Thread: Sealed Away (Camp and Quet314

When one's fate is often in the hands of cutthroats, con artists and the insane, one either develops a keen sense of intuition based on the extreme subtleties of hearing and scent or one dies quickly. Through the most extreme of need, Roland was one of the keenest of perception. Now that ability served him well as he woke with the breaking of the water's surface in the cave. Completely aware of every cubic inch of his surroundings, he strained and judged at the breath of the creature unseen through his eyes. Could some reptile occupy the land? But no, the breathing was far to full and regular, this was a large mammal, and that had a limited array of responses, most of those human. His eye cracked open but the tiniest sliver and surveyed his companion in the reflected moonlight that stole around the cave and off the few ripples of the water. He noted a human head of tousled curls and a feminine face in the pool. But what was floating behind? The vast majority of men, whether pleasant or vile, would have assumed that it was a mere girl, but he had heard too much lore to take her at face value. That pool was deep and long and separated enough from the sea that it had no tides. She had to be able to submerge comfortably for many long minutes. Thus he was facing either one of the legendary Merfolk, or an animal shifter of some sort. He restricted his imagination to such, because the other option was a demon and he could not take that. When she finally called out to him and he heard the tones of his native land, so precariously poised off the shores of England and wishing it's freedom thereof, he was stunned. Whatever she was, she was a countrywoman and she would be his. It also instantly narrowed the options. What creature lived as much in water as land and had a human visage much of the time? Only a selkie, the seal folk. Well, a selkie out of her skin was much more easily taken. Such was his self control that her entreaty caused not even a quiver in his visage or body and he 'played possum' as the Yanks would say. She was a woman and any woman had curiosity in spades. She would assume him unconscious, for he was not hiding the slow regular breathing of his chest from her. Unconscious meant harmless or so she'd have to think and she'd come have to ease up at least partially out of the pool to see him fully. The hand away from her, on the left side slowly moved unseen to slide the knife from its sheath and clutch it readily. When he judged the time perfect, his body moved like a whipcrack, launching him over and behind her, to wrench the skin from her shoulders and then he threw himself backwards, holding his prize aloft, with the gleaming steel knife held across its throat. Hello indeed, pretty one. We are going to be ever so close, you and I. But I know of the perfidy of your folk, slaying when it suits you, and I will not be so caught. So if you value this pretty skin, you will now swear to me by every one of our gods that you pledge yourself to Roland O'Dell, to use as he pleases and to seek only his will and pleasure. If you say anything that is NOT that oath, be assured that I will use my razor sharp blade to take this skin to ribbons, first removing the head. His green eyes were unwavering as he regarded her. So what will it be girl, will you live as a human and defy me, or remain Selkie and be my slave?