<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn Cruel was walking along the dark streets heading back towards the docks of Paradise Cove. A purely pirate island that was famous for two things: It's Rum and It's Pirates. There was an overabundance of both. The man and woman, if any could be called such, were all rough around the edges and crude in both words and actions. It wasn't a place anyone went lightly. It was always a risk and a costly one sometimes. Paradise Cove was a dark corner of the world and Zayn liked it that way. With a deadly glare in his eyes and a bottle of rum in his hands he sauntered down the street towards where his ship was moored. He wondered who's hide he'd have to tan for the supplies still being on the dock this late into the day. He knew what he'd find of course as he neared his ship. As always nothing really got done in a hurry outside of pillaging and whoring on a pirate ship.<br/><br/>Zayn decided he'd enjoy a quieter time drinking his rum off the ship then arguing with man who clearly didn't' want to do the work right now. So be it. He could tan their hides in the morrow when he was sober and hung over and grumpy for it. This thought actually appealed to him as he climbed up on top of a crate on the dock and sat facing the ocean. Ignoring the random noise that filtered down from the city and the ships around him. As always he'd moored on the outermost tier and he'd paid a hefty penny for the coveted location. That being said his reputation more then covered half the cost. He didn't much complain on the cost. Only enough to seem normal for these parts. Truth was the business was going well. He was after all very skilled at murdering and pirating. Something he was proud of. Since the day he was born to a ship he'd been learning to be a pirate.<br/><br/>Never done got schooled, worthless crap that. He thought to himself as he drank more of the rum. He looked out over the fastness before him and smiled drunkenly. I gots the whole world at my fingertips. A ship beneath my feet and the wind at my sails. I ain't needing none of that schoolin crap. He thought happily as he took another swig and watched.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Paradise Cove could very well be called The Paradise of Scoundrels. Nearly everyone in the small island was a person of less than good behavior. Most of the women were or had been prostitutes at some point. Nearly all of the men were pirates, and those who weren't had their own ways to con and deceive others. Gambling, stealing, lying, all of that was right at home in the island.<br/><br/><br/>The small streets and inns were fuller than usual that night. Many ships had stopped there, as the wind was not good enough to be out in the sea. Those who were already out didn't have much of a choice. The larger vessels wouldn't have much of a problem. Smaller ones should look out, though. High seas could easily capsize a small vessel.<br/><br/><br/>And that was exactly what happened to a vessel in the middle of the night. It was capsized by a tall wave, and most of the crew and the few passengers it carried - it was a cargo ship, but had accepted to transport a few people - drowned before they could reach something they could hold on to, or were targeted by the sinister grey shadows that always seemed near a shipwreck.<br/><br/><br/>That young woman - a governess on the way to a new family home - had been incredibly lucky. She had held on to a barrel that had floated near, and managed to swim to a fishing boat that had previously been attached to the vessel. Having nothing to use as oars, and tired of swimming, the young woman - dressed on a soaking wet black dress, and with long dark hair, that had gotten loosen with the commotion - ended up falling asleep, not seeing where the small boat led her.<br/><br/><br/>Even when the boat stopped, hours later, she continued fast asleep, not even feeling the jolt the boat made in stopping ashore. It had stopped in Paradise Island, right next to Zayn's ship.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn was drunk. Or well on his way there that it didn't matter. He had just emptied the bottle he held and sighed as he had to get off his crate to get another one. Setting down the bottle he fell off the crate and into the sea. Well damn. That wasn't what he'd intended. The harsh laughter that followed was quickly cut off as a small skiff landed on the dock nearly running him over. He cursed at it and swam up to the dock hoisting himself up. The laughter was soon replaced by cat calls and harsh whistles as the light from the lanterns illuminated the lovely beauty sleeping in a skiff. If it wasn't so cold in the sea he'd have laughed at the sight. Well damn, it's not everyday one sees a sight so fine.<br/><br/>Zayn got himself out of the water and stood unsteadily staring down at the skiff. Looks like the girls as wet as I am, Zayn thought shaking his head. He sighed. Well he'd have to do something. Deciding his alcohol could wait though he was quite irritated already at having to forgo his night of drinking and reached down to grab her up by her arm and haul her from the boat only to realize that being drunk, wet and on uneven footing reaching down into a boat was not a good idea. Even before he could touch her he fell forwards.<br/><br/>Cursing as more laughter rang out he swore savagely using as many colorful and intricate horrible curses he could think of that would have most normals blushing at the profanities.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>It took the young woman a while to wake up. She had been so tired, and the soft swaying of the skiff had acted as the soft rocking of a crib. Until the whistling and cat calling started, she had been sleeping light a baby. The sounds started waking her up, but before she could even open her eyes, something much more troublesome than harsh whistling and yelling disturbed her.<br/><br/><br/>"By Jove!", a feminine voice with a thick British accent sounded suddenly.<br/><br/><br/>Zayn would probably not have much time for... anything, as the woman started pushing him.<br/><br/><br/>"Get off me, you... you... perverted man!", the woman spoke up, causing the other men around to roar with laughter. It was clear whoever she was, the sleeping beauty was not a girl like the ones in the island. She seemed to be a lady, what, for those people, was as exotic a thing as a rhino would have been.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn growled low in his throat as his body seemed to be deciding that it didn't' want to work how it was. "Stop shoving at me already! I can't move if you keep shoving them bony fingers into my ribs!" His harsh words were followed by a harsh voice that was rough and growly as the man spoke. His tone crude and rough and not at all friendly. He put his hands down on either side of her and pushed up until he kneeling over her. "What in tarnation you doing asleep in a boat miles away from civland?" he asked her glaring down at her.<br/><br/>He wondered why she irritated him so. Two of his man had come down to better see the odd sight and they laughed at his predicament. Zayn pushed himself up to his feet and staggered off the skiff and to the dock. Causing the skiff to rock to and fro in an uneasy way. Sway on the dock he glowered down at her. Wondering who she was and why a lady, for that surely was what this strange sight was, would be doing here.<br/><br/>The man who stood on the dock next to him laughed and whistled at the 'pretty flower lass' he sighed. He held out his hand towards her to help her to the deck. "Get out of that thing and get your ass down to an Inn and into some dry clothes before you die on us." He grumbled as he waited for her to take his hand.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>"Mind your words!", the young woman exclaimed, out of instinct. That man had worse manners than the rowdiest children she had ever seen. And his scent made clear he had been drinking much more than any man should have been. Great, she was stuck in a boat with a brute and a drunk at once, after going through a shipwreck. When the man finally managed to get on his knees, the girl tried to move as far away from him as possible. It wasn't much, given his position and her dress."It is of no consequence to you what I am doing here!", she exclaimed.<br/><br/><br/>The present situation left her in a sour mood, which was no surprise, and that man only added to it.<br/><br/><br/>The rough compliment she heard from the other man made the girl bush, and she sat up slowly. Accepting the man's hand, she stepped out of the skiff and onto the deck. The next scene was strange, even for that place. Pulling her hand away from the man, she slapped his cheek. "Thank you", the woman said at the same time. "And I have nothing else to wear, would you have me go naked?", she added grumpily, not thinking about how her words would be received by those rude men.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn laughed loudly and rowdily at the slap. Even as the man around him thundered up with applause and laughter and more cat calls. The woman has guts he thinks laughing. The only reason he found any of it funny was because he was drunk and frankly used to being slapped by woman. "Lass ye ain't right," he said as she thanked him at the same time as she slapped him. What in the loving fuck. He let a rough sigh escape his lips as he turned from her. Reaching for the crate of run. He yanked a bottle out. Uncorked it with his teeth and tossed the cork into the sea as he spat it out. He swung the bottle up.<br/><br/>"Suit yourself, but naked works for me," he said roughly. Unconcerned about her mood and her situation. He frankly didn't care. Anyone who could thank him while slapping him was nuts.<br/><br/>He sat back down on the crate as he watched her. Wishing her luck as the man around her drew closer to her. He wouldn't let them hurt her, but a little fear was good on this place.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>The man's laughter made Constance even more irritated. Something about that man made her deeply uneasy. It wasn't fear. For some reason, the young woman didn't fear that man. But something in her felt threatened all the same. The cat calls weren't helping as well. The poor lady had never heard that much profanity in her entire life. But maybe he had a point and she wasn't right. After what had happened, maybe she had indeed gone insane.<br/><br/><br/>Hugging herself when the man said naked worked for him, the woman took a step back. It was almost as though she feared that he would rip off her dress right there.<br/><br/><br/>"Stop it!", she protested, while looking at those men drawing closer. Feeling her heart thunder in her chest, the woman started walking back, her gaze on the men. 'Oh, God, these men will deflower me', she thought, horrified. "Stay away from me!", the woman exclaimed, her voice taking a higher pitch due to the fear. "Get off!", she ordered, slapping a hand that had come too close, while looking for an opening she could take to get away from those men.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn watched the sight before him oddly intrigued. This was after all pretty common place here. A woman away from her district or on her own surrounded by rough man would usually end up taken in a back alley. Though usually she was a whore who chose the life. Though he had never taken a whore in a back alley he had had his fair share of whores in the Inns. He was after all male and didn't know any other life. He drank and watched the man who were going after the lass with a sick interest and finding it rather hilarious. At least until he realize how close to hysterics the woman was. Deciding he would take pity on her. One of his rare acts of mercy. He jumped down and drew himself up to his full height.<br/><br/>He drew out his cutlass and stood stock still watching the man with deadly intent. His eyes flew from one to the other and as he drew the weapon the sharp strike of metal resounded as the man turned to face him. "She is mine," he said simply, for his crewmates that would be enough. For the others his reputation and the fact that he no longer appeared drunk as he moved forward with the fluid grace of a dancer was enough to deter the others. Zayn was well known to be deadly. Even drunk. As the man drew back and went off to search for targets not guarded by swords and deadly man. Zayn sheathed his blade and laugh.<br/><br/>"So Lass what'll it be? My company or theirs?" he grumbled.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance was too scared to think straight. All she could think was that those men would rape her, one by one. She had heard a few stories back in London, of girls who had been forcefully taken. But never that way, in a strange island, by a lot of rough men. The girl was besides herself with fear, and she had started crying when Zayn finally stood up.<br/><br/>She froze in place, shaking like a leaf, when the man stood between her and the men. The tears had stopped, but the poor girl was ashen white as she waited to see what would happen.<br/><br/>When the men drew back, the girl sighed in relief. At least until her mind retrieved what he had said. 'She is mine', he had told the man to get them off. Was she, now? "P-please, don't...", the young woman begged. Her eyes, large and chocolate brown, did a large part of the pleading. "Don't hurt me...", she completed, obviously too scared to move from her place. She felt as though her feet had been glued to the boards under them.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn regarded her with an odd expression twisting his face. A hint of darkness and pain twisted the edges of his otherwise cold and deadly expression. Zayn narrowed his gaze at her a moment truly seeing her for one moment before he sheathed him blade and took up the rum bottle gain. He held it out to her, "Unless the rum somehow drowns you lass I ain't gunna hurts you, now drink!" he thundered the last words with a laugh as he headed towards his ship wavering as he went.<br/><br/>He grabbed another bottle of rum so that now he held two. He waved at her again with the bottle, "Well you comin or what?" He said drunkenly. Once again the rough drunk pirate. He uncorked the other rum bottle with his teeth and drank deeply.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance watched the man's expression with attention. Being a governess, one thing she had learned was to keep an eye out for people's expressions. In the field of domestic service, after all, one was subject to the whims of an employer. She could notice the man's dark expression, and that pain. A part of the girl wanted to ask what was happening. Yet, she didn't. Constance could feel that questions wouldn't be welcome.<br/><br/>Eyeing the bottle of rum, Constance wondered if she should take a sip. One of her former employers had said a swig of some spirit was good for hysterics, and she was still on the verge of it. The woman could feel an urge to laugh, and the situation was not funny enough for that reaction. She could also feel her eyes burning as though she was about to cry.<br/><br/>"C-coming? Where?", Constance finally asked, managing to move from her spot. "You will not... do anything to me, right?", she completed, a muffled laughter escaping her lips while she tried to regain control of her nerves.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn felt again the tinge of regret and pain etching itself deep into his mind as he regarded her. He hated the memories his mind provided him. Hated the pain that latched onto his heart. He drank deeply drowning the voice of the past. Yet, still they came. Her simple words cut through him like a knife straight to his core. He tried to be respectable once. He'd been clean, sober, he'd been groomed and proper and right. He'd worked hard, made something of himself. All for a beautiful young woman who'd made him leave everything he knew for her. He'd seen her once out by the docks. Trailing her hand in the water watching the ships in the distance singing softly. He had fallen for her in that single moment. Sixteen and carefree, young and stupid he'd vowed to be worthy of her and that very night he'd left his father, his life, his friends, everything. Cut his hair short to undo the dreads and stolen a set of 'appropriate' clothing, Cleaned himself up and hired onto a normal ship. A normal man. They had shared four years of courtship and only one of marriage before his past came ramming home and one night he found a man who his father owed debts to standing over his wive's body in their home holding his daughter only a year old in his arms. A knife to her infant throat and laughter in the man's eyes. It was then he knew what had happen and he knew what the rough man of his past would do to woman of this side of the fence. Anger and grief and despair wared for first place in his heart as he stood unable to do anything to save his child anymore then he had been able to do to save his wife. As her body fell to land next to his wife something broke in Zayn and he lost himself to the darkness.<br/><br/>He killed the man and left. Never looking back. Drinking every memory away. Drinking and pirating were all he knew. He went back to what he was. He grew his hair long, Matted it into dreadlocks with bones and beads and strands of cloth. He embraced what he was born to. He was a pirate through and through. He left the man he'd become in the ashes of his burning home. After setting the place ablaze as a pyre to his wife. He'd never looked back.<br/><br/>He growled low in his throat coming back to himself. "I ain't ever hurt a woman," he barked out through gritted teeth and it was the honest truth. He'd rather die than hurt a woman. Without another word he left her there and headed up to the ship. He walked up the ramp and glared murderously at the man who greeted him. His first mate. "Get us the hell out of here, yesterday," he growled to the man who paled a few shades knowing that when his boss got in one of these moods, he was more likely to kill than to speak. Without even pausing to hear the man's response Zayn went to his cabin leaving the door ajar in the event the lass followed him. Honestly he didn't care if she followed him or not. He didn't care where she went. He was done with her. He wanted nothing more than to be away from here and away from her. Her innocence would get her killed or worse and he didn't want to think on it. He finished the second bottle of rum and grabbed up another from his stash behind his desk and drank half in one shot. His feet up on his desk and leaning back in his chair. He closed his eyes briefly as he kept drinking.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance could never imagine the life Zayn had lived. Seeing him, she could only see the dirty and rugged pirate. The man who dran himself away because he wanted to. Who spent his time with whores because he would never want a life with a respectable woman. For her, there were no secrets about this man. Nothing deeper than the fact that he was a dirty drunk without anything resembling manners. And now she was at his mercy. Her mind raced with all kinds of ideas. What would he do to her? His words about her being his made Constance's heart tighten. She had never belonged to a man before, naturally. But it sounded like a messy process, and she would never want to be his if it wasn't in a legal sense. And of course, she was too much of a proper girl to even entertain the idea of belonging to a pirate.<br/><br/><br/>When Zayn said he had never hurt a woman, though, Constance believed him. Something in her believed the man's words. She wasn't sure about his men, though. But maybe... she wondered if he would keep her from getting hurt as well.<br/><br/><br/>There was not time for thinking, though. For now, she needed to be around the man. She needed a way out of that cursed island, and a way to keep safe. So, feeling that being around the man was her best bet for now, Constance followed him after some hesitation. "Sir", she called to him, stopping at the door of his cabin. "Where does this vessel go? Is it prudent to set sail with the sea as it is? What... what will be made of me?". The last question was the one Constance was more concerned about, and she braced herself for the answer.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn was well into drinking again when he heard her soft voice and sighed. He had never enjoyed a woman who nagged at him. He sighed and opened his eyes to pin her with a lethal glower. "I am not a sir, call me Zayn or Captain. Otherwise I ain't nothing but a pirate and proud of it so shut this sir crap down!" he growled darkly at her drinking deeper from the bottle. His dark gaze focused on the ground as he took yet another drink before he replied to her other questions. He wasn't angry at her only at the fact she could ram his past home to him in a way that made his blood turn to ice.<br/><br/>"The man are loading the cargo and our rum supplies tonight. We sail at first light. The tide will be with us and if we take the east current we will avoid the storm and only hit it's outer edge. Our journey will take us about two weeks longer putting us at roughly a month in the sea before we hit land again. We'll try and take on a few ships as we go for coin and pleasure." He stopped talking as he watched her before continuing on. With a soft sigh he came to her final question and anger darkened his gaze. "Lass I ain't gunna say this again, I ain't hurt a woman ever, I ain't gunna touch you. All I intend to do is take you to port and heaven forbid you make noise for me I'm going to toss you to the sea!" He growled angrily. Though his last words were a lie. He'd never toss her off the ship even if she made him crazy. He was not this kind of man. Even if he pretended to be.<br/><br/>Zayn regarded her in his doorway and grinned, "You gunna get drunk with me now? Or after my man scare you some more?"<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn's gaze made Constance take a deep breath. She felt scared of the man, and at the same time, annoyed at him. The girl couldn't really tell why this particular man annoyed her so. He was not the first uncouth and rude man she had ever met. But he was the first to bother her this much. It seemed like everything he said was irritating to her, and Constance couldn't put her finger on the reason. "Very well, Captain", she corrected herself. His language was enough to make her blush, even if she was afraid of him. And his drinking was clearly unpleasant.<br/><br/><br/>After he answered about the safety of sailing off, Constance felt just a little at ease. His rude response to her about tossing her to the sea irritated the woman again. Why did he have to be so much of a brute? she wondered.<br/><br/><br/>"I will not get drunk with you! Not now, not ever! And I want you to know, sir, that you are a dirty and disgusting drunk!", the girl exclaimed, this time calling him sir on purpose to annoy him.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn laughed at her response. Enjoying the sound of captain from her lips. So prime and proper. He would love to corrupt her. He laughed at his own stupidity. No one corrupted a proper woman, instead they were corrupted by her. His past was proof of this. If he'd stuck to his guns he'd have never had the pain he now lives in to deal with. He drank the rest of the bottle and tossed it onto the table grabbing another. At this rate he'd be piss drunk by moonrise. He laughed at the thought. Who was he kidding he was already piss drunk. He was just working on getting even more so. He wondered if he should consider eating something and decided alcohol was enough. Uncorking it with his teeth just to infuriate her he watched her temper boil over and laughed. it infuriated him, but not nearly as much as her anger amused him.<br/><br/>"And proud of it," he said in response and thumped the bottle down on the desk rising unsteadily to his feet tilting this way and that as he attempted to stand. Damn when had the deck began swaying this badly. Was that the alcohol of the storm. He couldn't tell. His head buzzed loudly in his ears and he glared hatred at her. "Lass I ain't a sir and I never will be, so mind that foul tongue of yours or I'll cut it right out. You don't' want to drink fine. Leave me. I intend to get good and wasted and your killing my buzz." not entirely true, but the words were fun to say.<br/><br/>He swayed unsteadily as he tried to move around the desk and ended up falling onto it. Sitting on it's surface he grinned at her. "On the other hand I could just sit here and drink," he mumbled grabbing his bottled and taking a drink.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>"Ugh!", the lass responded, infuriated when the man said he was proud of being a dirty drunk. That was way too much. Constance could not believe she was stuck with tht man. He was dirty, disgusting and all she could think was that she wanted to be away from him, as soon as possible. And at the same time, some sort of morbid curiosity made the girl want to spend more time with the man and understand him. Of course, that was not but stupid curiosity and she would have to do without knowing. There was nothing about the man, after all. He was just a pirate, as deep as a tea spoon.<br/><br/><br/>"Well, if I choose to call you sir than I shall. And you are so drunk you could not aim at my tongue if you wanted to!", the girl replied, irritated. Who was he to accuse her of having a foul tongue when he was the one spewing curses left and right?<br/><br/><br/>"You stay thee and drink yourself to death! I shall be anywhere away from yo until we reach shore... sir!". After shooting out the last word almost as an insult, Constance walked away from the door, not really waiting for an answer.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>If Zayn could actually care he probably would and knowing the rough men on his crew he'd have probably followed her out the door. As it was he was oddly driven insane by the woman in more ways than one. He was fascinated by her in ways he hadn't been by a woman in a long long time. He closed his eyes and took a deeper sip of his alcohol. He lay back and wondered if she would be getting into trouble abovedeck. He sighed with his own stupidity and forced himself to stand up. He had to grab hold of the desk to keep standing as the room spun out. He shivered. Damn he really was drunk. Well now that didn't do well.<br/><br/>Stumbling towards the door he slammed into the wall next to it and cursed horribly at it. He could hear the cat calls and lewd comments coming from his crew he sighed. Yahp they were every bit as dirty as they always were. He stumbled out into the hallway and ended up having to stop at the stairs leading up to t he upper deck and hold onto the banister to remain standing upright as the world spun. He spotted a man grabbing at her rear end in the brief moment before everything starting to spin faster. Well damn. So much for equilibrium. This would be fun trying to fight while clearly far too drunk. He watched curiously at the blurry spinning scene above. He wondered what body part the woman would take for such a bold action from a pirate. And laughed. She'd no doubt take his cock. He thought to himself highly amused by her spirit.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance was in a really sour mood when she went up above deck. It wouldn't do to stay with a drunk who seemed to have a lot of fun insulting her and using dirty language. No, she would try her luck upstairs. Up there, she would at least breathe some fresh air. And maybe they would leave her alone. Who knew, right? Of course that second hope was shattered really fast, since as soon as the woman set foot up above deck, the cat calling and comments had started. Apparently, Constance thought to herself, those men had never seen a lady before.<br/><br/><br/>While there were only words, though, the woman was somewhat willing to endure. Once the first man dared to touch her, things changed really fast. She was not willing to endure that, and she was a big girl, enough to defend herself. It was a reflexive action, when she slapped the man hard and sent her knee to his groin, pushing the pirate away.<br/><br/><br/>"Do not ever touch me again!", the young woman exclaimed, furious.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn roared in laughter as she kneed the man in the groin and he watched blurrily as the man fell too his knees cradling his groin in his hands. Cursing revoltingly. Zayn laughed harder. Served the bastard right. He started to try and go up the spinning steps and instead missed the step and fell flat on his back with a loud crash that silenced the laughter upstairs. Opps. He laughed harder. If he laughed any harder he would stop breathing. After a few minutes struggling to get to his feet he heard the man who had finally recovered enough from the crushed testicles to speak.<br/><br/>"You bitch!," he howled in a deadly growl. The man drew a blade and Zayn cursed foully as he realized she would have to stand her own at the man. His head began to pound enough to let him know he needed to be lying down and sleeping soon. He sighed and decided he would watch the encounter from his position at the bottom of the stairs.<br/><br/>He blinked as he watched the man brandishing the blade threateningly, "bitch your lucky I fear the captain's wrath more than yours otherwise I'd take a pound of flesh for this," and with that he sheathed the blade and seething in anger rose and headed to the deck. No doubt to find a whore to sooth his loons.<br/><br/>Zayn laughed lightly at the show. Yah he'd have deliberately taken every part of the man off him and fed it to him before his death. He wasn't known for his kindness.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance was still seething with anger at the man who had dared touch her. She wasn't a rich lady, or a noblewoman, but that was too much even for a simple girl. She wanted nothing more than to be home and away from all these nasty men. Specially the 'captain', who was dead drunk at the moment. It was really disgusting to think of herself spending weeks on end with those men. Yet, there wasn't a choice to be made there.<br/><br/><br/>When the man drew his blade, Constance turned white. She had acted without thinking, and now she was in real danger. Thanking her lucky stars that the captain had said she was his, the woman watched as the man left the ship. Sighing in relief, the young woman walked down the stairs to the captain's cabin.<br/><br/><br/>"Ugh, what a dirty drunk you are, captain", she reprimanded, before skipping him over and entering the cabin. "I will have you know that I will not go up in the middle of your savages again!", the woman completed.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn laughed at her words as he leaned against the wall watching her and the room spinning around him. For all he knew she could be doing interpretive dance rather then walking down the stairs it would all look the same. If only she knew he thought bitter as she called him yet again a dirty drunk. Which was actually accurate and he didn't care one wit. He simply laughed. She was right about everything. They were savages. They lived by a code she didn't understand, if she had she'd have known better then to go above deck at port. It was the only time the man were unruly and didn't stay their place. They didn't need to, for there was no work to be done and no lashes should they fail to do it. They were free to do as they please.<br/><br/>Life aboard a ship was all about knowing the rules. Once one knew the rules, there was a freedom to be had that few could fathom. He watched her enter his cabin and smiled. At least she was wise enough not to venture above deck without him for now. Once they left port it wouldn't matter. Well it wouldn't until they were raiding then it really would be life or death above deck and she'd likely be dead by mistake if not on purpose well before he could prevent her from doing anything stupid. She had already made an enemy of someone aboard his ship. Deserving or not, it wouldn't matter to Matis.<br/><br/>Sighing in frustration and running his hand through his hair he stumbled after her into the cabin and to the desk. He fell against it and picked up his rum bottle satisfied that it was still half full. He waved it toward the door to the left of the desk, before taking a sip. "There's a cot in there go sleep," he said his voice slurring the words. "Door doesn't lock, but I ain't going in there till morning. I have work to do." He added as an after-thought as he slumped onto the top of his desk sending papers and quills flying from the desk to the floor with the soft tinkle of gold coins hitting the deck. Beautiful sound. He thought to himself as he leaned back and closed his eyes. The bottle slipped from his fingers and landed on the floor with a sharp crash of glass on wood. He would have cursed, but already the blackness pulled him under and he no longer cared enough to fight it.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance stood at a corner, staying as far away from Zayn as she possibly could. She felt like he was still a dirty and disgusting drunk, but he was still the lesser<br/><br/>of two evils. He was one, and she could fend him off if needed. At least in his current condition. She was not sure whether or not she'd be able to fight the man off had he been sober. But then again, he didn't seem like the man who was usually sober. That was yet to be seen, but there was the hope that he would not touch her, at least, as he had promised.<br/><br/>With a soft sigh, the young woman decided that she could get some rest. Maybe slip out of her wet dress before she caught something and made her situation even worse. After some hesitation, Constance nodded. "Very well. If you touch me, I will kill you", she replied, very serious.<br/><br/>Shaking her head, Constance watched as the man fell asleep. What a drunk, she thought to herself, crossing the door to the cot. After looking around, she closed the door and took a deep breath. Blushing, the woman slipped out of the dress, removing her crinoline and staying only with the white underdress. It was wet, but she wouldn't slip out of it for the life of her. Sniffling a little, the woman slipped into bed and closed her eyes, hoping she was not coming down with a cold in a ship full of rude men.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn slept through until the scent of baked break woke him with a start. A start he rather wished he hadn't had as he sat bolt upright and felt as though his skull was about to explode. He groaned aloud. Damn this shit. Why did he drink again. Then he remember. The woman, the night, the Inn. He hated being in port. Even here. Every house, every sound, every laughter, every damn female voice made his life a living hell of memories he couldn't' erase and couldn't escape. Cursing he rose to his feet and groaned some more. Why had he slept on his desk. Apparently to make his life all the more annoying. Grumbling to himself about the mess he took out a bottle of rum and starting drinking. While he worked on getting good and drunk and therefore no longer hung over he started picking up his mess. The shards of glass were the hardest to get gathered while the ship kept rocking to and fro, but he managed. The papers and other accoutrement from the desks surface was easier.<br/><br/>He wondered who was baking bread as he took his bottle and the sheet of paper with his inventory and headed above deck to find the source of the smell and to check that everything was in order for his departure. Leaving the room ignoring the fact the girl was in his chambers he headed towards where the cook was unloading barrels of -- something Zayn had no idea what.<br/><br/>"Where's the bread?" he demanded of the man. Who gave him a smile and pointed to the box set nearly on the side with a scrawled note that read Captain Zayn on it. He grinned opened the box and found a large loaf of spicy bread sitting inside. He grinned even wider and took the box. He turned to a man who'd been eyeing his bread box and handed him the inventory. With a cruel smile he said, "check inventory and maybe I'll have cook make you all some spicy bread," he said and headed off. It was his favourite. Cook knew that and it was why he'd done this. It was also tradition. You don't mess with tradition on the sea. Soon as they would leave port the crew would get some too. Cook always made more then one loaf, but somehow the man always left one sitting exactly there on the deck for Zayn.<br/><br/>This was how life should be. He thought as he set the box down and leaned back in his seat tearing off a chunk and savouring the warm bread with rum. Divine. Heave. Perfection. Zayn could spend all morning here in this moment.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance also slept as soon as she managed to relax and find a good position. It wasn't too easy to sleep feeling Zayn's scent all around her. The ideas in her mind were strange, and made her feel in a way she had never felt before. Coming to the conclusion that her body was just reacting to her nerves and probably the beginning of a cold, Constance decided not to think about that strange feeling, or about the captain.<br/><br/>Sleeping was easy once the young governess managed to find a position, and she felt like it had been the best night's sleep she had ever had. At least until she woke up, hearing the sounds coming from the other room. She could smell something baked, and it didn't really sit well in her stomach. She wasn't the kind of the person who was used to extensive time in a ship, after all.<br/><br/>Still groggy, and forgetting what she was wearing, Constance stumbled to the door and opened it, standing there. "Oh, in Christ's holy name", she grumbled, "are you drinking again this early?".<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn would have growled if he was so shocked by the woman standing in his doorway when he opened his eyes after savoring the bread. Deliberately he took a large drink of rum. "Aye lass I'm drinking again," he said laughing at her version of profanity. He found it truly cute and oddly charming. He started chomping down on another giant piece of bread and spoke around a mouth full. "You know your not wearing clothes right?"<br/><br/>Truly Zayn loved this time of the morning as the tide tugged happily at the ship and the smell of salt was thick in the air. He leaned forwards and watched her with hooded eyes as he ate his meal. He could see every curve her dress had hid and she was truly a beautiful sight. And if the woman was gunna walk around nearly naked he was going to take that as permission to ogle. He had meant what he said about not touching her, or doing anything to her, but she couldn't expect him not to look at her of course.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance really hadn't thought about her clothing - or lack thereof. She had literally just gotten out of bed. And she wasn't exactly feeling her best. The feeling of the cold she was nearly sure was starting, plus the soft rocking of the ship made her worry too much about standing up to care about almost everything else. "You are beyond hope!", she exclaimed. The man's words about her clothes made her look down. A little bit of color came to her cheeks, as she took a step back.<br/><br/>Gasping a little, the woman retreated back into the small chamber and slammed the door shut. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. Great, she really needed to be seasick as well. "You indecent heathen!", she exclaimed, before stumbling back to her dress and starting the process of putting it back on.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn might have been drunk, but he didn't miss the signs of seasickness and felt instantly like an ass for not only insulting her, but also making her feel worse. He sighed. Put down the bread he'd been eating and set the rum aside. He could keep getting drunk later. The ship would be taking off soon and the last thing he wanted was to have her illing on his hands. He took down a large kettle and set it to boiling over a small portable hot plate lit by a large candle. It was an intricate setup. Something his father had learned from one of them tribes living somewhere in the wilderness of hell. He set the kettle on the heater and filled it with clean water. One of the few commodities on a ship. Leaving the pot to boil he picked up a small copper tin and opened it pulling out some dried herbs and setting them into the kettle. Another thing his father had learned from the strange people. Zayn knowing how horrible the brew tasted from his own childhood woes took down the jar of herbs he kept that always added a lovely fragrance when one was without washing water for long periods of time. It was something his wife had taught him. He opened it and froze as the smell overwhelmed him.<br/><br/>The delicate scent of flowers.<br/><br/>A single tear flowed down his cheek as he caressed the jar with a tender touch that belaid the man's otherwise gruff and angry demeanor. That simple action showed a tender loving side to a dirty pirate. The true side of Zayn no one ever witnessed. He headed back to the table all the while holding the jar. Making no move to hide the tenderness he used as he worked. This one strange pot of flowery smelling herbs was the man's second treasure. One of only two things he treasured in this world. The first was an item no one had ever seen. A necklace, which held a locket, inside the locket was the picture of his wife and child.<br/><br/>He took out a pinch of the herbs and set them in the water. The instant he did the smell of them filled the cabin with the lightest of flowered scents. Something that any noble woman would recognize immediately as rosewood, rose, rosemary and lavender mixed with a hint of coconut. Usually used in expensive perfumes.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance hated to think of how this trip would be. She was feeling sick with just the soft swaying before they even left port, she could wonder what it would be like once they actually set sail. And to add to that, she was stuck with a drunk captain and a bunch of indecent and potentially violent men. It was basically her worst nightmare. And her dress was still wet, making her give up on wearing it. After a long and tired sigh, the woman placed her dress away from her and returned to the bed, curling up on it.<br/><br/>She could hear someone moving at the other side of the cabin, and follow it somewhat, specially after the herbs started being settled into the kettle. The scent that came from the mix Zayn set on the water surprised her. Of course, Constance couldn't afford expensive perfumes, but she had worked for ladies in the past and knew they used something that smelled similar.<br/><br/>Pulling herself out of the bed with a soft moan, the woman stood up and walked slowly to the door with silent footsteps. Instead of saying anything, she just kept watching the man, surprised at the change in his usually hard and gruff expression. He seemed almost... soft, she thought, noticing how much better his expression seemed that way.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn stared into the mix letting the memories of his past and the soft laughter of his wife's voice as she had poked fun at him when he'd blatantly refused to drink 'perfume water' as he'd called it. That is until he realized just how good it actually tasted which was why she'd been making fun of him. He watched the smoke curl up around his hand which still hovered over the pot. As the tendrils danced around his fingers drops of moisture clinging to his skin he felt a shiver at the long ago memories and wondered if he'd ever feel that kind of love again. Closing his eyes he savoured the remnant of time he could never have again. Slowly he closed the pot and put it away on it's shelf. His fingers caressing it's surface one more time. Slowly he withdrew his hand and a cold dark look of loss and longing covered his features as another tear flowed down his face. "I'm sorry Sonia," he whispered as he turned away from the jar and let the memories of his past. Go. Grabbing his run he drank until he didn't feel like he was being strangled anymore.<br/><br/>The water boiled moments later and he poured a cup. Unaware that he was being watched he let his expressions remain as he truly felt. Torn and bleeding deep inside. He regarded the cup and waited for it to darken to the rich caramel color that would indicate it was ready. Only then did he look up and anger flared at what he saw, but it vanished. She hadn't been spying on him as h first assumed when he saw her. "Come and sit down," he said gently indicating the cup, "drink that you'll feel better in a few minutes," and without another word he left his office.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance stayed where she was, quietly watching the pirate. He seemed sad, and heartbroken, about something she could not define. Whatever it was, it was clear it hurt him deeply. She didn't really plan on stand there and watch him. Her first idea had been to simply peek through the door, see what the man was doing, and then return to bed. But his expression had attracted her curiosity to a point where she had forgotten what was proper. She had never been that close to a man before. And that man had a strange effect on her. He infuriated her and interested her deeply at the same time.<br/><br/><br/>Trying to shake this feeling, she moved when the man told her to sit down. It was strange to see him being so gentle. Nodding, she sat down in front of the cup and inhaled the scent that came from it. "Thank you", the young woman still murmured, starting to sip the tea. As she did so, Constance tried not to think about how strange it was to be sitting on her undergarments and drinking tea made by a drunken pirate... who seemed to attract her almost irrationally.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>It didn't pass on Zayn that she was still in her undergarments, he just didn't comment on it as he made his way through the ship and onto the docks. He passed one of the mates on his ship, "Have you counted for guest? Increase the provisions." he commanded handing the man a few gold coins. "Yes Captain," the man replied before turning around. Zayn sighed knowing half the coins would no doubt be spent on something stupid he didn't think about it. It would just annoy him. As most of the way of life he was forced to live did. Sighing deeply he headed to the nearest tailor shop and after a brief discussion with the man had acquired a series of clothing items for the girl he would be forced to travel with.<br/><br/>Hopping she had settled down a little from the night before and had lightened up he headed back to the ship carrying the small trunk of clothing with him. He re-entered his office some time later as the final arrangements for departure were being haggled out by his first mate and the dock keeper. Zayn set the trunk down on the floor of his office and looked over at her, "So you feel like prancing around in your underwear or wish to actually wear clothing?" he asked her with a wide shit eating grin on his face as he stood back up to face her.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance stayed where she was and sipped the tea slowly, to the end. She closed her eyes when she was done, waiting for the herbs to take effect. As they did and she started feeling better, color returned to the girl's color, and she could feel her appetite starting to make itself felt. After some hesitation, the young governess took a few tiny bites off the bread Zayn had left behind. It was just enough to keep her going, and she then stopped eating and waited for the man to return. He would probably have something to say, or some orders to give, she wondered.<br/><br/><br/>When the man returned, she stood up, waiting to see what was up. She had no idea what he had in the trunk. His words made the girl turn as red as a cherry, and she acted out of reflex. Her delicate hand flew towards the man's face with a loud slapping sound. "Indecent heathen!", she exclaimed, furious. "The only reason I am wearing only this is because these are the only dry pieces I own!".<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn laughed loudly and felt the sting of his cheek. He could have chosen to block the hit, but he didn't simply because it always succeed to make him laugh. It was something different and usual. He had never been slapped by a girl before. Well at least none he found attractive. His laughter died a few moments later and he indicated the truck at his feet, "Well that much I figured, with the gown you were wearing that thing must take six hundred years to dry!" he exclaimed and pulled open the top of the box. "Now while this isn't something fancy crap you couldn't walk around aboard ship without tripping and falling, it'll at least fit you and you'll be decently covered," he said gruffly.<br/><br/>He pointed to the stack of neatly folded clothing. It was a few sets of undergarments and a sets of dresses that were made to be worn aboard a ship. Long dresses and intricate tops.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance narrowed her eyes, irritated. She had not expected Zayn to laugh at her slapping him. She had expected or even wanted him to get upset. To get angry at her and lash out. It really didn't matter, though. She was too furious - or confused - to care about the man's reaction. It was her own reaction to Zayn that bothered Constance. She felt angry and drawn to the man at the same time.<br/><br/><br/>Trying to ignore her confusion, the woman paid attention to the clothes Zayn showed her. Her jaw dropped in seeing the flamboyant pieces. She looked at Zayn and crossed her arms. "What... I... do you think I am going to wear this?", she asked, clearly outraged.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn laughed even harder at her reaction. And just as he opened his mouth to speak the ship lurched and he spread his legs to absorb the rocking. turning away from her he said, "well lass you can go naked or stay in your skivvies," he said as he walked out of his office closing the door. With quick steps he walked up to the top deck where his men where hard at work. "Get that stuff below deck! I want hits deck clear!" he barked as he walked through the man.<br/><br/>"Aye captain" they barked at him as they ran to and fro to do his bidding. Zayn smiled at the sight. He always loved the rush of power he felt. He laughed at the thought of how his man would react to seeing the female who was so prime and proper dressed as a pirate. They would flip and he would laugh for days. He grinned as he made his way to the wheel and began to set the course. Noting where the storm was located.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>When the ship lurched, Constance let out a yelp and had to grip Zayn's arm so she wouldn't fall. After the ship stabilized, the young woman pushed away, placing her hands on her hips while she looked at the clothes. It was completely impossible, she thought, to wear those clothes. Yet, Zayn had a point. She needed to make up her mind. And she needed to get dressed.<br/><br/>After some hesitation, she picked out one of the outfits. After making sure nobody could enter the office, she undressed and changed into one of the pieces. It felt terribly awkward that she was wearing something actually form fitting. All of her clothing so far had been pieces that concealed her body. Now, her breasts, waist, hips, everything fit into the dress and her feminine forms could be clearly seen.<br/><br/>Once dressed, Constance tied her hair on a braid and opened the door. She wasn't sure about what to do, but decided to go up on the deck. Maybe there was some work for her to do?<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn was shouting orders to the man on deck while Constance was getting dressed. His voice barking loudly across the deck. Resonating in the air. The ship slowly took on speed as it pulled away from Paradise Cove. Zayn could feel the wind whipping around his head from where he stood at the helm of the ship. The sharp scent of saltwater stinging his nose and a smile curving his face. He always loved the sea's welcoming embrace when they departed from shore. With the steady thump thump thump of the water slapping against the hall the ship took off into the channel and reached full speed. Eyes sparkling with delight and pride Zayn looked over to the entrance from the lower decks where his cabin was located and froze in mid movement as he saw Constance appearing onto the deck.<br/><br/>Dressed as a pirate lady she looked stunning. He could feel his mouth drop and his eyes grow wide as he watched her. He had to force himself to blink to stop staring at her. Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat he called out, "LASS!" to indicate his position in case she was looking for him. He gave her a wide smile. He felt both drawn to her and annoyed at seeing her on deck. She was a distraction. Not only to him he noticed and a quiet anger rose up inside him as he noticed the way the other other man paused to look at her and ogle. He let a low growl of anger rise in his throat and glared at the man around him who quickly went back to work fearing his anger. As they should. Zayn thought darkly.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance was really unsure about whether or not she should be on deck. Having been raised as a proper British girl, Constance had never thought much about her body. It was something one kept hidden at all times and didn't mention. Now, of course, she was in a completely different environment. People there didn't even try to be anything close to proper, and everyone basically did and said what they felt like. And yet... her observation of Zayn made Constance wonder if everything was really as it seemed. She had never though a pirate would actually be kind to a lady and have the decency to keep her safe and away from prying eyes - even his own - as she got dressed.<br/><br/>For a moment, she wondered what life would be like if she stayed. Of course, it was a thought she quickly shook out. It would be absurd to stay in there, living on a ship with those brutes. Her line of thought was interrupted when Zayn shouted for her. Feeling a chill down her spine at the man's smile, and the way the other looked at her, Constance crossed the deck and went to the captain. The soft swaying of the ship made her have to move in a way her feminine attributes became even more evident, and she could feel her heart race and her cheeks burn. "Captain", she murmured, stopping in front of Zayn. "Would you like me to do some form of work to earn my keep?", she asked, trying to ignore the gazes in her direction.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn froze at her words. At first all he could do was watch the swaying of her hips as she crossed the distance between them and climbed the stairs. But that wouldn't do for where his eyes should be and he quickly looked into her eyes. Not failing to note the color in her cheeks. He smiled at her politely and then said, "You look lovely." He didn't comment on her offer to work for her keep yet, that would come. He'd mortify her a little more first, "you look much better like that then in your undergarments, less likely to get taken. Makes my job easier."<br/><br/>One of the man next to him said, "You want an easy job captain chain her to your bed!" the man said laughter. Zayn cut him a dry look.<br/><br/>"Rather chain you there Cort, you look about as pretty as a lass and from what I hear your as soft in bed as one," Zayn said to the man who turned red and then started to for his sword before thinking better of it. The others around started laughing. Until one shouted out.<br/><br/>"Should put her in a paper bag, she's far too pretty a thing to be on a pirate ship she'll distract us all into our deaths!" The older man said sneering at Constance before he spat at her feet and left. Zayn glowered after the old man and sighed.<br/><br/>"Ah don't mind them Lass, they don't see woman folk on this deck often, much less pretty lass's like you," Zayn said to Constance before returning to a serious matter, "as for earning your keep, you know anything about ships?" After a pause he added. "Well outside of how to get drowned off one?"<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance really hoped that Zayn wouldn't make any comment on her appearance. It was bad enough that she had to put something on that made her body so... visible. It was terribly awkward, and the way she had to walk made it even more evident. And she could notice that the men were looking at her way too much. Trying to ignore that, she paid attention to Zayn. His compliment made her blush even more. It was a strange feeling inside her. The girl felt angry, and at the same time flattered at the man's reaction. His words about her being seen by him in her undergarments made the woman want to slap the man, and she had to use all of her self-control not to do so.<br/><br/>Standing there, hearing as the men spoke about her, Constance was red as though her entire blood had gone up to her face. She kept silent, and jumped a little when the older man spat on her feet. Constance was used to being treated as "less than", being a governess. But nothing like that kind of humiliation. Her eyes watered up a little, but she raised her chin and stared at the man.<br/><br/>"I have never been in a ship, naturally, as a part of the crew", she replied. "I can only do things that are done in land, like cooking and sewing". Her little mean streak showing, she completed. "I can also teach manners to rebellious children. Maybe you could use my services in that matter?".<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn regarded the man around him contemplating what Constance had said. He frowned at her words for a moment. Thinking. He didn't want her to feel like a burden somehow he knew how important than twas to her. Zayn might act like a complete asshole on purpose, but the honest truth was he wasn't one. He abhorred being one. He simply wanted to be himself. That whoever he'd learned wasn't possible. It only ended in death.<br/><br/>"Well as fun as it would be to watch you turn my bunch of rebellious children into proper ladies I fear they'd kill ya first. They ain't quite right ya know. Well Cook could always use extra hands in the kitchens. He's a rather hard one to get along with, but a lass like you don't strike him pretty so y'all aught get along fine," he said. Reverting to a more broken speech just to annoy her. He could easily have said all that in proper english, but he found it rather fun to toss around various broken versions of the language. He'd encountered many variants of it in his travels and this one always provide entertainment, until he was shot for it that was.<br/><br/>Zayn was an interesting man in that he lived to be as annoying as he possibly could be. Regardless of the situation.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance was still red in the face and feeling her heart race. Yet, she waited patiently for Zayn's decision. It was true that the young woman didn't want to just be a burden. She had never been idle in her life. Having come from a poor family, the young girl had started serving as a maid as soon as she could hold the weight of a tea tray. As she grew older, the girl started learning reading, writing and other subjects, in hopes of rising above the physical and hard work of a maid.<br/><br/>At sixteen, Constance had gotten her first position as a governess. It was a good form of work in a way that put you above other servants, but it was also hard work. Some children lacked discipline and were extremely rebellious. It was sometimes hard to keep being patient, specially when the children called her names in private. But it was still better than doing laundry and scrubbing floors.<br/><br/>And now, she had been in that shipwreck while going to a new position, and her entire life had changed. Trying not to think of it, Constance nodded. "Very well, captain", she replied, gazing at her feet. "Should I go now?".<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Zayn regarded her, he could sense she was feeling the weight of her loss heavily. After all her whole life was shattered. Adrift at sea with pirates and a woman no less. He wanted to give her some form of comfort, but knew that to look weak before the man around him would cost him and her dearly. If he was weak they would challenge him. In that regard he could not keep her safe from them then. Only their fear of him kept them from attacking her and taking what they desired.<br/><br/>Zayn looked at the man around him. Watching him. Judging her reaction and his words. They wondered if in a drunken stupor Zayn had acted rashly by bringing the stranger aboard. Maybe he had, but he would not share that with them. Or his doubts about her and what she meant to him personally. Sighing slightly he regarded her for a long moment.<br/><br/>"Yah, go see Cook, he'll get you settled," Zayn said to the laughter of the man. He knew what working for Cook would mean for her. No one scared the man more than Cook. Cook could be a right nightmare, but if anyone would treat her right and pose less of a threat to her it would be him. The man wasn't into womanfolk which is probably what scared most of these man now that he thought about it. Cook was a mountain of a man, but he was a true sweetheart if you didn't cross him. Which was basically staying out of his kitchen and out of his way and not touching what you shouldn't. Zayn felt relatively confident that she would be safe with Cook.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance felt confused and scared. Her life had been mild and peaceful. Her worst problem had been getting along with her employers and their children. Now, she would have given anything to resume that life. Closing her eyes for a moment, the young woman tried not to cry. Crying would do her no good at all, and she needed to buck up and be strong. That could not be her life forever. She would eventually go back to land, and go back to her simple life, performing menial tasks for rude ladies and hearing bad words from spoiled children.<br/><br/>Nodding when Zayn told her to go see the Cook, Constance nearly made her usual courtesy. Catching herself in time, the young woman simply nodded and looked around her, trying to figure out where to go to. After seeing the place that was most likely to be the kitchen area, she moved in that direction, doing her best not to trip or look embarrassed. Considering whether or not she should knock on the door, the young woman inched the door open and peeked in. "Excuse me?", she murmured. "Capitain Zayn asked me to come here and aid you with your work", she explained, waiting for the man to either tell her to come in or treat her like a sick dog and tell her to get the hell away from his kitchen. She suspected the latter was more likely, but didn't say anything after her first words.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>The cook was a bulky man who had as much fat as muscles covering his body. He looked terrifying in his harsh scowl and hard cold eyes, but a slight smile curved his lips and his face lightened into the jovial man he was. "Come in lass, Zayn is a complicated man, but he's not stupid. You'll be safe here. Now you know how to work a kitchen?" Cook asked with a wide smile as he regarded the woman before him. She didnt' do anything for him, but he could see where for Zayn she would completely devestate him. Her looks resembled Zayn's wife, but her appearance wasn't everything. Even though she could have been a double for Zayn's wife. She was nothing like that woman. Cook could tell that for one Constance wasn't from money, but was used to being around it. For another she was kind, gentle and had a spirit unbreakbable. It was something Cook valued and found charming.<br/><br/>The ensamble she wore made him smile at how awkward she appeared with her new appearance. In time she would realize that Zayn hadn't meant it as a slap at her, but as a weapon for her use. Amongst the jakals that Zayn had on his ship she would have all the power in the world if she built up the right reputation and wasn't easily cowed by the animals. Cook could see the fire inside her and it made him proud.<br/><br/>"I'm peeling potatos you can come in and help me if you please,' he said. His accent was thick which slurred some of the words and made it clear this was not his native tongue.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance felt slightly scared of the cook. He seemed… aggressive, at least at the first sight. When the man smiled, though, the young woman relaxed and smiled back. She stepped into the kitchen and took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. Naturally, I have never worked a ship’s kitchen, but part of my work back in land was to do some of the cooking, and I naturally cooked for myself. I am sure I will learn the workings here easily”. For the first time in a long time, Constance didn’t feel ashamed of her work. Not because the situation in the ship was so much worse (though it was), but because she was doing what she needed to do to survive. Just like these men.<br/><br/>It was odd, but in just a few moments in the kitchen, Constance already felt a little bit better. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do yet, but being in a place where she wasn’t constantly under threat of being touched in an improper way was comforting. And - she thought looking around herself - there was plenty she could use to defend herself should any of those men come down and try to be funny. There was a bit of a predatory glint in her eyes, but it soon disappeared, giving place to the usual placid expression she usually had.<br/><br/>“Of course”, she replied in a cheery intonation when the cook said she could help with the potatoes. Looking around her, Constance picked up a peeling knife and got to work. “Where are you from, if you do not mind me asking?”, she inquired, while peeling the potato on her hand quickly and yet with little to no waste of the vegetable itself. It was clear she was comfortable around kitchen utensils and actually enjoyed being around them. And around the cook, whom she hoped to be able to count as a friend soon.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div><br/><br/>Cook had many names, but he'd never given any besides Cook. It seemed so much simpler then to admit who he really was. After all the jackals here would have eaten him alive if he hadn't learned to be tough and deadly quickly. So here he was watching the young woman entering his kitchen and he was reminded of his first days aboard a ship. How sick he'd been from the fever that had claimed his family. How naif. He had been so headstrong and defiant. Only to discover that if he didn't blend in with the pirates he'd die before he could ever get where he was going. Then he'd found a kinship with these hard man. He regarded her as he peeled his potatoes and listened to her tell of how she'd cooked a little for herself.<br/><br/>"Well it ain't hard to cook for these pack of jackals, they eat anything so long as it's accompanied by beer, bread and has lots of meat in it. So just remember that no one can eat until the captain has had his bread and you'll survive here long enough to see dry land, or maybe hack a new life for yourself. They do say that the pirates offer two things in abundance. Bad manners and the freedom from past sins," Cook said gently to her as looked around his kitchen. He watched her settled down to join him in the work and smiled. Her question however made him pause in his work.<br/><br/>"I come from a land where boy's of my standing often get persecuted for their choices lass," he said dryly. Taking up a larger knife and setting the potatoes down on the block and quickly chopping it into squares. It was clear his skill with a knife was far from just cooking. "Well no harm in telling you my tale, not like you could ever do much to cause me harm now, and none would remember me unless my uncle yet lived." The cook went on with a genuine smile her way to take the sting out of his words. He settled in to chop the potatoes as she peeled them and setting them into the thickening broth on the stove.<br/><br/>"I was born to a very rich and noble family. The eldest son of my father. Yet, I was nothing like my father. I found out at fourteen that I wasn't anything like the other males in our army. After serving for as long as I could remember in the barracks my father came for me and what he found there wasn't the prince he expected to find, but instead he found a young soldier in love. Entwined with the other upon a bed in the barracks like many of the males there who found comfort in the arms of a lover who truly understood the terror of war. My father took me from those barracks and had every man there executed, including my lover. Then he packed me upon a ship to sail for the far shore. There I was to meet the woman I was to be married too. Our ship met harsh weather and it sank. My father, brothers and mother perished in the crash. I know not what became of my sisters, but I hope they are well. I was picked up by Zayn's father from the wreckage and took great ill. His men saw me back to health and when I was fully healed attempted to break me. Let's just say I don't break easily lass. But soon I found a home amongst the sea and here I have been ever since. I left my old life behind for the new one, so where I am from is the depths of the blue sea. I am Cook, a child of the sea."<br/><br/>He finished his tale with a sad smile and fell into silence. He'd only told his tale to two others in his past, Zayn's father and Zayn himself. Now a third new his tale. Though many knew parts none knew he'd left the life of a king behind to join the pirate world. And he had no regrets. He was comfortable as a fat cook who was rather too proficient with blades and had an accent and bearing that were not native to the pirate lands.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Constance Blackwood</span></span></div><br/><br/>Constance was immensely relieved being there with Cook. She felt safe, and something within her felt that she could count on him in different ways. She felt that not only would he not touch her, but she could count on him to make sure she wasn’t harmed, if she could win him as a friend. And also, she felt that Cook knew some about the Captain, enough for her to learn and not upset the man.<br/><br/>She listened to the man speak about how it wasn’t hard to feed the men, and nodded. That made sense to her. The Captain ate first, and serve the men plenty of meat. That sounded easy enough. A smile showed on her face when Cook spoke about the freedom from past sins. Constance shook her head in silence. She hadn’t had the luxury of sin.<br/><br/>Pushing her thoughts aside, Constance paid attention to what Cook had to say about himself. She shook her head on a negative when he said she couldn’t do him much harm. It wasn’t like she was interested in causing anyone any harm. She only wanted to be away from harm’s way. As she heard Cook, Constance continued to work, paying close attention to his words. Only once he fell silent did she speak.<br/><br/>“I pray your sisters are well and happy”, she murmured quietly. “And I am glad you have found yourself a home here”. Constance sighed and shook her head. “I certainly doubt I will, as my dreams are the domestic dreams of a poor girl. Simply a man to care for and maybe a child or two”. The woman smiled sadly. “You must find these quite silly for dreams, eh?”, she asked, handing Cook the peeled potatoes. “Until I decide what to do with my life, though, I will stay here and make myself useful and as invisible as possible”.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #FFFF00;background:#FFFF00;"/></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Zayn Cruel</span></span></div>