#Lines of liquid gold stretched from her ship to her enemy and washed over them. each barely discernible dot creating a little splash，

[recoiloperated]

Have a full width comma for the tags

，

Oh so ur a writer?? Prove it. Drop the last sentence of ur wip in the tags

[sliptohk]

Idle Minds

Late afternoon always proved the most trying time, finding the sailor seated by the shore as those last few hours crawled by before Jet arose from her slumber. Pupils dwindled to a narrow slash as the sun reflected upon the waves, driven by the refreshing breeze off the gulf seas. Without action to occupy her mind, it wandered. Already tainted by the lingering traces of those dreams, unearthed memories stirred. Many were pushed aside.

That terrible island.

A painful final night.

Jet felled by a Garlean bullet.

But one refused to be denied, wriggling forth as defenses failed her. The twin scars running along her cheeks pulled as the muscles in her jaw set stubbornly, but all it did was strengthen its power as her eyes looked past the horizon.

~~~

The grind of steel on steel sent up sparks with a piercing shriek as the lalafellian duelist deflected a killing thrust, punctuated by a loud thunk as the tip of her long knife bit into a sloshing barrel of freshwater on the deck. An insufferable smirk crossed her opponent's face as he darted forward, yanking on her weapon's belt to swing to her unprotected back, daggers flashing before the Seeker's eyes as they widened in a sudden burst of fear. Instinctively she jerked her head backward to smash into his face, swearing that she felt the edge of the blades tickling her eyelashes before they bit deep into her cheeks. Jagged gashes tore along the bone, gushing blood flowing down her neck and dribbling along her jaw. But most important of all, the sudden loss of weight on her back as the violent strike sent the Dunefolk to the deck with a grunt.

Sneering, L’tohk wrenched her weapon free as splintered wood burst outward and liquid poured to the deck, one foot sweeping out wide to send up a spray of water as she lowered her center and slashed out at the prone enemy. The meaty part of one thigh parted, the Seeker feeling a fierce satisfaction at trading that wound for her own. But it was not quite enough, closing quickly to finish him off as he screamed in pain. It was the spilled water that saved her, the slap of feet in it drawing her attention as a pair of hyur women nearly bowled her over.

"Shove off, wench! That's one of ours!"

Again, metal clashed as the offbalance miqo'te battered away the swings of those scimitars, giving ground as they angled to keep her from setting a strong base. Eyes darted between the two as that frantic defense quickly began to wear at her stamina. It was a greater challenge, even if her first opponent was a superior swordsman, but even as their advantage mounted, their inexperience fighting alongside each other showed. They spread too far apart and L'tohk twisted away to center one between them, ignoring the thrust of the furthest opponent as it cut only empty air and swinging wide the slash of the nearest with one blade. Her other knife sliced across the woman's midsection, feeling the success of that strike in the resistance it encountered before the scimitar splashed to the deck as the hyur crumpled.

Panting heavily, arms burning from the strain, L'tohk fixed the remaining foe with a fierce look and a breathy challenge, "C'mon! Plenny more t'go after ya!"

It was only a momentary pause, appraising the youth's condition, before the hyur stepped forward into the attack. There was no smirk on her face like the lalafell, and the careless confidence from before had fled. The blade swung, caught high but expectedly as she resisted the Seeker's efforts to turn it and that free hand pulled a blackpowder pistol from her waist to fire smoothly from the hip.

With a snarl, she finally spoke, "Made me waste powder on you, kitten. For what that's worth."

Teeth clenched as sudden heat flared in her side where the bullet bored in, sending fresh pain through her wounded face where torn muscle tightened. One leg buckled, thumping down against the deck as the last remnants of water trickled past in a thin layer. Glaring defiantly up at the hyur as she raised her sword, the Seeker strained to gather the energy for one final thrust forward.

"Izzat all? Jus' un' kill an' yer down?" A familiar voice interrupted, the powerfully built miqo'te striding across the deck with heavy blooded swords spread wide in a shrug, "Tossin' back yer 'ead like 'at? Swivin' fool, coulda got yer damn throat slit. An' 'en gettin' yer arse shot? Dunno if yer lazy'r dumb, runt. Mebbe y'jus' figger yer mum'll pluck yer arse outta th' drink afore them wavekin feed on ya?"

The hyur's blade lowered into a ready stance, eyeing the new arrival with trepidation. Thick muscle swelled beneath the older Seeker's sun-darkened skin, bereft of scars save for a few thin lines that showed in contrast to her natural bronze. Wild dark hair fluttered in the breeze as her pale green eyes fixed upon the woman, slitted pupils widening as she gave a short appraisal. Hooking a foot beneath the fallen woman's body, she kicked it off the edge of the ship carelessly, as L'tohk sought out the bloody trail that marked the lalafell's crawl over the edge of the ship in the confusion of battle. At least where the water had failed to wash it clean. Something the first mate had likely seen happen in her appraisal of the battle.

"Ain't e'en a bit'a sport t'ya, eh? Doubt y'coul' e'en take me kit blade t'blade on yer bes' day." Lips peeled back from a ferocious sneer, the closest her face was capable of coming to a smile.

In a moment the woman's mind was made up, clutching the rail to leap clean off into the sea below, chancing the swim to the nearest ship over a fresh fight. A choice the majority of the enemy were making, abandoning their lost vessel to the dubious mercy of the pirates to strike out for the anchored frigate watching balefully from across the open water. A familiar dance, a bloody battle upon the ship that rode lowest in the water, then leaving the scraps for the rest of the traders to pick over. Letting out a derisive snort, L'kaisa slid her swords into place across her back and snapped a finger impatiently to her wounded daughter.

"Y'gonna bleed'r ya gonna get yer sorry carcass t'th' medic?"

Her pace did not slow, leaving L'tohk little choice but to shamble after in search of rum and the dubious skills of the ship's surgeon.

~~~

Purple and gold shone across the waves as the Seeker shook her head slowly, fingers rubbing the bridge of her nose as she came back to the present. It was a welcome change from the chilled sweat that nightly events left her in, merely leaving the faintest reminder of the feelings that had gone through her those many years past. Letting out a breath, she rose to her feet and stretched wide, joints popping in complaint after her long rest upon the sands. Jet was likely going to wake soon if she had not already.

A far better thought to occupy her mind.