(RP) Outside the lines...

[Paytience Fawn]

*written with express permission of Fellow Rp'er Tor Morgrim*

“Turbulent water, Sir!” Barely audible, Nate called out as he gripped the wheel firmly. The sound of the water pounding against the wood all but muffling his words as the Nomad moved North East. Nothing new, it was mostly rhetorical. Why he felt obliged to state the obvious, Pay didn't understand. Turning her head back starboard her dark eyes fixed on the not too distant white caps.

Hands lightly gripping the rails she felt it then. The sharp heave to the left as if a Leviathan had snagged a line pulling the Nomad with her. The rigging tugged hard catching the main sail and tightening it like a military dressing on a bed as a new torrent of air battered at it from the south. She shouted for more slack on the line but to no avail. Moments later the boat snapped to the right as if a highly stretchy band had been broken, sending Pay flying head first into the curvature of the wood.

She shivered, her mind and soul trying to make peace with the feeling of near sever. A string of expletives poured from her mouth as she reached up and grabbed on in an attempt to pull herself up. Her blood red leather clad legs braced as she steadied herself on her feet. “What in the.....

- - - - - -

"....was that?” Closing her mouth she pursed her lips together forming a small bow.

“Just a little Turbulent water Ma'am. Nothing to concern your pretty little head over.” Giving a half smile Mr. Irons returned his attention to the now smoother sea ahead of them.

Her hands encased in white lace she ran them gingerly over the ropes. Her ebony hair was pulled back lightly at the sides with the remainder trailing in ringlets down her back. Pale green, the low cut dress was cinched tightly at the waist billowing out over her hips.

“Now now Nate, you know my wife likes to be kept abreast on all affairs.” Tor Morgrim, with his handlebar mustache and reflective but manly bald head strode down the stairs.

“Of course, Sir.”

“Dearest, you needn't stress. I promised the Fawns you would arrive safely in Moonglow with the shipment intact and I intend to keep... my.. word.” His last words were punctuated by tiny kisses he placed across the bridge of her nose.”

Curling into him, her hand snaked around his waist she pulled him closer. “I don't understand it. The wind is quite forgiving today, but I've a chill. It's almost as though someone has stepped upon my grave.”

“Stepped on your...Paytience you've been reading too many books.”

Subservient and obliging she lowered her head. “Yes Dear, I suppose you're right.”

 

[Paytience Fawn]

Her ankles crossed and her hands folded patiently in her lap, she sat on the queen sized mattress below deck. Tor had bid her stay until the riff raff of the harbor was dealt with and stay is what she did. Moonglow, though well off, was a haven for water elementals and sea serpents just beyond the hustle and bustle of the thriving port. Many an unprepared sailor had met an quick demise in these waters. Between Tor, Mr. Irons, and the rest of the hardened and well paid crew, the task was complete quickly.

With her hand tucked demurely into Tor's arm they strolled around Moonglow. A favorite port of her parents she'd been here thousands of times. The Mage Shop bought everything from blood moss to chicken feet to Crystals. As such it was one of the merchant shops The Fawn's frequented.

Removing himself from her hand, Tor strode over to speak to the Harbor Master. Shrewd but level headed he had quickly been approved by her Father. Both had a background in military operations. And both had a tendency to keep Paytience oblivious to what went on from day to day. She wouldn't have minded, after all that was how business was supposed to be. But that didn't stop a twinge of jealousy from creeping in whenever the two excluded her.

His head bent she watched him cross his arms as he listened to the monthly report. This would take awhile. Her attention shifted more out of habit in waiting than in boredom. The breeze sweeping her black hair across her lips, she reached to wipe it away and her eyes caught on a pair of figures.

Trusting and full of faith small hands were gripped by an identical but larger pair. Both were fiddling with the rigging of a Tokunese ship that seemed more equipped for fishing than for cargo, as many were. Bright green eyes met Dark brown expectantly and she heard a whispered laugh. "Yeah, Just like that."

"Paytience!" Snapped out of her stare she turned back to Tor.

"Yes, Dear." Clasping her gloved hands together in front she returned to his side a sense of regret that her own connection to the Father and Son pair had been broken.

 

[Paytience Fawn]

"2.5 Million per performance."

"For that sum we could hire 8 performers!"

"You could but they would only be one-eighth as good."

Paytience watched as Tor twirled the edge of his mustache. The woman across from him was shrewd and confident almost bordering on cocky. Cezanne Abella, did have a point. Her musical prowess was legendary. But then so were her finely manicured nails as she drew out the last bit of blood from her clients.

"The Venue is Serpent's Hold. Are you familiar with it?"

"I am." Intense eyes stared him down. Unwavering, they bore holes as cleanly as any tool.

Two hours later the contract was signed and they were bidding their formidable opponent adieu. The Fawn's would be pleased with this progress. While it would cost a small fortune, it would also be a great investment. If it was one thing Kesla and David Fawn adored more than their precious daughter, it was a good investment.

 

[Paytience Fawn]

The Nomad rose and shifted as the anchor raised. The ship slowly backed out of port leaving her with one long last gaze at the Chivalrous, Virtue-thumping Proserpina atop her box-like podium in the harbor. The men had left her alone. Business to attend to, they had said. Annoyed that her intelligence and common sense had been set aside for the reality of a bosom and curves she uttered a very unladylike reference akin to calling them both pond scum.

Letting out a bristle of air she ran her hands along the worn wood of the railing. On the tide she was not just The Fawn's only girl. On the tide she held sway, the pitch and the bow of the ship responding to her ministrations of the wheel like a well known lover.

Back towards the mainland she kept a constant vigil on the deck.

"Mistress, we're about to...."

The interrupting jerk brought the side of the boat listing out of the water and sent her tumbling back. Her dress caught beneath her foot she went down smacking her head hard on the curved wood.

- - - - -

"...Come about?"

Shaking her head, Paytience immediately regretted that action as a lump the size of a small lemon had started to form on head. Her hand went to the ache as if to stem it but it was no use. Loud ringing now occupied her ears making it hard to concentrate.

"Sir, Are you all right?"