[Mock-Fiction] V - Fures Misericordiam

Note: Please read the Formal Notice movella. It should be on the list on the right hand side.

Aye. Tis me again.

Cover by Secrets Unfold

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24. 22 – The Golden Age of Piracy

“This is fantastic!” said Edward, “Home! Home, at last! Oh, Mari, you are going to love it here!”

“No, no, I don’t think I will,” Mariqah mumbled back.

She was wearing a corset-styled dress, red, with a slit to one side going right up to her mid-thigh. The skin-tight full-length sleeves were netted, she could feel the coarse fabric of woollen leggings grasping her legs, the soft leather of lady’s court-slippers on her feet, her hair had been… un-permed, making it longer than it had been just a moment ago, and a weighty chain of gold and rubies hung around her neck. Her battered drawstring was in one hand, and her prized Damascus in the other. She looked around frantically, noticing that Edward was in his trademark hooded clothing (that had been stolen from the body of Duncan Warpole).

“Take me to your cabin, give me a moment,” she muttered, still very much in shock.

 

Edward nodded to Adewale, merrily ignoring the fact that everyone was staring at him like he’d been condemned as a witch, “Take the wheel, Ade – we sail for Nassau!”

“Weren’t we headed for Kingston, Captain?” asked the perplexed quartermaster.

“Aye, but I’ve a change in taste!” he shooed Mariqah into his captain’s cabin and shut the door behind him.

Mariqah dropped her kit on the floor, the blade of the sword clattering loudly against the wood, and paced around the room quietly for a moment. And then:

 

What am I doing here!”

“Ah, Mari, come on – it’s not that bad,” said Edward dismissively.

What do you mean–!” she ducked her head a little, her fingers curled in frustration, “I’m not supposed to be here!”

“Well, that goes without saying.”

“Edward!”

“Alright, alright, relax. Look, it came for me – maybe it’ll come for you too, eh? There ain’t nothing doing about it otherwise. You won’t find a Timelord out here.”

“But my lads! But my rebellion! Richard!”

“Ye can ‘but’ all ye want, lass, you know there’s nothing else.”

 

Mariqah sighed in concession, “What am I supposed to do here? I’m no… marine!”

“You say it like it were a bad thing, Mari.”

“It is a bad thing!”

“Oh, mind yourself, Mari. You don’t say something like that to a pirate!”

“What,” said Mariqah, frustrated, “do I do here?”

“Well, let’s see,” Edward put his hands on his hips, “you could sit in here, read some maps. Or help our cook. Or get into a job down at Nassau,” he smirked at her, “if you ken what I mean, lass. Earn coin laying on your back.”
“I hate you, Kenway,” she growled.

He shrugged and walked out.

 

Mariqah slid onto the floor, gutted for good measure, and grabbed her drawstring – looking at the things inside. Her journal and pens were still intact, as was her Hidden Blade, and several of her other possessions. But when she opened her purse, she found in it golden reales instead of pounds – and a lot of them too. She strapped on her Hidden Blade and took off the necklace around her throat and stowed it in her purse.

Someone’s toying with Time, she thought, The Matrix has aided me some. But it didn’t do Edward any favours… He shouldn’t have appeared naked when he arrived. The Matrix should have dressed him in appropriate clothing and filled his memory with enough to go by in order for him to live and survive in the twenty-first century… Strange.

 

Mariqah huffed a sigh, and packed her things away slowly. She took out her red shawl and wrapped it tightly around her waist, so it could hold her sword. Sheathing the Damascus, she wondered if she could find a spare belt so that it would stay more secure, but Mariqah couldn’t count on Edward to do her any favours.

Could she?

 

* * * * *

 

When a loud clatter sounded, Mariqah woke with a start.

“Urgh…” a pain in her neck had formed, as she fallen asleep awkwardly against the leg of a table in the cabin.

“Food?” said Edward.

She looked at him, still upset, and didn’t reply.

He sat down and handed her a dish, “Hope you can hack it, Mari. It ain’t your normal fare.”
She looked sourly at the platter of undercooked iguana meat, but took a morsel and ate. Food was food in the end, “You English are all the same,” she muttered, “You’d eat anything.”

Edward ignored her comment, “Where’d you learn?”

 

“Khadir and his father taught me,” she said, chewing and swallowing almost mechanically, “You get a lot of lizards in the desert. They taste a’right, given the right spices and the… er, fully-cooked factor.”
“You tried rat?”

“Aye.”

“Wild dog?”

“Aye.”
Edward eyed her enviously for a long time, “Whale?”

She decided to give that one to him, “Killing whales ain’t legal in our time.”

He didn’t reply.

“You gave me this to tease me, didn’t you?”

Edward looked unconcerned, “Maybe.”

 

Before she could say anything more, he said, “You can’t sleep in here, Mari. This is my space. There’re cabins below deck.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Got your balls back and suddenly you’ve forgotten who handed them to you, Kenway?”

“You’re technically a stowaway, Mari. I’m doing a kindness just keepin’ you.”

 

She scowled at him, but took her things and left the cabin. She paced up and sat down on the fore of the deck, holding the railing to steady herself – letting the salty water spray on her. She couldn’t share a room with men who, perhaps, hadn’t seen women in months.

No, she couldn’t.

She sat by silently, watching as the Jackdaw cut through the sea, the waves lapping at its hull. She would have enjoyed the sight of the waves rising and falling into the depths of the great ocean, had the pirate closest to her not decided to split his breeches and piss over the rail.

 

Mariqah could hear them mumbling behind her.

I smell women.

Smell ‘em in the air.”

I think I’ll drop me anchor,

In that ‘arbour over there.”

 

Some began to gather around her. She tried to ignore them. One bent down, the smell of alcohol on his breath,

Lovely lady, I’d love you ‘til I’m broke,” he said to her,

Several months at sea can make you hungry for a poke.”

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back,

Even stokers need a little stoke!

 

Mariqah bared her teeth and drew her sword, slashing through her hair – the uneven strands flailing away from the pirate’s grasp as he backed away, gaping at her. Mariqah stood, and faced them: her eyes narrowed, her body poised.

“Fiery temper, eh?” the pirate said after a pause, “All the better for bed.”
He advanced, but Mariqah head-butted him and kneed him in the groin, then threw him to a side.

 

“What’s going on here?” called Edward as he came up, “Mari–”

She strode up to him and slapped him hard on his cheek, “I,” she said, “am not your cook-assisting, map-room wh-ore!” she then rasped, “and I refuse to be treated like one, Kenway.”

He stared at her for a moment, “No fightin’ on deck,” he muttered.

“Then teach your dolphin-people to keep their fins to themselves!”

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