A Siren at the Helm

Chapter XX: Fling-in stew and Cannon fire

The pain came first. An angry throbbing in the front of her head. She tried shutting her eyes tighter, but that did not help much. Tempest scowled at the feeling. She did not want to be awake yet.

Cracking open one eye she saw sunlight shining from behind the curtain at her feet. The eye snapped closed again and she buried her face in the pillow. Why had the day already started? She hadn't been awake to aloud it. With a groan she turned over. A little more sleep could only do her good. She sighed into the sheets.

Hang on a moment... sheets? A pillow?

Tempest flew up. This only caused her headache to intensify and she had to rest her head on her knees for it to return to a somewhat manageable state. She lifted her face again, slowly this time.

Tempest inspected the room; a desk strewn about with maps, a chair, the bed, a small dining table and its chairs, curtains that shielded her from the harsh light coming through a window. This was the captains cabin. She remembered Esteban chasing her out of here two days prior. How in bloody blazes had she ended up here?

She tried sifting through her memories of the previous night. Everything was a bit of a muddle, nothing was in order any more and she struggled completing the thoughts. She had run through the streets but she did not remember seeing anyone. Why not? There were usually people everywhere in pirate ports.

Evita had made her a drink that was quite good. It tasted like pineapple and coconut and left a burning in her mouth. It had rum too she recalled. That would be the cause of her headache then.

One image jumped to the forefront of her mind, chasing away everything else and causing the throbbing in her head to intensify. Two frigid blue eyes stared at her menacingly as they edged closer. She couldn't breathe. It was dark and the stars refused to help her.

Tempest snapped back into the present as the door swung open with a creak that made her wince. On the other side of the now open door an accented voice was yelling orders. Though, today its musicality was lost on her over sensitive ears.
"Ah good! You are finally awake." Esteban closed the door behind him, it's screech piercing the air again.
Tempest glared daggers at him. Company was not welcome. Her head hurt to much for having conversations.
This only had Esteban sniggering.

He strode over to the bed and sat himself down beside her. The metal pieces on his sword's sheath made clicking noises as he did so.
"You look awful," he commented jokingly.
"Why thank you, I don't feel like it at all," came her reply thick with sarcasm. She tugged at the blanket he was sitting on.
"May I ask how I got here?" Tempest gestured to the cabin they were in.
"You needed a place to sleep and I graciously offered up my own private residence?" Esteban gave her a mock bow, though it was difficult whilst sitting.
Tempest did not even bother asking where he had slept instead.

He then responded to her frown with a bright grin before turning to the small table at the foot of the bed. He brought forth a faded pewter tankard and handed it to Tempest. "For the headache," he explained. His cheerfulness was annoying her.
Tempest sourly inspected the contents. The green liquid barely moved as she tried swirling it around. "What is it?" She asked skeptically.
"I do not know. Fish made it," came Esteban's reply.
Tempest stared at it distrustfully, after all, drinks were what got her into this mess. All the while Esteban watched her, a smile teasing at his lips.
After a moment Tempest decided that it could not possibly be worse than her painful temple and took a swig of the suspicious beverage. It was bitter and tart with a salty aftertaste when she had finally managed to swallow it.

After a few gulps she decided that her suffering had now been enough and lowered the mug to her lap. She shuddered as the last of the sludge went down her throat. She thought to herself that children were right to put up a fuss when taking medicine. Adults should too.
Esteban laughed at her disgusted face. "Do not worry. The worse it tastes the better it helps."
"Then this must help a lot." She handed the mug back to him. She had had enough "help" for now.
Esteban returned it to its table.