#first mate wojchek

[heavymetal-luvr]

quality is questionable.. but here are some first mate pics i haven't seen circulating on here 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[sameheart-sameblood]

Turn of the Tide

pairing: wojchek x f!reader

summary: wojchek discovers you've disguised yourself as a man to work aboard the demeter and agrees to keep your secret. he begins treating you different than the other crewmates and you confront him about his unfair behavior

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, mentions of reader's sad background, chest binding, fluff, me not knowing anything about ships and what happens on them

a/n: popping in to say i'm not dead, just depressed and busy lol. truly grateful to this character for pulling me out of my fic slump. im back to once again make a grumpy fictional man way softer than he was ever meant to be hahaha. also guess im obsessed with david dastmalchian now?? didn't have that on my 2023 bingo card tbh

read on ao3!

Sailors believe in many things. A red sunrise can send them into a panic, anticipating the swells and overbearing winds they’re so sure are to come. Red skies at night, however, can make even the most pessimistic crewmate believe there’s fair weather on the way. Captains refuse to set sail on Fridays, sailors place coins under the mast for good fortune and mariners daren’t whistle lest they summon a storm. Many vessels even have a cat aboard, the little creatures seen to bring luck (and sharp teeth to lessen the rat population). 

Sailors believe in many things but above all they can agree that a woman on board is bad luck. Which seems silly to you because here you are, a woman who’s been on board The Demeter for many months now. Your presence had not brought ill fortune to the vessel. In fact, the weather had remained pleasant, despite the late summer month’s usual downpours and hurricanes. 

Granted none of the crew knew you were a woman. You had disguised yourself as a man, hair cut short and chest bound tightly, but that didn’t change the fact of your sex. A life of adventure on the seas had always called to you but there was no possibility of you being granted work on a ship. The only woman allowed onboard was the carved wooden figurehead of a mermaid that decorated the bow of a vessel. There was no place for you at sea. 

Not one to take no for an answer, you found your own way to get work as a sailor. You had spent time aboard trading ships, learning the ways of the trade and earning the trust of the men you crewed alongside. Your last posting had gone so well that the captain of that ship had recommended you to a friend for your next job. 

That friend had turned out to be Captain Eliot of The Demeter. Captain Eliot and his First Mate, Wojchek, had asked you a few questions, all of which you answered confidently. The Captain was a kind man who remarked positively at your experience. The First Mate, however, was standoffish, challenging your every answer. Wojchek frowned slightly as the Captain offered you the posting and as they walked away you heard him mutter, “He’s too scrawny, Captain. He won’t be able to pull his weight.” 

Captain Eliot had only chuckled, “I thought the same thing when I hired you. Look how wrong I was. You must learn to give people chances, Mr. Wojchek.”

While you appreciated the Captain’s confidence, you made it your mission to show this Mr. Wojchek just how mistaken he was. And for a time, your life aboard the ship was simple. You performed your duties well, befriended the men, took initiative and came to be seen as one of the more ambitious members of the crew. Even Wojchek had to admit, although never to your face, that your were one of the better sailors who had worked under him. 

That good will you had earned was probably the only thing that kept the First Mate from throwing you overboard when he found out who you really were. Your secret was discovered when Wojchek had walked in on you unannounced and had discovered you securing your chest binding. After much fussing, he had threatened to toss you off at the next port. 

You had pleaded with him to show some kindness and let you stay. Eventually, Wojchek reluctantly agreed to let you remain aboard but warned that he couldn’t help you if the rest of the crew found the truth about you. You had promised him that if you were discovered, you would never let on that he had been any the wiser.

The two of you came to an uneasy agreement and work continued, albeit now with a strained air between you. The men would often remark how the first mate would give you the hardest tasks. You had to agree with them. It did feel like Wojchek was taking out his frustration on you. After one particularly grueling day where he had assigned you to a back to back deck watch, you knew you had no choice but to confront him. 

******

You find him in the tiny room assigned to the First Mate of the ship . It was one of the few luxuries he was given on the boat. Whereas you and the other sailors slept where they could in hammocks tied between posts and amongst the cargo, Wojchek had a tiny room all to himself. He even had a porthole, something he takes great pride in.  

You hear him groan as you continuously knock on the door, disrupting his peace. Footsteps approach and the door squeaks open. Wojchek grimaces down at you. 

“What is it, sailor?”

“I need to speak with you, sir.”

“I don’t have time. Neither do you. It’s nearly your watch.”

“I’m not due on deck for a good while yet.”

“We can talk later. Be on your way.”

He starts to close the door but you push against it, anger surging through you at his dismissal. You barge into his room, slamming the door behind you. Wojchek’s eyes widen for a moment, caught off guard by your boldness. But a moment later, he’s back to his usual gruff self. He glowers, backing away from you like you carry a disease he’s worried is catching. 

“This isn’t appropriate.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

“Keep your voice down!”

“It’s not a dirty word.”

“It is when you are disguised as a man on a ship. I’ve kept your secret and I’ll continue to do so. If any of the others were to find out, though…”

“I’ve been sailing with these men for nearly a year. They’re my friends but they’re not the most observant. I think my secret is safe. Besides, if they found out…” you lead off, shrugging your shoulders. 

Wojchek’s face darkens at your blasé attitude. “You think these men are your friends? They would turn on you the second they found out the truth about you.”

“That’s not true,” you retort, “just because you hate me doesn’t mean they would.”

“When did I ever say I hate you?”

“You don’t have to. The way you treat me is proof enough. The others may not have realized I’m a woman but they have started to notice you seem to give me the worst tasks and the most watches.  They know you don’t like me. Sooner or later, they’ll really try and figure out why. You might be the one that reveals my secret to them without meaning to.”

“I don’t hate you, I…”

He looks at you. Really looks at you, something he tried not to do very often once he noticed how catching sight of you made his heart skip a beat. His shoulders tense as he stares into your bright, vulnerable eyes, so out of place in a sailor. 

“You have no idea what a life at sea does to you.” He anticipates the retort you have ready to throw at him and holds up a silencing hand, imploring you to let him finish. “You’ve been on The Demeter for almost a year. No small feat for anyone, man or woman. You’re a good sailor. One of my best. People like you all start out the same, hungry for adventure. They see a life sailing from place to place as an answer to all their problems. And for a time, they’re happy. But eventually, the work breaks you. It keeps you from your family, from your friends. People on land move on while you’re away for months, even years at a time. ” 

Wojchek pauses, all the fight leaving him. “When you come back to port, you look for those who promised they’d always be there for you but one day they don’t come back. The ship’s arrival to land no longer brings hope and the sea can no longer mend the hurt that’s inside you. ” He lowers his gaze, perhaps remembering those whom he’s lost over the years. 

“The light leaves the men’s eyes once they realize that their world has shrunk to the size of this ship. They have nowhere else they belong. It’s suffocating. They grow resentful. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want to see the light leave your eyes.”

The whiplash of it all makes your head spin. You’ve been so convinced these last few months that this man hates you. Now he’s speaking to you more than he has this whole year. Not only that, it seems the worry over your wellbeing has cost him sleep. More so than a First Mate is supposed to spend worrying about a subordinate… 

The light in your eyes? Honestly, you didn’t know that was something you possessed. Maybe a glint of steely determination but you would never have called it anything akin to hope. Your life had always been hard. Being born a woman made life a constant struggle. Being born a poor one made it near impossible. 

Wojchek hasn’t moved, still close enough that you can feel the heat coming off of him in the crisp autumn night air that seeps through the tiny cracks in the ship. His eyes, however, keep jumping between your face and the floor. What he’s said has finally sunk in and along with it, his shame of wearing his heart on his sleeve. 

You keep your voice low as not to scare him. Seeing the usual rock of a man so skittish makes you approach your next words with the same precision as someone handling explosives. “I was born  in squalor to a family that saw my existence as nothing more than a burden. I spent most of my days wondering where my next meal would come from and if I’d have somewhere to sleep. I learned to deal with my lack of means. The thing I never could get over was the fact that I had no one in my life who cared if I lived or died.”

This is nothing you haven’t thought before but something about saying it aloud takes your breath away. A pressure grows in your chest as you fight the emotion that comes with revealing your own secrets. Wojchek doesn’t make it any easier, his once darting gaze now fixed intently on you. It’s your turn to avoid his dark eyes, staring at your shoes as you continue. 

“I was never truly happy until I came on The Demeter. I have food, my own bed, purpose, adventure…friends,” the last word almost doesn’t make it past your throat, now tight with emotion. “I finally feel like I have a home.”

It’s only fair that you tell him the whole of your truth seeing how he’d kept your secret for the last few months. He deserves that much. The tension in the room swirls thick but you aren’t sure if it’s because the First Mate is preparing to send you away or not. You wouldn’t blame him if he did throw you off the ship. With you gone, everything could return to the way it was. It might be better for everyone. 

You become lost in your own dark thoughts. Wojchek reaches out a hand, brushing your hair, shorn short and shaggy as part of your disguise, off of your face. You close your eyes at the touch, savoring the feel of his calloused fingers skimming so gently across your skin. All too soon, he’s pulling his hand away, remembering himself. 

“The Demeter is also the only home I’ve ever known,” Wojchek admits, “It’s a good ship and she’s been strong and true to me. If you’re sure this is where you want to be then you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

You nod your thanks, tears threatening to spill again at the relief of knowing you don’t have to leave. When they begin to roll down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them hidden, Wojchek tuts softly, “Everything will be alright, kotku.”

You may not know the meaning of the word but you can understand from the tenderness in his eyes that it’s a term of endearment in his native tongue. The realization makes you bold. 

“It’s not just the ship or the crew that make The Demeter my home. It’s you.” You force yourself to maintain eye contact with Wojchek, fighting the instinct to look away. The though that he may not return the strength of your feelings sends a shiver of fear through you but you need him to understand how you feel. 

Wojchek searches your face for some deceit but finds only raw truth. He takes a step forward mere inches between you now. His hands twitch to reach for you again but he holds himself back. Above all else, Wojchek is a professional. Just because he thinks you want him doesn’t mean he’ll take the risk of abusing the power imbalance between you. 

Instead, you take the initiative. “May I kiss you, Mr. Wojchek?” It comes out as nothing more than a whisper but he nods. You lean in, teetering on your toes, never realizing how tall he actually was until now. A particularly strong wave hits the ship and you lose your balance. Before you can lose your footing, he has you in his arms. 

Wojchek hikes you up, bringing your face level to his. Years of working the ship have made him strong as an ox and he thanks the gods that he finally has good use for the muscles that hide beneath his tunic.

You press your lips to his and it takes you a few moments to remember to breathe. The kiss is trepidatious and sweet but leaves your stomach swirling with butterflies. Wojchek’s grip tightens on you, scared he’ll find that you’ve been some sprite in his dream that the morning sun will chase away. It feels good to be pressed together like this, limbs intertwined so you’re not sure where you end and he begins.

All too soon, he breaks away, gasping slightly. It seems you weren’t the only one who forgot how breathing works. The sight of the usually stern man so undone by a chaste kiss makes you chuckle.  Your hand grazes his cheek, running over his stubble. It’s strange to remember that just an hour ago you were convinced Wojchek wanted nothing more than to throw you overboard. Now he’s holding you like he’ll never let you go. How quickly life can change for the better. 

The tranquility is broken by the banging of Olgaren resonating through the wood of the ship. Your watch will soon begin and if you aren’t there to take your post, someone will come looking for you. The ship won’t sail itself and you sigh, realizing you can’t put off your responsibilities in favor of staying with Wojchek all night. 

The First Mate groans, “Stay a little longer.”

“I’m late as it is!” You smile at his pout. It’s a new expression you’ve never seen from his before and you push him down onto his tiny bed, kissing him once again. Another bang resounds through the ship and you whine, getting back to your feet. 

“I’ll make Abrams cover your watch.” Wojchek offers, staring up at you with comically pleading eyes. 

“You’ll have a mutiny on your hands if you come between that man and his sleep. Besides, it’s only four hours. You can even come visit me on deck if you like. It’s single watch so there won’t be anyone around to wonder why we’re together.”

“Four hours?” he grumbles.

“You’re the one who assigned me double watch!” 

Wojchek leans back, watching you button your jacket, trying your best to look presentable. He can’t help but smile at the commitment to your work ethic. “I’ll be up as soon as you relieve Olgaren.”

You nod, trying to remove the smile plastered on your face but failing miserably. Hopefully Olgaren is too tired to ask questions when he sees you. “See you soon.”

You’re about to open the door when you remember something. “What does kotku mean?”

Wojchek smiles, “Little cat.”

Once again you’re struck by the sweetness of a man so eager to have the world call him unfeeling. The nickname makes sense. You yourself believe that your presence seems to bring fair weather and good luck to the boat. The Demeter might not have a four legged feline to bring fair fortune but you’re the next best thing; positive, tenacious and willing to do anything for the good of the ship and crew. 

You grin at Wojchek, who now lounges happily on his tiny bed, looking somewhat feline himself. “Are you sure you want to call me that? A ship can never be without a cat. It’s bad luck. You’ll never be rid of me.”

Wojchek smiles contentedly, blinking slowly, sleep seemingly not far off. The chances of him joining you on deck for the evening appear to be dwindling. You’d be devastated if he didn’t look so adorable. He nods, beckoning you for one last kiss goodbye. “Good. I’ll keep calling you kotku so we never have to be apart.”

******

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Connection for eternity

Vampire Wojchek x fem!reader

warning : blood, romantic, kisses, implied murder, body worship

Summary : Had it been days, weeks months, years or even decades since the boat had come ashore since he had bitten them both. They hardly knew it anymore, but what they did know was that their love remained as it was that night and for all eternity.

Info : Wow another work for our dear sailor I had this idea and wanted to realize it because I think he can be a pretty romantic guy…if he wants to ;) So have fun reading

gif by me (I started trying to make my covers myself it's something)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Broken wood, fog and a dark night with a bloody full moon. The howling of wolves, rats prowling around and bats following you around, looking at you with their dark blood-hungry eyes. It was a night in 1893 in London, one of the cities in the world where the devil set foot on land and would spill death and blood in the coming nights…together or rather with his descendants.

He had driven his fangs into the necks and veins of the crew, killing and tearing them all apart, mixing the blood with the rain and recoloring the wood. It was a night when Dracula went off the ship and in the fog of the night, unnoticed by the onlookers and policemen, the first mate and a female passenger went off the ship.

In the reports they were "lost" on board but what had happened…what had happened over the years? Too much it seemed because when her eyes opened again she understood what had happened, she understood what was true and she also understood that in this nightmare of infinity the new century had opened, decades seemed to have passed.

He had called it ,,The century of the first world war" and she could still feel his warm hand on hers where he had touched her after they met.

But now, as her milky white eyes turned to the full moon, she felt the bite on her neck again where he had bitten her decades ago. ,,It seems he's not the only one back," she remarked as she heard the footsteps, the flapping of the mists and the howling of the wolves.

There were two monsters out that night, one who had been preying on the population, longing for the new world since his time was long gone.

But the other "vampire" he was here had come to the present had finally come back to her had returned to his heart to his only warm spot in this cold world.

The mighty wooden door opened and she only had to turn around to see her darling already standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his pale lips under which his fangs were hidden.

The pale skin, the veins and arteries and above all the wings hidden under the aristocratic clothing that now looked old and no longer modern.

,,You're back, my love," she stated the obvious firmly, suppressed the quick movement and walked towards him normally, trying to show him in "everyday life" that they were still mortal, that they still had a chance for forgiveness…even if they were already in the middle of hell. Wojchek nodded and put the basket on the table where she had already placed the tea service.

White old porcelain, considered valuable only by the old ones, was a beautiful reminder for the two of them of the day they had breakfast together on the Demeter on a reasonably sunny morning as a secret without the crew knowing.

,,Was it nice outside? Easy to get?" she asked, moving to the wooden chair, which was suddenly pulled back slightly as the black-haired man eased her into her seat, for which she gave him a stern look.

Her pale eyes met his once dark and vivid ones before he pulled several bottles, vials and jugs from the basket made of glass containing the dark viscous liquid she could feel the warmth behind the glass. As if the animal, the human and the poor half-volunteers were still alive and here.

Dark only the moon it's easy…but there seems to be caution in the air" he replied after a moment of wondering if he should give his love the care as he reached for the jug and took her cup pouring the blood slowly into it and his wife swallowed involuntarily as her throat felt raw, dry and hungry.

The need flashed in her eyes and she wanted to sink her fangs into a piece of meat before she suddenly felt his warm hand on hers. ,,Together as always, my heart," he reminded her, a hint of a smile on his usually full face, which she waved away with an embarrassed smile and nervously yet dnakably placed the cup on the plate, waiting for him to pour himself a cup before lifting it.

,,Enjoy it, my hunter," she teased him and heard the amused grin before the cups clinked lightly together and they both took a sip each.

The warm blood first stained her lips, then her tongue and finally her throat warm, full of life and better, tastier than anything they had ever tasted in their dead existence.

A moment of pleasure in which they closed their eyes, a light color returned to their skin, their lips no longer bloodless, their cheeks no longer pale and slightly sunken.

They both became the image of life again. ,,You've never looked more beautiful," he commented suddenly, setting his cup down before placing his hand on her cheek, she nestled against him, putting her own cup down and they both enjoyed the moment that had opened up for them.

,,And you've never hunted better," she winked slightly and now heard the laughter as he told her all the things he'd seen at night and when he'd met, the moon accompanying him even if it was her he was thinking of, the one who accompanied him as a field mouse from time to time and her warm embrace, her warm body was the reward he needed for the infinite time when he came back.

After a moment of looking at him, she rose to the great feast and went out to look at the moon, the sleepy city, the feeling of him and the past. A blink later she felt him behind her, warm hands on her like his lips kissing her fingers one by one she knew he needed it she needed it as a point that he hadn't completely died yet.

,,My beauty, my wondrous woman of infinity," he murmured between kisses as he kissed his way up her arms, playing with the strands of her hair gently, almost reverently, over the bite mark, her trembling disappearing with kisses and gestures before her own hands came to rest on his body.

Warm hands running over his body the bite wound that seemed so much more gruesome than hers, "Such a brave man" she commented feeling him relax as she remembered her letting go of him and he relaxed she placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a grateful kiss.

A kiss drenched in blood and love under the moon that shone on her through the window, Wojchek pulled her closer holding her close in this resilient and yet fragile body….unaware that the beastly old bat had never let them both out of his sight, that the rapier was just waiting to strike at the right moment and extinguish the love he was never meant to have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@deliri-yum22 , @oceansrose2002 , @thecrossbowkillerr , @minilev , @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl

[unethicallypleistocene]

Okay, I have to ask... how would your OCs react to meeting my OCs from the same fandoms? i.e how Tern would get along with Katherine, how Blake would get along with my X-Men OCs, etc.

OOH what a good question!

I think Tern would initially be a bit apprehensive towards Katherine, since they take a more distrustful approach to the tablet's magic because of their connection to the underworld. However, I think that they would eventually realize that the ability to transcend time is NOT one that you find every day, and I like to think that they would connect over the sheer improbability of their situations. Plus, Tern is an archivist by trade, and I think they would love to pick Katherine's brain about all the Kemetic symbolism that she's immersed in.

I think Blake would really bond with Madison over the fact that both their mutations are naturalistic and animalistic (to a degree). He and Robin also have that music connection, although I'm sure they have very different philosophies towards it. Blake also has quite a deal of trauma stemming from his mutation, but that's not exactly uncommon in the X-Mansion, so he's in good company.

(Not in the same fandom but I couldn't resist) I think Alden and Wojchek would HATE each other. They're both extremely stubborn, devoted to their crews to a fault, and would have no desire to make concessions or mediate. Alden's no stranger to having his authority questioned (see first mate James) but I think he'd unconsciously see his mirror image and react antagonistically. James would love Vivienne, though. He'd want to sketch her all day, and they'd very conspiratorially talk about Alden behind his back.

[unreeled]

The Last Voyage of the Demeter

A crew worthy of a story.

(This article can also be found on my substack).

Adapting Dracula is not something that has ever been done seamlessly. In the 127 years since it’s publication, in what is likely hundreds of adaptations and retellings between stage plays, films, and novels, there is no adaptation that has truly followed the story from beginning to end. There are many reasons for this, as what worked in a novel in 1897 may not work in a modern day film, but adapting the full story is never what The Last Voyage of the Demeter set out to do, anyway. They are adapting a single chapter.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter is just what it says in the title: it is the story of the ship Demeter as it carries cargo from Carpathia to London, and in the process, becomes a nightmare for the crewmen on board. It chiefly follows Corey Hawkins in the role of Clemens, a doctor who joined the ship at the start of the journey and quickly becomes caught in the middle of the struggle to come.

One of the most difficult parts of telling a story that is, from the start, open about the fact that there are no survivors, is that you still want the audience to care for your cast. You want the deaths to hit despite the fact that they are already being braced for. And in this respect, the film succeeds. All it takes is a strong cast and a solid script for them to work from. The aforementioned Corey Hawkins shines in his role as the ship’s doctor and a man of reason, struggling to reconcile the evidence of the supernatural with the logic he’s holds tight to. Other standout performances come from David Dastmalchian as Wojchek, the ship’s first mate who attempts to maintain order throughout the voyage, and Woody Norman in the role of Toby, the captain’s grandson and the only child aboard the Demeter.

Each member of the Demeter’s crew may fulfill a familiar archetype, be it from the horror genre in general or in other stories of seafaring men, but ultimately, the performances by this cast round them out into something that feels much more real. There is a sense that these men have worked together for a very long time, and that there is more to their lives than this single voyage. And then you begin to watch as they get picked off, one by one.

The films more solid scares are when they play more intimately with this cast. Stuck on a tight ship, isolated on a stormy sea, there is plenty of opportunity to create an environment that feels claustrophobic. Though these are not always taken, there are still wonderfully dreadful moments awaiting the viewer. Some of the best even happen in the light of day.

Where this film thrives the most, however, is in it’s sound design. That should come as no surprise when you begin with a score composed by Bear McCreary, who is responsible for, among others, the award-winning scores for the video games God of War and God of War Ragnarok, the title theme to Black Sails, and the score to 2019’s Godzilla: King of Monsters. Intense, full of thematic strings and playing often with the feeling of being on a creaking ship out at sea, this film could not have asked for a better backing to tie it together.

And the score isn’t where the sound design ends, either. The attention of detail paid to the acoustics of the ship, from the way the storage hold is home to quiet echos to the way ever-present sea sloshes against the ship, comes together to create a deeply immersive atmosphere. A gimmick introduced early on in the film even plays with sound; Toby, while cheerfully giving a tour to the ship’s new doctor, tells him that he can knock on the hold at any time to communicate with other crew across the ship. One of the highlights of seeing this film when it was screening in theaters was being able to hear this knock echo, front to back, all the way down the ship, and knowing it would return to haunt us.

One common complaint from audiences of modern horror are that the films are, visually, too dark. In a way that fails to create atmosphere and instead hinders the viewing experience, creating an image that can hardly be parsed. This is not a complaint that could be found with The Last Voyage of the Demeter. Light and shadow are constantly at play through this film, found largely in the stark differences between the warm safety of lamplight and the cold, blue-tinted darkness at it’s edges. These contrasts often create something beautiful, even when there is danger lurking in the dark.

Stepping into the role of that danger is Javier Botet. Dracula is far from the first time that Botet has been the movie monster; from The Conjuring 2’s Crooked Man to some of the ghosts of Crimson Peak, he is no stranger to playing the supernatural. Dracula, in this film, takes a more animalistic approach. He is a creature that is desperate, and hungry, and has little time to toy with his food. It would seem he does retain some of his personality in the way he lures in or taunts his victims, which are the highlight moments of his kills.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter is, overall, an adaptation worthy of the haunting chapter of Dracula that it takes the bones of it’s story from. Clemens is a character that feels as if he could have been a part of the Dracula canon from the start, and the story he belongs to no less so. With a powerful score and a strong core cast, the Demeter’s final trip is a voyage worth taking, especially on a stormy afternoon.

[practically-an-x-man]

The Eyes of the Storm (Vivienne x Wojchek)

Summary: Mr. Wojchek has always been a superstitious man. When a beast from the sea appears to him, warning him of a storm ahead, his superstitions prove more than simply fantasy. The choice then comes to trust this siren... does it truly want to protect him, or is it simply steering him into a trap to drown him and consume his heart like the legends claim?

Word Count: 4.0k

Tags: action, historical fantasy, first meeting, near-drowning (he's fine lol), sirens, gothic horror

Crossposted on AO3

____

The seas were rough that night. It was enough that even a creature of the deep could not maintain equilibrium, and found herself tossed about amidst the waves. Cold rain struck its skin like a hail of icy bullets any time it found its way up to the surface, and the water below was a turbulent web of wild currents. 

Perhaps a hundred fathoms on, a great ship rocked and canted in the rocky waves. The crew onboard were scrambling, lashing themselves with ropes to the masts for fear of another wave tossing them to the sea. They moved almost like insects, the siren thought, like little ants in defense of their anthill as they fought to keep their schooner upright. A fearsome wave rose high and broke across the deck, sending many of the men off their feet. 

The storm would only get worse from here. If they continued on their current route, their ship would be dashed into the rocks by more of these same waves, and every single man would drown.

It would be quite the feast for a siren.

But Vivienne had a fondness for ships like these. 

It fought through the waves, pushing its sleek body towards the dark form of the ship. It had to fight hard just to remain upright, the currents pushing against it in all directions. It would be easier just to dive to calmer waters and wait out the storm, and briefly she was tempted - this was not the first storm-struck ship she’d seen, nor would it be the last - and yet she chose to still press ahead. 

Finally its pale hand found the cool, slick planks of the ship’s hull, and the siren skirted around to the stern. It knew schooners like these, perhaps not as well as it knew barques or freighters like its husband had once sailed but well enough at least to know where the wheel would lie. The only trouble was reaching it, what with the deck some thirty feet above and rocked by the same rough and ceaseless waters. 

The currents could not make up their minds. They wanted to push her away from the ship and they wanted to slam her into its side. It was near-impossible to maintain her hold on the hull, even harder to imagine reaching the deck or the men who stood upon it. 

Above the roar of the winds and the intermittent boom of thunder, she could hear the panicked shouts of the crew as they fought to keep their ship upright. Then there came another voice, stern but keeping reins on its fear, commanding them to keep their wits if they were to survive. It was a good strong voice, surely belonging either to the captain or his first mate, in either case a man who had dealt with many such storms and was not prepared to balk at another.

Her husband had been such a man, many years ago. Soon it became clear that his wife was not exempt from the callousness to which he showed his crew, nor from the violence he screamed at the ocean when it dared to turn against him. He had little respect for the people aboard his ship, even less respect for the waves that carried it onward.

“Brace! She is angry with us tonight!” 

Another wave tossed the ship, tipping its nose nearly skyward before crashing back against the water. Vivienne was plunged beneath the surface and spun, half-blind in a whirlwind of bubbles, and fought its way back to the ship as quickly as it was able. The crew aboard were still scrambling, that sterner voice above still pushing them onwards- but he was not angry at the sea or his people. He was harsh, and he was brusque in the way that so many sailors were brusque, but it could hear the respect that laid below that fierceness. He trusted his men, and he respected the sea.

That made the difference. 

If he had been like her former husband, she would have let him drown.

A fresh wave tipped the ship anew, and Vivienne leapt from the water with a single powerful pump of its tail. Her fingers found a grip on the railing that outlined the deck, and she clung to it as the ship continued to rock. Finally it equalized, if only for the moment, and she pulled herself up and onto the ship. Magic bloomed both around and within her, transforming her image as she reached the deck.

Pelted with water from the storm, it took an arduous effort to persuade the illusion to take form around her. In a way, it didn’t matter - a woman appearing aboard a ship in the middle of the storm would arouse suspicion in any context - but perhaps the image of something human would give them pause long enough to heed her warning. 

The ship still bowed and rocked beneath it, and Vivienne was forced to cling to the rail for fear of being tossed back to the sea. The wheel was just ahead of her, a dark-haired man wrestling it for control of the ship. He’d been doused with water, his hair and clothing slicked to his skin, yet he hardly seemed to notice even his own physical condition. His breath plumed in a fine white mist as he shouted commands to his crew, and delicate droplets of moisture clung to the stubble on his jaw. His eyes were dark and sharp and focused, in some strangely alluring way.

“You!” Vivienne dared to shout, in the hopes of making him turn, “Hello! Handsome man with the beard! Look here!”

Finally he turned, and she watched those sharp eyes assess her over the course of only an instant. Suspicion clouded his expression. His knuckles were white on the wheel.

“Phantom.” he spat, “Specter. I will not have your omens on my ship.”

Another wave crashed across the deck, and the man muttered a chain of swears under his breath. His attention was soon returned to the wheel, and he wrenched it against another swell. 

“You are headed for the worst of the storm,” the siren continued, shouting over the roar of the wind, “Your ship will sink. Change your course or you and your crew will drown.”

“I will not listen to your curses,” the sailor hissed, this time refusing to even meet her eyes. His mouth continued to move in near-silence in the moments that followed. Vivienne caught only a few words she recognized, but the language itself was familiar. 

Her husband had used Polish as a vehicle for profanity. He’d often used English as a vehicle for profanity as well, but the truly heinous words were often held in his native tongue. He seemed to think that represented etiquette- as if those that did not speak Polish somehow could not tell that they were profanities from only the tone of his voice.

This man seemed to be praying. He asked his Lord for safety in the storm, to clear his mind of distraction and purge his ship of phantoms. It was quite a different tone of voice than she was accustomed to, but she understood the meaning well enough. 

“Posłuchaj mnie.” Vivienne hissed, and his head snapped towards her. It spoke perhaps a dozen words of Polish by its own tongue, and many of those words merely echoed swears from its former husband’s tirades, but it knew enough to get his attention. “Listen to me. Call it an omen, but the storm will not change. I am offering you a warning.”

“You offer lies.”

Vivienne could only sigh. She had done her duty and more, risked her privacy and safety for a man she did not know, and that man refused to heed her words. There was nothing more it could do to convince him. 

“Very well. If your men drown, I will eat their hearts,” she promised, finally allowing the rain to melt away the illusion around her. Lightning flashed above it, briefly illuminating rows of violet scales as it lifted its tail over the railing of the ship. The sailor’s eyes widened as he took a half-step back - his fears confirmed, his supposed phantom proven to be something far worse. Vivienne refused to duck away from his eyes, fixing him with the full promise of what it was.

She clung to the railing a moment longer, keeping her body steady despite the raging waters and the vicious rocking of the ship. 

“Do not let them drown.”

____

It should have fled.

The first mate - as it later learned from the voices of his crew - did not heed its warning. The ship continued on its path into the storm, and the winds howled like tortured souls. It was a lost cause, she thought, the ship and all of its men would prove just another casualty of the sea.

In truth, and despite her promise, Vivienne did not want to eat the hearts of the crew should they drown. Something had endeared them to her, in some small and indefinable way, and it did not wish to spill their blood into the water even if the storm did claim them.

It should have left, and left the ship to its fate. 

But instead it pushed ahead.

Even in roughened waters, Vivienne easily matched the speed of the ship. She followed the underwater shadow of the hull, swimming at a depth low enough to avoid the worst of the waves. The shouts of the crew were buried at this depth, though thunder pulsed through the water with enough force to rattle her bones.

It was a vicious storm indeed. She was surprised the men had even made it this far. In truth that impressed her: with a storm like this to spar with, it took a well-oiled crew to keep the ship moving forward. They would fight their fate, if nothing else. That was a noble thing.

Something hit the water hard, plunging deep and fighting to orient itself amidst the tumultuous underwater currents. The water rose high above it, grabbed it tight and dragged it lower, and Vivienne watched the body flip head-over-heels. She pumped her tail and surged closer - now close enough to recognize the face of the first mate.

He was a clever enough man, at least. Rather than continue to spin and flounder, he merely exhaled and then began to follow the path of the bubbles. It was a common seafarer’s trick: the ocean could appear dark on both sides, the surface identical to the depths, but air would always rise.

It only took a moment longer to realize his cleverness would not be enough. He was deep underwater, the waves only hindering his chances to surface, and the impact surely shocked much of the air from his lungs. Vivienne watched his movements slow and falter as he used the last of his breath, still eight feet or more from the surface. 

His crew would not reach him before he drowned. She doubted the crew could even pinpoint his location beneath those dark and churning waters.

It had promised to eat his heart if the waters claimed him. That was the nature of a siren - to charm men into the waters and eat their hearts. This would be easy prey. 

Vivienne twisted in the water and pushed ahead, gliding through the water as quickly as it was able. She caught the first mate around the middle, the weight of his body falling against her shoulder, and lashed its tail against the added resistance. She broke the surface only a moment later, bursting from the water with a spray of silver droplets and landing hard on the deck of the ship high above.

“Stubborn man,” she hissed, dragging itself across the deck as the first mate began to hack and cough, “I told you to heed the storm. You did not take my warning. You are lucky you’re still breathing.”

He managed enough air to lift his head, and gave the siren a long look through dark, bloodshot eyes. His chest still heaved for breath, and his body was pelted with sheets of rain as they cast over the deck, but his eyes were strangely steady as he looked at his rescue.

“Next time,” Vivienne hissed, baring rows of sharklike sharp teeth at him as it spoke. The time for charm had long fled. Now it was inclined to frighten him into understanding. “Next time, when you are told of a storm, you listen. Or there may be no more rescue for you.”

She arched her back and lashed her tail, acting the part of some vicious animal, reminding him of what she might have done had she not chosen mercy. She looked at him with her devil’s-eyes, bared him another shark’s grimace, made herself into the most inhuman thing she could muster - if kindness could not drive him from the water, perhaps fear would. It had shown him its humanity, but there was something far more monstrous that lay beneath.

The first mate did not speak. His expression never changed. It was not fear, but neither was it gratitude. Vivienne could not begin to glean his thoughts. Perhaps that was for the best.

The ship rocked with another wave, and she allowed herself to slip from the deck. There was a single flash of colorful scales against the darkness of the water below, and then her form was swallowed by the depths of the sea.

It was as if she’d never been there at all.

____

Mr. Wojchek had resumed his place at the helm. The ship had survived the storm, as had all of its crew, though his throat still felt roughened and hoarse from its intake of seawater. Night had fallen heavy around him, and he had sent much of his crew to bed. They were exhausted from the storm, and needed a night’s rest if they were to conduct good work in the morning. The waters had calmed enough for him to manage on his own, he said, and he’d sound the alarm if any further issues arose.

In truth, he simply wanted to be alone.

Wojchek had known all his life that there was mysticism in this world. He had believed it since he was a boy. His mother had told him of pixies in the garden and trolls beneath the bridge, and he’d taken in those stories as a kitten laps up a bowl of cream. As he’d grown, he witnessed stories from many a seaman when they brought their ships to the docks - leviathans, they said, great sea-beasts larger even than their ships, visible only by the massive swells of their fins as they crested the water. They told of wailing phantoms, lost brides and drowned children, ghostly slaves dragging waterlogged shackles.

And they told him of sirens. 

For all his history and all his superstition, Mr. Wojchek had never once expected to see such a beast face-to-face. They existed in separate worlds in his mind: what he’d been told, what others had experienced, and what he had seen himself. 

He had thought, for a time of several hours at least, that he might have imagined the whole incident. Once he returned to the wheel and his mind became focused again on keeping the Demeter on its course, the events seemed to fade into something like a dream. He’d fallen from the ship, yes, but it must have been a crewman who pulled him from the water. The impact, and the water in his lungs, had simply clouded his memory. There was no sea-beast with violet scales.

He had turned the thoughts over in his mind for half the night, but he simply could not convince himself of it. He’d fallen far from the ship, and the waves had knocked him about until he knew the others could not have seen nor reached him. He remembered the feel of the siren’s skin, soft and smooth like that of a skate, and the glinting fish-scales of its tail under the water. And he could not forget its words. He could not blame that on his own mind.

Mr. Wojchek looked out at the sea beneath him. The water was dark and calm, as if the storm had never happened. Such was the way of the sea. 

“Siren.” he said, careful not to wake the crew sleeping below him. There was no response but the lapping of waves against the hull of the ship, so he tried again, perhaps a little louder: “Siren.”

He was met again with silence, and found himself almost hoping for that silence to continue. It would be easier this way. It would be easier to believe his superstition was still unfounded, and he would reach port with nothing more than a story to tell another impressionable boy on the docks.

More minutes passed, accompanied by nothing more than the lapping of tides against the hull and the subtle creaking of the masts as the wind picked up, and finally Mr. Wojchek determined it time to concede. The siren was gone, if it had ever really been there to begin with. 

A soft splash left the water, hardly any more than the rest, and then he heard a gentle thump from the deck behind him. He turned just in time to watch the illusion of humanity ripple across the siren’s figure, its tail folding inwards and its ice-blue skin warming to a soft pink blush.

She sat on the deck with her legs folded beneath her, looking at him with pale blue eyes. A water-drenched skirt covered her legs, but she was completely bare from the waist up. Her hair was long and ginger, somehow soft despite the saltwater that plastered it against her skin. Her expression was placid, almost friendly, though he suspected that was as much an illusion as the rest of her. 

“I do have a name, you know.” she said, and her lips curled up in a faint smile. Mr. Wojchek merely scoffed. He returned his eyes pointedly to the sea ahead of him. He had heard that a siren could bewitch a man with nothing more than a song from its throat or a glance at its eyes, and he had no intent to be bewitched on this night.

“I have no interest in learning your name,” he responded with a voice still rough from seawater, “I only wanted to thank you for your rescue. Nothing more.”

“You don’t want to learn the name of your rescuer?” it asked, though it pressed on before he could protest, “They call me Vivienne.”

Her voice had drawn nearer, and he risked a glance to find her upright and standing merely a few feet from him. She began to pace the deck in lithe, careful steps, slinking in a half-circle until she blocked his view of the horizon. Something about the look in her eyes made him want to shiver. He thought of siren magic and ducked her gaze once again.

“And they call you Wojchek, do they not?” she continued, heedless, “I overhead your crew. I presume that is your surname.”

“It is.” He’d keep things brief. He had granted his thanks, and he would move on. Soon this beast would see there was nothing more for her here.

If there was some small comfort in this very unnatural circumstance, it was that he did not feel he was in any real danger. After all, why would it have plucked him from the sea if it meant to hunt him down and consume his heart merely hours later? Tomorrow, he thought, all truces might vanish. Tomorrow was a new day. But today it had the chance at prey and had not taken it, and he doubted it intended to harm him here.

What it truly wanted if not to hurt him, though, Mr. Wojchek did not know.

“What is your first name, then?”

A brittle laugh broke from his lips, and he shook his head. 

“Oh, no. I know these tricks. I will not give my name out to a creature of the sea.”

“This creature rescued you from the sea, if you remember,” the siren replied, and crept nearer until she had a hand on the wheel and was looking him right in the eyes. She was tall, merely a few inches shorter than himself, and that brought them to eye level. He couldn’t look away.

“I don’t ask any other reward for your life,” she said, “Just your name.”

Mr. Wojchek considered this. He did not trust such a proposal - he had heard countless stories of witches performing curses with a man’s full name, and sirens were close enough to witches. He felt that this could be a trap, another way to snare him in her magic. He was too clever a man to be entrapped in such a way.

But by the same token, he feared refusing might come with its own set of consequences. If she did not receive his name, she might demand more. His life, or the lives of his crew. And if he refused that deal… sirens were the storms of Poseidon. He could not afford the god’s wrath, least of all when the Demeter had only narrowly survived the last whirlwind.

The Demeter was his home. Its crew were his brothers, in duty if not in blood. If the choice came between his own safety and theirs, he would fall on the sword time and time again. The siren was correct: it could have asked much more in return for saving his life, and his name was not such a large price to pay in the end. 

“Antoni,” he said, “Antoni Wojchek.”

“Antoni.” The siren seemed to approve. His name fell heavy against its tongue, and its lips curled again in something like a smile. Much as he distrusted the illusion she had cast over herself, she had a pleasant smile. He supposed again that that was the point of a siren. He was meant to be charmed by her. He was meant to be drawn in. Physical attraction was the trap they all utilized, and he knew this was no different. She was a predator, a shark, and if he gave her the opportunity, she would consume him.

He would not allow himself to be swayed. He would not give in to her charm.

Vivienne nodded and took a step back from him, creeping back towards the railing of the deck. The illusion began to melt away in ripples, her skin losing its luster and her eyes fading to a pearlescent silver-blue. Her gaze pierced him with something uncanny, with no split between the irises and the whites of her eyes, but in some strange way it was also a comfort. There was more transparency in it, less trickery, and he felt as though he saw it truly for what it was.

She leapt over the railing in a single graceful motion, and then he heard a stronger impact against the hull of the ship. Wojchek resisted the urge to step towards her and steal a glance - he knew enough what he’d see, a broad fish-tail covered in scales of violet and crimson, and he did not wish to be dragged into the water for his curiosity. He caught a glimpse of a fin, soft and feathered as it peeked above the railing, and the siren offered him a tricky half-smirk at his intrigue. It had the railing propped under its arms, holding itself in place for one final moment.

“I pray I will see you again soon, Antoni.” it said, and dropped out of sight. Mr. Wojchek listened for another sound, for the waters to rise or the ship to lurch in another storm, but no other sound came to him. He took a deep breath of the cool nighttime air, hoping to steady himself after such a strange interaction. His mind was reeling, and from more than simply fear.

Finally he whispered his response to the night, in prayer or in promise.

“I pray I will not.”

[vexic929]

Ok SO. The new fic idea. long ramble ahead so sorry.

This based on the movie The Last Voyage of the Demeter (spoilers for the movie ahead, fair warning), though really that's just a jumping point for some fun character dynamics I want to build. The main characters you need to know are these: Clemens, who is the crew doctor and literally the only person to make it to the end of the movie alive; Anna, who's smuggled onto the ship as a feeder for Dracula and kinda starts the whole shebang of the movie; and Wojchek, who's the first mate of the ship and the main character I'm exploring here. (Side detail the movie doesn't give him a first name but I'm calling him Antoni)

So in the movie, Wojchek is pretty closed-off and curt with people, and he really only seems to care about the Demeter (the ship) itself. He's on his last mission as first mate before the captain retires and he'll take over, so he's dedicated to doing his best so he can take over the ship with pride. Long story short, Dracula's in a box in the cargo hold, he wakes up and breaks out, and utter bloody havoc ensues.

Background over, here's the fic:

One day while out at sea, Clemens notices Wojchek putting a rolled letter into a bottle and tossing the bottle into the sea. He doesn't say anything right away, but this continues every night like a ritual and he finally decides to speak up. Wojchek explains that the letters are for his wife--

"Oh, I'm sorry you lost her."

"She is not lost. She belongs to the sea."

Clemens, of course, assumes this means she's dead, and he writes the bottles off as just a sweet gesture from a lonely crewman.

Later, as the crew begins to suspect Dracula (or some monster) is on the ship but aren't fully in danger, Clemens hears Wojchek speaking out the porthole in his cabin - talking to the sea, explaining that there's something else on the ship and he's worried he may be in danger. Clemens assumes the same as the letters, but as he's leaving he thinks he can hear a female voice above the waves. That's a little harder to explain.

Then it's the last day, they're planning to take Dracula down for good before they reach London. Wojchek seems to be praying to himself, clutching at a chain around his neck - a chain that holds a tarnished wedding band. Finally he spills the story about his wife, his Vivienne: "the most beautiful person he's ever seen, a living sea storm, with hair like flames and eyes like glass". He doesn't say much more than that, but he makes Wojchek and Anna promise that if he dies on the ship, they'll find Vivienne and return the ring to her.

Spoiler alert... Wojchek gets killed by Dracula, after using an axe to chop a hole in the hull of the ship so it'll sink. Clemens finds the body but forgets to take the ring (in the scene, he leaves quickly because he hears a clamor and thinks Dracula is going after Anna or the captain of the ship), though as he's leaving he thinks he can see a pale, webbed hand reaching through the hole in the hull, amid the rush of water, for Wojchek's body.

Clemens and Anna make it out alive, and float on wreckage to the ship towards London. They're still too far out to make it to the coast before they die of dehydration (and Anna is still infected by Dracula, she doesn't survive the movie either), but there's a disturbance in the water....

It's a siren - fiery red hair, pale and vaguely blue-tinted skin like sea ice, eyes so pale they don't even seem to have irises, webbed hands and finned arms, and a long fishlike tail underneath. She wears two chains around her neck, one that's thin and silver with a wedding ring, the other larger and tarnish with Wojchek's wedding band. Suddenly it makes sense: Wojchek's wife belongs to the sea, he never said she was dead.

They have a brief interaction, and Vivienne pushes the driftwood towards the shore until they're safely within reach of London. Then she disappears.

Clemens finds her again the next day, standing out by the docks with her feet in the water. She's clearly the same woman, but she looks completely human now - in a simple dress, her skin is pale but no longer blue, her eyes are also pale but not to the point of looking like she has no iris. She doesn't say anything about what happened in the water, but she seems unsurprised to hear of Wojchek's death--

"You've come to tell me my husband went down with his ship. He always said he would. I only prayed I’d get a few more years with him before he did. It’s a terrible tragedy.”

"Yes. It is."

She crouches and puts her hands in the water. They regain their bluish tint, but no webs, and Clemens can't tell if it's just a trick of the light.

"He belongs to the ocean now. I can still feel him out there."

"Maybe you'll see him again."

"Yes. Perhaps I will."

(And then I plan to include some happier flashback scenes of Vivienne and Wojchek - they first meet when she warns him of a sea storm and he doesn't listen, so she ends up having to rescue him before he drowns, plus more assorted scenes about their relationship to bring some lightness after the tragedy.)

(Also there's a bit more backstory than this but the short of it is that Vivienne was once human, but was dumped overboard by her first husband after she caught him cheating. She nearly drowned, but was spared by Poseidon and turned into a siren on the condition that she never again marry a captain of the sea. This becomes a bit of prophecy - she marries Wojchek, but since he dies before the captain of the Demeter does, he never became captain of a ship even temporarily)

(Okay last note but the other thing I want to explore with Vivienne is like a historical view on nonbinarism - Vivienne is fem-presenting and uses she/it pronouns but doesn't see herself as a woman, she even has a fun back-and-forth with Wojchek about how it's bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship, but she's not a woman since she's a siren. I want to kind of play with that idea, a character who's comfortable being seen as a woman but isn't, and knows she isn't, and has to balance the rigidity of society while she's on land with the freedom of being herself while at sea. Basically I'm using her identity as a siren as a metaphor for queer identity, kinda like I do for Kestrel)

ooooooooooooh I absolutely LOVE this!!!! Vivienne is SUCH an interesting character and I love its identity as a siren being a metaphor! <3333

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

IN PRAISE OF "THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE DEMETER" -- DRACULA AT HIS MOST HORRIFIC AND TRULY TERRIFYING.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on Spanish actor Javier Botet as Dracula at his most demonic and inhuman, film stills from 2023's "The Last Voyage of the Demeter" (also known as "Dracula: Voyage of the Demeter"), an upcoming American supernatural horror film directed by André Øvredal.

"What I love about this movie is, "The Last Voyage of the Demeter," is the film that’s going to make Dracula scary again,” he explained to SYFY WIRE an interview before the actors strike. “I feel like this is a film that absolutely will have audiences gripped with fear watching the movie. You don’t go to see this movie to see hot vampires making out, sorry. It’s just that’s not the movie that we’ve got here. You’re going to get the crap scared out of you."

-- DAVID DASTMALCHIAN (portraying Wojchek, the Demeters first mate)

OVERVIEW: "What is it about this version of Dracula that he insists will have audiences watching the movie through a small hole between their interlaced fingers? Not only have preview images of the undead monster himself already been released showing he looks more ghoul than man, but Dastmalchian notes it's his malevolent mind that’s the most horrifying. 

“Yes, Dracula has all manner of terrifyingly ripping bodies to shreds and feeding upon the blood that he needs to strengthen himself,” the actor explained. “But there was something about the kind of twisted pleasure or satisfaction that he gets out of toying with his food. And messing with us.” 

Indeed Dracula’s physical ability to tear into a person’s body for the blood he needs inside is scary, but what’s allowed the character to endure for centuries is the brutally calculated charisma with which he baits his victims into fear and even madness — something that’s heavily at play among the crew of the Demeter.

“The psychological warfare at play as we’re being kind of batted around like mice with a giant cat… That to me was really gut-wrenching and stomach-churning,” Dastmalchian concluded. “And I think it’s, it’s really horrific. But I love it.""

-- SYFY, "Why "The Last Voyage of the Demeter" Will "Make Dracula Scary Again," by Tyler McCarthy, August 7, 2023

Sources: www.syfy.com/syfy-wire/last-voyage-of-the-demeter-dracula-scary-again.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

~ A look, a ship and a sin ~

warning : blood, kiss, sexism (I means it's the late 18th century), kinda smutish/flirting

Summary : The Demeter's last voyage had only a handful of crew members and a load of wooden crates. But when the housekeeper of the crates comes on board for the Lord, it's a look, the ship or a sin that comes up. Above all, the first mate can see through her the true nature of the pretty lady, or can he?

Info : So I watched the last voyage of the demeter a few weeks ago with my parents and I was so excited (because I read the Dracula and seeing the chapter ,,live" was just ahhh). Maybe some people on here want to read something for him I mean I do so here it is have fun reading ;)

gif from @minilev

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A crossing to London in the late 1880s was something she had never done before. Such a journey from transylvania to London a world city a city of modernity, a city that would soon be home to her. A city that would soon be doomed without anyone on the ship finding out. Because a ship without a crew could tell nothing.

But nobody could have known that when the sun was high in the sky that day. In the harbor of the city the Demeter was anchored and the captain was not only waiting for his crew but also for his special guest.

A single woman. A single woman who was to serve as housekeeper for the count who had commissioned the crates transportation, but that was all anyone seemed to know.

The footsteps of heeled boots could be heard on the stone floor of the harbor, the leather dragging up her ankles concealed by the white and red dress.

The red velvet pattern pulled over the clean white dress that lay against her body, the corset pulled together at the back with laces and covered by fabric.

The sun shone down on the woman, emphasizing her cleanliness and beauty. The hat on her head released her hair but the wind made her strands bounce and the smile on her lips widened a little when she saw the large ship.

A sight of dark wood the great sail furled the figure at the bow of the ship a mermaid. Pretty and mysterious. ,,Ma'm, can I help you?" she heard an older voice than she could attribute to an older man. The thick white beard, the bluish cap and the white shirt that was no longer brand new.

Like something out of a book, she thought and gave him a friendly look. ,,Sir, could you tell me where I can find the captain of this wonderful ship?" she asked, pointing to the Demeter behind the man. She saw the slight smirk and amused look in the man's eyes. A simple game.

The man took off his cap and made a semblance of a bow, which she returned with a flattered curtsy. ,,Miss, you're standing in front of him... you're the housekeeper?" he asked, and suspicion flashed in her gaze, knowing she had taken a close look at his "guest list".

Surprise and a grin also made the older man smile, ,,Pleased to meet you sir, I hope we have a good trip to London together...may I perhaps come aboard already?".

The conversation between the two was ignored by the crew as the men had something to do and the newest member of the temporary ship's doctor went to the rope to secure the cargo.

All except one man, a man who had his dark eyes on the female. Watching his gaze, unsure about the new passenger and yet with no trust.

And so it was that the captain led his passenger to the ship, helped her up the gangplank and took her pack, ,,A lady shouldn't be overworked," he said with a smile and as a lesson to his grandson, who looked at the woman intently. ,,Men, we have our last passenger, a lady, I expect respect and decency!" the captain shouted to his crew, who turned their gazes to her, some more than others.

,,Wojchek, take the lady to her room and then come to me," the captain demanded, handing the suitcases to his first mate. The black-haired man's gaze was not pleased, not friendly and annoyed.

The short black hair, the beard more well than poorly groomed and dark, unblinking eyes looked at her. ,,A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wojchek, I am-" she wanted to introduce herself and was about to make a knciks when he simply interrupted her, not impressed by her look and smile, or was he?

,,A woman...on board the Demeter, that's something you have to handle with kid gloves, isn't it miss? Come on before you hurt yourself...a ship with men can be dangerous," he replied, letting his gaze wander over her, lingering for a moment on her lipstick-stained lips.

Blood was the same color before he walked past her and she hurriedly followed him so as not to remain alone in the open longer than necessary. And so it was that a few hours later the crew set sail from the harbor, heading out to the great open sea on their way to London months alone at sea.

Just the captain and his loyal crew plus the woman, the new heart of the ship. The heart of the ship who helped the crew where she could which was really nothing.

When she tried to clean the ship because Wojchek had given her a brush and water, saying ,,A woman should be able to do that" before he left, his dislike for her was still there after the captain told him to keep an eye on her so that none of the men would try. 

Even though he knew his crew, the first mate knew that one or the other wanted to do more than just talk, more than just look at those flowers, and when she had finished cleaning she was supposed to help in the kitchen, but the cook gave her the Bible and said she could read it so she wouldn't cut herself on the potato peel. ,,Such an Eve should not be harmed," said the religious man and gave her a smile before turning back to the ingredients.

She was sheltered by all and even helped the little boy to read and count for the captain's grandson, at least what she could do herself, which was what a woman needed to be accepted as a housekeeper. But no matter what, the first mate did not seem to fall for the heart of the ship.

Neither when he saw her at breakfast in the morning in her robe, which protected the thin dress underneath, did his gaze see the cold of the sea showing on her body.

She had tried to cover up the fact that her nipples were pressed against the fabric, her stockings were in her room and he had seen her delicate ankles and noticed her slightly wispy hair.

It was a view that burned into him, a view that wouldn't let him go. Not in the morning did he feel the tingling sensation in his stomach, knowing where his blood was being pumped.

Not at noon when he steered the ship and she kept her diary on deck, looking at him and stretching, her dress riding up slightly, her ankles visible again. Not even after dinner when he was getting ready to take care of his problem came over him.

But this had to end, the ship had to wake up, the Crew had to wake up and if it started with her, he wouldn't let his captain and the ship go down. Not because of this witch.

As he walked through the corridors of the ship, the modn in the sky made the deck and the entire ship seem dark, the sea endless and his thoughts sinful. The knocking on her door as he walked through the ship seemed to make his gaze briefly uncertain if anyone was awake.

But when a ,,Come in" sounded, he slipped into her room, a relatively large room that had room for a bed, a table and a small closet that had seen better days but didn't bother the young woman. ,,Mr.Wojchek, good evening... can I help you?" she asked, getting up from her chair and putting down the brush she had been brushing her hair with.

Her smile was full of innocence but her body was full of sin. ,,A proper lady would have dressed and not come to breakfast like a...whore a witch," he said, his dark eyes looking at her body under her nightgown.

The curve of her breasts, her hips, her legs with her lovely ankles and a view of her center which was interrupted when she placed a hand on his chest.

He flinched back a hint of a smile showing he had been right. ,,Was it that recognizable?" she asked, running her fingers over the fabric of his shirt, leaving red streaks with her fingernails from the pressure.

He put his hand on her wrist firmly, warningly as he looked at her. ,,From the beginning," he snarled and she pulled away from his grip with a strength he hadn't given her credit for.

She continued to walk around him, letting her hands roam over his tense body, so close that her breasts brushed his arm and back.

Her smirk turned to a giggle as she felt him, that sweet heartbeat, his fear, his anger, his lust, his desire. ,,Such a brave man from the start and yet, yet you almost seduced a woman with your gaze, with your thoughts...with your actions," she murmured to him and reached for his hand, knowing full well what he had done.

That he had desired her. He avoided her gaze as her hand came to rest on his cheek, a sensual touch, and she let out a surprised sound as he pressed her against the wall, his hand pressing against her neck but not completely depriving her of air.

,,I have nothing of the sort," he whispered to her, squeezing harder for a moment, a warning as he reached into his pocket with his other hand, the knife gleaming in the light of the oil lamp.

But she just smiled, knowing exactly what he had done, hearing his groans and grunts as he imagined her. Only her for himself.

He was a sinner. Her hand that wasn't around his wrist went to his center, seeing the flash of lust and hate in his eyes as he gripped the knife tighter, his knuckles already white. Knowing that he would be fun to have him.

,,This ends now!" he said and pulled out with the knife, ignoring his lust, the flash in his body, the arousal that craved her as she tore his hand from her neck and kissed him.

Her red lips stained his, the lipstick that was supposed to be sweet wasn't at all.

The knife slid to the floor in his surprise, he didn't fight back against the lust that felt so good.

But something so good shouldn't taste metallic, shouldn't be freezing cold and shouldn't paralyze him. ,,Shhh don't want to wake the others, good boy... shall we start?" she whispered to him and bit gently into his ear, feeling him wince as he didn't understand what was happening.

As she kissed her way down to his neck before he felt the pain as she rammed her fangs into his neck. Her new pet that sucked his blood was getting another hug. Just as her master could keep several mistresses, she could also keep more.

Starting with the first mate of Demeter who would be hers forever. He almost managed to expose her, but this secret would perish on the endless crossing and never reach her new home in London.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@jessicafangirl maybe you like to read it

@ebiemidnightlibrarian

@chainsawgvtsfvck thought you might like it saw that you like David very much always nice to meet people with taste ;)