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Post by lor344 on Nov 16, 2006 21:42:07 GMT -5
Kathrine made short work of the apple and looked to the core blankly. She then sighs slightly and leans her head back and sweet releif, she had been awake for far too long. Wearing saphire hues glance over to him when he spoke and she smiles slightly "I do not know anymore. It does not matter if I do or not I must keep going despite curcumastances" She replies lightly, her fluid french accent streaming along in the unfamiliar language.
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Post by starvingartist on Nov 16, 2006 21:45:34 GMT -5
It took all of the strength she had, and cost her dearly. Agony throbbed through her lower body, fat, lazy stakes of heat boring through her bones. But she did it - she reached up, and slapped him hard across the face. It echoed through the corridor, despite the noises that surrounded them. "Do you think that will scare me?" she asked, voice cracking. "Do you think I will pause to heave a body to a watery grave? I am not a lady sir - far from it - but I am not a coward and I am not a pirate!" Her body shook with rage, her temper far beyond her control, but she had had more than enough. She had been taken forcibly and contained on a ship that was not hers, broken and abused by its crew, and would not tolerate such speech. She stared at him for a long moment, hate reflected in her gaze, before she turned and walked stiffly into the ward. "Who is in charge here?" she asked. ((If there's an issue with her slapping Cadiz, like, if he intends to block or whatever and you'd prefer me not to take that sort of liberty just let me know and I'll modify the post. ![;)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/wink.png) ))
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Post by AndrogynousMelon on Nov 16, 2006 21:53:27 GMT -5
It took Ed a while to process the long string of words. Too long, he thought. Too much effort for a simple answer. He still didn't so much as glance down. "Ah." He was done with his pipe now. Did what had to be done with it, and put it away. "Follow then." He may as well lead the girl down to his "prison". If she did not make a good nurse, she could at least water his plants. He stood, walked stiffly towards the door and motioned for her to follow.
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Post by lor344 on Nov 16, 2006 21:58:59 GMT -5
A soft moan escapes her lips, full and slightyly rosy from being lightly bitten on. A nervous habit. Slowly she raises herself up, looking down to her bare feet against the wooden planks below. She sighs softly and steps forward while her dress, a light blue, swishes lightly just above the knee. At one time it looked as though it had been extremely flattering, perhaps expertly made, surely worth more than what this girl appeared. Now it fit more of her appearance; worn. She looks back up to him and soon reaches his side though she was slightly behind him. A small chill runs up her spine and she shivers slihgtly at the prospect of what she had in store for her. She supposed time would indeed tell.
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Post by AndrogynousMelon on Nov 16, 2006 22:02:27 GMT -5
He saw the shiver, heard the moan. Chalked it up to the cold. He pulled off his jacket, drapped it round her thin shoulders. He had others and besides he was always too warm. He walked, barechested, down towards that sickly room he'd been calling home.
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Post by lor344 on Nov 16, 2006 22:10:40 GMT -5
She blinks in surprise at the new weight literally on her shoudlers. Pale hands reach up and grasp the ends of the coat lightly, pulling it closer around her. She had not known until now how uncomfortable and cold she had really been. She smiles softly to him, a true smile. "Thank you...' she murmurs, he had been most merciful to her.
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Post by Clover on Nov 16, 2006 22:22:21 GMT -5
Cadiz heard the musket-crack of the slap, and blinked in sheer befuddlement. Then the wash of pain streaked from his cheek to his brain, and he let out a hiss, his eyes narrowing to grey slips in his face, the colour of a storm-tossed sea.
Likely as dangerous for wellbeing.
His voice, when he spoke, carried a knifesharp edge, and his inflection was strained. "You will not raise a hand to me further. I will not tolerate it, and trust me, thus far I have been nothing if not entirely accomodating."
When she snarled the last comment about not being a pirate, he shrugged his shoulders, one hand still held over his throbbing cheek. "I call things as I see them, Miss." She had crossed the threshold and into the sickrooms by now, and he simply shrugged his shoulders and followed her in. His task would not be complete until he had safely delivered her, and he was religious about completing tasks properly.
He smirked as she snarled, taking her anger out at the room in general. "Now now, SeƱorita... don't lash out at them. They're busy sick and dying." Now, Cadiz was simply being a bastard, and the smile curling his lips upwards showed he knew it fine and well.
[oh no... it was brilliant. XD He deserved it, the little bugger]
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Post by starvingartist on Nov 16, 2006 22:30:36 GMT -5
She paused, rising to the bait. Dimly, she was aware of this major failing, her inability to hold her temper, to back away from a fight (especially with a man twice her size) but it was no matter. Her eyes narrowed, blood going cold. It was not his right, to throw their condition in her face, not when she was here to help, and Skye grabbed a ceramic jar (empty, thankfully, of anything but spent bandages) and weighed it in her hand.
"It would seem, sir, that we do have one thing common between us. And that is an inability to tolerate those who do not know their place."
Turning sharply on her heel, she threw the jar at his head, aiming high and counting on the short distance between them to aide her weapon. It was foolish, insipid and immature to say the least, but so was she.
((She just won't let it go, will she? *sighs*))
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Post by Clover on Nov 16, 2006 23:00:16 GMT -5
He saw her pick up the ceramic, and felt a small sinking in the pit of his stomach. Surely the woman wasn't that insane?
She began to speak, and he calmed momentarily. Surely if she was talking, it means she was once again approaching rationality. But then she hurled the jar, and all of his almost-kind thoughts flew somewhere in the wake of the ship.
Reflexes honed in rapier training had no difficulties intercepting the jar, but he cursed never the less as he placed it aside. "Woman, have you no mind? You call yourself a healer! Pah, you wouldn't know how to remove the splinter from a donkey's ass!"
His tone increased, and he all but snarled the last, cruel little retort. "You, shiprat, forget yours. But never mind that now. There are men here that need your dubious aid. Why do you not attempt to earn your keep? If you can't be civil, you could at least attempt to heal. If not, well... a ship being what it is, the men will find other purposes for you, surely. What with you being such a highbred lady, and certanly not anyone to be swabbing decks with the rest of us shiphands."
Leaving that be, he turned, wriggling his fingers in greeting to some of the men who had been forced by their unfortunate injuries to watch that little display.
[Somehow, I think they'll get along, once they have a good snarlfest. XD He's actually not that bad. Most of the time, anyways]
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Post by AndrogynousMelon on Nov 16, 2006 23:06:03 GMT -5
Ed could hear the argument from the hall. He halted his steps, not bothering to think about the girl behind him. He'd heard the slap, heard the hissing, catty comments. He glanced over his shoulder. Hm.
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Post by lor344 on Nov 16, 2006 23:11:47 GMT -5
She bumps into him lightly, not expecting such an abrupt stop. She looks up to him then over to where the voices were coming from. They were loud and annoying to be sure but nothing that would warrent concern would it? This was, after all, a crowded ship, arguments and quarells were inevidable. She sighs softly and pulls the coat more firmly around her shoudlers.
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Post by starvingartist on Nov 16, 2006 23:30:00 GMT -5
Her eyes narrowed, the reminder of her duties galling her.
"I'm not done with you," she snarled, stalking into the room. To her horror, the place was dismal, at best. Many men lay sick and dying on cots crammed into every available quarter, bedpands overflowed and dressings rotted. She hissed and threw herself out the door again.
"You! Sir namless-arseface! I require certain tools to do this job of yours!" she all but screamed down the hall.
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Post by AndrogynousMelon on Nov 16, 2006 23:41:04 GMT -5
Ed assumed he was sir namless arseface. "Named, Madam. Edwin." He didn't mind the slight thing bumping into him, in fact, barely noticed. He strode into the room and glanced about. He beckoned them both with a single hand. "What bandages we have." He said, pointing to a crate which was nearly empty. "Surgical tools." He hefted a large leather bag onto the table. "Jars of salves, plants to make more. On the walls." All the instruments had been his, and somehow he'd been able to keep his plants as well. "At your disposal." He began his dreary work again, working as carefully as he could. "Mouse, the large blue jar." He said, still not having bothered to learn her name.
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Post by starvingartist on Nov 16, 2006 23:47:02 GMT -5
She glared at him, gesturing to the room.
"You are not who I was speaking to. If you feel that these tools will help you here, then get to work. I require certain other things which I do not believe you can grant me. I am Skye," she repented, bowing more out of habit than respect.
"These men need space and fresh air, and I need several large bowls. Oh, and splints."
She spoke more to herself than Edwin, apparently ignorant to the fact that he seemed to be the only other competent surgeon onboard.
((I'm assuming from your comments about the instruments that Edwin is the other surgeon, correct?))
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Post by AndrogynousMelon on Nov 16, 2006 23:52:33 GMT -5
((Indeed he is.))
He couldn't leave now. He wouldn't leave again till his next meal. He would be in the room, draining horrible, infected wounds and holding the hands of pale and shaking men who knew their last breaths to be upon them. He was not much for emotional support, though he felt very much like a priest. "Space" He said as he gathered a needle, a numbing ointment, and his resolve to suture a particularly nasty wound. "Is in short supply." He disinfected the needle as best he could with his limited supplies. "Cadiz, if you please. Bowls and splints." He hoped the man would put aside the squabbling for the good of the crew, at least.
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