#magrox

 When staying in taverns or inns, Magdalena made sure to check out girls and see if any of them noticed the violet embroidered onto her hat, but none had ever winked at her. Her right-hand had even grown a habit of roughly, but playfully, making fun of her for this eternal solitude and lack of success with women of her kind, of her side. She wouldn’t have minded secretly embracing a civilian in the dark of the night, in the back of her husband and the law, maybe bring her on board would she be unhappy with the man.

“Vice-captain Drapé,” she’d pretend calling him out, “I wouldn’t make fun of me if I was ye, ye don’t have much success with other men as well.”

“Touché,” he’d reply brushing the green rose on his coat.

 But one day, someone had winked back at her. It was on a night of storms, where her crew had been obligated to stay on land because of the waters causing their ship to encounter the rocks dramatically, putting an end to their marine adventures. They were staying in an inn, their letter of trust being enough to convince the owners to let them sleep the night there in exchange of very little money and staying calm. Most of her crewmen were already trying to “court” women around the inn, and she enjoyed herself watching them either fail or succeed with various degrees of courtoisie, until her eyes came across someone who winked at her.

A someone who had a violet embroidered on her vest.

 Immediately interested, Magdalena rose to her feet and walked up to the much smaller woman who had picked her interest. She seemed to be a feisty little one: short on her feet, light brown hair, greenish hazel eyes, a scar on her left cheek, and a bandana hiding the upper half of her scalp. Her appearance alone was enticing, albeit Magdalena had her suspicions up: her new target of interest was dressed like a pirate, and as opposed to her crew, didn’t wear anything on her that could indicate she was a corsair like she was, and especially not for the same crown as hers. As it stood, they were opposites, and most likely enemies. Ha, tragic.

 “So, ya the famed captain of the Saphir, ain’t cha?” the stranger asked her, her voice not letting any doubt as to her knowledge of who the other was.

“And I get that ye’re some pirate stealin’ away from my kin’dom’s ships.”

“Most indeed. So what? Ya gonna kill me now, Captain?”

This provocative tone almost made her bit her lip. She had always liked a challenge, and this woman seemed more than happy to provide.

“It’d be too easy. And, most importantly…”

But she could play too. She could let her words trail down the page and make herself waited.

“…didn’t I strike yer eye, milady?”

They were both sober, but a reddish tint appeared on the pirate’s face.

“Guess that happened. Also seems like it’s on both sides.”

 Magdalena gave her a hand. It’d be too bad to kill someone like this, a rough pearl found in a shady tavern in Point-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe.

“It’d be my pleasure to get knowing ye, milady,” she accompanied the gesture with flirt-filled words.

To her upmost surprise, as her left hand was about to grab her sabre, the other woman took it and put a kiss on it.

“It’d be my pleasure too. What about we take this outside? Don’t want smelly men around me and my love for the night, y’know?”

“Ye most welcome.”

 And outside they went, staring at the moon up in the night sky, surrounded by thousands and thousands of small white dots. The air was warm, obviously, but still more comfortable than around noon and embracing their skins. Still holding hands, as if not to lose each other and show they weren’t about to backstab the other once she’d have her back turned, they exchanged words again.

“What’s yer name, milady?” She asked with the most genuine curiosity. She, admittedly, didn’t seem them walk away from each other so soon.

“Roxanne.”

A short silence followed.

“What about yours?”

“Magdalena.”

“That’s a pretty name. I like it.”

“I like yers too.”

 The silence settling between them was comfortable, soothing in a way. A rare moment of calm in the storm, as it had stopped raining outside, giving a false sense of tranquillity to this island whose rain had become an advantage for its cultures.

“Roxanne, what ‘bout we do a secret alliance?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Ye don’t attack my ship, and I don’t attack yers. And we continue to see each other. I like yer face already.”

“I like the sound of that. Let’s do it, and seal it properly…”