cursedsails

[cursedsails]

sola let her gaze linger on the cards, chin propped in her palm like she hadn't a care in the world. "that quiet little voice of yours gets serious right before you lie to me." she mused, not unkindly. "if it gets too hot, you'll move it? jin, it is too hot. i'm sweating my ass off playing guardian angel to crates i don't even get to peek at." her brows lifted, pointed. "so unless you want me to start taking finder's fees, you better be careful."

when he leaned in, all smirk and trouble, sola didn't budge an inch and just let her boot nudge lightly against his under the table. "oh, i know exactly where we are. that's why i'm asking." her smile widened, roguish in all the ways it wasn't soft. she tilted her head, watching him closely. "what've you got, jin? besides the charm and the wink. there's not much i can do with those once i step outside these doors."

Jin didn’t look up right away. He only glanced up briefly when Sola dropped into the seat across from him, just long enough to confirm it was her, before his eyes returned to the cards he’d been shuffling over and over. Still, the background noise of the Bluff faded a little when she sat down. That happened sometimes, with certain people. “A drink?” he echoed, raising a brow as he finally looked at her properly. That sounded like the opening of a more expensive conversation.  He set the deck down in a neat stack, leaned back in his seat, listening to what she had to say. None of it surprised him. “Figured you’d say something like that,” he murmured, his voice quiet “If it gets too hot, I’ll move it.”

Jin leaned forward, elbows on the table, casual like they hadn’t just been talking about survival. There was a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he did. “More than flattery?” he said, pretending to think about it. “What kind of payment are we talking, then?” He tilted his head slightly. “Might I remind you this is a gambling den, not the Siren’s Nest.” He winked at her. “No, but seriously, what did you have in mind?” 

[cursedsails]

dorian's smirk deepened, this time edged with something darker. all thoughts of trust, of worry and of the assurance he had come to seek were discarded, overthrown by that look in her eyes. the one that said push me if you dare. "did i think about it?" he echoed, biting down on his bottom lip as his gaze hungrily roamed her face. "i haven't stopped thinking about it."

his fingers wrapped around her slender hand, her skin so soft in his grasp. "thought about your mouth." he murmured, voice dipping lower with each word. "how you looked at me like you wanted to ruin me but you wouldn't give yourself the satisfaction. thought about your hands. the space between us. how it felt like you wanted to close it."

he leaned closer still, his nose grazing her cheek as his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear. "if i had any control left you stole it the moment you opened that door." then, after a moment, he spoke softer, heat curling around his confession. "dime mi dulce, do you want me to walk away again or do you want to see what happens when i don't?"

nya let him catch her wrist with an understanding and a soft smile on her face. this was okay, as she said before they both needed a little bit of softness in their lives after all they're going through right now. yes, dorian said the nest was okay but it didn't mean that dorian wasn't still stressed just like nya was about sawbone, it made her wonder if either will admit to being on the edge.

"you trust me because you know what im capable of?" she did not dare to ask dorian what he thought she was capable of, they both knew and this wasn't the place nor time to talk about it. "trust me that you are safe here and that the nest will be okay." it made her consider giving him just a few medical supplies just in case anything should happen and she won't be able to get there in time, the blockade made everything so busy and unknown.

deep down, she's telling herself that she's letting dorian get close, touch her, put a hand on her cheek because it's part of their game but in reality, nya didn't know how much strength she had left to continue putting that wall between them, a wall she put for so many reasons. so, for a second she let them both have this moment before putting a hand over his own. "i thought we already established that." she pulled his hand away from her face but still held it. "or did you not think about it after you left my home when you were last there?"

[cursedsails]

dorian had been pacing — not lounging like usual, not draped across the sheets like a spoiled cat in a sunbeam, but restless, wound tight, a storm bottled in velvet. the room bore the marks of it. the covers on the bed were untouched, a half-burnt candle flickered low beside a glass of rum left undrunk, a shirt hung haphazardly from the wardrobe door as though he'd started getting dressed hours ago and never finished.

he was mid-step when the knock landed. it was abrupt yet soft, one that seemed to hesitate. someone he wasn't expecting, or someone that wasn't sure if they wanted to speak to him. he looked at the door, eyes narrowed as if he could see through to the other side, then crossed the room and opened it without ceremony.

and there he was. matias looked more of a shadow than he had before he left. he seemed uncertain, worn thin, but alive at least. dorian hadn't meant to feel the hollowness that crept in when matias didn't return that first night, or the second, or the third. he had worn his usual smile around the others but behind his eyes he'd been combing through worst-case scenarios, worried about what might have happened to him.

"you're here." he said simply, his eyes searching matias' face like he was counting the bones beneath it. then, because he couldn't not, his smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, soft and tired. "you look like you're expecting to be eaten alive, mi amor." he stepped aside, letting the door swing wider. "come in. talk. or don't. just... don't disappear again, comprende?"

for: dorian ( @cursedsails ) location: the siren’s nest

the days blurred together in the time he has been away from the nest. the hunger to survive grew, but also a gnawing desire to return back to the nest. he found himself thinking of what he had there, of the home he had made, and he felt almost homesick for the place. but he also felt betrayed, even if this was all entirely out of dorian’s hands. it didn’t matter tmatias because dorian had begun to make him feel like things were going to be okay, that he could trust him, and suddenly the restraints happened. it felt like dorian was pulling out chains and getting ready to tie matias down again, locking him away for good. he hadn’t meant to cause any damage when he left, if at all he did, it was merely instinct what he did.

with the heaviest of sighs, matias stepped into the nest again. he looked around to see if he could spot dorian right away, but to no avail. then he remembered something dorian told him the night they walked back to the nest together. his eyes moved up to where the rooms were, with another sigh, trying to ignore the way his stomach was doing flip flops, mat wondered if maybe the man was up there. he walked up a couple of stairs but then stops midway with his hand clutched so tightly on the rail that his nails dug deep in it. he was frozen for a second. what if this was a trap? what if dorian wanted him to come back so he could lock him up? mat stared hard at the stairs, taking one step back. but he thought about ryker and even dutch and now they both had actually been nice to him when he deserved none of it. dutch had shown him he had a name, made him feel like he was actually important enough to be someone, and ryker had been a comfort like he couldn’t describe.

so, matias pushed forward. he walked up to where dorian’s door was and stared for a second at it. what if dorian was mad at him? “no. stop.” he told himself, trying to shake off the nervousness he felt. with one last inhale, matias reached to knock on dorian’s door. he looked down at his hands as he waited for it to open, reminding himself of every reason why he should not run right now. and when the door finally did open, mat looked up to meet dorian’s gaze. “h-hi…dorian. c-can i…can i t-talk to you, please?”

[cursedsails]

ovie flinched the second the door creaked open and her voice rang out, bright as anything, like she wasn't announcing a ghost on her doorstep. "tamsin." he whispered, eyes wide as he ducked into the narrow hall and closed the door behind him with more urgency than force. "you tryna have me strung up?" he glanced around like the shadows might tattle, like the walls themselves could turn him in.

still, despite the nerves coiled tight beneath his skin, there was something like relief in the way his shoulders slumped when he saw her. she looked just the same, kind-eyed and real, and it tugged at something in his chest. "don't want to scare you, just... didn't want to be seen." he took off his hood and ran a hand over his hair, sheepish. "adventure's hardly the word for it. got half this port gunning to see me in the gallows before the week is out." he sighed, and looked at her mournfully. "sorry to bring it to you." how could he express that he knew he could trust her, that he was safe with her? "are you okay?"

"my friend!" tamsin exclaimed, thanking the gods that ovie seemed to be in fine health, a bright grin on her face matching her enthused greeting as she came around the garden to find him happily. "how splendid it is to see you again." the words were a wash of quiet reverence and affection, and tamsin hastily wiped her dirt-stained hands on her apron. she'd been in the garden, tending to vegetables and the like when he arrived. her hands found his broad shoulders, grasping them, and she squeezed gently and hoped that he would find comfort in how she enjoyed his company. "please," she motioned to the door of her home with a wave of her hand, already beginning to head that way. "i want to hear all about your adventures! how have you fared? do you have an appetite? i can fix you something." @cursedsails

[cursedsails]

dorian felt the absence of her hand against his cheek the moment she dropped it. his lips parted to say something, to make another comment, but he found himself wordless. she was right. no matter how much assurance he had, it took far more for dorian to drop the mask. instead he dropped his hand as quickly as she had, catching her wrist as her hand fell back to her side. his touch was gentle, grounding, asking her to stay close without needing to voice it.

he looked at her then, really looked, at her dark eyes that wondered if she trusted him. "i trust you." a smile shaped his lips, lopsided at one corner. "i know what you're capable of, i know that you're trouble. hermosa y aterradora." he chuckled quietly, beholding this force of nature before him like the quiet before the storm.

"you think this is about me getting what i want?" he muttered, close enough that his chest brushed against hers. he shook his head, his hand that held her wrist letting go to trail up her arm, resting at her chin. he held her there, keeping his gaze, his thumb gently brushing over her soft skin. "it's admitting to what i can't resist." he hadn't come here to charm her, he didn't rightfully know what led him to her door. but he spoke the truth, he couldn't resist, even if it meant relinquishing control to hand it all to her.

nya gave him a sad smile. "you still wear a mask." she petted his cheek once, twice before dropping her hand. "i think you were right, dorian. you and i are the same." she said quietly, of course they weren't the same in all aspects of life but certain things, the important things. like making sure others didn't fall around them. "i'm not asking you to drop it by any means." but it was a clear indication that she saw and understood it.

it made her wonder why he would think she would ever not trust him, has something in her ever gave that impression that there was a lack of trust between them? "of course i do, do you trust me?" nya had to ask, even though she knew the answer already, their friendship wouldn't be what it was if they couldn't trust each other.

she huffed in amusement. "i'm sure all of those reasons would be futile anyway so i don't want to hear them." nya returned the smile in kind and it turned slightly smug when she saw him looking downwards. "you think trust is what will get you what you want?"

[cursedsails]

rika's smile widened, slow, feral and bloodthirsty. "you might enjoy it." she echoed, voice a venom disguised as honey. "but you won't survive it." her gaze flicked over him, deliberate and calculating. gods, she enjoyed the ones who thought they could play. the ones who stepped willingly into the lionesses' mouth just to see if it would close.

her fingers didn't leave the hilt but she didn't draw yet. "i don't need help." she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "but it's so much more fun to let you think i do." she shifted, drawing her spine upright to sit straighter, leaning toward him more.

"you're not here to save me." she whispered, biting her lip as she looked up at him. "are you here because you want to see what i'll do next?" she withdrew her knife slowly, making sure he could see every movement of it, as she spread her legs a little wider on the crate she was perched on. she dragged the blade up her unwounded thigh, tantalisingly slowly, stopping only once she reached between her legs. she eyed him the whole time, as if this show was all for romance's sake. "do you want to find out?"

the way that she watched him was like the hunter watching its pray. there was something within him that almost liked that. nico wasn't pray. he could more than look after himself. but if she wanted to think of him a certain way, then he wasn't about to stop her. he thought that it would lead to something more interesting.

nico shrugged his shoulders, "something tells me that i might enjoy the way that you bite." perhaps he was playing with fire but wasn't that what he liked the most? he seemed to enjoy getting his fingers burnt. but perhaps she was too big of an inferno for him to handle. he thought that he might find enjoyment in being completely consumed by her.

he noticed the move for her knife but did little to comment on it. he thought that he rather wanted to know where it was going, what she would do with it, first. "thought you didn't need help?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "which was is it?"

[cursedsails]

sola shoved the door shut with her boot and dropped the crate on jonas' counter like it had personally offended her. "a hello would be nice." she called over the sound of the bell. "maybe a thank you, maybe gods Solana, you're a vision even when bleeding. manners, jonas. they cost nothing."

she was already halfway through inspecting the sluggish bleed at her bicep, dried salt and blood crusted together, when she caught the look he gave her — equal parts exasperated and unsurprised. "i know, i know." she rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter like she had all the time in the world. "your floor's just always there when it happens."

a beat passed and she cocked an eyebrow, speaking again with a light tone that was threaded with something real. "i brought the stash like i said. safe, sound, and not a single soul wiser. you gonna fix me up before i ruin your nice clean counter, or should i start rummaging through your cupboards myself?"

closed starter for @cursedsails, SOLANA SOTO + JONAS WICKHAM. sawbone.

THE BELL ABOVE SAWBONE'S FRONT DOOR JINGLED LIKE IT ALWAYS DID, only Jonas hadn't needed to look up to know it was her. Solana never walked in like she owned the place; she stormed in, like the tide crashing through weak wood, always half-covered in salt and half-covered in trouble. He glances up from where he was cataloging the last of his dried sea fennel, brow already furrowing as she set the small crate down with a dramatic thud. "Late again," he muttered, stepping out from behind the counter. "Did you get lost or just piss off the wrong fleet?"

Though when he sees the crimson and the way her arm stayed stiff at her side, the blood just beginning to seep through the loose bandage, Jonas stops short. His jaw sets. "Don’t even start," he says, already moving toward the back room for his kit. "You’re bleeding on my floor. Again."

[cursedsails]

@inksandomens — solana & jin, dead man's bluff

sola dropped into the seat across from jin like she'd been born in the den, backlit by the amber glow of dim lanterns and the hum of a dice game behind her. she hooked one boot over the other and let a half-grin curl at her mouth. "you owe me a drink." she said, voice smooth with trouble. "not for the stash, though that's still exactly where i told you it'd be, but for the fact i'm having to work twice as hard to keep it out of reach of greedy hands and gutter rats."

she glanced toward the far end of the den, where a fight was just shy of starting, then back to jin with raised brows. "it's getting hotter, jin. real hot. i can still play this game, but if you're planning on adding more to the pile, you're gonna have to pay me more than favours and flattery." she pause, cocking her head. "unless you've finally got a plan for getting all that out of here before someone less friendly finds it?"

[cursedsails]

rika's fingers brushed against her blade. it wasn't to draw it, not yet, but just to feel it, to remind herself she was still sharp enough to cut through the suffocating weight of this place. her grin curled wider at vasya's words, something hot and devious settling beneath her ribs. "they'll never see us coming if we don't want them to." she murmured, voice like smoke. "not until their throats are already open."

she bumped her shoulder into theirs, careless and affectionate in the way that jackals might be. blood had always been their language, chaos their courtship. rika didn't need soft looks or quiet promises, she needed someone to burn it all down with. vasya was the closest thing she had to that. a mirror with a crack through it, jagged and laughing.

"shame is a scent." she echoed, amused. "but you... you're worse than blood on the tide. you make them pray." she laughed, rough and under her breath. "and gods, i love watching it." then she stopped, just for a moment. the surf hissed behind them, the salt wind biting through the air, and rika turned sharply like something had snapped her tight. she yanked them sideways toward the dark, warped ribs of a long-dead ship buried half in the sand.

she pressed in close, her breath warm and ragged. her touch wasn't tender or soft, just necessary. "wait." she muttered. "just a second." and then she kissed them, fierce and unapologetic, fingers twisted in their coat like she needed to feel them before the violence could start. like they were the storm she had to taste before it broke.

"NOWHERE TO RUN ON THE WATER, IS THERE?" The sea keeps them cornered. Vasya keeps their pace, boots scuffing the uneven boards slick with salt and rot, shoulders hunched like they were listening for something beneath the hum of the port, beneath the muttering ships and the snapping lines, the wet clatter of fish being gutted on the dock. The charm spun once more in their fingers before disappearing beneath their person. It meant something. Didn’t have to mean anything to anyone else.

The gods liked blood, didn’t they? So did Vasya. And so did Rika.

A laugh slipped from their teeth, low and hoarse, like it had been hiding at the bottom of their ribs. "They always cry," they muttered, voice distant but twitching with delight. "Even the meanest of men were once little boys. Takes a skilled hand to make them revert back to it." They glanced sideways at Rika with a knowing, amused wink, and something feral passed between them in the dark. Not quite a grin, more like the flash of teeth just before a bite. This was the game. "Shitting themselves is better," Vasya decides. "Easier to track after. Shame’s a thick scent, after all."

Their hand twitched toward their knife, half out of instinct, half out of joy, and then they tilted their head back and sniffed the air, like a hound scenting a trail. "Something's burning. Let's see how long it takes before they see us coming."

[cursedsails]

he exhaled slow, like the air had grown thick in his lungs. she was still here, still asking questions. she hadn't reached for a blade, she wasn't calling out into the streets. that alone felt strange enough to rattle him.

"didn't have a choice. tide came in, hasn't let me out since." he muttered, loosening a sigh before he spoke again. "i thought i could slip through, hide in plain sight. thought the sea'd forgotten me." he huffed, bitter at his own foolishness. "it hasn't. and neither have they."

his eyes lifted back to hers, cautious but open now like the worst of the fear had cracked open into something more human. "you're still here." he said it out loud this time, a whisper of disbelief. "so maybe you don't have the heart of a pirate either." he looked at her with soft eyes. "i can help you, can offer you whatever you want. just... you never saw me. never even heard my name if it comes down to it." a moment passed, and he dared to let a tiny smile cross his lips. "it's ovie. forgotten easily enough." he was careless to trust her so easily, but her eyes suggested that he could.

if he did bolt, celia wasn't exactly sure what she would do. she didn't think that she wanted to follow after him. he was running for a reason and if he wasn't to tell her - well, she wouldn't question it. but she was certainly curious to know. "sounds like an interesting story either way." celia countered. the different versions of events were always bound to be interesting, she thought. "the truth is usually somewhere in the middle - do you not think?" she tilted her head, curious as to what he might think.

celia nodded but she didn't let her face give away what she thought, how she might be feeling about his story. there was a part of her that wanted to help him but what would the raiders do to her if they found out? "i'm not a raider." was all she commented on for a moment. celia tried to pretend that she had the heart of a pirate. she wanted to be a little more cold hearted, like most of them. but she couldn't. hence why she was still stood talking to him. "then why tortuga?" she questioned, "pirates are all over this place. why not get yourself somewhere else?"

[cursedsails]

rika laughed against his mouth, a low and breathless thing, dark and delighted and mean. she bit his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, and when she pulled back her mouth was slick with it. she panted softly, fury thrumming beneath her skin like a second pulse, her wrists twisting in his grip but not to escape.

"you're not special." she hissed, lips dragging his blood along the edge of his jaw, her voice sweet and poisonous. "you repulse me. i should gut you for laying a hand on me." her words burned hot against his throat even as she kissed it a second later, slow and spiteful like a dare.

"i hate you." she looked up at him then, eyes wide and burning. "i dream about slicing your throat open and watching you choke on your own blood. i want to rip your fucking heart out with my teeth." and yet she arched her body into him like a lover would, all sin and temptation. "touch me." she growled. "or i swear, i'll claw out your fucking eyes."

The threat should be reason enough for him to turn around and go, to leave, to not let his brain turn to mush and his heart give in and allow his body to decide what to do next. He’d come back from the pirate life to escape Rika. To get away from the person he’d been there, to be better, kinder. It was so easy to let go.

“I don’t see a lot of biting. No other fingers appear around your neck. Should I feel special?” And at the mention of enjoying her threats and of touching her and meaning it, he did actually get hard. And he’d already been halfway there because no matter how hard he tried, Rika could just claw at his chest and be allowed to walk away with his heart. He couldn’t ignore how good it felt to be with her, how good she looked, how much he liked being the only one to drive her up the wall like this. As if it was his own talent.

He shot forward and grabbed at both her arms, intending to pin them behind her. His grib hard, hard enough to bruise. All his anger and need flowing through him to hurt her, planting his lips against hers.

[cursedsails]

he flinched at the motion, barely perceptible, but it was there — the flicker of a boy who had seen too much and barely survived it all. every fibre of him screamed to bolt but he didn't, he just stood there with his chest rising and falling too fast, hands open and empty. his throat tightened around the lump that settled there days ago, maybe weeks, and his voice came out hoarse. "you know what i am?" he sighed, shaking his head. "a curse? a hex?" he spurned the word, spurned the nickname. "the dead tell you that? you trust them over the livin'?"

"i swear to you." he said, eyes wide, dark, pleading. not for mercy, but for understanding, or maybe just the illusion of it. "i never did nothin' on that ship but put myself to work. i told xavier it was a bad idea, and as soon as he realised it himself he threw the blame on me." he took one slow step back, boots scraping the ground. "i never raised a blade. i never planned a damn thing. but if that don't matter to you... then get on with it, vasya. i'm tired of being hunted like something i ain't."

THEIR SILHOUETTE SPLITS FROM THE SHADOWS LIKE SMOKE OFF OF AN OIL FIRE, slow and deliberate, head tilted just a touch too far to be natural. A charm of knucklebones clacked against their coat with every step, the leather of their boots whispering against the dirt with every step. The wind tugs at the fraying strands of charms that hang from their belt and sleeves: bits of bone, rusted nails, the jaw of something small and once venomous. Their grin is not warm. It is hungry.

"You always say that, but the winds don't lie," they murmur. "It's not me, like lies don’t rot the tongue. I know exactly what you are." The lilt in their voice becomes mocking. Vasya lifts a hand, slow, fingers twitching in an old warding motion, one Ovie might recognize if he squinted through the layers of curse and salt and barely-stitched sanity. "I ain't here for the Charter. I'm here to see if what's rotting can be carved out before it spreads, and we're on borrowed time." They move closer, and not even the moonlight can make them beautiful. "Tell me," Head moves to the side, the question akin to a predator playing with its food. "Why do the dead choke on your name?"

[cursedsails]

dorian practically lit up, leaning forward like a cat that had just found its prey too stunned to flee. "ay, míralo." he said with a delighted grin, eyes dancing with mischief. "look at that face. if you'd smiled any wider i'd think you'd just proposed." he didn't press yet, not really. just let the pause stretch as he sipped from his glass, eyes never leaving ned.

"she's got you properly twisted, hasn't she?" he said, voice honeyed, the kind that pulled secrets like thread from a loose seam. "alright, alright. i won't ask how far it's gone." he winked. of course he did. "unless you want to tell me, of course." he made a show of swirling his glass. "but i will ask what it is about this one, hm? what's she done to make you look like a lovesick boy in my chair?"

he grinned wider, all teeth and trouble, leaning back with an easy grace. "don't worry about where i have eyes and ears." he waved a hand nonchalantly. "i want to hear it de primera mano."

Trying to settle a little more comfortably in the seat he's taken, Ned shakes his head at Dorian's joke about Aziel, regretting it when he accidentally makes eye contact with one of the Sirens, who smiles like a shark. "It's nothing like that, sir," he answers earnestly, quickly refocusing his attention on the man opposite him, "They've been looking out fae me since I got here, and I'm grateful." For the job opportunity, and for their friendship. "Though I'll be sure to pass along your well wishes when I get back, eh?" This last is said with twinkling amusement - Ned doesn't speak Spanish, but he knows a curse word when he hears one.

His eyes go a little wide at the healthy measure of rum that's been poured into his glass, but he accepts it anyway, taking a sip to be polite - a sip he almost chokes on when Dorian enquires about the woman he's been seen with. "Talk? What talk?" And from who?

But Ned doesn't attempt to deny the rumour - wouldn't want to, even if he had it in him to lie. The mere thought of Theia is enough to bring a boyish smile to his lips, revealing his hand completely before he can speak a word. "Ah... I'm not sure there's much to tell," he confesses at length, demuring his gaze, "But there is a lass I'm sweet on, aye. I've never met anyone like her..." And he doubts he will again.

[cursedsails]

dorian's silence stretched long enough to speak volumes but it wasn't the cold kind, it was more like a breath held too long and too tight in his chest. rue's words, that shake of her head, it reached somewhere deeper than he cared to admit. and when she crossed the space between them, all velvet and red silk, perching like she belonged there, he didn't stop her. he couldn't. she did fit there, a missing piece in his life that he never knew he'd wanted until she'd looked up at him as a child and really seen him.

his eyes tracked hers as she looked him over, and something behind his ribs twisted. not shame, but guilt maybe. for doubting her, even for a heartbeat. for thinking she could believe him capable of what the streets might be whispering. he was tired. not of her, but of the weight he carried behind closed doors, of the myths built in his image that didn't feel like him right now.

her touched softened him and he let her take his hand, let her trace the lines there like they meant something. because they did, didn't they? every scar and callus, every rough part of the man who had helped shape her. the girl who'd once curled beside the fire in the tavern with hollow cheeks and clever eyes, now a force that no one could contain. and she still came to him.

he watched her carefully as she spoke of the merchant, the one that even she couldn't get her claws into by the sounds of it. "the bastard by the broken fountain?" he knew him, knew that forked tongue he his behind crooked teeth. "if he's sitting on stock, i'll find it." there was no threat in his voice, only promise. the kind made only for her.

he squeezed her hand once firmly, then his eyes softened. "you do know me. better than most. better than i remember myself sometimes." he leaned back, free hand reaching for the bottle to refill her glass, then his own. the moment passed, but it wasn't gone. not really. tension still gripped his heart no matter how hard he tried not to show it. "and i know you, mi sol, and that look. what else are you planning?"

The candlelight flickered, casting gilded shadows along the curve of her glass and the soft column of her throat as Rue leaned back, her body a picture of relaxation in the nest that had become much like a second home. A cat lounging in sunlight, claws tucked away but never quite sheathed. "Thievery?" she echoed, lifting her brow with a sly grin, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "I would say that my coin is rightfully earned and willingly given. Your job these days is as earnest as mine, but I must admit that I indeed learn from the best how to lawfully empty a man’s pockets " Her voice carried a hint of reminiscing, light as seafoam. She loved him, in the way a girl might love the lighthouse that stood firm through every storm of her life. Even if the stones wore with each passing year, she’d still look for that light when the sky split open.

But when his eyes changed—subtle, but she knew him too well—Rue stilled, with tension and curiosity both. Stillness in her was never empty; it was the hush before the tides of emotion would come rushing in. She saw it, the flicker that rippled beneath his words. Something unspoken that didn’t belong to their usual rhythm.

He thought she was accusing him.

Rue blinked once, then twice, as though his words had caught her mid-breath. For a heartbeat, the air between them grew still—not the stillness of a duel waiting to ignite, but the hush of something precious teetering on the edge of fracture. Her glass hovered, suspended between table and lips, and then was quietly returned to the wood without ceremony. "You think I’d sit across from you and accuse you of—what? Letting Tortuga rot while you sip aged rum and count your coin?" Her voice, though soft, held the unmistakable thread of disbelief. She shook her head slowly, the usual glint in her eyes dimmed by something more human than her theatrics allowed.

"Saints, Dorian."

Her lips parted as if to laugh, but the sound never made it out. For a moment her composure fell, emotion peeking through her marble features before her body came into motion. Red silks whispered across the floors as she made her way over to him in a few quick steps and perched on the armrest of his velvet throne. Her dark eyes studied him intently as her hand reached out for his. She studied him—not the man he was to the island, not the romanticized myth spun in taverns, but him. The lines beneath his eyes were etched deeper than she remembered. His shoulders didn’t carry quite the same lift. 

"You may judge my teasing demeanor under these circumstances," she lightly shrugged her shoulders, lips quirking despite herself. "But never came here to question your heart. That’s the one thing on this cursed island I’ve never had reason to doubt." Her voice softened, warmth curling around her words like that of a gentle flame. "It is the spice merchant I am accusing. The wiry one with a mouth like a mousetrap and a lockbox heavier than his conscience. He’s been selling less for more and spinning tales of phantom buyers clearing him out. I had hopes he still owed you something. That’s all. He... won’t take my bait." It was a confession that still ached her, to have to admit to any defeat when times are dire.

She paused then, her fingers gently tracing over the back of his hand—not to take, not to trick, but a gentle gesture of affection. "I do not need to question because I like to think I know you still, Dorian." Then, the mask slipped gently back into place. She leaned back, a small smirk returning like moonlight behind a cloud. "Though, if you did happen to come across some feverroot, I could be persuaded to part with a favor. Or two."

[cursedsails]

he let out a low whistle, slow and amused. "you really do know how to make a man reckless." the smile that followed was pure dorian. it was crooked, flirtatious, just the right side of cocky, but the pause before it wasn't. he didn't move away from her touch, didn't deflect entirely. if anything he leaned into it, just enough to feel the warmth of her fingers trace along the edge of something he rarely let anyone near.

"you truly do trust me." he repeated it like it was a punchline, like he couldn't quite believe it. "saints, that's a dangerous thing to admit out loud. you'll ruin my reputation, make me think i've got something to live up to." his thumb brushed along her wrist, brief and idle, like it didn't mean anything.

"i could give you a hundred reasons not to." he said, quieter now but no less playful. "but i'm glad that you don't ask for them." he smiled again as if the weight in his chest wasn't real, as if he wasn't already thinking about what it would mean to try and deserve her trust. his gaze flicked downwards to her lips as his tongue wet his own out of habit. "you're making it very hard not to see how far that trust really goes."

if it was any other time she would make a joke or tease him as always but now, that it was clear on both of their faces that the blockade changed things, nya didn't have it in her to do any of those things but search and offer what little comfort she could. "maybe we both need a little bit of softness right now." she had no idea of the state of the nest and didn't bother listening to rumours unless it came from dorian or any of the sirens; but she imagined they were struggling just as much.

nya knew how he felt, pretending as if they have sawbone under control, as if every patient that comes through here doesn't come with praying either that their condition isn't serious so she can either send them or away or hope that they have enough to care for them. "you don't have to pretend with me." she offered quietly, hoping it would be enough.

holding things. it hasn't gotten to that point yet, of patients thinking that she's hiding medicine from them but it could be a reality sooner than later, desperation make people act in ways they never imagined. "perhaps they're not used to seeing you missing anything," she put a gentle hand on his cheek. "why wouldn't i?" with her thumb she slowly caressed his cheek "you've never given me a reason to not trust you and i don't think you ever would."

[cursedsails]

there were few faces left in the world that ovie was happy to see, but the crew of the harbinger were still held very dear to his heart. his time on the ship had been his least tumultuous out of all of the crews he had sailed with, and ultimately he had only left because he was just too suspicious that something would happen, that it would all go wrong, and he'd have to add them all to the list of people he was running from.

but not her, not klio. a smile broke out on her face when she saw him, and that alone was enough for ovie to drop his panic almost entirely. his arms opened to hold her, closing his eyes as he grinned against her shoulder. "klio." he breathed her name like she was his rescue, her presence alone enough to brighten the alleyway, the whole of tortuga itself. "fuck, am i glad to see you. i'm sorry i ran into you. are you okay?" he pulled back to look at her fondly.

Klio was still getting use to finding her flat. It was a newer development now that she was on the island longer and she felt it made more sense to have a place of her own, if not for her to rest at then to at least be storage for her items. After the tide many weeks ago, it felt smart to do so. Even though she was still learning how to get back to it at night.

Sighing as she came across another false turn, she'd been ready to turn back when someone bumped into her. Yet, before she could exclaim and scold them, she recognized that voice. "... Ovie?" She quickly reached out to stop him from leaving. Finally getting a good look at his face beneath his hood. "Ovie! Thank the gods you're here!" The Historian quickly wrapped her arms around him. Holding him tight against her as she kissed her friend's cheek. "I was so worried about you..."

[cursedsails]

when nico closed the gap and wrapped his arms around dorian, he didn't protest. he did nothing other than completely melt into the arms that knew him so well, better than anyone. instantly he embraced him, breathing in his scent and giving himself over to his warmth. if anyone could make dorian feel both small and safe at the same time, it was nico.

"don't be kind to me, nico." he murmured, one of his hands gliding up the other's broad back to tangle into the back of his hair. he didn't deserve nico's kindness. not because he wasn't good to his sirens, but because he wasn't good to him. he was doing it again, inviting him back in when he could make no promise that he could stay. but when he could feel nico's heartbeat against his own chest, the second half of his own, he couldn't ignore the magnetism.

he pulled back to look at him, one hand still tangled in his hair and the other reaching to cup the side of his face. "mi vida." he murmured, pressing his forehead against nico's. "i can't ask anything of you but..." he sighed, his usual charm and bravado shelved during these moments that nico completely unravelled him. "i need you."

he let the silence that followed stretch, breath mingling in the space between them like it was the last thing they had left to share. his thumb brushed along nico's cheek, touching him like he was holding onto something he'd already lost, and then he kissed him. it was slow, like he wasn't sure he deserved it, the kind of kiss that offered himself over even if he shouldn't.

whatever it was that he had expected to see, was not what he came across. seeing dorian in such a state caused his heart to crack in two. there wasn't anything he could do to make any of this better and that was all he wished to do.

"dorian..." nico sighed. he moved over to his beloved then and wrapped his arms around him. he didn't have the words to express to him how sorry or how awful he found this situation. he just wanted to be there to hold him, to let him know while he is thinking about all of them, nico was there for him and only him.

he kissed the others shoulder gently, wanting to offer as much comfort as he possibly could. "we will all get through this. you will get them through this." everything that was happening felt a little like torture but nico thought that things might be better if the two of them were together. they could get one another through it. "and i will be here for you." wasn't it how it always was? nico would give everything to make things better for dorain. he'd bend over backwards for him.