Morning’s light skittered across the smooth, polished deck, leaving the dark wood warm to the touch, nipping at the stray cloud that dared skitter across. The ship was alive as the crew scurried back and forth, each man and woman set wholeheartedly to their task. Their numbers lighter than most mornings. It was by no more than the gentle mercy of a fatigued captain and a day off well earned by the men that accompanied said fearless leader on her task. It had taken careful planning and a fog-draped evening but the task was done.<br/><br/>A weary sigh escaped flushed lips as a slim frame rolled beneath the thin silken sheet, it a deep crimson splash of color dropped over the edge of the light wooden frame of the bed. The light skittering impish fingers across a number of oddities and trinkets that lined shelves hanging next to the small silver mirror that hung secured to the wall opposite the bed, refusing her respite from the morning light when she had tried to roll the opposite the glass covered porthole.<br/><br/><br/>Hair the color of burning embers laid sprawled out across the surface of the plump pillow that the woman buried her face in, trying to fight against the light that sliced through her dreamless sleep like an assassin's blade. Bringing about the horrid moment when the daze of waking was met with the harsh throb in her shoulder and danced across her muscles faster than even the nimblest of fingers that had the leave to dance across her tanned, freckled skin. She hurt, everything ached. Her cheek throbbed most of all. The dull sting of shallow cuts now little more then scratches in the morning light from blades that slipped past her swords work. She mayhaps underestimated the city guard a bit more then she should have. Her ‘gifts’ or not. A blade will still cut through her flesh like a warm knife through butter.<br/><br/><br/>Not that she would ever admit it but she let herself get too cocky. She had her men had slipped in under the cloak of night, fog a double-edged blade that both hindered and helped their task. Staying just beyond the lamplight of a watchmen’s lantern. Humble was not a word that Lucia used often and last night she might have wished she used it a bit more often. Or at least caution. Where she had expected a high born to shrink and cower in fear Where she had loomed over him, voice a whisper in the night as her fingers curled around his cheek, palm a solid barrier over his lips. It seemed she did not make an imposing figure in the low light that had spilled in from the jarred door of the man’s chambers. For one moment she was on her feet, one hand to his chest and the other over his mouth, for next to be stumbling sideways, nearly thrown off kilter by an unexpected punch to her jaw. A surprised gasped had tumbled from her lips at the time. Though it worked as well enough incentive she supposed when her little merry band of misfits had lept upon the man. It was a whirlwind of limbs as the three grown men had restrained him, yanking him to his feet and binding his hands.<br/><br/>The bruise left on her pride might hurt more than the dull one that was barely a blemish on her cheek. It would be gone before the morrow, but it did not make the fact a blue blood had left a mark on her any the less embarrassing. It a dull purple reminder of a lesson she should have earned but never seemed to retain. Even a cornered mouse could draw blood.<br/><br/><br/>It was a good moment longer before a tentative knock sounded against her heavy wooden door. It was a long moment more before it repeated, this time louder, followed by a half whisper-shout of “Cap’n?” A voice too young and soft to really belong to the chaos of the ship. The dull roar of the engines a constant thrum to the ship. It much likes the heartbeat in one's chest. Constant and a comfort to those who knew it.<br/><br/>It was with a great sigh that the woman rolled from her bed, feet littered with small, white, faded scars from years gone by met with the faint chill of the wooden floor. She shivering as she pushed herself to her feet. She taking a breath of a moment to pull tighter on the laces of her long shirt to at least to pretend to have a modicum of modesty. If nothing else for the sake of the poor soul she knew had likely pulled the short straw in waking her. Long, elegant legs carried her with all the hurry of a man to the noose as she crossed the space of her cabin to the door, plucking a small iron key from the hook by the door, before inserting it into the lock with a quick twist, before she pulled the slab of wood open, leaning against the door frame, eyes the color of stormy sea falling upon the young Cabin boy. He no more then nine summers, if that.  His dusky complexion already sporting splotches of soot under his eye and across the front of his linen shirt. Long, pointed ears poking out from the mane of his shoulder-length blond hair as he gazed up at the woman, hands clasped behind his back as an energetic split across his face.<br/><br/><br/>“Good Mornin’ Cap’n!” He cheered, rocking on his heels. “I-I’m sorry if I woke ya, but you..um..you did ask to be woken up when we were close?” He said, his confidence starting to fizzle out as the sleep-addled woman stared blankly down at him. The silence between them was a stifling thing for the young boy before she finally blinked as if finally shaking off the last winks of sleep that dared to try and drag her back into its sweet embrace.<br/><br/>“I did, didn’t I?” She hummed, a small tired smile quirking up her lips as she gazed down at the boy that came just to her ribs. “Thank you Pip, be a good lad and grab yourself an apple from the gally, though do be a lamb and tell one of the men to go make sure our guest has some food and possibly some decent pants, huh?” She said, her smile only grew when she saw the excited spark light behind his eyes at the mention of the treat. “I want him on deck before we arrive, alright?”<br/><br/>“Aye Cap’n! I’ll tell ‘em!” He chirped, turning on his heels with a little hop before he sped off down the hall with all the excitement of a boy promised a reward.<br/><br/><br/>Lucia leaned against the frame watching the boy with a fond smile before letting free a sight, raking her fingers through her tresses, pushing it back from her face as she closed the door. Now, where did she leave her boots?