That got a genuine laugh out of Fang; she couldn't imagine him crying at all, much less over something so relatively small after what they had endured so far. He was so stoic! 

Or...was.

Because even in the short time she'd known him, already he had opened up, showing more warmth and playfulness than she would have ever expected from him two days ago—and compassion. Maybe that was a strange thing to think after seeing him effortlessly kill three men, but he had only done it to save her...and she couldn't find it in her to feel upset about that.

Inima forgive her.

Shaking her head, she gave his arm a playful swat. "Oh, stop," she said.

And then nearly jumped out of her skin at the banging on the door, grabbing onto Spike's arm hard.

They knew. Of course they did. Three crew suddenly went missing, of course they would go looking. And, Fang thought with a chill, maybe they knew where to start looking in the first place if they knew of their plans.

Three men was one thing, but there was no way Spike could protect them all from an entire crew. But he'd said he would handle it, hadn't he? He had to have a plan. "Spike...?"

Spike's comment was a much-needed touch of levity. Fang laughed, more of a breathy exhalation, and some of the tension left her with it. Her heart was still racing, but she was calming if slowly.

"Ahh, jeez..." she murmured, rubbing the back of her head where she'd bumped it. "I could never. But you, you could be a Soul Speaker if you nurtured your ability, maybe." Another deep breath and she let herself slouch. "Whew. I didn't know I could kick so hard myself, you're kinda the first person I've done that to. Congrats?"

She offered up a sheepish smile, then tilted her head to peer at his face. "Um, your jaw...you okay?"

Fang shushed, mouth slamming shut with a soft click of teeth. She grimaced, looking away guiltily. 

"Sorry," she whispered.

Fang's breath came out in shaky bursts as she scrambled to her knees on the bed, eyes wide with panic as she darted a look around for Spike or an escape route, whichever she found first. 

...She found Spike first, his voice coming to her from the floor.

Realization slowly sank in and and a new kind of horror grew as she peered down over the edge of the bed at his crumpled form, his jaw red where she'd struck him. For a moment she just stared, half awake and freaked and not quite completely understanding—and then she gasped with hands clapped over her mouth, her body going rigid.

"OhmygoddessI'msosorry!"

Sliding off the bed and onto the floor next to him, her face flushed in mortification, she tried her best to help to sit up, wincing. "I'm sorry, I'm  sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to! I don't know what happened, did I...did I do that?!"

When Fang woke, she found herself enveloped in warmth.

It was...nice, this feeling of being embraced by strong arms; safe, familiar, loving. It felt like home when she had been little and snuck into bed with her favorite father after a bad nightmare, where he cuddled her and assured her that there were no actual monsters under her bed--never realizing that, actually, there were and she could see them. But in those moments she could believe him because they never seemed to be around him, and by the time he put her back into her own bed and made a show of checking all the corners, they were gone as if by magic.

Sighing, Fang nuzzled in closer, breathing in deep and contentedly. But...something was off. Instead of smelling citrus and vetiver, there was a new scent that she couldn't quite place that was equally familiar. Her brow furrowed sleepily as she was drawn more and more out of sleep, suddenly aware of the swaying beneath her, the creak of wood, and...

...Huh...?

She cracked her eyes open slowly. Her face was nestled up against a shirt...a chest...and her arm was thrown over said body, who also had an arm over her. Her breath caught, her heart lunging into her throat with dawning realization and remembered fear and slowly, slowly, she looked up and saw a man's face.

Pure primal terror kicked in before her half-awake brain could assign a person to the image and she let out a strangled yelp and jerked back, smacking the back of her head against the wall. But she didn't care and it didn't stop her from kicking and shoving him wildly--right off the edge of the bed.

This is SO stupid, Raxta thought as another wave of water hit her full in the face without her even making an attempt at dodging. Stupid, and yet...

Sputtering and shaking water out of her ears, she bared her teeth in a playful snarl. "You won? How did you win? We didn't even set a win condition!" she said, and lunged forward to hook an arm around Kaela's neck in a loose chokehold.

"Looks like you're feeling better if you're jumping around, hm?"

And then she dunked Kaela.

Fang nodded at his words, leaning a little into his caress as she stayed where she was and was in no hurry to leave. Right then, Spike was her one safe space in a literal ocean, his touch against her hair soothing her nerves at least a little. It was okay. She was okay. And whatever happened in the coming hours...they would be okay, somehow. She just had to trust he knew what he was doing--and that Inima did, too.

"Okay," she said. "I'll try. Just don't leave me, alright?"

Goddess, she hated how she sounded even as the words left her mouth. She had always thought herself brave even when she was afraid--but right then she was just afraid. It was a foreign, vulnerable feeling, for she had never in her life been in real danger. Talking down a thief with a knife who had no intention of harming anyone was one thing, and being at the end of Spike's blade had been unnerving but not terrifying; even then she had known he hadn't meant it. Fang had encountered demons before that had chilled her blood--and she couldn't even remember their faces.

Their faces swam behind her closed eyes, though.

The night went on. She tried and failed to sleep, drifting off restlessly before jerking awake again with a start, like waking from a falling dream, but once she calmed she tried again. And again.

Until, finally, sheer exhaustion won out and she slept.

"What? No!" Fang said suddenly, snapping a look up at him. "It's not your fault. What other people choose to do--how were you supposed to know?"

Drained, both emotionally and physically and with a headache blooming behind her eyes from her cry, she slumped against him again, but this time it was to curl up with her head in his lap. He felt...good. Safe, even after the carnage she had seen him inflict.

"I know you wouldn't put me in danger on purpose," she said quietly, closing her eyes. "And...you stopped them. You shouldn't be apologizing, I should be thanking you. I owe you my life."

Fang thought it best not to ask how Spike planned to take care of it. Instead, she chose to just trust that he could. She didn't argue, either, with his assertion that her room was now here. After what had just happened, the thought of being alone made her stomach twist, and even with company she didn't know how she was ever going to sleep again.

She closed her eyes, letting her breath out slowly, one hand coming up to cover one of Spike's as it rested on her cheek. "I know," she said quietly. "I know there's, ah, good and bad. It's just...back home...well, the worst I ever had to fear was pickpockets."

She gave a soft, bitter laugh, and sat back so she could scrub at her face with her nightgown's sleeve, but more tears welled up even though the worst of it had calmed. "Did I do something wrong? They called me a...a whore. I must have given them the idea somehow, I..." More deep breaths as she brushed more tears away. "Do I just hide in this room the whole trip?"

The squeal that came out of her startled a small flock of parrots from their trees, sending them fluttering skyward in a flurry of feathers and indignant squawks.

HE BIT HER.

Was actively BITING HER.

On the BUTT.

A full-body jerk went through her, nearly sending her leaping out of her skin--if she wasn't being held firmly in place by tiger jaws clamped onto her cheek. The blood rushed to her face in pure mortification, more emotionally wounded than physically, and she twisted around to stare aghast at him, mouth dropped open. "What are you--LET GO! That is SO inappropriate! Or--or just eat me! Or something! Make up your mind, please!"

But then she froze, a thought coming to her as soon as she said it, a memory of predator kills she had seen and the way some of them ate their prey haunches first...sometimes while they were still alive...

She blanched, biting her lip. "Or...just...listen. Can we just...I dunno, talk this out or something? Not that you talk, but..." She scrubbed a hand over her face.

Kaela sent her own tidal wave her way, and with a grin, Raxta ducked beneath the wave to swim under it, resurfacing on the other side. "Pffft, yeah, you're gonna have to do better than--"

Huh?

She blinked, looking around, because Kaela was gone. Had she pushed herself too much and somehow managed to drown in waist-deep water? Somehow, she wouldn't put it past her, the girl had talent like that! Turning in a circle, looking for her, her ears went back in alarm. "Kaela? Kaela, I swear to the gods, don't mess around with me..."

Pulled into his embrace, Fang didn't resist. She curled into him and buried her face against chest and clung tight, focusing on her breathing and trying hard to slow the rapid hammering in her chest. Keep it together, keep it together, she told herself. She had done a good job of it so far, all things considered, she thought. Deep breaths, in and out, focusing on the way Spike smelled--clean, but with a tangy hint of copper that brought it all flooding back even as she tried to push it out.

And then came his hand in her hair and voice in her ears, a soothing juxtaposition to the memory of violence--but it wasn't his violence that had her palms sweaty and pulse racing despite the cold that had settled around her. And it wasn't fear of him that had her trembling, even as the touch on her scalp drew pleasant goosebumps across her skin.

She clenched her eyes shut, fighting against the breaking dam, but the simple gesture, the comfort and gentleness after the violence, broke her. Her breath hiccuped and her shoulders jerked as she cried, soaking his shirt, not daring to look at him as she kept her face firmly hidden. It wasn't a pretty cry and she knew it, and felt bad about ruining his shirt with tears and snot, but she couldn't stop it until it had run its course.

"They...they tried to..." She couldn't get out the words, didn't even know the words for it in Common. Sucking in deep, congested breaths, she held him tighter. "Is all Serendipity like that? Do they all just...hate us?" And then, fresh realization blooming, she pulled back enough to look up at Spike, face flushed and eyes watery. "What...what are we gonna do? My room, it's..."

Filled with bodies and blood.

People feared spirits. The faceless spirits of the Unknown, the hungry spirits that moved about the jungles at night...they were the subject of many cautionary tales. But the thing about them was they were generally predictable and easy to read. People weren't.

But even so, she had never feared people until now. She'd never had a reason to. Crime was low and harshly punished in Thanatos and her caste was respected, revered even.

She hadn't even made it a whole night on a Serenian ship before they--

Spike spoke, and then Fang felt the bed creak and bow where he sat. Her eyes fluttered open, eyelashes spiked together by unshed tears, and she sucked in a shuddering breath and looked away. What was she supposed to do now? Goddess, she should have known better, she shouldn't have come, but she'd had no idea--and there was no going back now, was there? The men were dead, she was trapped on a floating prison in the ocean, and she suddenly understood what all those stares had meant. Her mother had always called her foolish, always making questionable choices and trusting too easily and perhaps tampering with forces she might not be ready to handle. Maybe she was right. She was no Zhaobin.

She rubbed her face against the bed, shivering still. What if...what if they came for Spike after what had happened? He was justified, he'd only defended her, but what if they didn't believe him--or her? Thanati whore, that one had called her. Was that all she was to them? What if they killed him and then...and then...

Before she realized she was doing it, she scooted closer and wrapped an arm tightly around his waist, hand fisted in his shirt.

"Yeah, but then they could just tear you up with their hooves. Unless you'd somehow jumped on their back?"

She scraped the bowl for the last of the broth, for she'd pretty much shoveled stew into her mouth as he spoke. "They're pretty big animals."

The man rolled off of her then—no, was pulled off—and Fang sucked in deep, heaving breaths as her chest was no longer being squeezed. Then her eyes landed on Spike, and for one brief flash they widened in fear at the sight of his bloody face before clearing in recognition.

For that small second, she had thought he might be another one of them.

But it was just Spike. Just Spike. He'd come. He swam in her vision, her eyes going blurry and stinging, but she would recognize him anywhere and right then he stood there fierce and protective as any Khan. She wanted to sit up, wanted to thank him, but when she opened her mouth no sound came out as her throat tightened, and her body was trembling too hard for her to move, limbs heavy and wobbly.

Luckily, she didn't have to move.

He scooped her up and she clung hard to him, hands curled tightly in his shirt and face pressed against his shoulder, too shocked and relieved to be embarrassed that she was being carried like a child to bed. She soon found herself in his bed, letting go of him reluctantly, and curled into a defensive ball with her nightgown wrapped tight around her legs and arms curled against her chest. Her heart was still racing and so was her mind, trying and failing to process what had happened and almost happened, and goddess, those men were gone but she was still on this ship—and Spike had killed crew. What happened when the bodies were found? Would it matter to them if it was self-defense? What if more of them tried to—?

She shuddered, her stomach flipping, and shot a hand down to touch Spike's shoulder, needing the contact. The reminder he was there, that she wasn't alone.

"Stay with me," she managed to rasp out, and swallowed hard against the dryness in her mouth. 

"Damned right, that was one-hundred percent intentional!" Raxta shot back with a grin, no longer able to hide the truth as pure revenge took a turn for simple fun: she was in her element and she bloody loved water. 

"Pathetic," she chided, throwing an arm up to avoid some of the spray. "Sloppy form. Let me show you how it's done." And then she went in for the kill.

Putting both arms together in a straight line, she swung them like a club through the water to send a mini tidal wave at Kaela's face.

Raxta had opened her mouth to say something—but got a full mouthful of water instead as Kaela SPLASHED HER with her whole arm! Like, the girl must have put the full force of her body behind that because it went up her nose and absolutely drenched her. It didn't help that she'd knelt down to be on her level, which put her at perfect splashing height to get her entire goddamned body.

Raxta squealed from the cold, though it soon turned into a choked, sputtering sound as she snorted water out her nose and shoved her hair out of her eyes so she could stare wide-eyed at Kaela like she was absolutely deranged. Her tail shot up, stiff and rigid and puffed out, and her claws sprang out as she held her hands in front of her in a strangling motion.

"Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" she wheezed. But then, as quickly as the shock of it hit her, the absurdity of it followed. Kaela, butt-ass naked, getting a watery sneak-attack on her. What on earth?! Her claws retracted and her wheeze suddenly turned into a giggle, then full-on laughter, and she sat back on her heels and wiped water out of her face, shaking her head.

"Okay," she said at last, looking at Kaela with a wicked smile, fangs bared. "You wanna play? We can play."

And then she scooped the woman up and swiftly waded deeper into the water until it came up to her hips—and then dropped Kaela into the stream.

"Wait—what! HOW?!" Was all Raxta was able to stutter out as, somehow, Kaela slipped from her grasp like a big, limp fish and splashed into the water, spraying her in the process.

And then Raxta just stood there, staring at Kaela, her ears back, arms limp at her sides, and expression flat as water dripped from her hair and clothes and off the tip of her nose. Only her tail, switching rapidly back and forth, gave away her sheer exasperation.

"How. How did you do that?" she said at last, and gave herself a shake in a motion that was classically feline, sending out a fine spray of water from her hair—which immediately floofed up. Awesome. She heaved a sigh and marched over to Kaela, kneeling down beside her.

"You fool. If you'd just hold still we could've made it. C'mere, grab onto my shoulders. You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Fang's thrashing was short-lived when the man wrenched her arms until her shoulders felt like they would tear, the pain bursting like bright white flashes behind her clenched eyes—but it had been enough. It had been enough to make the man atop her fumble his belt and that had bought her time.

For not seconds later, the door came crashing open and there was Spike, barely looking like Spike at all.

Maybe that was because everything had begun to take on a surreal quality, like she was watching the scene as a spectator rather than experiencing it in her own body, like she was floating somewhere outside it. Even the pain began to register as distant, distinctly her pain but also like it somehow belonged to someone else. But perhaps that was because she felt like she couldn't breathe despite breathing, the air moving through her lungs in short, panicked bursts, her heart racing, her body going strangely numb. Spike was there, she realized in a daze. He'd come.

And her assailants were dropping.

Cries of pain. Sickly crunches. The smell of blood. The room was buzzing with a strange energy and Fang could do nothing but watch, dizzy, as Spike downed two men without breaking his stride. The man atop her tried a different tactic; Fang's breath caught when she felt cold, sharp metal against her neck, an all too familiar sensation—but just as quickly she felt the man's body spasm, then felt him deflate.

He folded forward onto Fang like a sack of meat, trapping her in place, his head falling next to hers face first into her pillow and soaking it with blood—and that was enough to break her out of her freeze. With a gasp, she shoved desperately at his body, clawing at him to try to get free, but he was a large man and his limbs were all tangled up with hers. 

...Kind of like him? Cadmus cocked his head as she did her hand thing and explained that he wasn't a "real human man" (which did explain things, like the shoulder mauling for one) but as if summoned by his name, the not-man himself appeared. Without knocking, of course.

And while announcing...that.

Cadmus stared at him, eyebrows rising, and cleared his throat. No, that was definitely not a thought he had entertained, not a single damned time, especially not when they had been cuddling naked that one night. He had definitely never thought about it since then, either, and certainly not when she had straddled and kissed him with a knife to his chest. Because, you know, that would be pretty fucked up. 

He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, drawing in a breath (the man was blunt, that was certain) until the man demanded to see his wounds.

Well, sure. Why not.

"It's fine. Really," Cadmus said as he turned so the scratches faced Albert, scabbed over now and healing. "You don't know me, and I did break into your home. By all rights, I can't blame you for defending yourself. You could have done worse and I'd have earned it."