Acquainting With Ann

Some magic prevented any harmful bash from befalling Liz during her descent, so she reached the sooty terminous of her fall none the worse for wear (though still understandable perturbed by the plummet). She tumbled into a ill-lit room almost as soot-smeared as the shaft that'd brought her. Much of its space and been piled with boxes and havockly placed chairs no doubt set here to avoid combat with other rooms' decor. Upon the most lavish of these usurped thrones sat a woman of smokey complexion. She was slender as a stelleto and seemed twice as pointy with cheekbones and chin angled to inspire shards of glass. Liz was treated to a comely view of this woman's pale flesh, for not only was her black dress of a titillating and scandalously lacking nature, but moreover, this minimal garment had it's skirts bunched up to the naughtess's belly allowing the quite exposed occupant to firkytoodle her quim. Despairingly. Unfortunately, Liz caught a meer glimpse of this vigorous violinning as her arriving caused it to abruptly stop.

"Oy?" Blasted the pirate's intrudee. "Merry morrow t'ya luv? No boffer a rap, jus' en'er like a tea leaf down 'a chim'ey. Nefer a min' I migh' be polishin' me fine china, eh?" From the previous placement of the woman's hands, it was plane to Liz that she was refering to fine china in the manner of cockney rhyme. Now that such polishing had been halted, her wet fingers had sprung to a rude gesture that matched her begruntled expression. Mores the pity, it seemed if this woman could be persuaded to continue with an audience, it was fully evident she'd had her rhythm had been disrupted. Should she start anew, she'd resume some paces down the summit.

"Ye needn't blame me for that entrance," Liz protested standing and de-dusting herself. "A woman in living leather be deserving of ye real ire." A smirk caught the corner of her mouth as other notions inherited her interests. "But on the subject of polishing my saliva might be of use."

"Come t' 'oe, 'oe, 'oe, dow' me chim'ey eh? Chuff, luv, op'n wiff dat," goaded the woman, her eyes still narrowed with agitation, but a glimmer of invitation could be seen. The woman's contempt still held sway, but only so that more treat may be offered; 'twas a game Liz played well, on both sides.

Pondering possible propositions, Liz pivoted her head to take in her forcefully provided parlor. "This be ye mooring?" There seemed little comforts associated with one's rack; even a wandering shiphand would set in place some arrangements if a room was secured.

"No' a bi', wheres 'a fun in jillyin' abou' in me own room? By on, mine i' 'at tiny boot box nex' 'a yours, ya lucky cunny."

Before Liz could inquire more about her own abode, a knock sounded apon the room's door. "Annelise?" inquired a dignified woman without. "Thee should hurry or risk tardiness." Each syllable of her words was as delicately and deliberately placed as notes in a symphony.

Presumably Annelise, the smokey woman huffed, undoubtedly malcontented by her unfinished business which had seemingly been delayed all the more. But she made decent her clothing (or as decent as possible given it's limited nature) and opened the door. In the hall beyond a slim aristocrat stood. A tender tower of curls was stacked upon her head. Her face appeared in each instant to be perfectly sculpted from pale crystal and have delicate intelligence imposible to impart on such creations. Similarly impossibly, her limbs, though slender and elegant, seemed to the pirate's subconscious to posses a strength beyond what was apparent. And a bountiful view of three of her limbs was given, for this daintiful dame wore a garment of a minimal nature (much like the others in Valhala). The elegant and succinct gown not only left both her arms bare, but also left the fairer share of her left leg naked due to the asymmetric nature of its lower half. Indeed, a full shark bite's worth of material was missing from it's skirt; though, the abundance of ruffles and embroidery bordering the gape, made it clear this exposure was by design.

"Oh, hello?" the platinum beauty inquired upon seeing Liz. "Thee has been delivered by The Mistress." Gracefully she tapped upon the pirate's treasured top and thereby sent a palpitate about the flesh below. "And she has gotten thou attired too, how considerate."

Considerate was leagues away from the words Liz would use were she to report on The Mistress, but as discretion oft serves better than valor, she stayed her tongue.

"Ah yet the pièce de résistance, she has left for me." As fine jewellery--and indeed Liz felt the reverence necessary--she gently withdrew a quality pistol for the pirate. This banging great firearm was made of nickel and oak, hammered and carved respectively into an ornate shape effective for any sort of thuggery. "The mundanities within will load it and change the ammunition as appropriate," added the woman while Liz held her newly beloved at arms length and squinted along the sights (which was done in a direction well away from the other two women)

The skilled pirate lowered her weapon and returned her vision to the woman in hopes to make order of the bewildering sentence she'd just dispensed. "Loading ammunition?" she inquired after a brief consort with her wits had brought no clarity.

"Yes, thee is correct. We have placed things within such that it will reload itself in proper time without any effort on thy part. Moreover thy armament will adjust for each situation; exempli gratia, in my estate it will dispense pleasure rather than destruction."

That last suggestion placed a curious smile upon Liz's lips, for she very much enjoyed the dispensement of pleasure. Though weather such stimuli would be given to her or someone else, she hadn't the foggiest. In an effort to elicit more of an explanation, the intrigued pirate raised an eyebrow.

A blossom of cognition shown behind the woman's wide and limpid eyes, and she hastily added, "oh bless me, I nearly forgot. I am The Governess, and this is my estate."

"Aye," agreed Liz, "but what be that ye said--steady on!" The determinant of Liz's outblast was The Governess's decision to sadal the pistol's holster upon the pirate's hip, thereby disturbing her already quite short skirt with a reach under. Liz scowled not only was this brash act quite familiar for a woman she'd met moments ago, but the pistol's nest was now secured very high upon her thigh. So high in fact that it threatened to raise the hem of Liz's already limited wrap; moreover, she must do such a seducing act herself should she ever wish to draw her pistol.

"There thee should have no trouble drawing from that placement," announced The Governess, seemingly aloof to the manner of trouble skirt raising can bring.

"Please, keep gobin'," spat the scowling Annalise a fist upon her own tatteredly clad hip. "Neva' a mind Ann' wafl la'e as i' iz."

"Oh yes," tuttered The Governess with the usual amount of apology Liz had expected from government figures (that is to say none). "Why hasn't thee gotten a hurry on yet? Oh and Elizabeth," she tenderly turned back to the pirate, "thee should feel free to wander my estate outside and in, or merely rest in thine quarters which can be reached via that hall. Yet find me when thee is ready for thy first adventure of Valhalla." Once again realization flickered faintly upon her face and she corrected herself by adding, "aside from The Mistress's game I mean."

Another huff from Ann ceased the prolonged adieu, and Liz was left with the view of two sparsely-skirted backsides as she contemplated her next corse.