ǫ | quentin toma (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
longitudinal) wrote2024-07-06 09:31 pm
longitudinal) wrote2024-07-06 09:31 pm
open post
any and all prompts welcome. gen/smut, etc.
this is a choose not to warn entry - please note there may be nsfw content within
any and all prompts welcome. gen/smut, etc.
this is a choose not to warn entry - please note there may be nsfw content within
no subject
Something about the woman draws him in, eyes staying level with hers, quiet and thoughtful, even amused.
"But give us a few days - you might wish you'd found another ship. We're very boring, you see. Naval boats aren't much for debauchery and fun, far, far too serious."
He wrinkles his nose, grinning - tale of a little lie written all across his face. There's a noise over his shoulder - a pair of the men laughing and cackling at some joke, punching each other in the arms and diving back into loud chatter.
"But why our ship? Where are you off to?"
no subject
"Mmm," she agrees, soft, disbelieving, smile not touching her somber mouth but humor dancing through her eyes. All of her expressiveness is there, none on her face. "Terribly boring."
She wasn't raised with brothers, but her father's men, the men in the prison, they had plenty of laughs. Even with her in prison, they'd been a playful, teasing bunch. Curious too, asking Pearl all manner of questions — she may have been the princess in chains, but she'd had an education the guards had not and they would sit with her after they brought her meals, getting a belated education. It shouldn't have been a wonder that her mother managed to secret her away from the prison.
"Away. Your ship looks well loved. I thought it spoke well to the sailors aboard."
no subject
Curious - but they don't ask too many questions. Making her leave and return had been a test - one she passed. So for now, they will allow her passage. Although their ship is under the employ of the Regent himself, it doesn't change the fact that so much of their crew had been worn and warm faces they'd taken aboard. A chosen family among the fleet.
His father would never let anything happen to his crew. So she must have something to her - that adventurous eye, else she wouldn't be here waiting for passage on their ship.
"The ship is very well loved, yes. Spend most of our time there than anywhere else - I'd hope our home looked nice," he grins again, laughing, stretching prop his feet up on the table across from them. He regards her again, the warmth in her eyes, though her expression still.
"Careful, though - stay too long and we might put you to work. Look like you're sturdy enough, though," and he means it. He doesn't underestimate anyone.
no subject
Her mother would set her free in the markets in the city, let her race through the wharves, the spare, forgotten princess, fancy dresses stained with mud and dirt, sparkling with fish scales when the fisherman taught her to filet the catch, carefully plucking bones free with her child's fingers. She was deft at weaving ropes and grasses together, knotting them to make nets for the next catch, fingers scraped raw and bloodied when she was done.
Not an activity one would expect from a lady.
"I am happy for work for my passage."
no subject
"Nets can be useful for many things, not just fishing. That tells me you can tie excellent knots. Or can be taught. Useful on a ship."
He drinks deeply from his ale, humming in thought when she offers work.
"I'm sure you will be if you stick around a while. But if we don't know where you're headed, it sounds like you'll be working for your board, not for passage."
no subject
She suspects they will think she's fleeing some marriage she doesn't wish to be joined in and she isn't interested in illuminating any of them to the truth. The truth is dangerous and their ignorance will protect them if her father finds her. It's dangerous enough to admit that she's running away.
"Though it would be helpful to simply tell people my destination is wherever you next choose to set port." If anyone asks. She will have to spin a tale of why she must stay aboard if their next port isn't some place she can go to shore, but that is something she hasn't thought so far ahead to fully consider.
no subject
Quentin can feel a pull of something in his chest - maybe the familiar glimmer of a kindred spirit. The type to run unafraid into the next destination. He knows nothing more than the sea thanks to his father, but being landlocked would be a miserable existence.
He finishes his ale, considers her for a moment, then:
"Finish up. I could give you a tour - scope out a cabin for you. Look steady on your feet when the others arrive later. They won't ask any questions if you look like you belong, and something tells me you'll get on fine."
He pushes to his feet and offers her his hand, grinning ear to ear. "Quentin - navigator of the Royal Amphion, and if you fancy a bit of mischief, I can get you there."
no subject
"Pearl." Her hand slips into Quentin's with ease, cool despite the fire. Like a pearl. A name well suited for a woman about to take to sea. Her name is the only thing she can't let go of, despite how foolish it is to forgo an alias.
"I would be grateful for a tour. At least I will keep some dignity if I can cross the deck without tripping over the ropes."
She has nothing to bring with her, no luggage, only the dress she is wearing and the cloak draped over her shoulders. She hadn't even paid for a room at this inn to wait out the night. There is nothing to keep her here and everything leading her to the ship.