In a night of exploring the local docks, Farrah steps on to the wrong boat and sees more than she bARRGined for.
Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2025 4:31 am
talking ★ thinking
One red eye peeked from around the barrel she was crouched behind. The guards that were standing near the gangplank of the boat she wanted to explore were shooting the breeze far too long for her liking. ’Move it, you two. There’s other ships on the wharf…†She eyed them longer, as if she could will them to leave. When they walked her way a couple of minutes later, she ducked down and out of sight. The sun was going down and that meant her Tour de Galleon wouldn’t be for as long as she liked. Still, she wore darker selections from her wardrobe in the hopes it would make it harder to be spotted as she bounced around the area. It was moments like this she wished she could have some of the more stealthy powers like her Shahitian comrades. Once the sound of the guards’ boots passed her cluster of barrels and stopped echoing in the distance, Farrah took her chance. She kept her body low and her feet quiet against the wood under them.
Along the solid railing she ducked again and looked across the top deck. No people that would alert others to an intruder curious tourist, but plenty of items and mechanisms to gawk at. One of the last times she was on a ship it was similar to this one, and she had to put on her ‘mature princess’ face for had she not, she would have been like a small child in an antique store. A headache for the crew and an embarrassment to her father and Mars. This time around she knew to still keep her usual guard up, but maybe a time or two she could let the child-like wonder sparkle in her eyes. It felt safe enough, so she stood up and started to walk around. A hand touched the railing to a staircase that went below deck and she looked at it before deciding against it. There appeared to be no one where she was, but even if she didn’t hear anything it didn’t mean someone couldn’t be down there. Fingers slipped off the railing as she carried on and walked up the narrow staircase to the helm.
There it was, the wheel. How brilliant such a small thing could control a vessel as big as one like this. She stepped closer and tilted her head as she gave it a lookover, eyes following the rope from the wheel to holes in the floor. Knew it had to go to something somewhere below decks but still didn’t want to take that risk. Sure, she could have gone to the library and looked it up in a book, but where was the fun in that when there were real ships out there? She learned better hands-on anyways. Which by the way, would be how she’d learn just how much torque this sucker had. Surely it was turnable, but how easy? Or hard? What would it be for her? She wasn’t swole like Richie or Sethos but had a good amount of umph if she said so herself. ’One little turn wouldn’t hurt, just to see…'
Farrah was finally getting around to checking out the town’s port scene, and up until that point it felt like it was worth the trouble. She barely had a hand around one of the handles before there was another loud creak from the boat, followed by a gust of wind.
Thick ropes wrapped around her middle and just like that, she was off the ground and pulled into the air.
A fearful shriek was ripped from her throat as she watched the wheel become smaller and further away. The panic was fast and it was real and Farrah in all of her years of training was not prepared for a scenario like this. She felt the back of her body hit against something hard by the time she could discover not whom – but what – had a hold of her and jostled her around like some marionette doll. ’Rope? What in the seven hells…!’
She reached for the knife that was at her upper thigh but was met with unexpected resistance from the rope! There seemed to be more of it as she watched it wrap around her middle and legs to secure her to the main mast. Then, as if nothing happened, everything went as still as it was before. Except now, she was no longer on the deck but tied to the mast tighter than Lost Boys on Captain Hook’s boat and no amount of picking at the rope was getting her to the dagger on her upper thigh. â€Aghhhh, Crap!†Rah cursed aloud. She looked around at what was around her, which was mostly fabric and rope in the form of rigging. She wiggled her feet and found nothing under them. The ground was down there.
This was not how she expected the night to go. She planned on taking care of anyone who tried anything, or as a last resort jumping into the water for a quick get away. Farrah looked down and around as far as her neck would allow her for someone, anyone. There was no one, yet she was tied up and higher up than the tallest person she knew. That was the part she couldn’t reason out.
She was trapped. She really, really hated being trapped in things, and upon realizing she was, Farrah squirmed around with a feral growl trying to somehow get herself loose. It was to no avail and she threw her head back against the mast. ’FRICK…!’ This wasn’t the worst way she’d ever been trapped. At least, it didn’t appear that way. The last times both involved time treachery and unless she slipped into some kind of time do-hickey this was better. Slightly. She thought to herself. If it came down to it, she could make a razor blade from her own body. It would cost her a little bit of her health but if it meant breaking free…
ÊŸá´á´„ᴀᴛɪá´É´: Town - Sea Port ★ á´Ê á´„á´á´á´˜á´€É´Ê: no one ★ á´á´‡É´á´›Éªá´É´êœ±: Richie, Sethos ᴀʟʟ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ:shirt, pants, corset, boots, gloves, etc. ★ ᴛʜá´á´œÉ¢Êœá´›êœ±: "frickity frick frick frick! Xena's gonna kill me if she finds out..."
☞Davy sat in the captain's chambers, hunched over in his seat, elbows pressed into his knees as his glare blazed a hole through the tattoos inked along his extended forearms, analyzing them. They were still here— lighter, sure. But still there. Each black marking was a member of his crew permanently inked into his skin. Their souls were tied to flesh, to his soul. It was a debt left unpaid. They couldn’t just up and vanish, or the markings wouldn’t be there.
Sucking in a sharp breath, stress strangled the vital organ beating in his chest as Dymias sank back into his chair, the sound of wood giving beneath his weight echoing through the space around him. Ahg—It was too quiet, and it smelled like ******** fish in here, lingering in the air long after the plate left on his cluttered desk had been cleaned. He usually liked fish; it was his favorite meal. Easy to catch, easy to cook. But tonight he didn’t. Because at this hour, his captain Linde… No. No. Lindethiel. Just Lindethiel, would have been whining about the smell clinging to the air. How it permeated into the threading of all her clothing that she so adamantly believed should hold space in his captain's quarters.
She’d always been too spoiled by the cook and the fresh, unfishy air too far above the sea.
But it was eerily silent now.
The events of that evening took their chance to replay in the back of his mind. Smiles. Tears. Open arms outstretched that were meant to lighten the blow of the horrific tale that brought them there. But one step off the dock, and they were ash in the <********> sea breeze. “ Davy.. Wha– What's happening?! What Oh- Oh Crap!” Anxiety, and something more profound, coiled in the pit of his stomach, drawing him forward again to rake his hands through hair slicked in sweat. It was like he could still hear her as clear as day. Why was it so clear? Where had they gone? And why couldn't he follow?’
A subtle creek sounded, vastly different from the familiar groan of his rocking ship. It snapped Davy’s head up, a thread of hope pulled taut. “Are they–” Panic lengthened strides brought him to the massive wooden door of his quarters, slamming it open with the force of a raging storm and bolting out onto the deck. “YOU SCALLYWAGS!” The raspy voice of a royally pissed off captain bellowed into the night, “YOU HAVE SOME GOD’S DAMN EXPLAI—” The primed repromand died on his lips. “O-oh.” Raven brows pinched together, all that sarcastic rage melting down into hollow disappointment when his stormy gaze landed on his center mast, watching a pair of lace-up boots wiggling in the air.
Heh, and to think for a split second he thought they had returned. ******** hope. He knew he shouldn’t have had it. This certainly wasn't anyone from his crew… Howler wouldn’t have reacted in such a way if it had been. And Moonwisp? Well, she wouldn’t have been caught, that’s for sure. Body arching sideways as he approached, Dymias settled before the slender woman strung up. Taking in perfect pointed pixie features, short, oil slick hair that spiked out, reaching desperately for the floorboards, and glittering eyes, ones that could put every ruby in his collection to shame.
“Oooo Wee,” He whistled, crouching down to be eye level with such pretty gems as he settled his chin on a closed fist, lips pulling down into a heavy frown. “ You picked the wrong ship to mess with, didn’t cha? Just what business does a pretty little doe like you have on me ship? As you can tell–” Hand uncoiling in silent demand, the rope around her drew tighter as it stretched to curl into Dymias’s palm like a pet sea serpent. “– She ain’t the biggest fan of uninvited guests.”
☞WEARING: Lazy and Lavish ☞LOCATION: Sitting room. ☞COMAPNY: Strange Doe.☞MEANTIONS: Willow and Crew
Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2025 3:46 am
talking ★ thinking
Farrah’s world was turned upside down, quite literally. The evening sky sat at the bottom of her line of sight while the weathered, wooden planks and twin staircases sat on top of it. A minute before she was on the upper deck admiring the ingenuity of the ship’s wheel. Now her body was flush to the wide mast and secured there with rope: a material she was uncomfortable with only because she could not make it surrender to her like she could metals. There’d been not a soul wandering the boat, so it made no sense how she’d been moved yards away. She hadn’t imagined the whole thing so how in the nine circles had this happened?
She could already feel the way gravity was pulling the blood down to her head and believed if she stayed like that for much longer she’d pass out. The thought of passing out on a ship like this only gave her more reason to try and free herself. It looked like today she was going to be forging metal from her body after all. Her hand didn’t have the freedom of movement like last time, but it tensed under the rope anyways as Farrah started that process.
“YOU SCALLYWAGS! YOU HAVE SOME GOD’S DAMN EXPLAI—“
The sound of a bold yet cantankerous voice gave her pause and her eyes opened more widely. Someone was on the boat afterall, not just tucked away below decks as she liked to imagine. There was something familiar about his voice, but she couldn’t yet determine if she knew it or if it reminded her of someone else’s. Heavy boots grew larger as the owner of that yell swaggered closer and she squinted to get a better look at him. Dark hair with matching brows, and a face that she could admit was handsome with its symmetry and strong features. Farrah wondered who or what this person was to this ship, and in this case what he would be for her. Someone who could cut her down with minimal trouble she’d hope, but she knew what her being there looked like.
Rah looked down… or rather, blinked up with as patient of a gaze as she could give while the hawkish scallywag made his inquiries. It was how the rope constricted around her that cracked her expression into a slight wince, but it was the way it moved to him like a lady’s hand readying for a dance – that had her eyelids parting wider. The wonder of how he was pulling this off could only cover so much of the alarm over the fact that he could.
“She? As in the ship?” The questions in her mind were shifting now with that new detail, like this man wasn’t pulling the strings with some stealthy Phroneasan ability as she initially suspected. What in the Winifred freaking Sanderson… was this some kind of witchcraft? If that was what the black-clad dude meant, she’d never heard of such a thing before.
Now she was interested in more than just the ship’s mechanics. Rah looked back at him. He couldn’t have been some regular ol’ crew member if he could beckon a part of it to move like he did. “I disagree.” She paused a moment before continuing, feeling her face starting to flush. “I picked the best one. I’ve never seen one act like this before.” It may have been an admittance to her teensy wrongdoing, but one made in honesty. Perhaps, she wondered, she should have been more salty toward the man about her current predicament, but couldn’t bring herself to just yet.
“But it was only to look around. I promise.” It had been a while since she’d been on a boat. Years, even. Farrah shifted under the hold of the rope, growing more discomfortable under it. “Just before I was looking at your wheel.”
Farrah’s nose crinkled as she picked up a scent. The ports were never known to smell of roses or confections, but this odor was new, oily, and slightly pungent. “...Do I smell fish?”
ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Town - Sea Port - Davy's ship ★ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ: Captain Mahi Mahi ★ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ: none ᴀʟʟ ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ:shirt, pants, corset, boots, gloves, etc., necklace ★ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ: 'Okay, not the best situation but I need to learn more about this boat!'
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