#jac monroe

Her mouth tasted of rum whilst her hair still carried the scent of brine that night. The crew had persuaded her to drink with them just once opposed to sitting in her quarters aboard the ship on her own with a bottle of liquor for company, but now as most of them were putting the brothel upstairs to good use she drank alone, watching from a dark corner of the room as the usual drunkards stumbled back and forth through the doors. She swilled the remnants of her drink in the bottom of her cup before throwing it back down her throat. It was when she slammed the now empty glass back on the table and looked up that her eyes cast over to the farthest corner or the room, equally dark as the one she resided in. There sat a figure-- a woman’s figure. 

In the dim light Jac could see waves of hair cascading over her shoulders, hair as black as the sails of her ship and flowing just as free in spite of the thick air in the tavern. Her olive skin shone gold in the light and looked so enticingly soft that Jac found herself wondering how it might feel to touch. Then she saw the twitch of a smile on the woman’s lips and abruptly realised how terribly she had been staring. Then again, it seemed this stranger had been staring back.

Had her head been swimming before? She couldn’t remember. The woman, who had been nursing what looked to be rum tilted her head very slightly before raising her glass in a silent hello. Jac, who had no drink left, just smiled softly in response. Truth be told she couldn’t have formed any kind of coherent hello even if she tried, because at that moment she finally met the woman’s gaze and in those eyes she could see it as clear as day.

She saw that this stranger, whom to most would not appear in any way striking, who had no name and no story and as far as Jac knew not even a voice, would be her downfall. Perhaps it was the drink thinking for her but she didn’t care, because she was suddenly certain that she would see whole cities burn just to keep her smiling. She would destroy anything or anyone who sought to hurt her-- she’d even sacrifice herself if she thought it would please her. It was as though a spell had come over her, and aware though she was of it Jac could do nothing but succumb to it willingly.