CURSEDSAILS

[cursedsails]

CURSEDSAILS is a dependent blog for avastrp written by rohan <3

𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖟𝖆𝖗. 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊. 𝖔𝖜𝖓𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓'𝖘 𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖙.

intro / threads / musings / visage / pinterest

𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝖒𝖔𝖐𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖎. 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞. 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖇𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗.

intro / threads / musings / visage / pinterest

𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆 𝖙𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗. 𝖕𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖗.

intro / threads / musings / visage / pinterest

[stcadfast]

"that's different." nico argued, immediately, "you telling me to forget you wasn't a matter of life or death." and if it ever came down to the two of them, then nico would give his life for dorian. without question. even if it wasn't different, it wasn't easy for nico. he was not a man who let himself feel deeply for too many people. his crew were the exceptions. they were family to him. his crew ... and dorian. always dorain. if he could stop the caring, then he'd have done so already.

nico nodded, "yes! because i am going to die. they will catch me. i will not be able to dodge them for forever. not now that they know they are to find me. not when they have already caught me once. it is simply a matter of time and i do not want you getting mixed up in things when they do." that would be worse than death itself. if nico was going to be selfless, for the first time in his life, then it was always going to be for dorian.

at the others command, nico sighed. he bowed his head for a moment, as though giving in. when he was about to look back to dorian, the other man had already started to pull him away. towards the sirens nest, he would assume. would he really put the sirens at risk for him? "te amo." nico whispered, unable to look at dorian as they continued to walk.

[cursedsails]

"it's different only because you say it is!" dorian's hiss elevated only a touch, but it was still louder than he wanted it to be. he shot a quick glance in each direction, a sigh escaping his nose as his jaw clenched tight. he pulled nico all the closer to him, but he knew it wasn't safe to move any faster than to walk. it would draw too much unwanted attention, so as fast as dorian's heart was beating, he had to let his feet guide him slower.

"i am mixed up in more than you could imagine." he huffed quietly, his tone less harsh in the brief moment he had taken to compose himself. "and if you think my reach extends as far to you and then stops..." he shook his head, unable to bring himself to look at nico. "you should know better." he muttered.

but nico's words, his admission that dorian had heard so many times before, forced his head to snap. forced his gaze to search for the other man's. forced him to stop dead in his tracks. "basta." it wasn't the fact that nico loved him that made his grip tighten enough to stop his hands from shaking, it was the way he said it like it might be the last time dorian could hear it. "don't talk to me like it's goodbye."

[seaglassstories-deactivated2025]

"When I want my patients to live, they live" That was not always the case with Bartholomew. Sometimes he needed a fresh body in order for his experiments to work. Dorian was not a threat to Bartholomew nor did Bartholomew want to threaten him. It would be foolish to scare the man who runs this town.

Bartholomew leaned against the bricks, ever the portrait of eeriness and glared again. "Of course, Dorian. I'm well aware of your terms. You've made them clear last time I visited" Bartholomew remember the night he came in smelling of death and blood. He knew to stay far away from harming any of the sirens or bringing trouble to the nest. "Nothing disgusting within the Nest's doors." . Not that they'd be much help to him scientifically anyway. "I have more important plans to get ahead of anyway. I hardly believe that any of them would have the cure to smallpox sitting on their dresser "

[cursedsails]

dorian tilted his head, eyes glimmering faint with amusement as though bartholomew just told him a joke that only one of them found funny. "ah yes, that night." the memory lingered sharp, blood on the floorboards from his boots, an unwelcome scent that clung to the air no matter how many candles he lit after. "i'm not often inclined to repeat myself, so i'm glad you were listening." his tone was velvet, smooth as ever, but underneath it lay the faintest scrape of steel.

he drew in a lazy breath, eyebrow cocking. "smallpox, hm? a noble pursuit for such a ghoulish hand. careful, bartholomew. cure too many ills and men might start mistaking you for a saviour." his grin sharpened, as though the whole exchange amused him more than it unsettled. "though i'll admit, the thought of you saving lives is nearly more disturbing than the thought of you ending them."

[josephine-voss]

No, it was simply not fair - how much enjoyment she derived from utter torment was despicable. The scales undeniably tipped in her favor more often than not, more of a game than a contest, and her delight was directly in proportion to how wound up and reactive Nima became to her teasing. A game with an open rule book, of course. Nothing secret or nefarious about it - simply one-sided, and that proved to be cruel enough.

Jo found her back to the table, face nearly flush to Nima's as the physician's glare bore fiery holes into her skin. The grin, impish and taunting in nature, was anything but by the time it reached her eyes. Splendor in the puerile fun danced across her expression in pinpoints, dotting all over her face. As if the entire episode had been a ruse, a ploy, simply to get within a distance of Nima that would allow their breath to mingle, bodies exchanging a little warmth this far away from the fire. "I'm sorry," she choked out of the ropey hold her throat had on the laughter that threatened to erupt. "I'll stop touching the naughty bottles, mum. These hands obey your whims." She danced her fingers on each side of her face, as if to trot out their willingness - or trouble. "Whatever they may be."

[cursedsails]

nima's shoulders slumped, her hand still hovering as if she could snatch the bottle back from jo's orbit even though it was already safe. her lips pressed together, and though she tried to glare, the heat of jo's proximity was far more distracting than she would ever admit. she clicked her tongue softly, a poor attempt at exasperation, and folded her arms across her chest like armour. "you think you're clever, don't you?" she muttered, eyes narrowing but her gaze catching, unwilling to drop from the mischief of shining in jo's. the fingers dancing by her face earned the smallest shake of her head, that traitorous tug at her mouth threatening again. "i should put those hands to work scrubbing floors. see if they're still so eager then." it was sharper than it needed to be, but the softness bleeding into her tone betrayed her, as did the way she lingered rather than stepping back.

after a moment she let her arms loosen with a quiet exhale, fingertips brushing the edge of the table rather than digging into her own elbows. "you'll get me in trouble one of these days. distract me well enough to miss something." she said as she glanced back down at the papers in front of her, a gentleness creeping in despite her best efforts. there was a warmth to her gaze as it lifted again to jo's face, and she angled herself a little more towards her. "though i suppose you'd be the one to get me out of it too, wouldn't you?"

[josephine-voss]

Jo lingered at his knuckles, even as they reached to soothe the warming skin along her face. Not to be undone by a touch, but certainly indulgent in its offer, she tilted her head to imprint another kiss onto his palm. One for the secrets he kept, one for the shield of his alliance. In his arms was like standing on immovable ground - two creatures similar in nature, opportunist but not disloyal, concerned with advantage and allegiance as a pair. "Aye, there's lots of you to go around, I suppose," she chuckled, hand skirting just an inch beneath the open collar of his shirt, palm pressed to heartbeat. "Like good wine. Always buy the case but drink by the glass. Can't let it go to waste on one stupid night's frolic."

No real fiction without truth. As deeply held a belief as the pirate code among them, a north star, and the script all in one. As they tossed around banter with equal measures of divestment and humor, there was always a shred of something real hidden between each word. No good story was believable without it. Even the best of falsehoods rang a familiar toll at the bottom of someone's belly. No real fiction without truth, she thought with a heartened glance that bent at the will of his hands, and never correct yourself. "I meant with the flies hanging around," she answered, tipping her chin to expose the slope of her neck, the neckline of her dress, where they met against the skin of their chests. His thumb ran the edge of her jaw, as if willing the truth from her throat. Her eyes forged into a sharper blade, smithed by the telling, upholding her end of their bargain. He would understand, if he knew how to listen. "They'll pick a carcass clean to the bone - they don't know any different. I'd hate for you to be caught standing in the mess they leave behind."

[cursedsails]

dorian's grin spread all the wider, eyes crinkling as his deep chuckle rose from his throat. "but that is exactly how i hope to go to waste — on a stupid night's frolic. my bed crowded with lovers who will mourn the loss of my cock more than the man attached to it." if dorian were to die any other way then it would be a great injustice to his life's work of enjoying each pleasure to its fullest.

his eyes narrowed as he took in her words, gaze dragging over the exposed line of her throat with a weight that could be hidden well enough to any onlookers. though dorian did what he could to keep the nest safe, there was no way to guarantee that spies could slip through its net, and he knew this room was no place to truly speak freely. so as his eyes met hers again, fingers gently moving to brush her hair from her cheek in a gesture of affection that masked the heaviness between them, his voice dipped low as he spoke slowly. "me estas advirtiendo?" his native tongue felt more secure, though still he made sure no one else could hear. "o me amenazas?"

[nowritingonthewall]

OSCAR ISAAC as Nick Tosches In the Hand of Dante

[emberh3art]

He was silent, but his expression revealed everything that was going on inside him, and it was anything but pleasant. He had failed to reach the Revenge to seek Bartholomew's help, and had stumbled upon the familiar road to Nima purely by chance, thanks to a stroke of luck. His blue eyes followed the brunette, as if he feared she was torn between saving him and killing him. He trusted her somewhat, but they all lived in turbulent times, and often good friends turned out to be enemies under certain circumstances.

"I wasn't particularly lucky in this fight, but others were less fortunate than me," said the captain, but his smile was nothing like the one that usually graced his face - this one was completely grotesque and distorted. It betrayed the pain he felt in that moment. "I don't have much to boast about - three men attacked me from behind. I dealt with them, but I'm not proud of myself, for I never even recognized them."

The pirate hissed, clenching his teeth to keep from letting out an unwitting groan. He refused to show weakness even in so dire a moment. His pride - so great and such a driving force in his life - would not allow him to reveal any part of himself that was not for others to see.

"Why did you agree to help me so easily?" Magnus asked suddenly, looking at Nima. "I suppose you want a favor from me. Is that right?"

He tried to laugh, but what left his lips was only a poor imitation of laughter.

[cursedsails]

nima frowned at magnus' retelling, glancing up again at him to try to read the expression on his face. she had no reason to believe he was lying, and the truth of it made her tighten her jaw a little. not at him, but at the injustice of it. sure, most pirates willingly hung the target on their own back, but nima still found it distasteful. "i'm sorry." she muttered, something uncomfortable settling in her gut at the thought of him killing those three men mixed with a sense of gladness that at least it wouldn't happen again.

she leaned back, arching an eyebrow at him as her lips pursed. "do you forget where you are?" she asked, standing from her stool to go and fetch what she needed to clean and patch him up. he was brave, she could tell that much, but even the bravest of men had flinched under her hands no matter how practiced they were. "this door is open to those who need help. i'm paid for my services, not owed. do you always owe favours to the people who help you?" she gathered what she needed and returned to the stool beside him, moving with purpose and intent, with little room for grace. "maybe you let the wrong people offer you aid."

without warning, she wrung out the cloth from the bucket she had fetched and began to clean his wound, reflexes ready for him to flinch. she gave him a moment, then curiosity got the better of her. "you didn't know them." she mused, keeping her eyes on his wound. "why would they attack you?" naïve as it may have been to ask, nima needed to figure out if there was something about him she ought to know. something that might paint the target on her back too for helping him.

[cursedsails]

@emberh3art — nima & magnus, in sawbone

"sit still." nima scolded, her face the picture of concentration as she held both hands either side of the wound at magnus' waist. she was examining the edges, trying to figure out how much of a clean closure she could manage without much debridement, and it didn't help that her patient kept wriggling. "you want to get comfortable? next time don't get into whatever fight led to this." she was direct at best, perhaps sometimes harsh at worst, but the price of doing so much to help weighed heavily on her sometimes.

she glanced up at him, softening slightly, regaining a little of her bedside manner. "well, go on then." she muttered, a slight glint in her eye as the corners of her lips betrayed a smile. "don't most pirates want to tell the tales of their wounds? won't make it any easier for me, but this is going to hurt, so i'd advise you take the distraction."

[josephine-voss]

closed starter | @cursedsails // nima location | sawbone

"X's mean toxic, nothing on the label means probably toxic, a skull means deadly, but not if the skull has eyes, that's a face, that means your face will melt straight off, Exsic means dried, Sp means spirit, a dram is a measurable unit of volume but a bloody minim means absolutely nothing and yet is somehow still a measurement, one bone on the label means it's for dogs, two bones means it's for women but only on the full moon and in the latter half of the month of May, and it's only at its maximum potency if the medic is hopelessly in love with the patient, is that correct or shall I go on?"

Afternoons tormenting Nima with obnoxious rambling was an afternoon well spent. Enjoyment distilled like sugar down to syrup, pure and sweet in its essence, a sprinkle too much often left on Jo's tongue. She wandered with slow, leisured steps through the scents of herbs and blood, pads of her fingers sliding across tables and shelves as if to read the tales left within their ridges with her touch. A grin, impish and squirming, ached to wriggle up the side of her mouth. She took up a bottle with a black label, red lettering smudged all around its curves. "What's this, then?"

[cursedsails]

nima kept her head down, rifling through papers to make sure that all of her articles were accounted for — even those with forged ledgers from her less reputable business. she had felt the hand of the crown tighten around her neck and its breath raising the hairs on her neck, and though she was thorough, the dread of their fist at her door (or worse, those that she was trying to help) kept her more vigilant than ever.

she was pretending to ignore jo rattling off quite possibly everything she could that might get a reaction out of her, though a trained eye might have been able to notice the tiny tug at the corner of her mouth. she didn't mind jo hanging around, if anything she daren't admit that she enjoyed the company, and try as she might to let her stubbornness win and not give in to jo's teasing, she couldn't stop the snap of her head as she heard something lifted from its shelf, and the way she lurched forward to stop it, reaching towards the other woman.

"don't touch that." her words rushed out of her, then a sigh escaped her just as fast. she knew she should trust jo, she was just so tired. "don't... do anything. why is that so hard for you?" the words fell harsher than she meant them to, and she was far too stubborn to try and take them back now.

[tidecalld]

Rue let out a little sound that was half-laugh, half-sigh. The kind of sound made when the world tasted bitter but one attempted to sugar it up anyway. She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “As long as we paint it red, dear...,” she quipped, voice bright as a thrown match. “Everything looks better in red. A collar, a corset, a coffin. Give it the proper hue and it becomes fashionable rebellion.” Her grin sharpened into mischief. “If the world at some point insists on making me a martyr, I’ll at least make sure it's the right color. But I think I share your sentiment, I prefer to stay in this world for a little while longer.”

When he said the words, gentle and protective that made the lines in his face softening for her, Rue’s expression shifted. The play left her eyes lowered from burning flame to simmer, and something gentler settled in its place. She set her glass down and reached, impulsive as the tide, to squeeze his hand once. The contact of their skin, a gentle touch, always surprisingly grounding. Even if the movement was quick, yet grateful. It was not quite a promise but close. “You say you’d never let it happen,” she murmured, the words tasting like confession. “And I believe you, darling. How I ever came to deserve such devotion is a miracle and mystery to me both.”

Then she let go once more, hand returning to her glass, as if answering a question whispered only to herself. “Still... sometimes it isn’t about what you can stop. The faiths have their vote. The cards remember what my mother taught them, even if the island forgets. They speak in riddles and smoke, and they signed my name long before I learned to shuffle. If the fates choose a path, I’ll read it, learn it, and dance on it until it breaks. But until then… Another cheers, to making our own small revolutions.” She smiled, dangerous and tender both, and let the lantern light catch in her dark eyes.

[cursedsails]

dorian's fingers lingered against hers even after she pulled away, chasing that fleeting press of warmth like a man too stubborn to admit he missed it the moment it was gone. his grin had eased into something softer, almost weary, though the curve of his mouth never quite abandoned its mischief. "red suits you." he said finally. "though you don't need martyrdom to make the world remember you, mi amor."

he shifted in his chair, the arm draped over its back tightening, his body leaning in with a slow and deliberate grace as he let out a rough sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "a miracle? perhaps. a mystery? not to me, i've always known." his thumb traced the condensation on his glass before he slid it aside altogether, leaving his hand open on the table again, palm waiting should hers wish to return. "fate may have written your name, but it never accounted for me. it never does." his crooked smile played warmly on his lips as he shot her a wink across the table.

her toast had him tipping his head in a half-bow, reaching for his glass to lift it once more, though with less theatrics than before. "to your revolutions, querida. and to me watching over you through each one." he chuckled, taking a swig. "you know, i always wondered if you would leave this island. and i always believed that if anyone could find something better off of these shores, it would be you. not that i'm condoning piracy, we've been through that already."

[stcrmings]

his concern written in the line between his brows, dairo waits. lets hanna take the time needed. he's witnessed this before aboard the harbinger's ship, tucked into the hanna's space. he'll always wait, until she's ready.

and yet --- and yet.

would he have ran, if he knew before what would fall from her lips? belief in the boneteller never faltered, for how often has he paid tribute to the sea for safe passage and silent escapes? there are spirits of all kinds who could alter his fate, and he will listen to each, even if they won't change his mind.

but he doesn't truly listen now. he can't. his thundering heartbeat drowns all other sound. a woman --- in you ---- guards you ---

( she haunts his dreams, always in the corner, the breeze kicking up her hair to cover her face. but when she reaches he wakes with beading sweat and gasping breaths and a hear that breaks all over again. )

the silence hangs heavy. hanna looks at him, and dairo can't tear his gaze away. "this woman --- " his voice cracks. swallowing, he starts again. "this woman . . . how long is her hair?"

[cursedsails]

hanna never doubted what she saw, though it wasn't bred from confidence or conceit. she knew that her visions could change and that what she saw one moment could differ from the next, but just as the winds at sea changed, she had learned how to ease her sails and let that wind guide her. it spoke to her, it led her by the hand, and she knew that there were many who didn't understand. many who would curse her for false idolatry, for arrogance, for lies.

but that look on his face. the way his eyes revealed the way his very soul was being carved out. hanna knew that dairo felt it too.

at his question, her hand raised close to his face and moved slowly as if she were stroking the dark strands of this woman's hair around her nimble fingers. her hand stopped just past his shoulder, where she could see the strands fade away. "so beautiful. so... so much sorrow." she muttered with a deeply furrowed brow, as if the words just slipped out without her control. she was still in a daze from this spectre who had visited her.

[stcadfast]

nico hadn't realised who it was that he was speaking to... if he had, would he have still said the same thing? hadn't they tried time and time again to forget one another? nico had tried to bury himself in anything other than the man in front of him and he had always failed. but what was the alternative? if he was found to be wrapped up with nico, would dorian be one of the faces that stared upon tortuga from the gallows?

no. he couldn't let that happen. he wouldn't. nico would sooner give himself to the guards before he let anything happen to dorian. this was the man that he had loved for most of his life. this was the man who gave so much of himself to the people who relied on him. what did nico have? not much.

he sighed, "it would be better if you forgot me, mi vida." the pet name slipped out before he could think better of it. "knowing me will only get you in trouble. you and the sirens. you need to forget i ever existed." if the roles were reversed, nico knew it would be impossible for him to do as he told dorian. but he had to hope. he had to try. "you couldn't know that i was here, dorian. it would land you in a world of trouble."

[cursedsails]

dorian watched the recognition flicker over nico's face, saw the way it etched that very same pain into him every single time. it was as though every word ever said between them was echoed on nico's face, so expressive and so very readable, especially to someone who understood him the way that dorian did. still, it only made his jaw clench tighter, the situation at hand far more tense than any words ever exchanged between them.

he couldn't help but scoff again at nico's suggestion to forget him, his pulse thumping harder under his skin. "how many times have i told you the same thing?" his voice was a harsh whisper, muted by the hum of tortuga's busy streets at this time of night when devils came out to play. "and every time you come back." he had warned him off more times than he could count, had told him that his hands were no safe place to keep his heart, even if they had tried to cling to it.

"and now, when you think you are going to die, you tell me to forget? now? dios mío, sometimes i forget you are a pirate until you say something so stupid." the words were spilling out of him, fuelled his passion. by his anger and frustration. by his godsforsaken heart. "venga conmigo." he gave nico no choice as he took his arm and began to lead him through the dingy narrow street. "save your heroics about getting me into trouble." he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, but if the last time he saw nico's face was at the gallows, he would have far more trouble with the crown trying to burn them all down than he would trying to stow nico away from them.

[stcrmings]

their irritation doesn't dissipate at dorian's antics. but it weakens nonetheless, propped by the decades they've spent in his orbit. the ships still remain on the horizon, but kun's mind can focus here, on dorian's lips brushing knuckles, and be better for it.

still, they roll their eyes, head following in action. "i'd knock you out before you could take enjoyment in being tied up." the smallest curl of amusement plucks at the corner of their lips, and they pull their hand away, beckoning him to follow into the apothecary.

"nearly everything i make is illegal. surely you have something specific in mind?" they walk toward the back, fingers beginning to trail over their more eccentric ingredients. "what trouble do you want?"

[cursedsails]

"i know you could. i would never challenge your strength. a battle of wits, though? you and i might be at a tie." dorian loved that roll of their eyes, he'd learned to find great enjoyment in seeking in it out in the years they had known each other. they could tut at him as much as they liked, but they still let him through their threshold with the tiniest of smiles on their face, and that is what dorian loved. their familiarity, their kinship. it was more important to him than someone who could conjure him up a substance that could cloud him over for the evening, though that certainly did have its perks.

"why do you always assume i want trouble?" he drawled, that famous lazy grin on his face. "i want to have fun. i want to fuck for hours. there's no trouble in that, is there?"

[josephine-voss]

She gifted his words with a laugh, coaxed from her body with the same sweetness of the rim of a rum glass. "Mmm, you are right about that," she trilled with all the idle playfulness of a well-fed house cat, reaching for the chalice and stealing it from his lips, bringing it to her own with a swift, spoiled smirk, gaze never breaking from his endless eyes. Smokey, bodied flavor glided across her tongue and down her throat, a warmth like the last touch of sunset before darkness swept in. "And here I am, basking in all your kingliness without even a kiss hello. Why should your sirens keep you all for themselves?"

His hand grazed the soft skin of her face and she felt her muscles become leaden, dropping into the landscape of his form. Her eyes stopped on Dorian's, not imposing, not studying, but rapt, a home made inside his gaze, even if no place truly was. Never the same place twice, the operative's mantra, had long since disintegrated under his keep. An otherwise trepidatious agreement that allowed her to walk into his stage as any character that suited her - siren, customer, winemaker - in fair and equal exchange for his protection from the less reputable, less scrupulous among them. And here, resting against him, free under a siren's skirt, and heart quickly following, Josephine bought into every piece of the fiction. "And how well fed you've kept me. I'm sorry if you've been bitten in my absence." She placed a hand not inside his, but underneath, to cradle his fingers, lifting them like expensive silks, up to her lips, a kiss to the ridges of his knuckles like a secret tucked between pillows. A name unmentioned but fully understood. "Of course, my love," she replied against his skin, as if imbuing her breath into his veins. "Nunca deseo molestarte."

[cursedsails]

dorian's smirk bent into something sharper at the theft of his glass, watching the smear of her mouth stain where his lips had just been. he let her keep it, accepting his poor hospitality for not offering her one the moment she arrived, and gestured to a passing siren to bring him another with just a nod of his head and a wink. then, he looked back at her, fingers still brushing the soft swell of her cheek. "nobody keeps me to themselves, amor. least of all from you." he made no show of simply leaning in to kiss her with all the softness of a gentleman greeting a lady, though anyone who knew him would know his loyalty to a lover was as slippery as an alley cat.

then he leaned back again, a soft and barely noticeable sigh leaving his lips. when she melted into him, when her hand ghosted up and pressed his own to her mouth, something in his body stilled. he let her guide him, let her tuck that secret between her lips and his skin, and for a breath it was almost enough to quiet the sharpness in him. his thumb traced her jaw, steady, as though pinning her there by touch alone. "molestarme?" he tilted his head, pressing close enough that her perfume blurred with the wine still warm in his mouth. "why do you say that? do you bring me something bothersome?"

[seaglassstories-deactivated2025]

Bartholomew scoffed at Dorian's crooked gaze. Not even a flinch. Has Bartholomew lost his touch with being cruel? "Reservations? i have not done anything wrong tonight" He began to smile again. Bartholomew could possibly get Dorian to go away if he continued his gruesome conversation. "What is it that you object to? The body snatching? The live experiments? My studies on disease?" He had to know what Dorian's limit was. Of course, being the owner of a Brothel Dorian had probably seen it all.

"I am a surgeon, and a rather accomplished one at that!" There was nobody in Tortuga that Bartholomew knew of that could match his expertise in the sciences. He had visited the Siren's Nest occasionally to indulge in comfort and intimacy. While he enjoyed it nothing could compare to the thrill of studying anatomy and medicine in his little alcove on the Raider's Revenge "The live ones have their uses I suppose"

[cursedsails]

dorian let the man's words hang between them, the smile never once faltering though it sharpened like the edge of a blade honed. "accomplished, are you? i suppose that depends on whether you measure accomplishment by the patient's survival or your own amusement." he knew better than the push, to tease a man like bartholomew, yet here he was unable to help himself.

"i don't object, mi amor, not outside of my doors. so long as your curiosities are strictly kept from my house, then we're far less likely to fall into trouble with one another, aren't we?" his eyes narrowed just a touch, enough to let that smile on his lips border on threatening, or at least allude to it.

[emberh3art]

He watched Hanna with obvious interest and acknowledged each of her words with a slight nod. If it weren't for his broad, cocky smile, he would have looked like a serious and thoughtful man weighing her confessions. But Magnus loved to drive others crazy, refusing to show even a hint of courtesy toward those he was indifferent to, let alone someone he more or less considered his enemy. And yet, one could say that he had a soft spot for the pirate who looked at him with such distrust. Her mysterious personality amused him, even though he didn't believe the rumors circulating around town about her.

"You try to stay out of my sight, yet follow me like a shadow" said the Blue-Eyed Devil thoughtfully, pressing his index finger to his lips. "I'd say you've got your eye on me, but you can't admit it to yourself. Don't worry - you have time. I, however, sometimes think of you at night."

His chuckle filled the space between them, and Magnus shook his head as if he didn't believe his own words. He doubted that Hanna would take them well. Did he like teasing her? Oh, absolutely. Let’s see how careful she could be before she pounced on him to claw his eyes out.

"There's a difference between looking and seeing, don't you think, my dear? But you're right that I'm not known for my patience, and not everyone can escape my foul temper. Thank God I like you so much and wouldn't allow myself to give up your company."

He winked playfully at her, continuing with his act. And although he seemed careless and distracted, the captain did not take his eyes off the woman, as if he were expecting some dramatic change that would surprise them both.

[cursedsails]

that smile, all barbed teeth and forked tongue, made no friendly appearance of his face. hanna didn't need to be considered a seer to be able to picture the flesh he could tear from bone with that devilish grin that never seemed to cease. only a fool would trust that smile, and she felt like it would be the last thing they would see in the dark before their end. perhaps it would be her undoing too, though it was not a belief she put much faith into.

"the fish will follow the shark to hide under its fins, because it is safer there than it is to try and outswim the shark." she replied plainly, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes that could suggest playfulness, if it were possible that she could offer someone like magnus that.

hanna noted his unrelenting gaze, his stance, the way his eyes flickered with something wild and untamed like he was expecting a fight. "do you think i will hurt you?" she expected he might laugh and mock her for the small creature that she was, it was his way after all, but she was trying to reach whatever lay beneath that twisted grin. "my blade is not destined to spill your blood, magnus. does yours thirst for mine?"

[velourhush]

her eyes darkened, a molten gleam flickering beneath the surface, and the air between them seemed to pulse with the unspoken challenge of it. she let his fingers rest against her pulse, felt the deliberate weight of his presence, and instead of yielding, she leaned into it just enough to stake her claim on the moment. her shoulder brushed against his palm, subtle, teasing, a current of defiance that set the space around them alight. “win,” she said, voice low and slow, a velveted flame curling around each word, “is a matter of perspective, dear dorian. some measure it in conquest, in the moment of a body surrendered. others measure it in endurance — holding the fire and not letting it reduce you to ash.” she lifted her chin, eyes locking onto his with a heat that promised both danger and reckoning. “you will find… if your intent is to scorch me, to force me to the floor, you will need more than hunger and teeth. you will need respect for the burn, because otherwise — you will find yourself charred before i even flinch.” her fingers wound around his wrist with the slightest pressure, a tether that was as deliberate as it was intimate, asserting control without relinquishing any herself. the brush of her lips along the edge of his jaw was a whisper of challenge, a hint of fire in a room already thick with it. “i am not a prize to be won,” she murmured, breath warm against his skin. “i am not a toy to sate a desire or a hunger that can be satisfied with touch. i am the match to the flame, and if you intend to play… you’d better be ready to burn as much as you ignite.” she shifted, just enough that her body pressed against him, measuring him, testing him, letting her cheek graze his shoulder. every movement was precise, predatory, full of intent — an unspoken dare wrapped in silk and steel. “i do not beg, i do not plead,” she whispered, letting the words curl between them like smoke and sparks. “i am fire, and fire does not bow. it consumes. it licks and it sears, but it also demands the courage to meet it head on. so tell me, mi león… can you endure the heat you crave, or will you learn what it means to be burned by the one who refuses to bend?” her gaze flicked down to his chest, then back up, sharp and unrelenting, and she pressed a palm there, letting the warmth of her own body mix with his, a silent declaration. “i am not afraid of the storm you carry,” she said, voice low, threaded with smoke and steel. “i will meet it, and i will meet you in it. but know this — i do not fall. i do not break. and if you want me, you will have to take me as i am… unyielding, untamed.” her lips hovered near his again, the faintest curl of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, eyes shimmering with promise and threat. “so, mi león,” she breathed, letting the words hang heavy in the charged air, “are you prepared to play with fire, or will you be the one consumed?”

[cursedsails]

his laugh came low and rich, spilling against her skin where his lips lingered, the laugh of a man indulged. she spoke of fire again, of storms and heat and burning, and still he did not so much as stir from that lazy coil of control. inside, though, he let her words roll over him, testing their weight and their bite. she'd said he needed to respect the burn, as though he had ever feared it. as though he had not spent his life feeding on the scorch and the ruin it left behind.

his grip on her wrist tightened, enough to remind her that he could turn her whichever way he pleased. he guided her palm higher up his chest until it rested at the hollow of his throat, until she could feel his pulse still steady beneath her fingertips. "you think i don't know the price, mi sirena?" he murmured, his other hand sliding from his jaw into her hair to weave tight at the roots. he forced her head to tip back, her long dark hair spilling over the banister. "you call yourself untamed... good. i don't want something that bows."

his teeth caught at her bottom lip, a sharp sting of promise before he let it go again. "but don't mistake my patience for restraint. you've set your challenge, now show me if you can survive it." his grin widened into something wolfish, as he glanced down at the room below them that still thrummed with laughter and clinking glass. then his gaze flickered back to her, dark eyes burning. "what do you want?" the question had a different weight to it, his tone dropping as his eyes narrowed. "why do you come up here? to offer me games and refuse to play them with me?"