i sleepy

The lantern light reflects in the young girl’s dark eyes as she desperately hides herself in the shadows of the cargo hold. Her breathing is slow and deep, though her shaking hands and racing heart are a constant reminder of the dangers of mortality. She waits until the waves crashing against the ship are loud enough to hide the  creaking of the barrel, prying it open and slipping an apple from inside. Her stomach’s wolfish growling betrays her self control and temptation brings her to sink her teeth into the sweet flesh of the fruit. The juice drips down from her lips, coating her fingers and chin in a sticky glaze.

 It was something her mother and father would have berated her for, but she left her need for their approval on the coast with her morals and dignity. In what seems like a matter of seconds, the only food she had eaten in days was gone and the gluttonous desire coursing through her veins was begging for more. She can’t help but fantasize about the nights when she was feasting with lords, free to fill her stomach with spiced wines and roasted meat, till she’s brought back to reality by the heavy thud of footsteps coming down the stairs. 

Fear floods her senses and in a moment of urgency she scrambles back into the dark cove she’s made her home, carelessly leaving the evidence of her repast to be found. She hears the footsteps nearing, blending with a man’s murmurs. Her body stills, trying to get lost in the wood and stores surrounding her, but it’s no use. She watches, feeling a weighted dread the second the sailor’s tune gets replaced by the heart stopping sound of a sword removed from its sheath, and the girl bites back a sob of fear. The planks creak beneath the man’s feet as he creeps closer, his breathing filling the tense air. The girl prays to any god that will listen and begs for the miracle of mercy, a chance to live, or at the very least, a speedy death. 

A second of silence passes. Then another. And at last it’s broken by the slash of a cutlass through the air and her pained gasp as it cuts through her hiding place and nicks her arm. Before she knows it, the man’s harsh hand pulls her up out of the shadows into the orange glow, his siren eyes running over her with a hint of curiosity and mischief. His lips twist into a crooked smile as he watches the young girl shake with nerves. 

“Well, hello.” He pulls her closer, taking hold of the small gold pendant around her neck and observing it with a determination that was near baffling. She doesn’t fight it, still in a state of terrorized paralysis, but the man’s voice shocks her back into the moment and tears flow before she can stop them. His head tilts back up and his smile only brightens. “Don’t be so afraid. Your tears won’t get you anywhere, darling.” 

Despite the circumstances, her cheeks tint pink, affection was not something she was well versed in and even his oafishly amused teasing had an affect on her. She swallows hard, choking back her pride, but her voice shakes nonetheless.

“Let me go…” 

The man only laughs, the sound cold and shiver invoking. “I don’t think so, love.” Without another word, he drags her along, ignoring her desperate pleas, and hauls her up the stairs. His hands were rough from years of work, something she would’ve never known, and they left marks on her delicate skin. She struggles to get free but gasps and bites back a pained groan as the man’s grip tightens and his smirk replaced by a small sneer of annoyance.

“No use fighting it. You’ve got nowhere to run.” The painful truth rings in her ears, and she knows the man is right, so she stops and lets the man drag her. He pushes her to the ground on the main deck, drawing the attention of the crew. Her body shakes as she frantically crawls away from him, her back pressed against the side of the ship. Men and women surround her. Most of them had weapons strapped to their sides and linen shirts loosely hanging from their body, their hair pulled back in different silk scarves and slicked braids. Some looked at her with curiosity, others with disdain. The girl’s eyes catch on the flag flying high above them, the sunset’s warm glow highlighting the dreaded skull. She had gotten on the wrong ship. These weren’t sailors, they were pirates.. From the back of the crowd, a commanding voice rings out. A woman’s voice. 

“Clear the path.” A split forms between the crew in an instant, all of them filled with a nerve-wracking obedience. The woman makes her way to the girl, looking down at her shaking figure and taking in the silks and lace adorning her. Despite her calm voice, a distinguishable anger lurked beneath her words. “Do you have a name, child?” The young girl takes a breath and tries to appear less scared than she was, to no avail.

 “Marina.”

A series of short chuckles from the crew arises before ‌ending with a swift look from what appeared to be the captain. “Why are you on my ship, Marina?” The air turns electric, full of a tense anticipation, as everyone surrounding her waits for an explanation. 

“I didn’t know it was yours.” The captain’s eyes narrow, but before she can say anything else, the man from before steps back in. His infuriating smile back in place while his dark curls fly free in the wind. 

“The why doesn’t matter much, captain. The real question is, what do you expect us to do with the thing?” He turns back to look at Marina, his green eyes piercing her soul as he studies her‌. “She doesn’t seem cut out for much.” His grin only brightens at the offended blush spreading over her face. 

“I can cook.” The crew laughs again. This time, the captain lets it go on and it only serves to agitate Marina more. She struggles to her feet, a little dizzy and unbalanced at first, but regains her footing quickly. “Put me to work. I can help-” 

The captain cuts her off. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. After all, what makes you think you’ll be alive to help? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fed a stowaway to the sharks.” The man’s smile dims, and he clears his throat, pulling the sharp gaze of the captain from Marina to himself. A silent conversation passes between them, a battle of wills and sensibility, before the captain begrudgingly sighs. “You get one chance to prove yourself. Any slip ups and you’ll be the next victim claimed by the sea.”