@Dances_with_Shadows-will-be-very-spotty
(I already got the starter)
Almost all of the ship's crew was on the Merry Watch in celebration of their new catch, the Kingfisher. Rack after rack of fine eastern wines fueled the partyers who guzzled it down like cheap beer. The Orchids, men and women alike, mixed eagerly with the new members of the ship's company. Dice games and wrestling matches and song circles had erupted spontaneously. Propositions unspoken were everywhere. Anto watched with a grin as his friend, Valora, disappeared below-deck with a crew-woman in her arms.
The crew had spotted Anto about a week ago, clinging to the wreckage of a safety boat while he leaked blood from his legs like a broken faucet. A quick interrogation after they hauled his sorry ass from the water revealed he was the lone survivor of a ship hit by a strong storm off the coast of Cuba. Three days he'd been adrift, so needless to say he took the oath of piracy almost as soon as he recovered enough to speak.
Anto watched the merriment from the fringes of the starboard side, his feet dangling off the edge of the raised quarterdeck. The advice from the doctor, who was currently lip-locked with one of the carpenter, was to stay off his feet as much as he could or he'd risk opening his stitches. Sadly, this meant he couldn't grab his own bottle but it was much better than losing his legs to infection.
Footsteps approached from the left and a quick glance revealed it to be the First Mate, two cups of wine in her hands.
"Good show you put out there, ma'am," he said. "I watched the whole thing from here."
(tis her: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/7e/93/3b/7e933bf345fd72c2cc07ccc88e17f074.jpg)
The First Mate grinned wickedly as she sat down next to the newbie, handing him the extra cup of wine. She would've preferred rum, but this was a celebration, and celebrations called for something fancier than rum. "There's a reason they call me Reaper," she said, her voice containing a slight lilt to it that suggested a hidden accent—though what accent was the question.
The entire crew only knew the First Mate as either her earned name, Reaper, or her last name, Fane. Her first name was a complete mystery, and there were rumors that anyone who figured it out went missing. But those were only rumors. In fact, almost everything about this particular First Mate was a mystery, and she wasn't one to open up to just anyone. Once again, rumors circled around the crew that the Captian knew the answers to some of those mysteries, but others speculated that even the Captian didn't know everything about his First Mate.
"Yeah. Happy I managed to get picked up by this ship and not theirs," he said, nodding in thanks as he took a sip. His nose crinkled up at the taste of it. "Would you think of me less if I told you I am not much of an alcohol guy?"
For the little bit of time the crew had known Anto, he had done two things. One: Threw up so much water when he was dumped onto the deck they thought he swallowed half of the damn ocean, and Two: Showed that he was stubborn as shit. He's already attempted to walk at least three times, the doctor screaming louder each and every time it happened. After the threat to strap him down on to a bed was made, however, he cooled his temptations.
"Why are you not down there, if you do not mind me asking?" He gestured at the crowd of partyers gathered in the middle of the deck.
She jokingly pushed on his back, as if to throw him overboard. "How dare you. Alcohol is the best shit ever invented, especially rum." She laughed, however, and dropped her hand while simultaneously downing half the glass of wine.
When she was done, she wiped at her lips, licked them, then half-turned to look at the group of partyers. Her nose curled up. "Believe it or not, but I'd rather not have my face eaten by those drunks." She held up her glass as she turned back to face Anto. "At least I can hold my liquor and keep it in my pants."
"They are a quite…..rambunctious bunch, are they not?" he asked, moving his head to the side to avoid a thrown bottle to connect with it.
He spoke in a very proper manner. They crew hadn't even heard a single curse word out of him, a rare feat on any sort of watercraft.
"Rambunctious is a nicer way to say it. Fucking nuts is another, but to each their own I suppose. She finished off her wine, then nodded at his. "You gonna finish that? I might poke around the ship to see if I can crack open a nice thing of rum. That's the good stuff. Knocks me out for most of the night."
He gladly handed the cup over shaking his head. "It gives me a headache if I drink even a cup. Have fun on your search, I suppose. You know where I will be if you are in need of a conversation."
"Gracias, my kind sir." She plucked the cup from his hand and knocked it back without ceremony. She set both cups down and nodded at him, pulling a leg up towards her chest. "Gimme a shout anytime if you need anything, or just wanna chat. Reaper's fine, but I also go by Fane."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, giving her a casual salute before turning back to the mess going on. It was somewhat amusing to watch, actually. The wrestling matches were entertaining, at least.
She snorted. "Please, Fane is just fine. Ma'am makes me feel old." She returned his salute and got up, bounding below deck after dodging multiple attempts to hook her into a makeout session or wrestling match. She might return to the wrestling, but she much preferred keeping her mouth untainted.
"Hey, newbie." He looked up once again to see a woman standing behind of him, bent over slightly with a suggestive grin on her face.
"Hey…..Eli, was it not?"
She looked pleased as she sat down next to him, much closer than the first mate was. "Yes, it is. What are you doing over here all by your lonesome?"
"Ah, well, I cannot really get up," Anto explained, gesturing down at his bandaged legs.
"Not even for a drink?" She sounded slightly disappointed.
"Sadly, no." He stared off at the sea again, completely unaware of the insinuation that Eli had offered.
Fane hopped back up the steps two at a time, grinning happily as she carried two bottles of rum. She perched herself up onto a stack of barrels overlooking the entire deck, but her focus was mainly on the wrestling matches. She could see Anto and Eli out the corner of her eye, but she wasn't all that concerned about them.
"Not even for a bit of….?" she put her hand of a very select spot.
"Whooaaah!" Anto shouted, getting to his feet in surprise and shock. "I did not give consent!"
"Oh, c'mon," Eli pressed, not willing to take no for an answer in her drunken state, "You seem fine to me."
She happily nursed her rum as she watched the wrestling matches, sometimes shouting encouragement or criticism when she saw fit. Even as drunks, the crew members took her advice and made adjustments when needed, producing more entertaining matches that had most of the spectators on the edge to see who'd win.
"No," he said firmly, limping his was over to the relative safety of his first mate.
"Your crew," he huffed, frowning, "does not understand the meaning of consent."
She looked over at him with a frown, slightly disappointed to be disturbed, then cocked a brow when she saw who it was. "I mean, everyone on here is usually horny as hell when they've got alcohol in their system—and even then, makeout sessions and late-night trips to one's cabin aren't uncommon on a normal day." She patted a barrel next to her, urging him to sit before he got yelled at by the ship's doctor. "What happened?"
He gladly sat down. Standing hurt.
"Eli decided to grab my penis in the middle of a casual conversation." She had disappeared into the crowd once again, probably in search of another suitable partner.
She curled her nose again, bringing her bottle up to her lips. "Yeah, Eli is like that. She tried to make a move on me the one time she got super shitfaced. I nearly broke her hand, and even drunk Eli has yet to do it again."
"I doubt I am strong enough to do that at the moment," he said, wincing at a particularly hard slam in the wrestling match.
"Probably," she agreed with a nod, "but enough rejection, maybe a bit of threats, and you'll be free from her as well. Rest of the crew apparently has a hard time fathoming not wanting to bang everyone in sight," she said with a snort, then took another swig.
"I see that." He folded his hands in his lap, his back as straight as a rod. He looked very proper. "Why does the captain let them act like this?"
She caught his proper stance and gave him a 'love tap' on the back of his head—in other words, she lightly smacked him upside the head (think Gibbs and Tony). "This is a pirate ship, dude. Slouching and lounging is practically an expectation." She shook her head with a soft laugh and brought the bottle up to her lips, waiting until after she spoke to take a sip.
"Cap lets them do whatever, as it buys their loyalty. They'd rather be on a chaotic ship that lets them be them than a ship with a bunch of rules and regulations. It's the reason why they became pirates—to escape rules and hawk-eyed society."
She specifically only said "they" when referring to the crew instead of "we."
(NCIS is the shit)
"I guess my views are a bit different than the…typical pirate." He rubbed the back of his head, he posture still as rigid as ever. "Posture was pounded into me as a child. I do not think I could slouch if I wanted to."
(I looked it up, and the Gibbs slap wasn't even supposed to be in the show. It was just a thing the actor did on instinct to get 'Tony' back on line)
"You need to learn how to relax, my dude. You'll stick out like a sore thumb, or at least even more than you usually do." She tapped the bottle on her lips, thinking. "You're a curiosity, I'll give you that. I like curiosities. Gives me a nice puzzle to put together in my free time."
