Lukewarm Morales

Year 765 Manuk Soulstone

Rhea gets caught onto the netting by her fingers with no scratches. Hanging onto the netting by the fingers, she descends it with each careful grip. Using her weight to swing from the netting to the rope line below, she will use it to slide down towards the side of the ship that she wants.

Rhea propels down, her wild curls dancing with Chemuk’s playful winds. Her bare feet finally broke her speedy descent; her heart and lungs are having a party with the short burst of adrenaline. She didn’t even look back, running towards the hatch that she is certain Trevor slink into.

She will regret her decision later because of it. Right now, her hands grip the two handles for this hatch, prying it open, then jumping right down this hole. There is no grace this time, making enough noise to stir anyone. But she saw no one. The low-lighting slows her time to notice the strange mortal-sized cells. They are line up in four clusters, the bars reaching high to the ceiling. They sat in the center giving full visuals on all sides. Items hanging on the walls includes everyday tools and stuff she saw at Sabol’s office.

Rhea freeze at the sight of them. No one is in this first set of cells that she faces, but her trauma held her still. The afterimages of the Krax slaves she saw in her past materialize in these cells. The looks on their screaming faces as their ghostly claws reach for escape, mouths gaping at this soundless scream. Their skins melting off bones while the molten fire escapes their maws and eyeholes.

Though no real sound came out to hear it, her head pounds as if she is hearing the voices of a hundred mortals. To try to ease this trauma, she places her hands over her ears while whispering to herself that this is just some random hallucination, nothing more. They are no longer alive to feel the pain of her f-

Someone yanks her arm; it is a gloved hand that she did not recognize right away. Cold and rough to the touch, cover in a thick glove that is unmistakably deep brown in color. But she smells something off, the smell of blood. This startles her enough to shut out the afterimages; the real hand is her current threat and even her trauma can’t take over her instincts. The next step is to kick this stranger in the shins if she had not already recognized the sullen features of an apathetic pirate.

“T-Trevor!? What are you doing?”

“You’re asking…ME that question. Last, I checked,” Trevor clenches her forearm, making his glove crinkle while she winces from the death grip. “You are not allowed here… mage .”

He knows but-? Rhea panics in his vice hold, clawing onto his hand with her other hand. Trevor isn’t supposed to know about her secret. She told all the others to keep that information far away from him, because this man made it very clear that he didn’t trust her or even like her. This is not the way she wants to reveal her secrets, while infiltrating an off-limits area that he guards.

“You aren’t denying the claims. So not only are you a suspicious Krax but you hold blasphemous skill in that little vessel of yours.” Trevor's voice is even colder than she thought it will ever get, dark eyes judging her in every viable way. This is the most emotion she had witness in this individual and it terrifies her. He is almost soulless every other time, even his remarks are bland. “You know. The captain has given me orders to get rid of suspicious rule breakers like you.”

“Let go, Trevor! Now!” Rhea finds the grit to threaten, even as his hand can very well break her tiny forearm. Her other hand can’t even move a finger off her. Still, she will fight back to survive, even use her own magic if she must.

Trevor quirks a brow, “And what mage ? Burn the whole ship? You’re in the middle of nowhere with no prior knowledge of sailing. You won’t survive on your own.”

He is right…what a bastard!? “Well! I would rather do that than give you the satisfaction of killing me, vishka !” Rhea spat, really hating him for all his worth. From his damn black hair to the dark circles of his eyes and that stupid expression, the one that faces up and shifts drastically. Trevor slightly bows his head, his face once again neutral. “Captain…”

CAPTAIN!? Rhea blinks really fast then crane her neck to get a vision full of clothed chest, shifting up to catch the very intense copper orbs. The shiver ran up her spine underneath such a gaze, it spells punishment or instant murder. They all seem the same to her when Captain Connor dons such an expression.

“Explain.” The captain lost any patience for words and if she isn’t quick, she will surely perish.

“I-“

“Captain. I caught her right at the entrance. She didn’t see anything, but her motives are still unclear to me.” Trevor is quicker than her, enough to kidnap time from her.

“Hmph.” There is no twitch from him, he is still peering down at her past his nose while waiting for her alibi. It pisses her off that he saw her as the problem when he's the one with jail cells and questionable agendas.

“Is this where you keep your slaves… captain!? ” The accusation came out so easily, the fire within her brims in her lungs, and she can feel the smoke build.

The captain didn’t react, neither did Trevor. It only solidifies her accusations, at least to herself.

“I knew it! Am I your next victim to this cruel, sick game? Do you just ‘ hire ’people and pretend that they have their freedom? How many have you snared in with this tactic? I swear by Manuk’s burning blood I will make you regret ever cross-“

“Enough!” Connor's voice is more imposing than she bargains for, shutting her maw but her silver eyes still lock onto his copper ones. It takes a minute of glaring to finally have him command. “Release her.”

“Captain?” Trevor questions, but that just earns this pirate a heated glare instead. “Aye-aye.”

Rhea felt Trevor release his grip on her and for a very split second she thought about running for it. Every muscle in her body is primed with that survivor anxiety. So, why am I just standing there?

“Come Rhea.” The Captain of the Nightmare Maiden turns to leave. When he notices she is frozen in place he warns, “Before I change my mind.”

Rhea snorts, obeying as far as following all the way to his quarters. The whole time she is keeping the forearm that Trevor held so tightly up to her chest. The leather wrapping hid the aching bruises that must be forming.

Trevor isn’t pretending. He would have hurt her then if he had been given a chance. Rhea didn’t know what to think. Are these people always ready to kill her? She will hate to think that Cid, Jerold, or Ruffin will ever consider the possibility. Then again, she is just a new recruit with nothing to show for their loyalty. What if the captain decides to get rid of her? Will anyone try to defend her?

They enter his quarters; he drags a wooden chair over and face it towards his desk. He points to the chair for her to sit in. This isn’t the first time she had to sit on that same chair to get reprimanded. Connor might as well scribble her name on the chair, since not many enter this place as much as her at this point.

Rhea sat down on the chair, crossing one leg over her lap and cradling her hurt arm with the other. It will be an hour before her arm feels back to normal and healed.

The Captain of the Nightmare Maiden sat across from her, placing his elbows on the desk and lacing his long-weathered fingers together to anchor his tall leaning frame. This is the pose he does to try to pick her brain or to stare at her until she falters. He is a master interrogator; she had no chance of ever slipping away. And that tenseness in his frame screams that he is just beyond annoyed this time.

“What made you think that I was a slave trader?”

The first question is painless to receive, but she expects he is just waiting to unleash something later. Something more damning.

“Dasmascus.” She points to the writing on the giant map behind him. He didn’t turn to look at it, which annoys her for even trying, cradling her arm again. “What else do you have those cells for?”

“Prisoners, Rhea. Those cells never housed a slave once. After the conversation we had the night prior, did you think it wise to infiltrate the place and threaten my crew while you were at it?”

Ouch…If he is saying ‘my’ crew that means… “I was-“

“You were what, Rhea? Careless is more of a proper description. I can’t find any good reason for you to do what you did.” Captain Connor’s words rip her heart apart for some reason. She had hoped that she will be wrong about her assumptions and not go through the revelation this way. This mage didn’t expect her own trauma to take over so strongly to keep her from being rational and now the guilt weighs her down. Rhea didn’t know what else to do than to admit to the side of the life she chose to keep to herself, the part that she thought if she didn’t talk about it will go away over time. Mental scars cannot be seen on the surface, but they hurt more than all the bones she broke in her life.

“Have you...been a slave yourself, captain?” Rhea asks, bringing her face up from staring at the ground to receive his verbal reprimand.

Captain Connor didn’t say anything, she didn’t know if it is because he isn’t going to humor her, or he is going to let her speak now. Whatever may be the truest case, she continues with her brave front returning.

“I was, captain. I will do anything to never be in that situation or let anyone be one again.” Rhea sighs, leaning back on the chair and flexing her aching fingers. “If that displeases you, then drop me off at the next port town.”

“Hmph.” Connor leans back as well, inspecting her from curly head to toe, then looks toward the map behind him. He is staring at that writing on the map and it isn’t clear what is going through his head at that time. This made her nervous, though one thing she learns quickly on this crew is don’t interrupt the captain while he is focused on something. Besides, it seems clear that he might be looking for the next port stop for her.

“What do you know about Dasmascus?”

That is a very random question.

“I know that they are an isle plantation of mostly slavers, fortified to their very teeth. They tend to work their slaves to death. The dying slaves mine away the rocks of the land…or the master chooses a new pet at the Grand Bidding Festival. I was about to be sent there… Apparently, he picks-“

“Women with exceptional beauty and rare traits.” Connor absentmindedly fills in for her without taking his eyes off the map. For some reason, her body reacts as if she had just received a compliment. Her face and ears turn maroon.

“If you know so much, then why even ask?” Rhea juts out her bottom lip into an angry pout, not certain why she is reacting in such a way in the first place. Connor isn’t even acknowledging her to make the comment.

“I needed the confirmation…They have something that I want.” His attention flows back to her, scanning her features again. This got her intensely fidgety.

“What?”

“Rhea. You do not look like you can attract the eye of that picky master in your current state.” Connor unintentionally insults her through what she can tell is just his mere practical observation. He cannot tell by just looking!

“First of all, mister captain , I was worse back then than now, so you better change your tune about my appearance!” Rhea snaps, tremendously irk that he dares to say such a thing. There aren’t a lot of options for her on this ship.

Wait, why am I concerned about my appearance!?

“Hmph. It’s not your physical features that are a concern.” The captain got up from his chair and closes the gap between them, prodding at her shoulder to show her clothing. “What you wear is important too.”

Wait, he thinks I am beautiful….? WAIT!?

“Stop right there!? What are you planning?” Rhea leans away from him, nearly at the edge of this seat just so she can glare up at him better. He reels her gaze in, though the anger that once tenses those features is no longer present.

This is Captain Connor as he is mulling over the next best course of action. The man didn’t smile; she starting to believe that he didn’t know how. Yet his whole demeanor is less imposing than usual, it made her less tempted to run for the hills. Less tempted to burn him when he made this suggestion.

“Rhea. I will need your aide to become someone too irresistible for the master of Dasmascus to ignore.” This man's poise statement rubs her the wrong way. He must be losing his mind if he even considers asking such a request.

This feels familiar…

“That is your plan?” Rhea snorts, shaking her curly head. This is ridiculous even to her, who is keen to cause trouble whenever she feels like it. “Why do I feel like you are just trying to get rid of me?”

“Hmph.” He ignores her comment gracefully; the squinting he is doing is the only indication he heard her comment. This man still looms over her, making her forget all about her grievance and her hurt arm. He is so close; she didn’t know how to think.

My heart is racing…

“My plan requires your mana and your compliance. But I doubt you will get past the other entries with no other talents of your own.” Connor's statement rubs her the wrong way; he pulls away from the bubble of space between them. There is some disappointment in his tone, angering her to speak with a face as red as Manuk’s blood.

“I can sing… vishka .”

Connor’s brows hitch up, looking even more doubtful. Maybe there is not enough proof in her time here, and she hadn’t learned enough of the shanties to sing along with them. Though this is one of the few traits that belongs to her mother, she will be damned to let the captain doubt it.

“I will sing if you must hear!” Rhea challenges, standing up from her chair, tilting her head up at him. The captain waits instead of saying anything, crossing his arms over his broad chest. In this pose he is flexing the muscles of his arms, filling the fabric of his sleeves just like a second skin. He is handsome, maybe he should be the one to be bidded at that festival.

“Excuse me?” Connor heard her thoughts that are now slipping past her mouth by accident.

“Ahum! What I meant to say was ‘get ready’!”