“The idiot! The absolute… craven degenerate – no bloody smoke without fire, what what!?” Each bark created a jolt in her body, before her arm was forcibly bent behind her back, which had the most rigid and trained posture to it. Lady Sourn’s gray eyes were flared with fury, her lips dangerously turned down. “It is truly begger’s belief that an entire group of people have chosen this Captain not only to represent, but to lead you! Hardly the first selfish move on his behalf, is it!? We’re practically at the bloody dinner-table of our enemies, and he….” The scarred blonde ceased, her shoulders rising and falling on account of that furnace underneath all that armor. The elf that had been put under some silent duress to aid her fumbled at the clasps. It was tempting, increasingly so, to redirect her anger at the gracelessly-fingered maiden. “I tell you this. If the rumours going around this… colourful island are true, and he has indeed deflowered her…” She trailed off stiffly. Perhaps waiting for feed-back, perhaps trying to compose her incited thoughts, like stones hopping from incensed pyre to pyre. “My God, a creature of his station, seducing such a young maiden? It isn’t fair. It isn’t bloody right and if I was my own agent, I’d give your Captain a damn, damn good thrashing, and Gods help him if he DARE give me any ‘what-for’!” As it unfortunately stood, Commander Leichthammer had assigned the fiery harridan to this crew of vagabonds, fully understanding that the matron could keep even a crew of craven anarchists reasonably in-line. She understood – partly – his design for them. Sending men of chaos into the midst of the enemy, natural disturbers of the peace and an excellent way to spread their resources just a touch thinner. And then, of course, the political explosions birthed smoke that Leichthammer could work under. However, as much as the Captain’s lecherous, underhanded move contributed to that purpose… There was only so much Lady Sourn was personally willing to censor her ethics. A young woman, manipulated and bedded by a man perhaps twice her age, with the intention of ruining her future did not sit well. She felt a barely controlled fire rushing along her veins, resurging as her mind ran over the situation. In what must have been less than a decade, a new religion had spread like wild-fire across the lands; its bait was a tangible God, beautiful and land-born that required no leap of faith to worship. A physical deity, making verbal promises and signing paper contracts. What was more, backed by an utterly infatuated, foreign Queen that travelled far and wide to give her neighbouring realms an ultimatum: Worship by choice, or grovel for the chance after being conquered. The more that worshipped this Demi-God, the stronger he became… until the realms found themselves in this disaster. Leonarda shook her head morbidly, her voice lowering. “One evil doesn’t bloody mean I’ll be letting your Captain off with the rest. God have mercy on him if I find out this is – hell’s bells!” A clatter disrupted her Her gaze slid, finally, to the woman at her side. Somewhat shorter, or average, at 5’5” to the warrior woman’s 5’9”. The sleepy-eyed elf, after slightly trembling fingers had failed to properly latch the arm piece on, had also failed in catching it when it had slipped off her arm. The sound was unpleasant against the wooden floor. “… My God, are you drunk?” It wasn’t a deadly snap. It was, however, exasperated with a certain… strained humor to it. She watched the elf’s face and found it hard to place what was going on. “No. It’s just… a bit…” The braided creature had another go, far more hastily, a silent apology to the time wasted already. And then it dawned on the warrior what the problem was. She suspected this sort of fumbling – which was common for the elf – was just a chronic case of a gentle stupidity, albeit there was evidence against this which led to a confused opinion. However, as gray eyes watched the fingers dance and slip, a wave of clarity hit her. Sourn’s lips parted, she watched the girl’s face, and raised an eyebrow with a subtle frown. A stern look all on ship had come to know and only the smart had learn to fear. “Fiddly. Yes, I suppose so. I had come to you, thinking it would be a damn-sight quicker than doing it myself, but… Well. Lesson learned.” She tried something in her tone, and waited for a reaction. No shift happened; the clasp failed to hook a few more times with something piercing through the elf’s lidded expressions. Leonarda watched her for a few more moments. “Oh, calm down, would you? Hardly going to have you flogged, am I?” A subtle breath was taken; her biting anger kicked under a rug, although hardly complacent for it. The dopey-eyed dame flickered her gaze up to the matron, stared for a few seconds with a soulful look, and paused herself. The next attempt, the arm-piece was finally secured to her arm. “There we go. My fears of being here until night fall were utterly unfounded.” There was the most subtle, warm purr of humour to her aristocratic voice. Leonarda regarded the creature for a bit more, turned, and then eyed herself in a near-by mirror, standing as tall and straight as herself. “You keep your own counsel, my lady, I know. But your thoughts on this? As a woman, you must agree it’s bloody unacceptable?” Vania went off to the side, as if self-conscious that she would intrude on the soldier’s reflection. Her peepers flickered over to the window, thinking. Not on the matter, Leonarda felt, but if her lips should dare wag too freely. Or, as long as she had witnessed the elf, freely at all. “… I don’t know.” Leonarda tidied herself up, inadvertedly giving the impression that she thought the elf hadn’t done a neat a job as she would have liked. “You don’t know, my lady?” She focused into the mirror, with that same raised eyebrow peeking just a touch higher. “Or you think opening your mouth will incite fire and brimstone from mine?” The elf kept her attention on the window; God forbid she miss a cloud going by, Leonarda thought. “Ah. No. Not that. I meant I don’t… necessarily agr-“ “How the HELL could you not-“ The spear-wife’s tone snapped in the air like a whip; her battle-honed body whizzed around, the argumentative intensity in her eyes strong enough to cripple a weak soul into stammering. For a split-second, she locked onto the elf’s hard to read features, realized, and then retreated her gaze. She didn’t mean to jump down her throat. But by God, she was a soldier, and then a leader after that; she made her way through this world by butting the head of every damn fool that would see her opposed. Although, imagine her surprise when the elf was frowning at her. Not merely her usual, natural one that was simply distant, heavily-lidded and elsewhere, but a direct scowl of annoyance that bewildered her to see. This coy, otherworldly maiden was issuing a subtle challenge in those blue eyes: Either let me talk, or see me walk. Leonarda blinked, rubbed her nose with steel fingers, and threw a gesture her way. “Apologies. Continue?” She hadn’t managed to extract the shock out her tone or shield it in her eyes. Vania eyed her with a sleek suspicion, made slightly comical by the fact it was a side-stare. The warrior impersonated being gentle as a lamb, her arms folded behind her back, trying to display invitation to her face with – what else than a raised eyebrow. After a further few moments…. The elf’s cobalt stare went back towards the window. A subtle intake of breath, her fingers starting to touch the smooth, wooden walls of the interior, and she spoke. “It’s almost a rite of passage. Into womanhood, that is. Sleeping with a man your father couldn’t hate more.” There was almost a cheeky smile to that tone. Leonarda was intrigued by it, but made reluctant by that statement. “… Certainly not my experience – was it yours?” Vania paused. “No. But perhaps it was hers. But a priestess-in-training, and a rich man’s daughter. Don’t you think it’s possible that… she was growing wings?” “Pardon?” “Maybe something inside her is fluttering. Maybe this is the start of something; the realization that, if she can take and decide her own pleasure, she can… decide much more for herself.” Leonarda was surprised to see the elf smiling. A subtle little smile, but she saw something in her eyes. Something that would not be witnessed again outside of this cabin; something that the other ship mates would only pay lip-service to believing if she expressed it. Leonarda herself was unwittingly infected, and was about to give a dashing smile, when she halted. The corner of her lips were suddenly weighted, and fell downwards. “Well, yes, what an entirely romantic and rose-tinted way to look at it. But coming back to the real world, I’m afraid it’s more likely that the poor girl has made ONE poor folly, no doubt with heavy pressure from your Captain, her heart is broken, and her future in ruins.” There was tension in the atmosphere. Silence between them. When two conflicting views and opposite minds went into discussion, it could only result in friction. And yet, receiving this sacred glimpse into the maiden that played coy, or played dumb, and kept her opinions under lock and key… “We could find out,” Vania left the suggestion idly hanging in the air. Leonarda blinked. ‘We’? “… I… Why do you think I’m dressed like this? My Lady, you hardly need to accompany me to her father’s manor. As I understand it, you’re prone to your own quarters.” Her lack of reaction, but a certain look in her eye suggested that wasn’t quite the case. Leonarda furrowed her brow curiously. Was the maiden more of a wanderer than any of them suspected? The Captain certainly seemed assured that she enjoyed her own company. Without another word, the girl turned, and started towards the door in a non-direct fashion; like a feline trying to suggest, without being too pushy, that it would like to be let out. Subtle glances over her shoulder encouraged this comparison. “One of us has to be right. Captain Vanquez may have simply planted the seed o-“ “Lady Faele! Don’t be so vulgar!” “… of… freedom, I was about to say. In her mind.” The two women stared at each other in what was the most pristine silence, that dangled between awkward and hysterical. “Ah. Let’s… ahem, leave then, shall we?” With implied dignity, Leonarda cleared her throat, raised her chin and strode past the elf in metallic glory, fighting off embarrassment from her features. Vania slipped behind her like a shadow, closing the door behind them. “I’m hardly to blame for that, you know. Being disgusted at the thought of Captain Vanquez planting any sort of seed is simply a bit of a… gut-reaction.” “Ah.” Another one of those tones. She expressed much in little, this elf. I’d believe you, it implied, thousands wouldn’t. Leonarda peeked over her shoulder towards the girl, with her own wordless exchange, through a warning raise of her eyebrow, but a sneaking smile. Careful now.