You'd have t' be the luckiest motherfucker alive." A voice from behind them spoke, followed by a thin and tall frame that moved past them and into the room. They were carrying two large trays full of plates, and were met with cheers from the louder members of the crew, who wasted no time in digging into the food offered. "More comin', you heathens. Koi, help me with the next trays?" The newcomer walked with a confident air, something like mischief shimmering in eyes that were far too blue. The boy eating apple slices nodded enthusiastically, practically throwing himself to his feet to head out the door.

The cook loitered, appraising the prince with unnerving eyes. "What a catch." They said, grinning sharply at the pun. "Amira, what's with this whole 'crew full o' hot people' thing ya got goin'?"

"Bad luck. I was supposed to be the best looking person on board." Amira called, briefly pausing her quiet conversation with a stony-as-ever Morrigan. "It is incredibly difficult to do that surrounded by people who would also be the best looking on another ship."

"You'll always be the prettiest in my eyes, Cap'n." They assured, calling over their shoulder. When they returned their attention to Rhys, they offered a hand. "Sockeye. Chef. And tied for second prettiest with the lovely third mate. Sorry Diego. Tell me what you think of the food, eh? Royals either have the best or the worst taste."