❝Dead men tell no tales, lass. That's why very few pirates have cemented their names in history. The road to piracy leads to a short drop and a quick stop.❞
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The life of a commoner never sat easily with her, especially when she was su...
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You had no clue just how long it had taken for your sea legs to grow in, but by the time they had, you were more than fed up with having to bend over the side of the deck and puke your guts out. It was atrocious; to think that a pirate could be so weak against the churning seas. The only thing more concerning than your seasickness was, perhaps, your bleeding -- which was quite hard to conceal amongst a group of over thirty deckhands. Unfortunately, between having to care for your womanly bits and avoiding the grubby hands of the men who hadn't been around the presence of women -- many didn't care that you were a 'male', only that you were a particularly feminine looking one -- you just rejected their advances with the end of your pistol. Abhorrent scallywags.
The food was rotten or stale, and the water a little fishy -- you tried not to think about it too hard for fear that your sickness would resurface. In hindsight, you probably would have tried to help the cook prepare the meals, but who were you to complain? It was free food. Though sleeping on a tiny little hammock could be uncomfortable at times, it was a great place to bond with the man sleeping just below you, who happened to have a weird fetish for toes and three teeth remaining. He said he lost them in a tavern brawl, but the story the guy above you told you begged to differ.
Admittedly, it wasn't the best of situations. The whole ship felt like it was perpetually falling apart. However, it was far better than sailing out on the rinky dinky little boat Six first took.
Unfortunately, though, the downside to traveling on a 'luxurious' ship like this was the consequences if you happened to be caught as a woman, which, coincidentally, had happened when you were unchanging in the cannon stores -- the place you were least likely to be found loitering in.
You were busy tightening the binds around your breasts when you suddenly heard the closing of the door behind you, and glancing over your shoulder, you found none other than one of the deckhands leering down at you -- clear lust hidden beneath his sea-worn eyes.
"Ya' know it's bad luck to keep a woman aboard? Don't ya' know?"
You made a hideously comical face, squinting your eyes and lifting your hand over your brow to make light of what he'd just said. "What woman?" You asked, all the while searching the tiny cabin for that 'girl' he was referring to, "I must be blind because I cannot seem to find this unlucky woman you speak of."
He growled tersely, movements jerky as he slammed the door behind him and prowled up to you with ill intent.
"Don't play stupid with me, bitch," He snapped; spittle flying every which way, "I've noticed ya' scurrying all over our deck for a place to hide the past week -- a little too much, if ya' ask me. And I've only seen women do that when they're... bleeding."
"Bleeding shmeeding -- Oh, congrats then," You said with a mocking gesture, all the while fingering the pistol you kept hidden down your sash, "I wasn't sure you knew how long a woman bled for. But what does that have to do with me?"
