• Graded • Life Is But A Dream... [Wendell/Valkan]

[Freya DuCarinos]

○ Common ○ Rakahi ○

99th Trial of Vhalar, Arc 716

Freya and Wendell had worked out a bit of a truce since they began speaking a week ago. She didn't trust the others to keep away from him and so, insisted that he remain in her quarters until they docked at Rhakros. Wendell, of course, was resistant. His attitude would spur at the slightest mention of the place, of Rharne or of anything having to do with slavery. Freya thought it best to avoid the subjects and instead, took to educating Wendell on Rakahi. The man didn't much care for it. Well, he didn't seem to care for anything really, but they were making slow progress and that was what kept Freya from throwing him to the wolves.
Wendell was becoming an irritating annoying, however, due to his overwhelming presence every time they were near each other, she often overlooked his behavior in favor of watching the man. He could be the biggest, most spoiled child the woman had ever met and then suddenly, a glint in his eye would catch her off guard and make her insides squeeze and her palms itch to touch. Due to such conflict, Freya herself was becoming an irritated mess. The rule on the ship was no sex between crew members and though she couldn't speak for Qyona, Freya wasn't about to let her emotions rule her judgment once more. She couldn't or else that would give the crew means to take advantage of her or worse...
But things were slowly spiraling into chaos with the new member aboard. Haraji had stopped by her quarters to inform Freya of the whispers between the crew, namely the fact that Qyona and Gorroc knew she'd stolen their money maker from them. After a while, it even appeared as if Freya was hiding from them, stashing both her and Wendell behind the barred door. Valkan was concerned on top of this, but there was nothing they could do until they reached Rhakros. Once they were there, she would dump the two troublemakers and continue on without them... It was best that way.
Night fell and the moons of Idalos took refuge in the starry skies above when Haraji knocked on her door. Both Wendell and Freya where inside, settled over a book written in Rakahi while Freya was attempting to show him the difference between past tense and present tense words. She looked up then and closed the book, rising to open the door.
“It's time for your watch.” Haraji mumbled sleepily, then turned to head for his bunk. Nodding, Freya closed the door and moved to face Wendell.
“Come above with me.” Freya beckoned. “Bring book, I will show you more.”
There was a warm front moving through when the two clomped up the stairs to the deck above. Freya always accompanied Wendell anywhere on the ship. It was another nuisance that he had no trouble pointing out. Regardless, she kept to him when he would wander off and yelled at him when he'd try to defy her.
“You know name for ship in Rakahi?” She asked, taking hold of the wheel, “Arbiter. Say it.”
When he would spit out the word, Freya would smile and shake her head. “No, roll on tongue. Say it like... Arbiter.”
She took a moment to herself to think, while Wendell carried on. “Companion,” Freya used his nickname, ”Do you know way of Biqaj? Clans and ships and meanings in clan crests? Purpose and meaning in family and u... un... unite? Unity..? You do not, do you? Well, much pride is taken from clan and family. Close unity in blood and much honor in name, depending on clan. Most Biqaj have clan name, but I do not.” She admitted softly. “My mother met death after birth of me. I became orphan because no father could claim me. Biqajs do not welcome orphan blood, new blood, into name. It is looked at as dirty and spoiled. So I became burden.”
Her eyes shifted into deep blue and spiraling silver as Freya looked out onto the waves, the ship sailing gently over them. “Support I need but had none. Clan would not welcome my blood and so, I keep outside of circle. No unity I was given. But hardship was not so hard with help from those in Ne'haer. Living was hard but not as hard with Companions. Friends. I make choice not to fall, even though I want to. Easy is it to greet darkness, but I am judge of my life. I wish better for me and I grow strong from choice I make. So I take from title: Arbiter, and with you, I have clan now...”
Her crystal blue eyes slid over to Wendell then and watched his reaction. Would he have a go at her again, like he usually did? Or would he understand want an impact his unfortunate situation made to Freya? Before she could let him capture her vulnerability, she changed the topic and looked away.
“Arbiter is judge and we are judge of our life. So Arbiters we become and no one can argue with that.”
She knew he would retort when she watched his mouth open but shook her head and released the wheel, “Watch... I forgot a book for you.” She pressed quickly and moved to step around him. Freya mentally slapped herself, having said too much too soon to the man. After his resistance and noncompliance to her simple requests, she had opened a door for him that he was bound to wreck, tempting her to push him completely away if he did.

[Wendell]

This was worse than prison. On land, in a traditional cell, at least one could dream of escape, but out here, at sea, there wasn't anywhere to run. Wendell was sure his pacing was going to wear a hole in the floor of the boat. Freya watched him like a hawk, leaving him in peace only to wash or relieve himself. He knew only the parts of the ship she had allowed him to venture to alongside her, and yet he felt as if she knew every inch of him by sight, just as their close confinement had allowed him to learn her. The way she moved, the looks she gave people, the colours her eyes took on, and the subtle things, like the way her shoulders tightened when she was mad.

The introduction to her language had been welcomed, especially the greetings and farewells they used, and the body language or facial expressions that went with it. The continued lessons, however, had become far more advanced, and Wendell had struggled to keep up, or perhaps lost interest, losing himself instead to the smell of her hair, the way her lips moved when she spoke, and the way she opened up sometimes, only to recoil again like a snake from the heavy hoof of a horse. Mentally he would scold himself whenever he caught himself staring. She was his keeper, he was no better than a trained monkey learning to walk, talk, and live in their foreign culture.

“Past tense, walked… subject I,” he looked at her for reassurance, sure he was butchering her language. “I walked the store?” His brow knotted. “Wait… no. I walked to the store.”

Someone came to the door and Wendell was summoned to his feet. He pushed himself away from the hammock and followed Freya to the wheel, one she asked him to take up while she returned to get the book. She had left him with a lot to think about, the talk regarding her clan, the ship, and her interpretation of judgement. He didn't have to do anything, just hold the wheel steady. His limited understanding of seafaring would allow him that much.

Wendell looked out at the sea. For the most part the water seemed calm but there was a slight swell that made it tricky to tell if the boat was going straight. The man supposed it was as long as he kept the wheel in the same position, but glanced up at the sky as if the stars themselves might offer guidance. It was then he heard the light footfalls at his back, and reacted too slowly to turn about and find Gorroc sneaking up on him. The pain across the back of his head was blinding and the ship took a sharp left turn as Wendell fell. Gorroc slammed into the rail and Wendell touched the back of his head, relieved to find that he wasn't bleeding again.

Gorroc had dropped his weapon, and with temporally blurred vision, Wendell made a grab for it before racing to his feet to swing at the man with the wooden bat. Gorroc grabbed the end and the two men wrestled for a spell, the boat had stopped but was jarred by the waves, no longer cutting through them but instead positioned side-on to their slow but consistent onslaught. Another wave threw them against the rail again and the bat was dropped, sent overboard with the force of the impact. Gorroc took pause, but Wendell knew better than to wait and lunged at the taller male, pinning him against the rail, hoping that if he could not throw Gorroc to the sea, that he might at least be able to get in a few good punches before the man’s senses returned to him.

[Valkan]

Life at sea was both a limitless freedom and a communal prison. The Aribiter could take them anywhere in the world, any continent beyond the endless horizon that surrounded them on all sides, where foot or hoof or wheel could not take them. Yet they all floated on the expanse of their freedom in a big wooden cell, self-sustaining, seven people with different agendas striving for personal gain while they tried not to kill each other.

Valkan sat at the far tip of the bow on a water barrel, where the moonslight lit the deck among many shadows. The thick rope in his hand folded and bent as he recited the mantras in his head, taught to him by Caed and Harajinask. Loop, loop, thread, pull. Sailors used a myriad of knots, many that could prove useful on land as well, so the ex-soldier sought to learn them so he could be more useful aboard ship and off.
He tugged at the rope and the knot fell apart. "Sarding shagpile." He muttered, picking it up again and starting over. Loop, loop, thread, loop, thread. He tugged again. The tangled twists tightened into a familiar knot.

His gaze lifted to the stern. Haraji had disappeared and Freya and the one she called Companion appeared in the pale light behind the wheel. Val grunted to himself. The fiasco that unfolded over the past ten trials or so was disconcerting, as was Freya's insistence that he not interfere. Valkan had warned her about those two, the Lothar and the redhead. Brawn and brains and not a fekkin' ounce of respect between the two of them for Freya or anyone else. He had threatened Freya with running the big dumb ass through as a proper precaution, given his record aboard the ship on the trip from Ne'haer, but that was not how running a ship went, it appeared, and he backed off. Frustrated that he could not take action to keep her safe, Val skulked, watched and listened. It would all come to a big, ugly head...and burst.

The man they abducted was a curious case. Valkan had a twinge of pity for the stranger. Both he and the abducted man ended up on the Arbiter unplanned, but it worked out a lot better for Valkan. The Hiladrithian watched things progress from afar, how Freya took him and marked him as her own to protect him. He was not privy to their conversations, her Companion was holed up safe and secure from the rest of them. But it was clear the Biqaj had taken the man under her wing. Even across the deck, Val could see how they interacted, how looks lingered, sometimes adversarial, sometimes quite the opposite. He went back to his knots.

Another glance up and Freya was gone, the man standing behind the wheel, a bit tentatively. No one had a free ride on the Arbiter, everyone learned to tend to the ship. Loop, loop, thread, loop, tighten. Another success. He was getting it.

Hazel gaze lifted again to see the big ape creeping up behind Freya's slave, a makeshift club in his hand. "Son of a bitch..." He mumbled to himself. Enough was fekking enough. The rope fell to the deck and Valkan vaulted over the heavy coil and ran across the deck towards the aft. He stumbled as the ship took a hard left, grabbing the rail, watching the struggle between the men ensue. The Arbiter's heading went awry, and it shuddered as the wave struck the hull, making it harder to traverse the deck. The slave was a big man, perhaps a hair taller than Valkan himself and equally as muscled, but Gorroc was a giant of a man. The slave had him against the rail, but for how long was unsure.

Valkan finally climbed to the quarter deck and rushed to the slave's side, who fist was already lifted to pound. Gorroc too balled up a ham-like fist to retaliate, But the Hiladrithian grabbed his wrist and threw his weight against it to arrest the strike. He positioned his body, grunting with the effort, trying to restrain the bulging arm, hoping to free up a hand to reach the dagger at his side, finally seeing his chance to rid them all of the troublemaker. Gorroc tried to kill Freya's Companion, she would have a hard time arguing that lethal force was unnecessary.

[Freya DuCarinos]

○ Common ○ Rakahi ○

99th Trial of Vhalar, Arc 716

She was back in her quarters with a quick breath, having fled the deck as fast as she could without making it obvious she was running from the man and the conversation she'd inevitable started. Wendell was not a person to get close to, he was a means to an end. A burden placed on her shoulders and for some reason, both of them were failing to see that. Maybe it was the time at sea that was causing her to want to get close to him. Maybe it was the fact that they were shut into a tight room together for many breaks of the day. Maybe it was because it had been a fine bit since she felt muscles tighten beneath her fingertips.
Regardless, those emotions were present; one minute there would be an uneasy, electric tension around them, the next both would ease back, barriers suddenly erect by harsh words, narrow eyes, or a simple change in topic. Freya was aware of her attraction to Wendell, mostly due to the fact that he was taller than her and bulkier with lips that grabbed her attention every time he spoke. But that's all it was. Simple physical attraction. She didn't know him, but she cared to... There was always a reason why people crossed paths.
Sighing, she left the door open and walked to the bookcase that had been fixed to the wall to keep it from moving. The books themselves were fastened into their respective shelves and Freya took time analyzing the text of each binding, looking for the one that would help Wendell understand their language the best. He was picking up rather quickly, Freya was impressed.
The squeak of a foot pressing against the floorboard caused Freya to turn, expecting to see Wendell, only to suddenly see stars as her head was bashed roughly into the side of the bookcase. There was a hand in her hair, throwing her head back into the wooden fixture as Freya's vision whitened in pain. Lifting her hand up to stop the blunt force, she was yanked back and felt a thin arm tuck around her neck as a female voice chuckled in her ear.
“By the fates, I've wanted to do that for so long now.” Qyona squeezed her arm around Freya's throat as the woman scrambled. She had little knowledge of combat and the crew new it. It was why Qyona thought she could take advantage of the Biqaj.
“You sarding bitch!” She hissed out, clawing at Qyona's arm whose grip only tightened.
“I'm fine with that,” Was her answer, “You'll be dead and I'll be the sarding bitch who takes your money and your slave. Did you seriously think marking that harlot would save him? You're such a foolish wench, Freya...”
She gasped and tried to kick, tried to punch, and claw, and fight, but it was all in vain. Freya was chocking and while she attempted to free herself, Qyona simply tightened her grip, “Just die, sarding foul-born...” She grunted.
Freya's green eyes slowly blackened, her vision tunneling to the bookshelf in front of her as her gaze landed on a letter opener. It must have fallen out of some nook when her head hit the shelf, and it was within reach! Desperate hands clamored for the opener, grabbed a hold, and sank the thin metal into Qyona's thigh. A cry escaped her as she threw Freya away from her, the Biqaj woman falling to the floor in a fit of coughs and gasps.
“Caed..!” She tried to call, but her voice was hoarse and broken. “Haraji..! Valkan..!”
“Does the damsel need rescuing?” Qyona gritted out, removing the letter opener from her leg. It clattered ominously to the floor as she approached once more. Freya started to crawl away but the woman was quick to fall upon her, though not before she removed a long, pointed dagger from the sheath upon her back. “No one will save you...”
Freya anticipated her decent and kicked her, but Qyona knew she would take such action and avoided it. Her dagger swung down with force. Freya only had a moment to push her arm away and redirect the dagger from impaling her chest before a scream of pain tore from her throat as the blade pierced her shoulder through to the floor below.
Silver blood gushed from the wound like a glistening river, soaking her clothes and coating her skin in shimmering iron. Qyona laughed and twisted the blade, drawing out another horrid scream from the woman as tears pricked her eyes. Freya wasn't ready for this... She was going to die.
“You could have had a quick death, just like your slave. Now I'll enjoy this torture.” She twisted the dagger again, but Freya's attention hung on her words. Wendell? Dead? Had she killed him already? But she would have heard it...
Gorroc.
Just then, the ship jerked violently, throwing Qyona off of Freya as movement above deck sounded. There was a struggle taking place and Freya needed to get up there..! With the dagger still dug into her shoulder, the woman tried to push herself up but was sent to the floor again as a wave crashed into the hull. Where they against the tide? Turning her head, black eyes watched as Qyona scrambled to her feet and launched herself toward Freya, but the violent rock of the ship made it so they rolled with Freya coming out on top. Straddling the woman so her arms were pinned down, the Biqaj dug her hand into Qyona's hair and forced her head back.
“You..!” She heaved, the adrenaline surging in her veins enough to give her courage to rip the blade from her shoulder with a strangled cry. “You scum!”
“Is that all?” Qyona laughed, “You wouldn't—“
With unchecked rage, Freya plunged the dagger into the woman's eye, silencing her once and for all. Rage kept her going as she pulled the dagger back and plunged it into her skull again. Red blood dotted her face, smeared against silver and staining her clothes. Freya released her aggression over and over and over till she was so sick by the sight, she had to crawl away quickly from the body to vomit up her dinner in a bucket.
The boat rocked again, but Freya was feeling extremely weak from the attack. She looked back at the scene and saw silver blood painted all over the floorboards, mixed with thick red. She'd lost so much... and yet, she needed to keep going. She needed to fight. Pushing herself to her feet, Freya stumbled from her room to the stairs, but as her foot lifted to take the first step, the ship pushed her roughly against the wall and she crumbled, finding rest on the wooden steps as her eyes slid shut and she bled out...
Gorroc knew he could easily overpower the slave, especially if he hit him well enough in the head to knock him out. But Gorroc had misjudgment the slave's sense of presence and was caught before he could place the right kind of blow to the man's head. Even so, he still hit Wendell, knocking him down as the slave brought the wheel around with him. Then the struggle ensued...
Before long, he found himself pinned to the rail by the slave, anger erupting within him as adrenaline surge. He rose a fist to punch the scrap of a man away, but was held back by Freya's other toy— Valkan. The Lotharro roared in anger, his strength and endurance catching as all at once, he threw the men off.
Or at least attempted to. The crash of waves against the boat brought both men back to him and Gorroc swung, aiming an uppercut at Valkan. “This is none of your concern, toy.” He hissed. “Go back to your mistress' bed.” Eyes swinging to Wendell, Gorroc approached. “A worthless slave on a worthless ship ran by a worthless captain... “
Knocking Valkan out of the way, Gorroc tackled Wendell, throwing them both to the floor as he tried to wrap his hands around the man's throat. If he was successful, the Lotharro would turn back to Valkan. “Drop your weapons or else I break his neck.”
If he was not and Wendell struggled free, the Lotharro would jump back, keeping his eyes on the two.

[Wendell]

What was it about these people and inflicting so many head wounds? Wendell was quite sure he would forget himself by they time they reached land, if they ever reached land… he didn't know much about the stranger that had come to his aid, and doubted either of them would live long enough to correct that, not if they were to face Gorroc, a man who had twice overpowered him already.

Tossed about by the waves and keeping his hands up to attack or defend, Wendell found it hard to keep his footing and was easily thrown to the ground by Gorroc, who followed him to the deck, giant hands closed around his throat. Wendell threaded his arm between Gorroc’s in an attempt to take out an eye with the point of his thumb, but found himself unable to reach. Dark spots flashed in and out of view at the edge of his vision, and the veins in his neck and face bulged as he tensed, trying to minimise the damage Gorroc’s hold was doing.

Hands balled into tight fists, Wendell punched the giant in the side with as much force as he could muster, and gurgled as he head was slammed back against the wooden planks beneath him. Disoriented, Wendell felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness, but kept one eye trained on his attacker. His arms felt heavy and slumped at his sides, and as he bent his right leg, he remembered the knif tucked in his boot, one Freya had entrusted him with.

Something distracted Gorroc, perhaps the man the giant had referred to as toy, long enough for Wendell to retrieve the knight. It was small, and probably useless for stabbing, but sharp. Wendell raised the blade to Gorroc’s ear, and in one swift motion, severed the twisted flesh and cast the blade from his grasp, sending it over the rail and into the ocean. The sound Gorroc made was unlike any Wendell had heard a man conjure before, heartstopping, a roar that seemed to shake the boat. The giant reached up to hold his hand to the bloody hole where his left ear had once resided, and Wendell took his opportunity to escape, thumping the man again with the edge of his closed fist, this time across the face.

The giant rolled and Wendell struggled to his feet and took hold of the wheel to stop the boat from turning anymore. He kicked a thin length of wood from the guard in front of the wheel and took it up to shove between the railing and the helm, locking it in place. “Throw him over!” he called to Valkan and looked across the deck to find Freya slumped against the stairs; had she knocked herself out when the ship had plunged into a hard left?

Wendell jumped the guardrail in front of the helm and shot across the deck to check on the woman. He was taken aback by the sight of the silver liquid that coated her shoulder and arm, but quickly realised upon closer inspection that it was oozing out of a wound. The captive looked beyond the door to find the only other woman on the boat dead, and lay Freya flat against the ground to close his hands over her wound.

“Caed!” Wendell bellowed, he was the only other person on the ship he knew he could trust.

[Valkan]

Common---Rakahi

Valkan strained against the angry giant, leaning his weight into Gorroc's shoulder, his boots digging into the decking. It took the captive and Valkan both to keep the big thug against the rail, and even then the ex-soldier could not spare a hand to grab the dagger hanging from his belt. Finally Gorroc prevailed, and Valkan stumbled back with the slave. Balance was a fleeting thing on the deck of the Arbiter, her hull turned cockeyed, rolling as the swells thumped against her. When the sway of the ship recoiled, the awkward dance continued, and both me staggered back towards the Lothar.

A ham-like fist rose from the deck, aimed at Valkan's jaw. Using his wayward momentum, the Hiladrithian spun on a heel, carrying him out of the path of the dangerous blow. But Gorroc was a brawler, and turned the failed strike into an effective jabbing elbow. It caught Valkan in the chest, the force conspiring with the tossing ship to send the man reeling backwards until he hit the deck with a solid, thud, his chest aching with every breath.

Blurry eyes saw the big form move to the slave, hunching over him. Valkan rolled into a crouch, his hand finally wrapping around the hilt of the short blade at his side. But as his vision cleared, he saw the meaty hands around the man's neck, heard Gorroc's gravely voice cutting the over the wind. Every spiteful, venomous word that spilled from those filthy lips chafed against Valkan's ire. But his hand stayed, gripping the dagger hilt but leaving it sheathed. In the length of a labored breath, Val pondered the threat. He wanted to kill Gorroc, wanted to kill him slow and thoroughly. Was the slave's life worth passing up the opportunity? He didn't know the man, but Freya deemed him worthy to be saved. So would Valkan.

The slave had a trick up his sleeve, or down his boot, that relieved Valkan of the burden of his decision. As Gorroc stupidly turned to glut and bitch, his victim cut off his ear. Things again became a blur. As the captive slipped free and darted to right the ship, yelling a desperate plea to rid the vessel of the big Lotharro, Valkan launched himself at Gorroc. The blade sang as it cleared the sheath. He might have been able to build up enough force to throw the man overboard, but that was too easy, Val wanted to see pain and fear in the big man's eyes. Valkan flew at Gorroc as the thug wailed and grabbed at his bleeding head. He looked up in time to see moonlight flash on the blade as it arced before him, the razor edge drawing across his throat.

Blood spouted from the deep gash, large hands clawing at the pumping, crimson flow. Valkan found his prize in Gorroc's wide eyes, disbelief that his plan had gone so terribly wrong, that his life was spilling out onto the deck. The Lothar sunk to his knees as he looked up at Valkan, bloodied dagger in hand. "I am nobody's toy, you fekking, rotting, stinking heap of maggot infested harrow dung." The pommel of the dagger swing towards Gorroc's head, slamming into his skull and sending him crashing to the deck. He lay there still, bleeding out, resigned to his fate.

Sheathing the dagger, Valkan struggled to get the giant's body to the rail, until he was able to tip it over into the dark sea below. He heard someone yell for Caed. It was then that he noticed the slave had rigged the wheel and disappeared. A moment later, he found the man hovering over Freya.

"No, no, no..."

Valkan raced to their side, crouching, seeing the telltale steely Biqaj blood all over her, some still trying to leak out around the slave's hand pressed to her shoulder. Ripping off his shirt, Val shredded a piece, wadded it up and handed it to the man. He began to cut longer strips to tie around it.

"Caed, bandages!" He yelled in turn, peering down the stairway to see the redhead lying in a pool of blood, her own deep rust mingled with the silver of Freya's. The woman's face was an unrecognizable mangle. He looked to the man kneeling next to him, the tattoo evident on his neck. "I'm Valkan." He nodded. Then he looked down to Freya, wiping a bloodied strand of hair from her face. She seemed unconscious, but Val didn't care, he spoke to her still. "You killed the bitch, and you will have a battle scar to boast about." Val spoke quieter, then a bit of forced humor laced his tone as he switched to her native tongue "Told you not to turn your back to her. Maybe next time you listen to me." She was bleeding heavily, The slave's hand covered in it. The Hiladrithian looked again to the man at his side, sharing the unspoken glint of concern in his eye for Freya.

[Freya DuCarinos]

○ Common ○ Rakahi ○

It didn't take long for the man to come bounding up the steps with a wild look on his face as his eyes dropped to the three on the deck. Haraji was right behind him, a string of curses spilling from his mouth as shock overtook him.
“What the sarding fates—“ He looked down into Freya's quarters, his mouth open wide at the body there and the unrecognizable face of Qyona. Blood was everywhere— shimmering silver and red and it was then that his head jerked up and he pushed passed Caed, staring down at Freya. He said nothing, just stood as Caed went to Wendell's side. “Move but keep pressure.” He instructed in a stern voice. Already, silver blood was slowly pooling around the three, “Help me lift her.”
With the help of the other two, Caed lifted her up just enough to see the exit wound pour blood. Sighing, he told the others to lay her back down and rested his hands on his thighs. “Haraji, go get more bandages, shirts, whatever can be used to soak the blood up.” Caed told, but when they man didn't move, he turned his head up and frowned, “Harajinask, get going.”
The biqaj snapped out of the trance he was in and quickly turned, leaving the scene with haste. Caed rubbed his hands together, sighed, and closed his eyes as he focused on the foreign power within his soul. With a deep breath, he brushed Wendell's hand away from the wound and removed the soaked wad of cloth. Silver blood flowed freely as Caed nodded to to the both of them.
“This'll wake her, so hold her down.” Waiting for the two to grasp her limbs, Caed pull the flesh apart and carefully dug into the wound.
As expected, Freya's eyes snapped open, intensely black and wild. Her eyes jerked around as she clenched her teeth, agonizing breaths spurting from between her teeth and nose and she yanked against the men. “Sarding bastards!” She cried out.
“Shut up, woman.” Caed hissed, holding her shoulder down with his other hand as he dug deeper until his digit was almost all the way through her shoulder. “You're bleeding out.”
Freya squeezed her eyes shut and grunted through clenched teeth, looking briefly at the hand that pierced her wound. “Qyona's dead...” Were her broken words. “She attacked me— Gorroc?” Wild eyes looked between Valkan and Caed before finding Wendell. “Where is he?”
Haraji returned then, dumping bandages next to the group as Caed looked to Valkan. “Give her your belt,” Freya shook her head, but Caed ignored it. “Make her bite down on it.”
“No... no.” She echoed quietly, afraid to show weakness but knowing what was to come. Once the belt was in her mouth, the healer wasted no time calling on the spark within him. It surged forth, caressing his skin with heat as he directed it down into his hand and finger. Then there was scolding fire and the sound of searing flesh accompanied by an agonizing scream of pain as Caed cauterized the wound with Defiance magic. It didn't take long before her pitiful cries stopped as she'd passed out from the pain.
The man shook his head and continued to burn her wound until he was sure the bleeding had stopped. Allowing the magic to die away, he removed his digit from the burnt flesh, the smell thick in the air,“What happened? A coup?”
“Qyona and Gorroc spoke of one, I didn't think they'd actually do it...” Haraji spoke up from behind Caed.
“You knew of this?”
Haraji remained quiet while the healer sighed and went to work fixing Freya up. “Move her away from the blood. That wound needs to be cleaned.” Standing, he left Haraji with Valkan and Wendell, fetching herbs, water, and other dressings and liquids to mend what he could. When he returned, he looked over the two. “Did he get either of you?”
When they answered, Caed turned his focus back on Freya. “What sarding luck, woman... Valkan, pour water into the wound and clean out the blood. Wendell, get the strips he made and start knotting them together.” Caed went to work making a salve in a small bowl he'd brought up while the two went to work. “Flip her, you must clean the blood from the back.” Caed instructed Valkan.
Once he was sure the salve was mixed enough, he took the mixture and poured it onto her shoulder, rubbing it into the wound before taking bandage strips from the pile Haraji brought to cover it up. “This won't do much... She'll need a follower of Moseke to heal this, else I fear this'll be a slow death... Hold her up.”
Freya's limp body leaned against Valkan as she was made to sit up once more so that Caed could wrap the knotted bandages around her shoulder, taking the last of it to fashion a sling. He placed her arm within it before finally sitting back.
“Now we just wait and see...” After a long pause, Caed stood with a grunt and started for the stairs. “Harajinask, lets take care of... this one.” He muttered. “Bring a bucket.”

[Wendell]

Wendell applied pressure to the wound, but could feel Freya's blood pulsing out between his fingers. He hadn't really had anything to do with medicines or wounds before, but common sense demanded he try to stem the bleeding at all costs. Everyone was there, and soon the scene was a blur of movement and noise, each of them barking orders at the other. Valkan introduced himself, and for all the chaos, Wendell could do little but point an uneasy glance his way.

Soon the slave was tasked with tying fabric in knots, permitted to move his hand in order for the only one on the boat who had any medical knowledge to work his magic, quite literally. After the flesh was burned to stop the bleeding, the wound was washed and packed with herbs and the knotted bandages. Wendell moved out of the way to let the others shift Freya to a more comfortable spot, and start cleaning up the mess. No one had been left to steer the boat, and so he climbed the stairs in a daze, hands painted with the captain’s silver blood.

The helm was freed of the stick that held the wheel in place and Wendell glanced up at the sky to find their position, using the sister moons, near and far to guide his actions. Caed had taught him enough to find true north and from that point steer west. He brought the ship around with care, and as the wind caught in the sails again, focused his attention on the sea ahead, making sure the way was clear. The last thing they needed now was to run into another ship.

[Valkan]

Valkan had seen wounds before, grievous wounds inflicted upon the battlefield. But to see Freya gashed open, covered in her curious silvery blood, stirred both anger and the deepest worry. He should have been there stop the attack, or Wendell, or Caed. The fiery Biqaj had bigger balls than Gorroc, but little skill in backing them up. Still, she finished off the redhead bitch. Their captain was a determined woman.

There was a measure of relief when Caed appeared and took over, sending Haraji for more supplies. The men followed the healer's instructions, pinning Freya's arms and legs to the deck, ignoring her curses and pleas. Heeding Caed's words, Valkan unbuckled his belt and slid it through the loops of his trousers. The sheathed dagger clattering to the wooden planks as he took the leather strap in both hands and forced it between Freya's teeth, ensuring her tongue was not caught. "Bite on it, it will help." He encouraged her as he laid a hand heavily on her arm and thigh.

The hairs on the back of Valkan's neck prickled as Caed summoned his magic and reached inside of Freya's wound. Valkan remained silent through the ordeal, waiting for the screaming, writhing woman to lose consciousness. He did flash a glaring scowl at Haraji when the Biqaj sailor confessed he knew something of the traitors' plans.

Once the wound was cleaned and bandaged, Caed delivered his less than optimistic prognosis. Valkan leaned against a rain water barrel, Freya laying limp against him. He shared a glance with Wendell, who returned to the ship's helm. Caed and Haraji moved to inspect Qyona's corpse. With a sigh, his head leaned back until it thumped against the barrel. He prayed a vain prayer to any immortal who cared on Freya's behalf. Then he gingerly slid out from under her, taking great care not to undo Caed's work. Scooping her carefully into his arms, Valkan carried Freya to her quarters and lay her on the bed.

Looking down at her, he mumbled. "Keep fighting, wild cat."

[Freya DuCarinos]

○ Common ○ Rakahi ○

Freya fought the abyss of unconsciousness, pain radiating all over her body as her mind tried to piece together what was going on. She'd been attacked and wounded. Caed had torched the wound and it hurt like unending death, but did he fix it? Freya felt weak... Oh so weak and she wanted to drift like a lost boat on calm waters. She wanted to disappear.
She felt as someone lifted her up and carried her off, having not the strength to even open her eyes to see where it was they were going. Even so, she fought until her eyes barely cracked open, only able to glance a hand as it was removed from her form. Who was that? Was it Haraji? Wendell? Valkan? Was it Gorroc..?
Then a familiar voice met her ears as her eyes slid shut again. Freya was too tired to keep them open but she didn't want Valkan to leave. By the soft press of comfort, the captain could tell she was back in her quarters but it still smelled of blood, only covered with soapy lavender as if that would get rid of the stench. She'd murdered someone in this room. How long ago was that?
Freya was trapped in a useless body. She groaned softly to tried to use her voice, but even that was hardly a whisper. Valkan was going to leave her alone in this room of death and Freya didn't want that. She didn't want to be alone again. Tears pricked at her eyes, only this time, they gathered underneath her lids and leaked out in silent trails. She wanted to reach out and grab his hand, tell him to take her anywhere else, tell him to hold her and try to fix the hole in her heart from having slain another. But none of that came...
Her body remained immobile on the bed while her breaths evened out and she fell into a deep sleep...
A man was lifted from the water, an ear missing and a hand clamped around his neck to stall the blood leaking there. The cut was not as deep as expected and by the fates, was luck on his side. A robed woman approached him in haste, words blasting from her lips as the crew scrambled around him. Her palms lit in warm energy, healing his bruise and cut body.
Gorroc's eyes blistered with anger as his voice slowly returned.

He would find those bastards... And when he did, he would kill them slowly...