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Outside the lines...

Discussion in 'The Hooded Crow Inn [Fiction]' started by Paytience Fawn, Jan 9, 2012.

  1. *written with express permission of Fellow Rp'er Tor Morgrim*

    “Turbulent water, Sir!” Barely audible, Nate called out as he gripped the wheel firmly. The sound of the water pounding against the wood all but muffling his words as the Nomad moved North East. Nothing new, it was mostly rhetorical. Why he felt obliged to state the obvious, Pay didn't understand. Turning her head back starboard her dark eyes fixed on the not too distant white caps.

    Hands lightly gripping the rails she felt it then. The sharp heave to the left as if a Leviathan had snagged a line pulling the Nomad with her. The rigging tugged hard catching the main sail and tightening it like a military dressing on a bed as a new torrent of air battered at it from the south. She shouted for more slack on the line but to no avail. Moments later the boat snapped to the right as if a highly stretchy band had been broken, sending Pay flying head first into the curvature of the wood.

    She shivered, her mind and soul trying to make peace with the feeling of near sever. A string of expletives poured from her mouth as she reached up and grabbed on in an attempt to pull herself up. Her blood red leather clad legs braced as she steadied herself on her feet. “What in the.....

    - - - - - -

    "....was that?” Closing her mouth she pursed her lips together forming a small bow.

    “Just a little Turbulent water Ma'am. Nothing to concern your pretty little head over.” Giving a half smile Mr. Irons returned his attention to the now smoother sea ahead of them.

    Her hands encased in white lace she ran them gingerly over the ropes. Her ebony hair was pulled back lightly at the sides with the remainder trailing in ringlets down her back. Pale green, the low cut dress was cinched tightly at the waist billowing out over her hips.

    “Now now Nate, you know my wife likes to be kept abreast on all affairs.” Tor Morgrim, with his handlebar mustache and reflective but manly bald head strode down the stairs.

    “Of course, Sir.”

    “Dearest, you needn't stress. I promised the Fawns you would arrive safely in Moonglow with the shipment intact and I intend to keep... my.. word.” His last words were punctuated by tiny kisses he placed across the bridge of her nose.”

    Curling into him, her hand snaked around his waist she pulled him closer. “I don't understand it. The wind is quite forgiving today, but I've a chill. It's almost as though someone has stepped upon my grave.”

    “Stepped on your...Paytience you've been reading too many books.”

    Subservient and obliging she lowered her head. “Yes Dear, I suppose you're right.”