Restless

Days have passed since you first stepped foot aboard what you now deem to be a cursed vessel. Though it is certainly deserving of such a title for your abduction alone, it is more aptly named for all the misfortune that has seemed to have gone awry since your arrival. Most of the marauders do not bother stifling their complaints and superstitions in your presence, a large group of them holding you singularly responsible. It seems that more men had been lost during the scuffle than had been anticipated, leaving the crew shorthanded and ill-tempered. To make matters worse, the storm continues to plague the vessel daily, seeming to follow the very same course they have plotted out. On the 6th day when party members begin falling ill, you cannot help but wonder if perhaps you are some terrible omen. Despite your station, you are swiftly put to work attending to the aforementioned afflicted crew. If you were naive before, you certainly no longer feel as such after several days tending to the brash men who seem to delight in finding any cause to elicit a deep flush or stifled gasp with their words.

From their tales, you gather they make it a point to bed a new woman in every port and were quite disappointed to have missed that opportunity during your heist. Initially you did find yourself blushing and avoiding such discussions. However, with each passing day you find yourself more intrigued by the accounts. To your dismay it appears that the Captain's assertions were correct and you are indeed barely knowledgeable on the subject. This is only further confirmed by the fact that in the evenings after such talks, after hurrying to your chamber where you fervently try to replicate your captor's pleasurable touch, you are always unsuccessful in achieving the same level of satisfaction. You try to imagine yourself in the positions described by those in your care, however, without proper reference you find your imagination insufficient. On this particular evening you find yourself growing increasingly frustrated with your lack of success. Exhaling, you irately throw aside your bedding and sit up. Beads of sweat run down the back of your neck as you find the muggy air around you progressively stifling.

Despite having been warned not to leave your quarters after hours, you are **** for some fresh sea air. From the sounds of it, the rain has momentarily let up, making the trip all the more inviting. Quietly opening the door a crack you are relieved to find no men posted guard. You suppose the threat of running into one of the men in the late hours being ward enough. On most nights, it would be, however, tonight you almost wish someone would try to have their way with you. If only as a means to satisfy the uncomfortable desire that seems to be further building. Still, you rather hope your first experience to be more slow paced and agreeable than you assume most of the men to be given their stories. Either way, you are intent on making your way above deck even if only to clear your head. It appears as though it will be the latter as you are surprised to find this portion of the rig unoccupied. Breathing a sigh of relief or perhaps disappointment, you wander over to the railing where you are greeted with crisp air and a light mist from the lapping waves.

"Miss Leon."

You are startled to hear your name spoken for the first time since your capture. Turning swiftly, you are met with the reproachful stare of the first mate. Despite the disapproving look, you cannot help feeling somewhat pleased to see the stern yet attractive older man.

"Please, call me Marcela." You request, wrapping yourself tighter in the thin robe preventing his gaze from viewing your full figure.

"Miss Leon." The man repeats to your dismay as he steps forward and takes your arm. "You are under strict orders not to wander about after dark."

"Why?" You cannot help probing despite knowing the answer. "Is the Captain afraid I will throw myself overboard?"

The man's expression remains unamused as turns and begins leading you back below deck. Growing increasingly annoyed with the entire situation you abruptly halt your steps causing the man to do so in turn. His dark gaze regards you as he seems to silently challenge you to continue defying him.

"I really do not wish to go back down there." You explain impatiently, already feeling suffocated by the thick, warm air permeating from the narrow passageway. "It is hot and muggy and miserable. I am miserable. I just want some fresh air... please."

"Very well." The man sighs after a moment, his demeanor relaxing slightly at the sincerity in your tone. "Just for a moment then you must return."

"Yes, thank you- oh!" You stop short when remains at your side, realizing he means to accompany you. "Right, I still cannot be alone."

He offers you what you assume to be his best attempt at a sympathetic look before he shrugs and looks back over his shoulder at the stairs, reminding you of your alternative option. Nodding silently, you eagerly make your way back out into the open air and breathe in deeply.

"I truly do not know how you do it." You remark after a moment, deciding you might as well try to enjoy the company. "Between the weather, the living conditions, and the food... I just do not see the appeal."

"I can see why it would seem that way to you." Your companion replies after a moment's thought. "You have yet to see the beauty the ocean holds. Like any mistress, when she's not mad and boiling up a storm she is the most breathtaking sight a man could wish to glimpse."

You are surprised at the man's words, not having expected the answer to be so candid and intriguing. Turning, you regard the man thoughtfully as you find yourself unexpectedly enjoying his company.

"I suppose you have a mistress in every port as well." You hope the darkness masks the light flush dusting your cheeks.

"Me?" His brow raises at your bold inquiry before shaking his head. "No, let the crew concern themselves with such frivolous matters."

"Do you not grow lonely?" Lowering your gaze, you absentmindedly fidget with the collar of your robe. You are increasingly aware of your close proximity to the alluring man and wonder if he can also sense the growing tension.

"Miss Leon-"

"Marcela!" You quickly interject, reflexively reaching out and clasping his arm. "Please."

"Mi... Marcela," He begrudgingly obliges, glancing down at your hand before continuing. "I think you ought to return to your room now."

Frowning, you are not surprised at his reaction but still somewhat disappointed. If the Captain is not willing to risk sabotaging his own plan, naturally his second in command would not be either. At least not for now. In spite of the set back you are still determined to find someway out of this mess. If it were not for the Captain you would not be stuck on this godforsaken vessel nor plagued by these new thoughts and feelings.