A Pirates Booty (Methos & Wistful Dream)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Wistful Dream on 06-09-2008, 01:56:51</h2>
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				Title: <strong>A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>06-09-2008, 01:56:51</strong>
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				Things weren't going as planned, that was fairly obvious to the curvy lady as she descended from the carriage that had carried her to the docks, her fair brow was slightly marred with a frown as she glanced around herself and took in the slight misty rain. Her slender fair hands came up and tugged her hood up and over the gleaming mane of rich sable hair. It was a dark brown color, that held hints of gold and red in it, but those were hardly ever revealed unless the sun was just right or she was near a fire place. Like the night when her almost Lord had had her in his private study and the two had lain upon the bearskin rug and discussed their upcoming marriage so close to the fire. <em>Melanie, your hair is full of hidden fire, just you yourself my sweet.</em> That man had been too sweet for what he was, too sweet for what she was suppose to do. But she had been spared having to break his confidence because he had died. <br><br>And now she might face the same fate.<br><br>Regardless of the fact that she was a spy she didn't wish to die, she had no urge to join her fiance in the grave. And more likely her's would be a hanging instead of the quick cut of a throat that he had suffered. Really, English prudes, would she have been foolish enough to slit his throat when she was trained with the knowledge of poisons, when there were other ways beyond even that to kill a man that regarded no obvious sign. She was much much smarter then that. Lani had had to make sure of that. <br><br>The footmen had brought down her things and were lugging them up the gang way now, she had her hood up and close, hiding her delicately shaped face, her too big emerald eyes and the elegant line of her nose, her full sinfully inviting lips. She may have been a maiden in her virtue but she seemed almost made for tempting a man to other thoughts, what with the figure that was currently hidden beneath the cloak, that classically flawless face and seemingly sweet and demur disposition. <br><br>Yet she had been lying about that for years. She wasn't demur, at least not often, her opinions were many and strongly based yet she didn't speak them, didn't dare. She lived in a man's world, and she needed to be accepted by him. Yet she eyed the ship she was to embark on and felt a touch easy. These were suppose to be men her people trusted completely, but then so had the guards that had suddenly vanished. She felt like a trap was closing in around her, running like a hare, or more likely a fox. Away from the hounds but straight into the waiting jaws of something else. What that something else was she had no idea yet. <br><br>But there was no choice, the English hounds that framed and blamed her for her fiance's death would soon find out where she had gone, they had been quick to follow her after she had left England, and now here she was in some godforsaken spot between Italy and Greece, a tiny town but the one her driver insisted he had been told to go to.<br><br>Melanie would feel more at ease once she had her packet of information herself. She would still be useful in another country, she had to be. After all with the Revolution and the fall of everything she had known there was hardly anything else she, a daughter of minor gentry that had somehow escaped the bloody Terror with little death in the family lines, only to turn to being useful to the state affairs, could do with her life. <br><br>She was no fit noble man's wife now. Poor Alfred though, he had not deserved to die. If she knew who his killer was she would gladly kill him herself, but that was not to be, right now she needed to save her own life. Lani glanced around her, holding her hood close and started up the gang way, flashes of her stylish spring green silk flashing through the dark wool of her cloak in the front as she measured her steps upward, her eyes seeking the one that would be the captain.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>06-09-2008, 04:39:02</strong>
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				Patrick FitzGerald stood upon the deck of the Storm Crow. The wind whipped through his reddish blond hair as he watched waves crash into the sides of the ship. The smell of the spray filled his nostril, as green eyes turned towards the shore he spied in the distance. He mused softly to himself “Any rational man might be wonderin’ about now what an Irishman is doing running errands for the French government in Croatia.” Near Greece and on the opposite bank of the Adriatic Sea from Italy lay land that had been known by various names be it Illyria in the times of the Romans to the more modern Croatia after its Slavic inhabitants. However, it wasn’t to a port of any significance that his ship was headed, but a tiny out of the way harbour that seemed to have been chosen only for its remoteness.<br><br>His hand rose to slide his fingers through his slightly longish hair. It didn’t make it down so far as his shoulders but pooled at the back of his neck. He turned as he examined the coastline and made his way back to the wheel of the ship “This is our harbour.” As he let the first mate, a dark haired and olive skinned Sicilian remain at the wheel. However, the mate Antonio did inquire “What are we doing here anyways Patrick?” Patrick offered a shrug of his shoulders as he adjusted the dark green coat he wore. “We’re running errands for the Frogs.’ He stated rather simply as he flashed his friend a grin and cuffed the fellow on the shoulder. “And apparently the Frogs don’t trust you Dago bastards to handle things when the British are somehow involved – me however they trust. Why because I’m fuckin’ Irish.” He muttered darkly “And the only people who hate the British more than the French – is us.” <br><br>The tall Irishman produced a flask from his coat pocket and he took a rather deep gulp of whisky. Thereafter, with that jolt of warmth flooding through him as he muttered “Bring it in so we can see what miserable spy the Frenchies so desperately need us to preserve for them.” Although it wasn’t like it really mattered to him, the French had produced a chest of gold and said “hurry” and for that much gold he’d gathered up his crew and hadn’t been inclined to argue. The pirate was a tall man, and he cut a fair figure. His form was relatively broad at the shoulders and his activity was constant leaving his frame athletic and muscular in its build. His features were considered handsome, possessing that Celtic mischief to them that turned each smile into an expression of troublesome whimsy. Brilliant blue eyes and golden hair, combined with an enchanting smile tended to keep him a busy man in port. His eyes possessed a keen intelligence to them, which was why far from home he now found himself captain of a pirate ship as opposed to a mere crewman.<br><br>Unfortunately his vaunted intelligence hadn’t managed steer him clear of the latest attempt to win Ireland’s freedom from its English masters. Hence he had been forced to flee rather swiftly, he and many of his comrades had found themselves scattered to the four winds, dead or in English dungeons. Considering the alternatives, he didn’t being forced to learn Italian and Greek to get by had really been such a bad outcome for him. His hand trailed down and brushed against the handle of his cutlass, and the pair of pistols tucked into his belt. Apparently the French expected trouble on the horizon, what this French spy new to get the British so fired up that they were attempting to fetch the spy from the Adriatic Sea was beyond him.. However, he supposed he was soon to find out.<br><br>The ship had pulled into the harbour, making its way to the pier and thereafter dropping the gangplank. Thereafter, the he’d simply indicated that they wait. As the spy would find his way to the ship, he seemed rather puzzled when a rather attractive you woman began making her way up the gangplank. He eyed her as he remarked “You, yea your dandied up ladyship there. What are you doing here? We’re only waiting on one person, so you’d better have a good explanation of what your doing on my ship or I’ll toss you into the sea faster than you can say St. Patrick’s Ghost”. His voice had the easily rolling lilt to it, and indeed eh seemed a bit better dressed than your average pirate. His green coat was matched with a white shirt beneath it and a tan pair of pants. He grinned slightly as he looked to her “Although with you, I might do a few things to you before I made you walk to plank. I don’t expect they’re too excitement to be found in a harbour as miniscule as this one.” <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>06-09-2008, 04:53:31</strong>
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				<em>“You, yea your dandied up ladyship there. What are you doing here? We’re only waiting on one person, so you’d better have a good explanation of what your doing on my ship or I’ll toss you into the sea faster than you can say St. Patrick’s Ghost”.</em> <br><br>A voice cut through her thoughts as she slipped onto the ship, glancing at the man who must be the Captain with a amused expression, her hood still up and drawn. He thought to threaten her now did he, how quaint. She had much more ruthless men pursuing her, to kill her, then this man with this threats of tossing her into the sea. Although it would ruin her lovely spring green silk and that would be a shame. Arms came up, folding beneath her bosom, revealing more of the lovely figure beneath the cloak, curvy but trim, tall but generous. <em>“Although with you, I might do a few things to you before I made you walk to plank. I don’t expect they’re too excitement to be found in a harbor as minuscule as this one.”</em><br><br>He was handsome, she could give him that, what with his fair hair and bright dancing eyes, his height and the lilting cadence of his accent, however she wasn't much impressed beyond his looks. Many men looked good, she had known this for years, having been courted and chased by several men who could make this one seem callow. "You will neither toss me over board nor do any of the things you seem so intent upon trying." her voice came, strong, slightly husky and with the flavor of her own accent.<br><br>She didn't lower the hood, rather stretched out one slender arm, tugging down her&nbsp; glove to reveal the small tattoo of a night lily on her inner arm, something easily hidden by makeup or by the right gowns, or gloves as she had chosen for today. It marked her as a spy for France, and was the proof she had been told to supply, now she tugged her long glove back up her arm, her hands dropping down to her sides, the cloak hiding her completely now. "Satisfied? Good now lets get going, the English blood hounds shall soon be here and I have no wish to hang from a noose."
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>06-09-2008, 06:09:10</strong>
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				Patrick indeed made a point of taking a good long look at his passenger as her hood was pushed pack. A brow lofted as his eyes slide over the curvaceous nature of her form. He remarked “Oh I won’t won’t I? well then you had best be about giving me a good reason for that real quick like.” He remarked as while the hood continued to frame her face he spied the mark he’d been told he was looking for. He grinned slightly as he muttered “Blasted Frogs didn’t even tell me I was expecting a woman.” He shook his head slightly as he grinned to her “Ah..its just a few English, getting away from them shouldn’t be so hard. They’re far from home and they don’t sail so well to begin with. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, I’ll keep it on your shoulders..for now.” <br><br>He saw a few crewman muttering over the woman’s arrival, sailors being notoriously superstitious creatures. His eyes rolled skyward as he muttered “Why o’ lord did you give me a crew full o’ wops and dagos and no reasonable Irishmen..or at least Scots?” Thereafter, he turned around towards his crew “Alright up with the damn plank! This isn’t a blasted pleasure cruise – be lively you bastards and hop to it. Don’t just stand there gawking – you’ve seen women before. And I swear the first of you who says a damn thing about luck is going to have my fist in his face. I’ve got all the bloody luck any of you need. GO.”<br><br>His fury seemed to pre-empt any dissent regarding her presence on the ship and thereafter he flashed a grin to her as he noted “Alright then, we’re off. Now they didn’t really tell me where I’m supposed to take you – just away. So at the moment’s we’re heading for Greece, so I hope you like your souvlaki, ouzo and ancient ruins as that’s about all they’ve got there.” The ship’s sails unfurled and slowly the ship was coming about as they were heading for open water once more. Once the wind filled the sails they seemed to be off and one would expect they made decent time.<br><br>After a moment’s consideration he gestured to the female spy as he said “Come on then, I might as well show you down to your quarters. I expect you have things to put away.” He hadn’t a clue what they would be but in his experience no matter where they were or where they went, women had things to put somewhere. Hence he headed across the deck at leisurely lope as he pushed open the door that lead below and lead her down the stairs and through a number of rooms until he directed her to the cabin that had been cleared out for her. The first mate was naturally forced to make the sacrifice, as he personally hadn’t the faintest of intentions of giving up his own room. He lead her to the cabin and with a sweeping gesture he noted “And there you are. We’ll see Athens in a week’s time all things considered. From there I’ll figure out where we have to go to lose your Limey friends.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>06-09-2008, 06:34:03</strong>
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				She did love to surprise people, it was one of her favorite things to see a man suddenly realize he had been wrong. However Patrick didn't display much of a surprise. How sad, although it was reassuring, his dismissive behavior toward the English that is. She wanted someone who disliked them and would keep her out of their hands for that reason alone if nothing else. She would be a good way of tempting and getting back at the Brits in an abstract way, men were often motivated by revenge and if she could play off that then she would. More information to file away. "I happen to resent the Frogs comment." She voiced softly, her eyes narrowing within the cowl of her hood, and at the pretty little head bit she felt her patience being tried. How patronizing. This man needed his ego taken down a step or two.<br><br>At the crew's uneasiness about a female on board she just wanted to sigh. How do they think women got to all the exotic locations they went to? Flew, honestly, women were only distracting to men on a ship because they were female, therefore in men's depraved minds sex objects. It wasn't a female's fault men couldn't keep their thoughts out of their trousers. Greece, that was certainly going to be new, but new things were good, change was good. She wished she could go home but for some reason they, her agency, didn't want that either. Probably because it would be easier for British spies to track her there and kill her. So she had to vanish completely for a bit, what a pity. Hopefully this Captain improved upon acquaintance. However as he spoke to his men she doubted that.<br><br>At his words and gesture she followed him, picking up her bags to carry with her down the stairs and down into the darkness of below deck, feeling slightly boxed in and unhappy about it as she followed him through the rooms to the cabin that would be hers. She was uneasy at sea, a touch unsteady on her legs. And she hated being boxed in, being caged it felt like almost, too many bad memories there. But she shoved them away, focusing on the present time, the present task. It was a decent size, a bunk, a desk, everything rooted to the ground by bolts of course. Lani settled her things on the bed for now, glancing at the trunk that most of it would be put into later. She straightened, finally pushing back the hood of her cloak, revealing the pale softly shaped face, the lovely emerald eyes that were darker then his. "Its pleasant enough I suppose." She finally offered.<br><br>"A week, very well, you may go now." She waved a hand dismissing him, wanting to undress a bit and get comfortable. Time alone would be nice. And he was only a pirate, she was a lady, so he could leave when she said leave and be happy about it in her mind. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>06-09-2008, 07:08:18</strong>
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				Patrick heard her remark that she resented the ‘frog comment’. He lofted a brow to her as he peered in side the hood, rather dryly remarked “That’s nice. But don’t worry your pretty little Froggy head about it then.” He said correcting his statement to include the proper slur for her now that she’d identified herself as French. Whether his ego needed taking down a few pegs or not, he didn’t particularly seem to care what she thought. He added “Your spymasters already paid me, so you just be glad given that I have their money that I’m the honest sort. Nothing to stop me from dropping you off on the next rock I see and leaving you there to fend for yourself. No one would be any the wiser. Nor did they pay me to be nice – that costs extra.” He stated rather airly. <br><br>The captain could indeed be a rather charming fellow. On the other hand, he also wasn’t much for people hiding their faces from him. It seemed a bit shifty and dishonest, you could never tall what a person was trying to hide by that. He watched he look about the cabin before finally noting it was pleasant enough. “Ah well it’s a cabin in a ship. Its not exactly the guest room in a palace eh?’ He remarked rather cheerfully “But on the other hand it’s a might bit better than a British prison cell or the gallows. So all things considered, its about as good as you can expect.” <br><br>As the woman told him..he may go he stopped and turned on her. Irritation seemed to flicker through his features as he regarded her. “Now look here you jumped up Frog chit. I don’t give a damn if you’re screwing some revolutionary dandy, or whether your great great great great great grand daddy played chess with Charlemange – this is my fuckin’ ship. On this ship – I am KING. So you won’t tell me I can go, I’ll come and go as I bloody well want to. You are my ‘guest’ here so I suggest you learn to keep your mouth shut. You’re a long way from France and you haven’t got anyone else here to help you – except for me. And I don’t like you already. So unless you want me to just hand you over to the British and say you managed to get yourself captured the first time I put into port *if* someone ever asks after you –shut the fuck up woman.”<br><br>He rather furiously launched that tirade, as few things irked him so much as haughty nobles who sought to impress upon him how much better they were than he. He’d spent years of his live trying to kick every last one of them out of Ireland, he didn’t need some French bitch lording things over him while he was trying to run his own ship. Hence with a snear he spat upon the floor and then stalked out of the room at his own initiative. Muttering under his breath as he stalked off to check the course and see to the rigging.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>06-09-2008, 08:37:39</strong>
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				All she could do was stand in shock as the Captain spouted off, talk about a temper, he was like an over grown child. Screwing a dandy? As if, she was far above that and she was not a Frog chit, what was it with the stupid names people labeled others with. He had an issue with her being noble? Well he could go take it up with those who had hired him then, she couldn't stop being what she was anymore then he could not be a ruffian.&nbsp; Come and go as he pleased? She certainly hoped not, that would mean he could come in here as often as he pleased and she liked her privacy and her space. Both were important, vital to her peace of mind. <br><br>Then his threat really sank through, just as he stormed out of the cabin, leaving her alone. Alone. She sank down onto the bed, letting the fears and stress finally beset her, she shook with them, a fine tremor and wept softly, silently of course, she couldn't be open about that unless there was someone who was suppose to see that. Everything was protected, guarded, everything had to be. She wiped her eyes after long though, pushing the fear away again and set to work placing her things neatly away and taking out a night rail. The carriage trip had been long and as no one here wanted anything to do with her above deck she promptly disrobed and slipped on the nightrail.<br><br>It was much cooler, which was nice and now she turned her attention to the cabin herself. Obviously a male's room before, slightly dusty, she sighed and pulled out a rag and dusted things off at least a touch, trying to make things nice, softer. A few sheaves of silk she had with her draped over things helped, but nothing could hide that his was a man's place. <br><br>Finally she sighed, shrugging and climbed into the bed, feeling very worn out, alone and raw, sleep would refresh her and let her face the Captain and the crew with more poise. She slipped beneath the blankets, tugging them up and settled down the rocking of the ship soon lulling her to sleep. But she was not by any means a restful sleeper, the blankets ended up half on half off, a slight frown on her brow from a bad dream yet she was softer in sleep then in waking.
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>08-09-2008, 06:31:19</strong>
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				Patrick had quite naturally busied himself with entirely important things like running his ship. After his eruption of temper he’d been quite short with his crew and many wondered what their ‘guest’ had done to get under his skin so quickly. However, for the most part they were sailors and busy with sailing so they kept to that. The wind was fair, so they were making reasonable time. Nor had there as yet been any sign of the English chasing after them. This was in truth something of a disappointment. A chance to strike out at those oppressive bastards would have sent shivers of delight racing through his Irish heart. At the moment the only thing that had sent shivers through him was the breeze.<br><br>He’d stared off into the waters for a good portion of the night. Choosing to take the first watch, and leaning against the deck. The wind tousled his hair as the smell of the spray of the sea filled his nostrils. His lips formed a smile as his thoughts turned to Greece, soon he’s be in the sun drinking wine, and he recalled upon his last stop in Athens they’d served his shark with some sort of garlic sauce. Shark of all things! But that predator of the seas had actually proved rather delicious, although generous amounts of sweet Malmsey wine. <br><br>His watch extended well into the night. Off in the distance he thought he may have spied a shadowy shape that resembled a ship. His spy glass was produced and he peered through it. But in the darkness with naught but the moon for illumination it was hard to tell. He muttered darkly to himself as he noted “Blasted girl just is no end of trouble.” Hours later as the next man came to relieve him he remarked “Keep an eye in the distance there I think some ship might be following us.”<br><br>The captain however, at the point proceeded to bed. He made his way to his cabin, and pulled off his coat, kicked off his boots, and otherwise stripped and slide under the covers of his bed. A few beams of light from the moon would drift in his window as his eyes slid shut and he slept.<br><br>The following morning, he rose and dressed once more. The same clothes aside from the fact his coat was now blue as opposed to green. He walked up to the deck and pulled out his telescope and indeed faintly in the distance a ship seemed to be on their tail. Although they did not appear to be gaining at all, a small comfort that. He shook his head slightly and muttered “Someone in the town must have tipped them off on what direction we headed.” <br><br>Patrick descended below deck and proceeded to pound upon his passenger’s door. His fist smacked into it rather loudly and repeatedly until it would have rouses her had she been sleeping. “If you want breakfast show up in my cabin, unless you want the porridge the rest of the crew is eating. Trust me its not very good.” And indeed it wasn’t particularly appetizing which is why he’d arranged for himself to be fed rather better than the mass produced meals that were inflicted upon the crew, as captain he rather thought he deserved it. With that message shouted he headed to his cabin and his breakfast.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>11-09-2008, 03:20:26</strong>
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				She had slept deeply and well for the first time since this whole horrid chain of events had begun. So many sleepless nights, nights spent on the road or in fear. There had been no where safe, although the lady did admit to herself that she found it rather odd that she felt safe aboard a pirate ship with a captain who so obviously did not like her. <br><br>Yet as the sun slowly peeked into her room and she stirred from the nest of the bunk and blankets, blinking with drowsiness she found that fact to be true. And reassuring in a bit, that her body had relaxed enough to allow her deep, good sleep was a good sign. She had honestly really needed it as well. Yet fear was still there, even as she lay in the bed looking up at the wooden ceiling above her, rocked by the ships lull upon the waves. Finally the emerald eyed beauty slid from the warm comfort of the bunk to sit and push back her mass of thick dark hair.<br><br>"No going back...no surrender..." She murmured softly to herself, sighing as she tugged on her stockings and then slippers, not wanting to hurt her feet on anything that may be rolling around or the wood should it carry splinters. For a moment she just sat there, on the edge of the bed, her lower lip idly worried with her teeth as she pondered what to do. None of the men would wish to see her above deck, that was for sure with all their silly superstitions. <br><br>A week in a cabin with no one who wished to see her, with no conversation, no laughter with another person. There could be worse but Melanie was so weary of this. She wanted to really live again, not run and hide and cover the part of her personality that made her life worth living, exciting. Yet that part always irritated others, she was too much of a free spirit.<br><br>The female pushed her silly thoughts away and focused on what to do instead. The cabin had been cleaned and neatened last night, but there was the bed now. She stood, her hands making quick, neat work, almost militaristic in the order and attention with which she made the bed. She could have been a maid she thought ruefully. And perhaps if she was this all would be so much less complicated. She kept moving though for a bit, unpacking her things more neatly, organizing them as well. <br><br>The porthole called to her and so for a minute she just stood against the wall near it, gazing out at the blue blue ocean and the azure sky that stretched endlessly above. It was beautiful, soothing even yet it made her all the more antsy and so she turned away again, this time her hands going to her hair and picking up her hair brush to untangle the snarls from sleep, the sable locks shinning with health and cleanness as she worked the brush through them.<br><br>That done her next task was simple, get dressed. She tugged up her nightrail, folding it and packing it away neatly into the trunk. Her hands moved over the clothing now at her disposal. Many of her things had had to be left behind, yet a few of her favorites were still here. She chose a nice rich russet brown gown that offset her hair and played up her eyes, slipping on first her shift, then the corset that went with it, not tigthening it to fashion's standards though, just enough to support her full breasts properly and make the gown comfortable. Drawers, pantaloons, petticoat and then finally the dress. It was ridiculous how much clothing women had to wear yet it was like an armor too, it kept her safe, kept her grounded. And she felt she would have the need of armor should the Captain chose to pay attention to her once again. And then as if her thoughts had summoned him there came a pounding upon her door and a roar through it.<br><br><em>"If you want breakfast show up in my cabin, unless you want the porridge the rest of the crew is eating. Trust me its not very good.”</em><br><br>At least he had knocked and told her about food, it could have been a lot worse, a lot more rude she reminded herself as she smoothed down her gown and shrugged. One concession to being out at sea would be only a loose up do for her hair rather then the normal elborate one. She half wished she could just leave it down but only girls did that, and she was a woman now.<br><br>With her hair tended to she left her cabin, walking slowly, cautiously to his and knocking upon it. "Captain?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>22-09-2008, 03:19:32</strong>
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				Patrick had hammered on his passenger’s door and then stalked through the ship to return to his own cabin. He’d pulled forth a chair and then settled down at the modest table that was fixed to the floor in front of him. Patrick hadn’t been exaggerating that the breakfast in the galley wasn’t anything to write home about, for it was a particularly lumpy porridge that no one was going to mistake for fine dining. Naturally his own fare was appreciably better. After all piracy would hardly be any fun at all if you couldn’t maintain a few comforts. A sturdy metal tea pot was set down at the centre of the table, with several tin mugs set upon each side. What looked to be bread that had been bought when they’d last left port was set upon the table, along with several apples and a few grapes. Eggs which had been fried and some heavily salted bacon were also evident.<br><br>Patrick had poured himself some tea, and cut a piece of what seemed like increasingly stale bread. He spread a bit of butter upon the bread and chewed on it while gulping down another measure of tea. The French woman hadn’t answered initially but he rather expected she’d show up sooner or later. Aloof or not, she’d want something to eat whether it meant dealing with him or not. He smirked slightly as he muttered “I should have let her go eat with the deck hands.” Although he was well aware that that would merely about been disruptive, whether it was superstition or hormones it wouldn’t have gone particularly well.<br><br>He waited until he heard the knock at the door, thereafter the scraping of a chair against the floor would be heard as he rose to his feet. He made his way over to the door and pulled it open, there blue eyes would fix upon the woman whom had boarded his ship the day before. His eyes slide over her, and he smiled casually as he looked her up and down rather cavalierly. Whatever else she was, the French woman was rather attractive and it was difficult to fail to notice that. The manner in which the corset thrust her chest forward particularly seemed to cause his attention to linger. However, he lofted a brow to her as he scrutinized the russet gown and the carefully done up hair. “You do realize I invited you to breakfast, not a ball right?” He chuckled softly as he looked at her and then waved her inside. He himself turned back towards the table, as he was dressed rather more casually in a white shirt and a black pair of pants. A dark blue jacket was draped over the back of his chair as he sat down once more.<br><br>He retrieved his mug of tea and took a sip of it. He sat in a rather sprawling fashion as he remarked “What’s your name anyhow, I probably should have some way to refer to you aside from ‘you’ or ‘woman’. Although at the moment the latter does distinguish you from everyone else upon the ship.” His voice retained its lilt although for the moment he hadn’t seemed to have given in to his tendency to curse in a rather colourful manner. His fingers drummed upon the table for a moment as his eyes scrutinized her.<br><br>Thereafter he remarked “In any case, I spied your friends last night. That’s a Limey ship if I ever saw one. Although they’re a ways from home way out here, we’re nowhere near Gibraltar. So I’m assuming its no coincidence that they’re following my ship when I have some French spy on board.” He smirked slightly as he raised his hand and slide it through blonde locks of hair as he muttered “You’re just lucky I really hate those bastards. But yea, they won’t catch me I can drop you off in Athens or sail you all over the bloody Med till they get lost. I’m not terribly picky. You’re the one fleeing, I assume they told you where you should be going. All the told me was ‘here’s a bloody lot of silver, keep her away from the British.’ Easy enough for me, but I’d assume you have some sort of plan.” <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>26-09-2008, 18:06:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;She shouldn’t be so nervous over just breakfast, even if the Captain of the ship was a half savage. Yet her stomach still held butterflies or something sickening close to them within her, she felt her skin slicked with the slightest of uneasy, not that it would show in any light, but her soft flesh was flushed. Melania’s ears caught the scrape of a chair and the sound of boots treading over wood before the door opened and those bright blue eyes fixed on her. He was handsome, she could give him that, grudgingly, but true. Yet she knew she was beautiful, had been told for years. She was starting to be afraid that all anyone saw to her was her beauty.<br><br>And now the Irish man before he made sure she knew he found her attractive. His eyes roamed over her,&nbsp; there was no respect in his eyes, at least not the type she had been use to in England, rather a raw admiration for her physical assets, she did not miss how his bright eyes lingered upon her breasts, just the starting of their slopes revealed above the cut of her dress. Her lips thinned however when his brow raised at her, and his words brought a flash into those vivid green eyes.<br><br>“I do realize that. However I am lady and as such I will dress as befits my station. I could not very well let my hair down like a girl not yet out of the school room.” She sniffed here, in contempt for his apparent lack of understanding of the rules of finer society. But then he was a pirate, what did he know of society? Nothing. Certainly anger smoldered inside her as he laughed, and waved her inside so casual in his demeanor and dress; it was nearly insulting. Granted, he seemed more appealing for his appearance, with the white shirt alone covering his broad shoulders, and roguish partly too. It was a good thing Melania had long not been given to suffering any bouts of romanticism. And any inclinations to him to be pleasant that his looks might have wrought were ruined when he sat before her. He had no manners.<br><br>The deep green of her eyes showed her slight disgust at the way he sprawled, he was not gentlemanly, he was not refined. And she cursed his bright eyes as she slipped into a chair herself and his words were once more directed to her. Melania glanced at him, her eyes so cold they seemed icy even with a warm green color to the iris. “My name is Lady Melania DeLeon, you may address me as Lady DeLeon if you must. I would prefer to not enter into discourse with you or your crew too often.” She wanted his eyes off her, away, so she glanced instead at the table, the tea pot and mugs with it, the bread and fruit. There was also a few eggs and bacon. Her hands moved out, like elegant birds as they filled her plate with small portions of it all and poured herself a cup of tea. It was like a dance as she ate, delicate, dainty. Everything tasted vastly different from what she was use to, but having not eaten since noonday the day before she did not utter a word of this.<br><br>She stilled completely though when he mentioned her “friends”, her heart picking up pace slightly, the pulse in her throat quickening. “Limey?” She queried, confused by the term but there was really no doubt who it could be. Her eyes had raised to his at this, and she noticed the way the sunlight stealing into the cabin played in those messy blond tresses of his. Why couldn’t the man have been ugly like his personality was repulsive? But the fates were not that kind to her. <br><br>At his other words though her eyes widened, darkening uncertainly. “Non, they said you would have the information about where I was to go next. They said there was a row of safe keepers that I was to go to.” She suddenly felt very alone, very young and overwhelmed. Her lashes swept downward and she inhaled, slightly shakily. She would take care of herself and get out of this, she could do so easily, after all no one else had ever cared for her but herself.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>05-10-2008, 02:56:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Patrick offered her an amused look as she rather haughtily answered that’s she’d dress as befitted her station. He grinned to her as he noted “Fleeing from the Limeys who want to toss you into prison or part that pretty head from its shoulders and you still find the time to worry about dolling yourself up.” A soft chuckle parted his lips as he shook his head slightly. “Well dress however you like, I am rather fond of such clothes.” A slight smirk graced his lips as he idly noted “It does offer a rather fine view of your ..assets.” Although he wasn’t so crude as his crew, he was after all a rascal and a pirate. Thus the Irishman was hardly above indulging himself in viewing those lovely mounds of flesh.<br><br>The Captain was aware of her contempt for him as he was seated across from her in a manner that was anything but formal. His attire and manner was far more casual than she would be accustomed to. He offered her a bemused look in response to the icy look those green eyes gave him and her rather formal statement as to how he could address her. He chose to deliberately respond by needling her. “Ah well you call me Your Imperial Highness, Melania.” He laughed as he chose to address her by her first name as opposed to the more formal titles that she had offered and suggested that he use. <br><br>He watched her moving to collect food and eat in a rather dainty manner. His eyes seemed to glimmer with amusement as he watched her as it struck him as terribly impractical the way she went about things. He waited for some sort of expression of distaste as she ate, after all she seemed to find everything else about the real world devoid of its aristocratic veneer undesirable.&nbsp; Although he drank his tea and collected his own breakfast and consumed it in a rather orderly fashion. Although he showed no reservation in taking as much as he wanted. “Lovely breakfast isn’t it? The cook undid himself this morning”.<br><br>He chuckled softly as he responded “Limey – English. The navy gives their crew limes so they don’t get scurvy.” He explained the origin of that particular name to her rather patiently. “There is an English ship following us.” He stated rather simply and thereafter the blonde captain regarded her as he stated. Blue eyes regarded her as he waited for some sort of explanation from her as to where she wished to be taken. “Really they didn’t tell you where you should go?” He offered her a surprised look “They told me you’d know exactly where you should be going.”<br><br>He raised his cup of tea to his lips and sipped it. He smiled to her and noted “Well we’ll keep on course then unless there is any reason you think we should make for a different port. I’m fairly sure I’ll be able to lose them and make port. There are a few short cuts they probably don’t know about.” He was aware that one of the safe houses that the French had mentioned to him had indeed been in Athens. Although he was surprised she herself hadn’t the faintest idea where exactly she should be going. “I’ll keep you out of their hands, don’t worry your pretty head over that.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>14-10-2008, 21:20:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Why did he have to be so scornful when he was the ruffian? Where did he get the balls to be so disdainful to a lady? No manners the brute. She raised an eyebrow, her lips compressing at his grin, even his words about her head being cut off got hardly a rise or reaction out of her. Melania sighed softly, quirking her lips in a clearly condescending smile “Oh but you see, it is merely the mark of a true lady to keep her composure and proper behavior under all circumstances.” <br><br>And with that she raised the tin mug to her lips to sip at it, the taste of the tea was strong but welcome for a moment before of course his smirk and his comment, she nearly choked on the tea before her green eyes sliced into him again. “My assets is it? Well you can look but be certain you will never touch.”<br><br><em>“Ah well you call me Your Imperial Highness, Melania.” </em> <br><br>Her first name and a laugh, Lana was not impressed and rather irate with him in all truth. She knew he was watching her eat, but she didn’t allow that to effect her actions or motions. In fact, it was rather easy to ignore him in those silent moments as he just stared at her and most likely inwardly laughed. He could laugh all he wanted, he was still a rouge and a pirate and she was still a lady and above him. She ate slowly, consuming less then him but at a slower rate, yet she looked at the cabin rather then him, for all that Patrick was handsome she was loath to let him think she considered him at all interesting.<br><br>When he spoke again she simply stayed silent about the cook, figuring that he must be sarcastic, which seemed a common trait in his behaviors. Yet she did listen to him, her hands settling back into her lap as she glanced at him, her back ramrod straight and whole body language reserved. His blue eyes were rather too amused at the moment, and she responded in dulcet but curt tones. “No, they did not. It was not safe for me to know.” It was common sense after all, agents were not suppose to know where all the safe houses were, it wouldn’t be a safe house then because if caught they might give the location away. <br><br>He was a sea man, and a good one if her people had paid him to do this so she shrugged, her shoulders moving elegantly, but it also made her breasts sway within her dress in a distracting, taunting manner. “Whatever you think best then. Now, I will return to my cabin.” She slipped out of the chair and smoothed down her skirt, offering him a slightly incline of her head before turning and sweeping toward the door.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: A Pirates Booty (Methos &amp; Wistful Dream)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>19-10-2008, 08:41:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Patrick seemed to have the typically Irish distain for anyone who thought themselves his better. Thus while he was gracious to an extent in seeing that she was fed and kept separate from his crew for the purpose of taking meals, he felt little in the way of compunction to be anything other than what he was, which happened to be a rogue and a rascal. Patrick offered Melania a rather bemused smirk as he noted “Oh so you keep your composure and behave properly under *all* circumstances do you? I’ll have to keep that in mind. As I’m sure there are a few circumstances that you aren’t so used to.”<br><br>A laugh spilled from his lips at the glare and outraged comment that he could look but never touch the flesh that seemed to threaten to spill forth from her dress.&nbsp; “Ah yes, a French spy dressed up like that. I suppose you’ve only been gaining secrets for France from English blue bloods. But a tart paid in information or coin is still a tart.” He smiled to her rather arrogantly as he noted “And given that I don’t see how you’ve much position to be looking down your nose at me.” After all he was aware how pretty female spies got their information, and wouldn’t believe for a moment that it was all fetching smiles and batted eyebrows.<br><br>Patrick watched her eat in rather bemused silence. The delicate way she went about it seemed to cause him to smirk. However, he finished his tea and then rather methodically ate the rest of the bacon and eggs that he’d heaped upon his plate. His fork stabbed into each morsel of food and then popped it into his mouth. He cleaned off his plate rather swiftly and thereafter scooped up an apple and produced a knife from his belt. He twirled the knife about in his fingers. Thereafter, Patrick began to slices off pieces of apple and pop them into his mouth. His teeth crunching down upon the sweet, juicy pieces of apple, as he sat there with the knife in hand. Whether this was done innocently or intended to intentionally unsettle her he didn’t offer any particular indication. <br><br>Patrick tilted his head slightly in a bemused fashion as he remarked “I suppose that’s a good point. If everyone knew where it was it wouldn’t be terribly safe now would it? On the other hand it’s no much use if you haven’t a clue where it is either hmm?” He leaned back in his chair as he regarded her. He chuckled as he noted “But we’ll find some little out of the way place for you to hide in any case Melania. Don’t you worry about that, although I should think anything discrete shall be lacking by your particular standards.”<br><br>Patrick watched her shrug and spied the delightful flash of cleavage that that entailed. His eyes lingered on her chest before she rose and made her way to the door. He nodded slightly to her as she exited and thereafter he poured himself a cup of tea. He raised his mug to his lips as he downed a second glass of it. Thereafter, he rose from his chair and made his way out of his room in turn. The Irishman headed up to the deck of his ship and produced his spy glass from his pocket. He gazed off into the distance he saw at the very edge of the horizon the British ship that had been spotted before. “Blood Limeys, well we’ll see if we can’t lose them somewhere between here and Athens.”&nbsp; He grinned slightly as her rang his fingers through his hair. “Damned if I’m going to let them catch up with me. And damned if there is anyone who can keep up with me for the next six days presuming a decent bit of wind.”<br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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