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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">Lucia Spinner</span></span>
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</div>The sea air was a welcome balm to Lucia’s spirit. Muscles taunt as she scurried across the mast with all the dexterity and grace of a dancer. More importantly with the practice and purpose of a deckhand. Well earned muscles pulled taut as the barefooted woman pulled taut on the rough, woven rope, adjusting the sails. An airship archaic in his construct compared to the modern age. Propellers hid in strategic places through the bow and stern. While the rest of her proud ship? It was a craftsmanship of the marriage between wood and steel. Something of times gone by of the age of airships. It was no metal behemoth, entrapped, enclosed.  Only the helm remained such as the metal and glass encased cabin on the upper deck of the stern. How such a ship could take to air is a question that would take a couple mage minded individuals and someone who understood ship construction a great deal more than she. She didn’t need to question.<br/><br/><br/>She knew all too intimately how, and there wasn’t a day that went by that she wishes she didn’t.<br/><br/><br/>The sea a constant moving force beneath them all, it a motion as familiar as breathing to her, and paid just as little notice as her body went through familiar motions that once made a child whimper from the blisters she earned, and the rocking that nearly knocked her off her feet so high above the hard deck. Those days an fond memory now as hands worn and harden from labor clad in brown leather protecting her from the bite of the rope that once could cut through a clumsy deck hands flesh like butter.  It was as she was securing the rope with a shouted order to the man on the other side to pull his a bit tighter when she noticed motion on her deck.  There were men scrubbing away at the deck as a few others were doing below as well. It invited her eyes to fall upon the unusual movement of a couple of men to be escorting another broad-shouldered figure from the depths of the ship. She held herself steady against the mast, turning to look at what laid ahead. It was the first she had looked away from her work since her sore and a tired form made its way on deck to make sure her men were on task.<br/><br/><br/>There it was. An island loomed like a giant in the distance, a curving mountain face lurching in their direction, bathed in a perpetual fog that never seemed to break no matter the time of day. What lied within was always a question. The only guide they had were lit lanterns they had left once before. They lost a number of rowboats in the attempt to mark out a path through the rocks what had to have been nearly a year ago now. To say she was surprised the magic sustained itself this long would have been an understatement as the blue glow shimmered through the mist. If she didn’t know better she’d almost believe it were wisps attempting to lead them through. A part of her, a part that still held on to the little beliefs a little girl once overflowed with, wanted to believe maybe not all those lights were their lamps.<br/><br/><br/>Lucia almost regretted the moment she had climbed her way down the cargo net, tan linen blouse top three buttons undone, Her protective binding pressing her chest to her, pronouncing the cleavage. The bracing sea air a welcome feeling against her heated skin. By most lands, standers for a lady to go uncorseted was considered scandalous, as was the idea of women in pants.Though what care did pirates have for laws, be they of propriety or otherwise. She would challenge any who would dare to bring up such a fact to attempt climbing a mast in a corset and skirts.<br/><br/><br/>Though the regret she had? It was the booming voice that cut through the sounds of sea and ship. She finally took him in clearly for the first time. His jaw hasn’t looked quite so strong, nor that chin as if it was carved from marble. Tall and broad shoulders with muscles to match. Not soft and doughy as blue bloods tended to be. An affliction of regular meals and people wiping your ass for you she supposed.  Her bright amber gaze trailing over his frame in one part appreciation and two-part measurement. A guess of just how much effort it would take to run him through. Though this calculating look was yanked back to his face as his words cut through what little patience she was determined to have. It was all to be written off with a charming roguish smile and an introduction. A little flamboyance. Though such pleasantries were chased from her mind as he lamented on the night before.<br/><br/>Men that had gathered to watch, stepping away from their cleaning. When the almost condescending pet name left the nobleman’s lips those closest to their captain took wide steps away from her as a smirk tugged at her lips. They’ve seen bloodier acts from her for less, and they knew they did not wish to be within her reach when that thread that stood between unpleasantness and mirth snapped. While a few brave souls even dared to snicker, only to be drawn short as her sharp gaze snapped to them for a split second before she pushed the hair that had fallen from the tie that she used to pull her hair up and back, over her shoulder. Her gaze fell back upon her guest, a smile revealing surprisingly white teeth as she walked up to him, a sway to her hips as she let her gaze wander down his bare chest. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry M’lord.” She purred, stepping well into his space. “Won’t you please forgive me?”  She asked, batting her lashes as she leaned into his chest, trailing her hand to his jaw, reaching to run her fingers through his thick, black hair, before grabbing a fistful of his thick locks yanking it back hard. “For it seems I haven’t made it clear what your place is.” She hissed, the sweetness falling from her like tears from the hungry.<br/><br/><br/>“I’m the one who gives orders on my ship, not a dirty blue blood.” She yanking harder as she growled.  “And I’m certainly no one's darling!” A solid fist to his middle served to punctuate her statement before she stepped away, hand on her hip as she looked him over. “I am the Captain of the Obreum, Lucia Spinner, and you better remember it boy.” She snarled staring down anyone who dared to so much as smile before she locked eyes back on to Alek. Any ounce of roguish charm she may have lost to the agitation that any imagined slight. A ship full of hardened criminals and murderers.? One can’t show weakness, least of all if you were the one who was supposed to be the leader of the sorry lot.<br/><br/><br/>She huffed, pulling hard at her tie as she ran her fingers through her locks before a call sounded from the crows nest. “Drop anchor!” Her gaze snapped to the island just a short row away, before turning back to him as the mist crept it’s way across the deck, it’s tendrils lcey against her skin as it seemed to climb from the shadows of trees.<br/><br/><br/>“You're going to see why you’re here soon enough.” Before her voice raised, bringing all on deck to attention. “Lads, gear up we’re hittin’ shore!” She called before the men scurried into action, it seemed it only took less for a tall man to come lumbering from the upper deck, carrying a cutlass and flintlock, that she promptly secured into the belt of her pants. As the cabin boy came scurrying up to Alek, a friendly smile on his lips as he held out in his arms a pair of boots and shirt, the captain not even glancing In their direction as he did so. “ Good mornin’!” Pip greeted, seemingly oblivious to the agitation that radiated off his captain. “You’ll be needin’ these, yes you will! There’s rocks everywhere out there! Capin’ always tells me to be careful of ‘em.” He chirped conversationally.<br/><br/><br/>It was a long moment as a large handful of men equipped themselves, the large, lumbering man that had retrieved the woman’s blade and gun for her, standing at attention. Scard and broad as he stood rigidly as if waiting on his toes for the slightest word from the woman he hovered over. Head shaved allowing his pointed ears to be displayed prominently, green, vivid scales scattered across his tan skin. His ancestry pointing towards the supposed dragon descended people of the Southern lands. “The ships your Jader. Keep it in one piece won’t you?” His captain hummed, patting his arm as her face started to lose the color it had taken during her snarling.<br/><br/><br/>The stoic man only answering her with a rigid salute. It a thing she had tried to break him of long ago though no matter what she has said or done he refused to answer her orders or requests in anyways. It seems his ways died hard. One of the warriors of the Drakon, someone she had beaten in combat once upon an adventure. It wasn’t often one was thrown into gladiatorial combat over a supposed slight. How was she supposed to know that the egg she bought off a back alley merchant was a wyvern egg?!