barcelcs:
she needed a dictionary. not just any dictionary, but one that would actually tell her all the words in a known language when taken from the scribbles on the chest currently on the captain’s cabin of the o canto da sereia; the crew had found it about a week ago, just in time for the festivities, and ever since it had become a beacon of curiosity and greed – no wonder even ever righteous captain barcelos felt compelled not to turn the finding in yet, and to take his time. said time was necessary mostly because not a soul on board knew the language the chest contained, and the one who probably did was off limits – eloisa herself.
the bastard hadn’t even been asked to it, yet as soon as she had heard of it, she wasted no minute in searching for a means to unlock the object – if she didn’t shy away from voicing her curiosities and wishes before being made a pariah for her own father, it wouldn’t be now that she would hold her tongue (besides, isn’t it baby steps, they call? baby steps to gain his trust again, his acknowledgement, his pride).
her fingers hold the leather tightly, ready to take it so she could flip the pages when someone else approaches the shelf and she immediately lifts her stormy hued eyes to judge the person, and, perhaps, with luck, scare them away. her wish become true, as the man steps back as if scorched, but suddenly distance is the last thing eloisa wants; as soon as her big eyes make note of every bit of the ‘stranger’’s features, the orbs widen even more, and her lips fall in shock.
dragon rider. no, he has a name. sebastien. a name she assumed belonged to no grave, as the body certainly had been disposed without ceremony or care, like all sailors and scum who die at sea – only that, on the o canto da sereia, sebastien hepburn had been branded the later.
he avoids her, but none of it is visible to eloisa when she is in complete dazzle, shock in her eyes, brows, the corners of her mouth; her hand lifts to touch his face as if it had been yesterday and not longer than a year the last she has ever touched, seen him, and her fingertips find a harsher piece of skin under smooth, freckled skin – it doesn’t come as one bit of shock to her that the mildly fresh scar is a perfect fit for the edge of the hold of her father’s sword. “i thought…” she begins, but isn’t able to find her words, speechless and deeply embarrassed. i thought you were rotten, under the sea, but she doesn’t say it, swallowing as she feels her cheeks turning pink.
her eyes finally pull away from him and find the book in her other hand, and the furrow between her brows increase. “did you not want it?”
it isn’t without surprise that he feels her hand on his face, almost moving away by reflex. but he doesn’t—instead, he remains still, blinking slowly, eyebrows frowning a little when her fingertips find the scar on his cheek. far from a pleasant memory, he still remembers how he got it, how it was her father’s doing; the many threats that came that day, each of them easily making his body fall cold in a fear he had never felt, and neither wanted to go through again. perhaps it’s this thought, in contrast of how warm and smooth her touch felt, reminding him from the best side of that memory, making a nervous shiver run up his spine, that makes him turn his head a little, giving a step back, putting enough distance between them.
once out of her reach, he looks down at the floor for a while, trying to recompose himself from this nonsense, from the weird fear—her father isn’t there, neither is her brother, or the ship’s crew, no one would kill or hurt him. isn’t he the one who had been training dragons for months now? who got hurt and burns on his arms to prove it? who lived his live without a single fear of dying or making mistakes? he feels pathetic for a little longer before his eyes finds her stormy ones, simply staring at her and finally seeing the confusion on her expression.
for all that time, sebastien had thought he wouldn’t see her anymore—it is a big land, and it isn’t like he thought she would want to see him either. didn’t she get what she wanted, after all? had sex with him, used him to get out of whatever other plan her father had for her? not that he regretted one bit on that but… it isn’t like he got hopeful of getting the friendship he had offered her, knowing that she wouldn’t ever want anything to do with him.
it’s just a coincidence, he reminds himself. they are in mirvia, when everyone else is too. it’s just a stupid coincidence that they were to run into each other when both are alone and not being supervisioned by someone else—him, by his older brother, and her, by all those men sebastien hopes not to see around.
“it’s alright,” he assures her, finally, smiling politely, as if he hasn’t just pulled away from her touch. “i already got all the other ones i needed so… just one missing isn’t a big deal. it’s for my father’s shop,” shrugging, he hopes to be looking as casual as he was when they met. “i’d ask what brings you to mirvia, but…” just one look around and he knows it’s the worse small talk he could use.
