And Nothing but the Sounding Sea

2: ive only known bea for 5 seconds, but if anything happened to her, i'd laugh

She was beginning to regret splitting her lip now. As her throat grew dryer, her lips did as well, and they had begun to chap and split on their own, even with her efforts to keep them still. It was starting to become an effort, not to break the skin and suck at the blood that welled, just to have something to wet her mouth.

I bite my lip, I slak my thirst, I bite my lip, I slak my thirst. The words swirled endlessly around her head.

She refused to stoop that low.

Baking in the heat, sheltered only by her worn coat, Maria closed her eyes and turned her mind towards her first mate- her lover.

Beatrice.

The gods, knowledgeable in all aspects of fate, must have been laughing, for the moment they met they were instant enemies.

They had met that summer after she signed onto a privateer's crew. It had been three weeks after she escaped her Father's estate, and everything felt like it was happening at a distance, to someone that wasn't her. The heat had been blistering, even in her new trousers and cotton shirt, and Maria felt naked without her usual skirts.

That feeling was only heighted as Captain Flanagan prowled in front of her group of twenty, inspecting them all like cargo.

Maria heard every story in the tavern about him: Captain Flanagan was a bastard, an alcoholic, and he worked his crew like dogs. There wasn't a single man aboard his ship who didn't despise him, and he knew it. The only thing that could be said was that he was a damn fine mercenary. He took to hunting like a hound. Few, if any ships escaped him.

When he finally spoke, it was like the sound of snarling wolves. "Listen up. We sail for Belkeep on the morrow. I expect good work from the lot of yeh- I don't give a damn whether yeh know how to do it, but you better do what I say, or I'll throw you overboard for the sharks." He glared down the line. Not a single man moved, none daring.

With one last sneer, Flanagan turned and walked to the captain quarters, slamming the door behind him.

"Alright." The first mate stepped up. "Let's go over yer duties, and then we'll start preparing to sail."

Maria knew from first glance at the mate that there was another woman on board.

She- he, Maria corrected herself- never introduced herself, but instead focused on ensuring they were familiar with the work of a ship. Maria had noticed when boarding that they were a brand new crew, and few had stayed from Flanagan's last one, an apparent common occurrence for the captain. The first mate seemed used to training, and did it well. He was soft-spoken, with a rasp to his voice and a tangle of long blonde hair that hung half-matted over his shoulders.

As the day drew on, the first mate payed her no special attention, but neither ignored her. Maria felt herself relax, even as she strained to keep up with her fellow sailors. Perhaps she had been mistaken; perhaps the other didn't know.

They were dismissed at late evening. Many of the men headed back to town, to enjoy their last bit of time on land before the voyage. Maria slipped down to the cabins below deck to settle in, as she didn't have a place in town, nor wanted to spend the night drinking.

As she strung out her hammock, footsteps came from the doorway behind her. Maria turned, instantly snapping into a salute- it was the first mate.

"Put that arm down," he barked. Maria slowly lowered it, all while the first mate stepped closer, surveying her up and down. She wondered if she could take him if he attacked.

"What's yer name?"

Maria hesitated. "Marius."

The first mate snorted. "Don't bullshit me."