Indebted (working title)

Trophies (part 1)

She sat there on a short staircase above deck bewitched by nothingness.... sunlight weakened by a rolling sheet of thin clouds reflected off her large round, sunken eyes, but she did not blink instead, the woman rendered gaunt and listless by the voyage stared defiantly into its glow, unflinching and unwavering. In her hands, she rolls a sky-blue bead back and forth across her palms. It was a small thing that she'd found on this ship, something that belonged to her even when the whole of her being did not.

She looked down at it, this modicum of control she'd been allowed to keep in this awful place. All around her the sounds of voices and footsteps worked as a disorienting collective intent on drowning out all thought and so, as she often did, she gave in to the distraction, she let her mind drift in a sea of noise until the glint of something adorned with brilliant and intricate golden patterns caught her eye. Detailed and perfectly symmetrical pattens of metal feathers and swirls wrapped a glossy ivory grip. These patterns extended into an arc that clung to the three barrels of a flintlock pistol that was clearly conceived as a work of art first and a weapon second. She wondered for a moment if the pistol's striking beauty was meant to have this disarming effect if its lethality was meant to be ignored by some unfortunate victim who found themselves stunned by the work of an artisan's hands.

"Alright", Said the pistol's owner in a loud demanding voice that cut through the ambient noise and broke the woman from her trance. "It's time to go".

He was tall and stout. His skin had been burned into such an angry red hue by yesterday's sun, that merely viewing him elicited a dull pain across every inch of exposed skin. She analyzed him as his arm locked around hers and he pulled her to he forcefully pulled her to her feet. She could never overpower him if his size did not make this obvious enough, the three inches she was lifted into the air when he stood her up, did. As they walked, her survey continued. His neck was short and high up, not an ideal target for slashing. As her eyes moved to his torso she reached the conclusion that a stab to the body would likely be absorbed by his girth before hitting anything vital, and with little internal deliberation, she ruled that out as well.

Crewmen passed the duo on their way to complete various tasks around the ship. Some looked at the spectacle that was a portly sailor whose skin glowed with the color of nearly ripe tomatoes, dragging a distressed young woman behind him, but most of the crew ignored this as similar events had become so commonplace on the ship that had been somewhat ironically named "The Almsgiver". A wave crashed against the side of the ship and exploded into a white mist that coated the upper deck. Those on board notice the impact but the Almsgiver is massive and steady, barely rocking on rough waters.

Still, the wave is enough to briefly draw the focus of the few crewmen who bothered to take note of the woman, and the woman took note of this. Her eyes flickered around the deck ensuring that she was no longer being watched before moving back to her captor's pistol. She could grab it, but then what? Would she be able to free it from its holster smoothly or would it snag and give its owner time to react. It didn't matter. She did not know what awaited her at the end of this journey across the deck and was even less certain about the fate that awaited her on dry land. She gripped the bead tightly with her free hand. A crew of fifty four men surrounded her but she'd never bothered to count them, it didn't matter. The pistol, if secured, would grant her a single shot. In the best case scenario, she'd be able to kill a single man.

"Maybe one is enough", she thought to herself. It would be a single life taken at the cost of her own, a chance to seize fate. Her heartbeat was relaxed and steady, in her decision she'd found peace and clarity.

"Now!", she thought. "I'll do it now!"

It was by chance alone that Shakale noticed her. He sensed the hate in her like he had in Ekon and countless others before him. To an onlooker it was like a shiver., the action had begun and been quickly aborted when she saw Shakale, towering over the red pudgy man who'd been dragging her.