Thread: Yo Ho, Ho, And A Bottle of Rhum on a Dead Man's Chest;;

Resting in her bed, watching the ceiling and stealing an occasional glance at the curtain that separated them, Desiree tried to sort out the mixed emotions that roamed her mind. She felt desire paired with a struggle, and it didn't take long to figure out that it belonged to him. Arching an eyebrow, she hesitated. A part of her was extremely curious, not to mention in need of a sexual relief. She was curious what happened to him when he was in the midst of passion - did the demon wake up, or was the will power enough? As all humans, she wanted to sleep with him and survive it to be able to feel like she was different. She wanted to be seen as something more than a pile of walking flesh, necessitating real emotions on behalf of someone, anyone. Him. She pinched herself, somehow convinced that it would snap her out of it. The bond was having odd repercussions, forcing her to feel open and attached to him. It wasn't only about the fact that she would have to suffer the way he did if he died, there was more to this bond. She thought back to her sailors and the people she met through her travels. There was a single man she met years ago whose hand proudly bore a scar that indicated of his bond with someone. She shuddered, realizing that he was most likely one of the worst looking men she has ever seen. It was not due to his appearance in general, his features were rather handsome, yet the fatigue and the pain printed on his face on a permanent basis were astonishing. A woman he loved has sealed fates with him through a bond, only to get killed by a robber in the street, the bond turning out to be useless. There was no way to undo it, or at least she has never heard of one, since his blood flowed through her veins and hers through his. It was for the same reason that she suddenly found herself feeling an intense, perverse pleasure. Confused, she felt her neck, noting a rise by at least two degrees from a dozen minutes previously. The proximity made his feelings almost as pleasurable as they were for him although she was terrified. The taste of iron lingered in her mouth, all the senses affected. She could hear voices, pushing her to quickly bring her open palms to her temples, trying to shut them away. The voice were thankfully tossed aside when he began a new activity, causing her to let out a soft surprised moan. Her hand darted down to her lips, the woman's heart racing. The lust was growing by the moment, and just as she was about to stand up and approach him, even attempt to break his 'no touching' rule, the pleasure stopped and he appeared to be asleep. Curling on her bed, she spent about an hour listening to the sounds of the ocean, happy to be back on board alive. She still had a hard time believing that the demon was on a bed about a meter and a half from hers, yet it became easier to accept. Finally, she fell asleep, undisturbed by the boat's rocking. ...She walked down the rocky streets, her high heels creating a rhythmic sound. Click-Clack, Click-Clack. The sounds cut through the silence, her proud form penetrating the British fog. The oddly familiar streets seemed to change directions, losing her in the maze of similar, almost identical houses. The bums and whores on the streets avoided her gaze, a strange smell filling her lungs. Accelerating, she suddenly felt light and fast, almost flying through the empty streets. It was then that she saw them. A mother and a child strolling down the street with fearful expressions, clearly rushing toward the comfort of their home. Somehow, she knew that they would never make it back. A strange hunger filled her mind, pushing her to approach them. She could hear the pulsations of their hearts through the arteries, she could almost see their warm breaths turned into cold fog when they came in contact with the chilly air. She edged closer and closer, the two finally taking notice of her. ''Mommy, Mommy, it's a monster,'' yelped the child, his large blue eyes filling with tears. Inexplicably, she let out a low laughter coming from deep down her throat. It possessed an odd pitch, a mix of a screeching glass and a low baritone. As the two bags of fresh meat covered, she made a jump forth, pressing the woman against a wall. For some reason, the child was unable to move. It was not only the paralysing fear but also something physical, invisible to the human eye, that was holding him back. Disregarding him, she rose her hand to her throat, slowly slicing it up with a sharp nail, blood trickling down the white dress. With the same perverse pleasure she felt earlier when Torean licked his blade, the girl leaned forward, sucking on the red liquid, letting it flow all over her face. She sucked the woman clean, digging her hands into her stomach to play with the warm organs of hers. Tearing up the poor creature from limb to limb in her son's open sight, she grinned, turning her attention to the child. Leaning in, she felt her grin grow wicked, acquiring an insane aspect. ''Hello there, little boy,'' she mused, her nails sliding along the soft smooth skin... With a gasp, Desiree brusquely sat up, panting. Her forehead was covered in cold sweat, her pupils dilated. She rested her forehead against her open palms, eager to believe that the entire day previously was a nightmare. However, turning her head, she noticed the curtain, cursing inwardly. Everything was real and there was no escape route. She brushed her hand over her lips, almost expecting to see actual blood there yet everything was clean. Relieved, she stood up, glancing outside. The dawn was almost there and the anchor was about to rise. Hastily, she undressed, replacing her clothes by a pair of tight black pants, leather boots and a short sleeved white shirt she attached at the level of her waist, showing off her feminine curves without going too far. The day was going to be rough and there was no time for displays. Walking past Torean's bed, she stiffled a yawn, stretching out. Hopefully he didn't feel her fear as she woke up. ''Get up, time to go,'' she nudged his shoulder, walking in the doors' direction.