Space Cult Spin-off: Pirate and a Prince ((Private rp))

When Rhys mentioned his cell not being locked at all, Amira's eyes flashed, and her arm jerked like she intended to pull it away. Still, she kept it there, after the initial instinct. "I am going to kill Diego." She muttered, jaw tense as her free arm adjusted to tap on her leg. "We have a child on board, just because we were lucky you were smart enough not to try to kill someone doesn't mean the next one of his social experiments will be-" She brought her hand up, dragging it through her hair. After a moment of thought, she looked to Rhysand, eyes flicking from his hands working diligently to clean her arms, to his face.

"If you touch anyone on this ship, if you harm them with any sort of malice intended–we are pirates, scuffles are expected–I will not hesitate to string you up on the main mast and leave you there to starve. These people are my family, and I do not care if you are a prince, a peasant, or the goddamned king." She said, her voice strangely soft. There was an underlying note of seriousness, but she talked about her crew the way one would about someone they cared deeply for. Because she did. "On that note, I do not see any reason to lock you in your cell. Your only way off this ship without us is overboard, and the ocean would soon make quick work of you." Reaching out her free arm, she tapped his hand to get his full attention. "I am offering you a hesitant truce. Your behavior is what keeps it in affect, should you take it. Free reign of the ship, with exceptions to certain places for privacy reasons. And no one will try to kill you when they see you out and about."

He wasn't bad at this. Amira had to admit that, especially seeing as she was the one who's bandages were being rewrapped. It was hard, for her to do them herself. Trying to wrap your entire forearm and up with only one hand wasn't exactly a cut-and-dry, easy process. But watching someone else do it, she was at least glad that they were secure. For years, she had refused to let Markus re-do them, adamant about the fact that this was her problem, her issue. They were her scars to hide. Her past to keep under wraps–literally–and to herself. She trusted Markus. She really did. But what the royal family had become out of the eyes of the public was her own secret to carry.

And now, a prisoner who'd been on her ship for merely a few hours, had seen them full force. But he didn't mention them. That counts for something, right? He seems like the type with his own secrets, and should he even try to bring them to light, all it takes is your denial to rid your crew of the thought.

"You know," She started suddenly, tilting her head as she reached across her desk with her free arm to grab a small glass bottle of something, pulling the lid off with her teeth to smell it. She made a face, returning it to the desk and repeating the process. "You almost rival our on-board doctor with your bandage tying skills. I may have to throw you overboard, to protect his job." Snorting at her own joke, she finally found what she was looking for, taking a long drink from the small bottle and scrunching up her face at the taste. "I am sure he would like you, though. He seems to like anyone, regardless of pretty much anything. The al'abalah." She spoke fondly, even when insulting her crewmates.

"Are you normally this stupid, or is today some sort of special day for your stupidity?" Amira asked, after giving him a long moment of silence to work. Her tone carried no mal-intent, and generally didn't seem like she was insulting him, so much as poking a bit of fun, even if she said it so casually.

"It is far from pathetic to feel, even if you can barely make sense of what you are feeling." She took another drink, following it up with a deep inhale and exhale. Apparently, to deal with the taste. The drink was something like pure caffeine and sugar, just enough other in it to keep from killing her. "You fight. You fight even though you do not wish to, and I could tell you that that comes from deep rooted fear, but I could also tell you you simply need a new outlet. Either way, you leave with skills that help." She chewed on her lip for a moment, fingers tapping on the desk once she had set down the small bottle.

"You know, you sound like you hate that part of you. But what of the good things that come from it? What of the medical skills that could save your life, or someone else's in a pinch? What of your ability to defend yourself from someone who wants to kill you and is ready to? The world is a give and take, and every bit of bad comes with a bit of good somewhere. I could tell you all about that." An expert in the bad that follows good, really. But for this, I can pretend.

Amira watched him for a moment, before snorting, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stood from her chair. "You are one of those people. I get it. Fine, ignore the great words of wisdom coming from someone who understands more than you think, my sage advice is unappreciated and I can see and accept that. Your secret is mine, the same as my own. Now, in other news-" She clapped her hands together, then scooped the small skeletal mouse out of the candy dish and set it on her shoulder. "Food. I am sure Sockeye'll be ecstatic to have someone else to compliment his food aboard."

The candle light in the quarters cast a glow upon her skin, similar to what one might imagine the sun might do. She seemed entirely unconcerned by his behavior. So unconcerned, in fact, that she was smiling, looking over to her feline companion as he warily eyed the incoming bird. "Malakai, that is a friend. He is small, like the Mouse, so just be careful not to squish him." As she spoke, the tiger glanced to her, making eye contact before seeming to nod, and look back at the bird. She had never been quite sure if he was a normal tiger, or something else, but it didn't matter to her. Malakai stood slowly, moving towards Nox at a nonthreatening pace, stopping before him. And then he licked him.

Without any more theatrics, Malakai made his way over to Amira, wrapping around her legs and purring. His eyes were on the raven, slightly curious and mostly looking pleased with himself. Amira let out a laugh, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. "Very good job. That is how we greet friends, right?" Malakai let out an answering huff, headbutting her hand. "If it makes your bird feel better, he did the same thing to Diego. He bent down to pet him, and Malakai got his entire face in one go. The poor man was retching for an hour, but now they are best of friends."

She shook her head, still chuckling at the event. Carefully, she detached herself from Malakai, moving towards the door and motioning for Rhys to follow. "You are a minorly free man now, which means you need to eat. Even prisoners deserve good food, and we have the best. On another topic, I do not believe we have ever fully introduced ourselves."

Without warning, Amira stopped walking, spinning around and bowing at the waist with a dramatic flourish to rival Nox. Eyes sparkling, she tilted her head up to look at him. "Amira Sultan, captain of Orion's Hand, the ship you stand upon now. Oft referred to, you may come to find, as the Tiger of the Nuevic Seas." For a moment, she paused, making a face and thinking. "Is that all? I feel as though I am missing somethi–ah! Bastard of Rynok! Another one on a long list of titles, and frankly, my favorite." Somehow forgetting the title of former Crown Princess she had to her name as well, she stood, arching a brow and awaiting Rhys' introduction of himself. Malakai had continued down the hall, completely ignoring his companion's theatrics.

Amira snorted, raising a closed fist with her pinky extended. It was a 'cheers' like gesture common in her homeland, that may or may not be recognizable. "Ah, to bastardry. Is yours a birth-related bastardry, or reputation related? That will truly determine whether or not we have that in common, as mine is entirely founded upon reputation." She said, carrying on down the hall once more. "And where is it your mother–Queen Vekra– is from again? I would like to try nailing down the pronunciation, as I have only ever seen the place-name written, and once at that. Perks of high class, even getting to know of it. I may have a million questions for you, though." She was much more talkative, now, especially given something that interested her.

Amira thought for a moment, making strange faces, before trying her hand at the pronunciation. "Kølistýri." It didn't sound quite right, almost like her own accent was overlapping. So she tried it four more times. And while none of them landed the best, the final came close, while still carrying her accent in a way that almost blended the two. "If I wanted to know something compromising, I would simply have you 'questioned'." She said, making air quotes. As they got closer to the ship's meal hall, noise could be hear, a loud bustle of raucous laughter and slamming drinks. "My questions are numerous, which means they may have to be saved for a later time. Anything you speak of in here is likely to be related to food, alcohol, or adventure. Or just a straight fight, if Hawk gets to you in time."

With that, she pushed open the door, greeted almost immediately by a bottle thrown at her with maybe a bit too much force. Still, she caught it, cracking the cap off with an appendage of her belt and raising it to cheers.

"Hoy! Meet our newest prisoner, save you who were implicit in his 'escape' from his cell. The arrogant prince-boy, in the flesh. And our current ransom." She winked at Rhys, stepping aside and dropping into a crouch to drink from the bottle and pet Malakai, who had made himself comfy by the door, with Nox hopping excitedly around him.

"Nonsense!" A man's voice boomed, the man in question being the source of the thrown bottle as well. "Cap'n's too good a catch to let ya get dead over a bottle." The man looked to be somewhere near thirty, and looked like he'd been in way too many bar fights and won. He had his own bottle in hand, this one large and half empty. "This is your prince, Cap?"

"Aye." Amira confirmed, standing and taking a seat on top of one of the wooden tables, next to a very bored looking Morrigan. The latter had a knife in hand and was peeling an apple with it, handing the peel bits to a young boy who munched on them happily. The ship was anchored for the night, so everyone was there, grouped off together but still together. Amira loved it. The sense of comradery, of family, a family she had built and run and kept together. "And just because he says he can handle a fight does not mean anyone wants their dinner ruined by one, Hawk. The barnacles on the hull could always use a good scraping."

Hawk just laughed at that, taking another needlessly long drink. He was in high spirits, Amira noted, and it probably had something to do with a story or money. He passed a smaller bottle to her, which she offered to Rhys, motioning for him to take a seat somewhere.

"Mr. Prince-boy!" Diego shouted excitedly, snatching the bottle from Amira to give to Rhys, unfortunately in on Hawk's scheme to get the prince inebriated. He bumped Rhys' shoulder with his own, grinning ear to ear. "I see you didn't get murdered for wanderin', that's good. I was a little worried about the possibility of that."

Morrigan snorted, leaning forward to whisper something in Amira's ear that had her rolling her eyes.

"Scout's honor may not include leaving prisoners' cells open, but it does include dishing about Mal too early. Sorry bud. Had to let you find that one out yourself." Diego's grin was only barely apologetic, mostly because everyone knew Malakai only hurt people if he was decently pissed. All in all, he tended to laze about and expect scratches on his belly. He cast a glance over at Amira and Morrigan, who were whispering quietly between the two of them, Morrigan's apple now freshly peeled. The redhead still handed alternating slices to the boy, the rest being nibbled on when they were cut off. "I feel like we're bein' talked about. No offense to you, of course, but I'm hopin' Hawk starts shit and gets barnacle duty before I do."

"After that? You'd have t' be the luckiest motherfucker alive." A voice from behind them spoke, followed by a thin and tall frame that moved past them and into the room. They were carrying two large trays full of plates, and were met with cheers from the louder members of the crew, who wasted no time in digging into the food offered. "More comin', you heathens. Koi, help me with the next trays?" The newcomer walked with a confident air, something like mischief shimmering in eyes that were far too blue. The boy eating apple slices nodded enthusiastically, practically throwing himself to his feet to head out the door.

The cook loitered, appraising the prince with unnerving eyes. "What a catch." They said, grinning sharply at the pun. "Amira, what's with this whole 'crew full o' hot people' thing ya got goin'?"

"Bad luck. I was supposed to be the best looking person on board." Amira called, briefly pausing her quiet conversation with a stony-as-ever Morrigan. "It is incredibly difficult to do that surrounded by people who would also be the best looking on another ship."

"You'll always be the prettiest in my eyes, Cap'n." They assured, calling over their shoulder. When they returned their attention to Rhys, they offered a hand. "Sockeye. Chef. And tied for second prettiest with the lovely third mate. Sorry Diego. Tell me what you think of the food, eh? Royals either have the best or the worst taste."

Sockeye let out a short laugh, something about the sound close to mesmerizing. Unnervingly so. "'Course I knew who you were. It's manners to ask, though." They said, crossing pale, thin arms over their chest. "Lookin' forward to the feedback, fancy pants. I'll pull ya aside later, for now I gotta go help the boy. Oh, and don' get–" Diego smacked their shoulder as they looked at the bottle in Rhysand's hand, and the two shared a look that was close to a conversation before Sockeye shrugged. "Don' get too comfortable around Morrigan. She might stab ya, 'specially if you're drinkin' and bein' a dumbass. Later." They were gone, then.

Diego just grinned, linking an arm with Rhysand to lead him to the table Amira and Morrigan were sitting on. "Sockeye's great. They're the best damn chef I've ever met, and wicked sharp. You should hear them and the Captain go at it, gold."

"We are 'educated'," Amira said, making air quotes. Morrigan briefly looked almost amused at that, though the expression was gone so fast it almost seemed like a trick of the eye. "Fancy education and all. Only good thing out of it is holding your own, the rest is nonsense. I am certain our guest knows what I mean." She arched an eyebrow at Rhysand, lips turned up at the corners just slightly. Most people guessed that her accent was either posh, or the result of only studying English by reading. They'd be right on both accounts, but no one ever guessed it was because she was from a royal family.