Just watch

I declined Baelog’s loud invitation with a casual wave of my hand, backing up a step to lean my shoulders against a tall stack of burlap sacks just outside the bright ring of lantern light.

“I’ll just watch for now, Baelog,” I called back, taking a ceramic jug of cheap elven wine handed off to me by a passing crewman. “Don’t let me interrupt your ruin.”
“Suit yerself, Your Highness!” Baelog grunted, turning back to the game with a wicked grin. “More glory for the rest of us!”

From my shadowed spot in the cool corner of the hold, I took a slow swig of the harsh wine and let my gaze wander over the crowded table. The atmosphere was stiflingly warm, thick with the scent of oak, sweat, and sea salt. It didn’t take long for the stakes to rise and the clothes to start coming off.

My attention kept drifting away from the noisy dwarves toward two of the Night Elf deckhands sitting across from Baelog. They were stunning tall, athletic women with silver skin, sharp cheekbones, and long, dark-blue hair tied back in loose braids. In the dim, swinging light of the lantern, they looked like any of the captivating elven women you’d see strolling the avenues of Darnassus, their long legs flexing naturally as they leaned over the crate. Somehow... they felt out of place, but I couldn’t exactly say why.

The dwarves thought so, too, and made it known.

Living under a mountain hadn’t exactly blessed Baelog’s kin with progressive views, especially when it came to women on a vessel. To them, the sea was men’s work, and having two stunning females at the table was a distraction they met with smug, casual condescension.

As the cards were dealt, one of the elven women a striking beauty named Vaelira with a low, smoky laugh lost a heavy hand to Baelog himself.

“Well, well! Look at that, lads!” Baelog cackled, slamming his fist on the wood. “Told ye the high seas aren’t for soft elven lasses! Should’ve stayed in the woods braidin’ flowers instead of pretendin’ ye can play with the big boys!”

The other dwarves barked in agreement, shouting for her to pay up or forfeit her seat to a “real sailor.”

Vaelira merely rolled her deep violet eyes, though a tight flash of annoyance crossed her gorgeous features. With a dramatic, exaggerated sigh, she unlaced her leather vest to cover her lost bet, slinging it over a barrel to reveal a tight, thin linen tunic that clung to her damp skin.

I leaned back further into the dark, nursing my drink, completely content to stay hidden while my eyes greedily tracked every flash of bare skin, every low laugh, and every flex of muscle as the hot night wore on.