Thread: streetlight swag

Standing in front of the captain while being scolded felt as if she were being done so by her own mother. His words were crude and Naila was furious. Clenching her hands into fists, the words Edmure had fed to her were running like a train through her mind. Do not speak until spoken to, do not speak until spoken to. If this had been any other normal conversation, Naila would have spoken her mind tenfold by now. But, she needed to stay upon the ship if she ever wanted to make it back to Miribar. Yeaman Un Rusko continued to chatter, visually and vocally becoming more and more upset with how she had been acting. When she was finally addressed, Naila licked her lips and unclenched her hands. She did not want to be given the chance to strike him, for she was frightened that she just might. For I am exactly that, a woman. Connecting their gazes, the woman stared at him with gray eyes the color of the sky above the ship. Continuing, her posture was righted, chin set, eyes never leaving his. I was taught many things in Miribar. I know how to clean, sew, mend woundsI was taught some things in medicine, though I was taken before my course was finalized. I can cook, which it looks as if you might need if you do not wish to be the scraggly captain of a scurvy-ridden crew. Mouth perking up into a satisfied smile, Naila figured she may have saved herself, but she could do nothing more than make sure. Plus, brilliant captain, you will be seen as the best captain throughout the world for having a woman aboard your vessel. Other men will quiver in their boots at the prospect, but you, sir, will be seen as magnificent, more than you are, I assume, because you were not afraid to have a bad omen among your men. Cocking a brow as she finished, she felt Edmures eyes like daggers on the back of her head. But, to gain all these accomplishments, you must do a few things for me. There was always a way to turn the tables. Taking several steps forward, she stepped around his throne as if she was surveying livestock. Dropping her hand down, she pulled a dirk free of its casing and stood to his right. You must allow your hair to be cut. I can see no man trembling at the site of you, no matter how fearsome you might be. As of right now, I can easily say that you may just be a pirate king speaking through violence and swords over a staggering appearance. She let the blade kiss the skin over his neck, near where his lengthy hair rested, ignoring the men who watched with frightened eyes, hands on their own weapons. Edmure stood still, as Naila hoped he would, for she would be too quick to kill Yeaman than the other male would be to stop her. Returning the knife to where it was resting, in order to calm the captains men, she returned to her spot before him. Also, I wish to be treated like a woman. I want to be respected. Tell me, how could you possibly ensure my safety if you were to allow your men to fuck me like a whore? That was one of the bigger things she was worried about, having her body be used as something for the men to stick their cocks into. I will make sure none of your men die from scurvy or festering wounds if you promise that I will remain a virgin around them. ---- Letting out a breath, Troens eyes searched her face for any signs of compassion, but she simply continued to break apart his loyal servants. Who was to say that they were not as knowledgeable in fields of medicine as the Palans? His eyes fluttered close as nimble fingers loosened the protective fabric keeping his wounded arm to him. Pain had never been a friend of his, not once, and he even scolded himself for allowing this type of injury to come over him. In all reality, neither Naila nor any of her helpers had touched him. This game was all from his mind, he needed a way to make the girl look as guilty as she was. A pursed groan escaped through his lips, and his eyes shot open to see what was happening. He watched in amazement as his arm exploded with color, and she called it something other than magic. Troen was used to people with these abilities being burnt at the stake. Are you a witch? He spoke quietly, hoping he was not to marry someone who could do more things than a simple man could. Perhaps I should make you my wife and physician. The male teased, biting down on his lower lip when she mentioned pain and the state at which his arm would heal at this point in time. Of course I want you to heal it, my love. I cannot be a great King with a gimp arm. Taking his broken arm from her, he held it gently against his chest and took the few steps to the bed. Before approaching it fully, Troen slithered out of his robe, fighting to keep his pained expression away from his fianc. He was a strong man, that was true, and he hadnt wished for her to see his moments of weakness. Weakness was something to be used against the greatest of men. Dropping the garment to hang on the bedpost, he faced the bed, one hand pressed against the mattress. It appeared to be a mountain, something entirely too massive for him to conquer in this state. Gripping the bed sheet, Troen pulled himself onto it and collapsed onto his back, pulling himself against the pillows. Sinking into the masses, he spoke after getting a few deep breaths in. If he was already winded at this point, Troen wasnt sure he would make it through the healing process. Why the change of heart, my love? His good hand continued to shield any inflictions from happening upon his arm. I would think that since you bid me to not touch you, you would have been reclusive towards me. You are not a hermit, as I had figured. Did you have good dreams, a resting sleep?