Skulduggery Pleasant Fan-fiction- Love Amongst The Cain (Sequel to The Cradle Of Magic)

Safe Waters.

-Dexter

His awned hair billowed in a mahogany wave to the side of his head as the sea bitten wind sliced across his face. The Sniper 6.19, or Daisy, lurched violently to a side with Saracen Rue to follow, forcing him to cling painfully tightly to the safety panel of the open door for dear life's sake.
"CAN YOU NOT DRIVE OR SOMETHING?!" He billowed back, the tempestuous wind outdoing his yells with ease.
The stocky irishman turned from his battered seat at the head of the plane, his hand still lingering on the partnered steering wheel and eyebrow upturned a fraction.
"Saracen Rue this is no time for sexual banter. We're three hundred feet above the North Atlantic Ocean and you have your head halfway out a helicopter. Besides, it's piloting not driving." He gave a faint nod. Havoc sniggered callously and continued to type co-ordinates into his laptop completely unfazed by the storm around the plane.
"You pilot your woman?" The English-man chipped in, his head joining the space next to his partner. The helicopter tipped a harsh left and Saracen yelled as his fin-tipped leg slipped over the side, "CONTROLS, BASTARD!"
Gracious gave a sheepish grin and returned back to controlling, murmuring something to his partner to which provoked them to laugh in synchronicity.
I tightened the loose buckle on my waist and looked up the faint shadow to Pleasant to whom handed me a small dial and knife bound with frayed rope.
"One word of advice." He murmured, handing me a BCD and weight belts.
I stood and took the instruments, binding them to my hips. "Hm?"
"Don't drown."
A small smile twitched my lips and I joined Saracen, adjusting an oxygen tank and placing the mask over my chin.
"Two words, Pleasant." I gave a wink and turned towards a great, billowing spiral of water beneath us the very presence of it sucking the life out of the sky and of the air. I gave my partner one last look and placed the breathing apparatus over my mouth.
And dived one hundred and fifty feet into the whirlpool beneath us.

***
-Bliv

He gave a cocky grin and skittered a brown paper envelope across the mahogany table, much like a pebble across water; his feet resting comfortably on the bottom half of the desk.
"Go on." He gestured his head down a fraction and then back to mine.
My mouth twitched a little and I raised an eyebrow, sitting back in the softened leather chair to which smelt strongly of aftershave and rested my feet on the ground.
"What's this?" I kept my eyes locked unto his dark iris and bit my lip.
He gave a nod of his scarred head and I lent forward, picking it loosely on the tips of my fingers with a sigh. I picked at the rim of the fold and opened it with ease, slipping out an ivory piece of paper labelled in deep black. I let my eyes scan the writing momentarily and flick back to his as his whitened grin widened.
"You're coming. You're an Elder now."
My eyes widened and I shook my head, smiling and re-reading the invitation.
"I can't dance, I don't have a dress, I... No."
He shook his head and rubbed his temple lightly, his finger trailing down the side of his toned and sharpened jawline, "Hence the fact I've made you one."
I gaped at him and leaned over, lifting his chin and kissing his jaw in a split of a second provoking him to blush wildly under his scars. Smiling, I returned to the mere edge of my seat and found his hands.
"Now underlines the fact that I can't dance to save my life..." I muttered facetiously, watching his expression lighten.
"Which is also good because I can teach you..." He tilted his head and smiled, moving his chair back with his foot.
I sat and watched him, lifting my eyebrow higher and trying to form words.
"Ghastly..."
"Ah." He held a finger out and grinned invitingly, holding out his hand. Groaning, I stood and moved around the desk, taking his hand and letting him place a soft hand on the cup of my hip. I looked him in the eyes and he tilted his head.
"Put your hand on my shoulder and your right in mine." I nodded calmly and placed my numb hand on his stiff and robe cloaked shoulder gingerly, the other in his outstretched hand, soft with healed scars.
"Now, Miss Armageddon. I teach you to waltz."