Spirits of the Earth

Two weeks they had been out to sea, two weeks the infamous criminal lay asleep. The moment they arrives he had yet to open eyes- no doubt the half elf woman he brought with him was a mess of shock and concern. 

He had been bleeding- from all orifices, unmoving and cold- as if dead.

But his heart beat still- a slow, shallow rhythm, barely changing from day to day, week to week.


The crew knew what to do. They expected as much and didn't so much as step into the room once it was confirmed of his.. condition. And they immediately took sail. It would take quite a while to travel so far south to Essryn. One might consider Opus' slumber a blessing. But with each lulling rock of the boat he slept away...


His heart beat.. beat.. beating slow.
It almost seemed in tune with the very familiar clock sitting inside his room- looming across the bed chambers like a obelisk. A constant- tick.. tick.. tock.

But never once did he waiver. And never once did his crew run afoul or try to betray. No..

No it seemed each man remained vigilante to their duties- even as they followed the orders of the strange always laughing man Opus had left in charge.

For even as Saoirse was left in some sort of confused, panick state- it was this man- Dao'bachpa- whom she came upon. And once he realized her distress...

He had laughed.

At first she wasn't sure what had happened. His lips were upon her before she could even think; before she could so much as breathe. And Gods was it a kiss. It enveloped her as much, if not more, than his arms that pulled her close. She drowned in him.

Then her world lurched and she stumbled as the floor shifted beneath her feet and she slammed into the wall of a wooden room just as Opus fell in a bloody heap before her.

The events that followed were a blur. Nothing felt real. A kiss and then blood. Blood and then a kiss. She couldn't recall if she called for help, or cried out, or just fell to her knees and scooped Opus into her lap, but there were hands on her shoulders pulling her away from him. She struggled, of that she was sure, and they spoke to her softly about "handling it" or "calm down" or "it's ok" but it didn't look like everything would be fine. People did not bleed the way Opus was bleeding and just be fine.

Then she was practically dragged from the room as the people worked to save nin vrae. Dragged up a short flight of stairs and into blinding sunlight. Her eyes rushed to adjust and she sneezed and then....laughter.

They wouldn't let her see him at first. Before anything she was put in a small room and forced to change out of bloody clothes for the second time this day. She remembered being told to be thorough for reasons she didn't understand at the time, and was provided a small pile of exquisitely tailored clothes that were all, inexplicably, her size. Even the dresses were the correct length. They were the clothes of someone who wanted pieces to last.

She tried to leave a few times and was pushed back in and instructed that she needed to be even more thorough. By the time she was finished, practically all of the brown had rinsed from her hair and her skin was flush from scrubbing, but she was finally suitable enough for...whatever it was.

It turned out to be a very good reason, but at the time all she wanted was to see Opus. To make sure he was ok. To offer any assistance she could. To just hold his damned hand.

Afterwards, her own injured hand was thoroughly cleaned and tightly bandaged before she was allowed to meet Dao.

Oh Dao...the man who had laughed at her distress...the man who wasn't even really a man anymore and was the reason for all of the meticulous cleaning forced upon her. She couldn't describe Dao. He was...Dao...but she quickly learned that she liked him.

Days passed. She was eventually allowed to sit with Opus, but he wasn't waking up and she couldn't exist by his bedside forever. So she began to explore. At first people gave her some distance, offering only necessities as needed.

But then she found herself lonely and did the only thing she felt truly good at - she played. There was a small harp and a lute with her things and it didn't take long for her songs to attract the crew. Between her own impressive abilities and the illusions that cascaded from the skies, she began breaking down the walls that being a guest of Opus Dey had been thrust around her. By the end of the first week, they began to request favorites -sometimes raunchy tavern songs, sometimes soft lullabies, and Saoirsa played until her fears lessened for a time.

At night, she spent her time on deck while the rest slept. It had been so long since she let moonlight wash over her and she would stand for hours at the rail staring at the waves and the starlight. The ship was magical. Pure and complete magic. Never in her long years had she experienced something like it before and it filled her with untold amounts of pure joy. What the crew thought of her standing there, she didn't know, but she was a sight to behold. When the moon grew full, her skin radiated light like gentle wafts of smoke lifting from her body and the intricate tattoos across her shoulders became the brightest silver. Of course, any and all moonlight triggered these changes, but the full moon made her seem almost ghostly.

And that was where she stood, in the glow of the full moon, two weeks after Opus fell bringing them to the ship, just watching the horizon. Waiting.

"You a moon elf?" Came a voice from across the ship. It was the vampire, perched in a casual lean against the side of the ship. "You glow like it." And he pointed up to the moon, incase it wasn't obvious.

When Dao spoke, Saoirse was actively leaning precariously over the rail in an attempt to look into the waves that brushed against the edge of the boat as well as the little dots of stars that reflected on the water. She had heard tales of the ocean, but nothing could have prepared her for what it was actually like. It was expansive. It was all encompassing. There was just nothing but water and sky for miles and miles straight until the horizon dropped off.

Surprisingly, considering how engrossed she was in the scenery, she didn't so much as flinch when his voice reached her ears. It was a good thing, too because she was leaning so far that one of her feet was lifted off the deck while the other supported her on the tips of her toes.

"Mmmm..." she hummed in response, but did not look over at him. Instead, she stretched her fingertips as far as they could go in an attempt to catch the sea spray, "It's been a fortnight and you're only asking that now?"

Dao shrugged, watching as she hung over the edge of the ship like a cat.

"I try not to be rude?" His grin seemed to glow in the darkness. 

A moment later, he was on her side of the boat, leaning with his back against the rail

She laughed at that and brought both feet, bare feet as she preferred the feel of the wooden planks beneath her, back down onto the deck and brushed loose curls from her face as she turned to look at where he now leaned by her.

"Well, now I'm curious what else you've not asked because you thought it rude."

Dao's grin returned and he lifted a finger, wagging it at her.
"As long as you're just curious and not asking..." but he laughed before he finished his thought.

Her eyebrows raised at the silence that followed.

"Well, now I'm curious and asking."

"Well.." Dao began. But another voice cut in.

"I should have warned you about that one...."

Dao's face blossomed as he turned to address....
"Opus! You're less dead now! That's great!"

The tall man looked like death, a hand leaning against the wall for support as he looked over at the pair. He winced as he walked, but tried to ignore it best he could. He could deal with the aches for now.

When he approached, he paused before Saoirse- a faint smile touching his lips. 

Then Dao stepped between them.

"Glad to see you're finally awake! The rest of the men were worried I was nibbling on you while you slept."

Opus eyed the vampire before just pushing him aside, then made the two extra strides to move over to Saoirse as he looked at her.

"And don't worry-" Doa added. "I didn't nibble on her either. "

But Opus really didn't hear it.

"Are you well?" He asked her, voice gruff but soft.

It had been so long, and Saoirse had been doing her best to ignore the whispering voice in the back of her mind that said he would never wake up, that it took a moment to realize who was speaking. But the moment she did, her head whipped around and she was forced to grip the rail for support as disbelief washed through her. But sure enough, there he stood. Well, he was certainly doing his best to stand but it was clear that it was taking him a lot of effort.

She took a step forward, but Dao was there before her and she was forced to stop. But he certainly didn't stop Opus.

"I'm fine." She responded to his question, and then she pushed him on his arm - being careful not to be too rough given his current state, "Two. Weeks. Opus." her voice shook with all of the emotions she had choked down since arriving, "We get here and then you're just gone. But apparently that's completely normal and you didn't warn me - and two weeks."

The same small little smile was there as she dished out her reprimand, and he began to cough- either as if to hife a chuckle- or maybe a chuckle had turned into a cough?

Unfortunately, whatever it had been before, soon turned sour and Opus turned away, quick to draw out a kerchief from his front pocket before coughing into it

And when he pulled away,.. his hand curled the kerchief close, but it was hard to hide the fact it had been blood.

Even if he had been able to be sneakier with his attempt, Saoirse's elvish vision coupled with the light that billowed off of her in the moonlight made it nearly impossible to hide the blood. Even the cough itself was harsh and bubbled sinisterly.

In an instant, all anger and annoyance and hurt melted away and was replaced by fear and concern. She swooped in next to him and put a supportive arm around his waist and a hand on his chest. Normally she was quite strong for her stature, but with the moon came an almost God-like strength and if she had wanted to, she could have picked him up and carried him with no trouble.

"You shouldn't be up here." She told him softly, "You should be resting."

Opus grimaced, but shook a hand at the remedy. 

"I'll be fine. I rested for too long. I'll just-"

Dao cut him off with a quip. "He'll cheat with a heal ring. Or potion. Or just say say sex is the only way."

Opus paused to eye him.

Dao shrugged. 

"Sounds like something dastardly types would say."

Saoirse was already prepared for Opus to push back against rest, he just wasn't the type for idleness no matter how necessary, but Dao's quips were new. At least new to her.

"You." She pointed at the Vampire, "Not helping. Just....Shush."

And then her attention was back to Opus, "I'm assuming if you have something that'll help," she shot a warning glance at Dao in case he decided to say something. Her hand was ready to waive in his face to cut him off, "It's probably not up here."

Opus grunted a nod of affirmation.

"I came to check on you, first."

Dao sighed from where he had been shooed away, leaning back against the boat's outer deck.

"He's not a trusting man," the vampire lamented.

Opus paid him no mind.

"Are you well? Have my men treated you fairly?"

She didn't know if she should be flattered or annoyed that he would risk his own health and safety to ensure her own. Though perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised given the troubles he had gone through for her in the past. This, though, this felt different. He wasn't doing some big grand scheme that happened to go wrong, he had chosen to rise from the dead  and his first thought was of her.

If she hadn't been fully transformed by the moonlight, the flush that rose in her cheeks at the thought may have been visible.

"We can talk while getting you what you need." She urged, "Let's get you there, ok? I'm fine. I've been treated very well." Too well, even, she would argue, for a random passenger who offered nothing but nightly entertainment to ease her own drooping spirit.

He nodded.  He knew it was foolish to check on her first- he had tight security with any men that he worked with. He could trust them.. well enough. But even he knew all men had a price. And mortals were fickle creatures. It was just the way of men.

But he was glad to see she was doing well, and he finally took the time to admire her shining form in the moonlight. It was a reminder of what she was- what she stood for. And a reminder why he had to get her out of Connlaoth at all costs.

Connlaoth.. he wouldn't need to go back there for a while. He had cemented his northern holds two fold. But with time.. men would forget. And eventually he'd have to return.

He continued to admire her before pulling a bottle and two glasses from his pocket.

"Some wine ,first."
While he still felt and was reminded that he too, were mortal. He too, was human.

She kept her arm protectively around him while trying to steer him towards his quarters where she assumed whatever he needed would be kept. At the very least it would give him a place to sit down and stop with his current stubborn nonsense. She could feel his eyes on her even when she wasn't looking and felt uncomfortable. This was the first time she had been around him outside in the full moon. What was he thinking? Was it odd? Were there moments of judgment swirling through his head? It was a normal thing for her kind, but humans didn't just...glow like she did. And he wasn't exactly the most verbose person she had met. Much of his thoughts went unsaid and left her wondering.

"Ah..." she looked at the two glasses and the bottle of wine that he pulled from his clothes and frowned, "I may have limited experience with Humans, but I'm fairly certain that is not in your best interests right now."

"Of course it's not." He offered out a glass, waiting for her to take one.  "But allow me this time to be just another stupid human, indulging in this simple vice. "

Saoirse frowned, but slowly reached up to take one of the glasses.

"Don't do that." She said quietly, "You're not stupid." She rolled the glass delicately in her moonlit fingers, "And I'm only taking this to get you to leave faster."

Opus only smiled before he moved and uncorked the bottle right there. He looked at her expectantly to extend her glass so he could pour hers, first.

She lifted her glass up with one hand, while continuing to keep the other around his waist. He was in rough shape and she wasn't about to let him go down over a silly glass of wine.

"This had better not kill you." She grumbled.

He smiled as he poured her a cup, then poured his own. He lifted it to hers in salute.

"It won't." He smirked and knocked back the drink in a hearty go- and despite what it seemed- it was actually some of the worst tasting, poorest quality wine this side of the world. 

Thankfully for her, she had only planned to take the smallest of sips to appease him, and the moment the wine touched her tongue a violent cough and sputter exploded from her lips. She had never had something so awful in her life! It didn't matter that barely any had managed to get into her mouth, the after taste lingered and her throat burned.

"What is this?" She sputtered, holding the glass away from her like it was about to spontaneously combust in her hand. "Ah...that is truly awful!"

And she watch in disbelief and disgust as Opus downed his entire glass like juice.

The man was actually smiling. And.. perhaps even a little green around the gills himself. He looked down at the bottle. 

"I'm pretty sure that's the single most disgusting wine I've had.." he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And I've had a lot of wine.."

Saoirse couldn't believe her ears, "Wh...why did you want to drink it, then? Where did it even come from?" She couldn't get the taste out of her mouth and every breath sent scents of it cycling through her senses.

She held out the almost full glass to Dao, "My gift to you."

Dao waved it off.
"I would rather drink pidegon blood."

Opus smiled and just watched Saoirse.  He took the glass, eyeing it, then tossed it over the side of the ship.  The bottle soon followed.

"I had higher hops.." he said, still looking a bit green. "After all.. I had made that wine."

And at that, Dao tossed his head back in a laugh. "Don't quit your day job, boss. " and he continued to laugh.

If it hadn't been such an absolutely terrible bottle of wine, she might have actually felt bad for her reaction. But, by The Lady, she had truly never had something so completely and utterly awful in all of her long years. Even some absolutely terrible human foods didn't hold weight against it.

"Oh..." she felt her stomach churn and tried to breathe deeply out of her mouth to try and alleviate the smell that kept trying to overwhelm her, "Opus...no...that's...did you follow a recipe? Or...use....actual, erm, edible fruit....?"

She took another breath and croaked, "If there's water in your chambers perhaps...we should go there."

Opus just remained, smiling but as indifferent as always. 

Then he excused himself and vomited over the edge of the ship. 

And Dao continued to laugh- in fact, he was laughing so much he had tears in his eyes.

She didn't let her arm keep him from leaving for the side of the boat. She had a very little sip and was struggling to settle her stomach but Opus? Opus had consumed an entire glass of the foul stuff and she could only imagine how poorly that would sit with him. Very very poorly, judging by the contents of his stomach that now mixed into the ocean.

A small, disgusting burp bubbled in her throat which she did her best to suppress behind her hand, while her other rested on her stomach. A few minutes and she should be fine. She hadn't had much at all.

Dao's laughter echoed in her ears and she couldn't help the smile that it brought to her lips. "By The Lady, that was terrible." She forced a chuckle away and cautiously made her way towards Opus, placing a supportive hand on his back.

He groaned and just remained leaning against the side.  He raised a hand, to give himself some time... space.  He hurled a few more times then sighed.

"I think I've suffered enough like an ordinary mortal. If either of you need me.. I'm going back to my quarters  "

Saoirse stepped back when he raised his hand and waited, anxiously, as he emptied the rest of the stuff from his stomach. When he finally spoke, she moved forward again.

"Let me help you." She offered.

He smiled at that, nodding. 
"I would never refuse a lady to accompany me to my room."

He cast Dao a look- but the vampire simply smiled and began to sing ,of all things, about true love rocking on the ocean. 

The door to his room closed and the song was snuffed out, and once inside, the man seemed to.visibly wilt.

The walk to his room was tense for the elf. She walked a fine line of offering support without taking away his pride in the process. No doubt other eyes were upon them and she wasn't about to shatter the image of him waking from the dead and immediately bringing a woman to his room. That had the makings of a good epic ballad written all over it.

So she kept her grip firm, but her features light to keep the facade.

But once that door closed and she felt him slump, she was there without pause giving him all the help he needed. The light fell from her face, both literal light now that the moon was no longer touching her skin, and the air of nonchalance.

"Sit. Rest." She commanded, "Tell me what you need and it's yours." She would carrying him if she had to, and was poised and ready for the worst should it come to it.

The thing about traveling on the ocean is that it was alive. The room creaked and groaned, a reminder that it was a slave to the sea. Even the fine ornamental tassels moved subtly against the frame of his bed.

The room was generous for what it was,  a large bed at the back wall, silken canopy crowned over top- a writing desk that was curiously clean, a bed side table, a couch and a few extra chairs scattered about, and a chest resting at rhe foot of the bed.

But there was a ticking in the room, and it was the first thing that drew his attention. He wondered if Saoirse would recognize it. Although it was not her clock, it was  ornamented just the same- except a few unique and personalized quirks carved into the wood.

She found herself more concerned when Opus didn't respond, or move to sit down or rest or any of it. She had already decided that she would take matters into her own hands if he chose to be stubborn and was about to say something smart when she noticed his gaze. Upon following it, she saw, for the first time, the clock that sat on the table beside his bed.

Her breath caught and the fire died from her tongue.

"Oh." She murmured, hand still firmly wrapped around him for support. How long had she sat here waiting for him to stir with the clock to her back and never even noticed? She'd never even moved from the chair she'd moved beside the bed that first time she was allowed to be with him. It was still there, with the back blocking it. It was the same, but different, and still just as magnificent.

"I...never noticed it until now." She admitted slightly embarassed by her own lack of observational skills. To her credit, she was mostly concerned for him and snooping had been the last thing on her mind. That and being in a box, no matter how big of a box, had never held much of an appeal compared to the open sky and she felt better when focusing on Opus.

"You really should at least sit." She tried again. The time for conversation could come after he was comfortable.

Opus gave a small smile at her remarks.  
"That concerned about me?" He asked, making a noise as he moved to sit at the foot of the bed. He eyed the clock, then around the room before his eyes slowly fell back to her.

"And here you could have rifled through my things. Yet.. you chose not?"

After she made sure he was solidly seated and wouldn't fall over, she finally let him go and then settled herself on her knees on the floor in front of him. The ivory dress she had picked to wear today had clearly been altered slightly by her own hand and now sported two slits - quite high on her leg - on both sides of the skirt. It wasn't that she didn't like the clothing, it was more for her own comfort. It allowed for more air to touch her skin and provided ease of movement. Perhaps some would consider it immodest, but her people often walked around in fully open robes or clothes that were thin and flowing. She'd made all of those layers work while traveling around Connlaoth, but here on the ship she opted for comfort over human modesty laws.

"Why would I do that?" She asked genuinely curious, yet another example of her otherness, "I didn't come here to steal your secrets - they belong to you."

Her hands folded daintily in her lap, "If you need me to know something, you'll tell me. If I want to know something, I'll ask. And maybe," she added, "One day you'll trust me enough to answer."

He tilted his head at those words, studying her exotic face, almost hidden in its  depths if appearing just human.  But he could see those subtle differences.  He could even feel them. He didn't need the ears to see that.

"I like the alterations of your dress  "

Saoirse unconsciously tilted her head to the other side and dropped her gaze for a moment, a light flush rising in her cheeks after the moments of silence as he simply observed her. She'd never understood the phrase "undressing with his eyes" as some humans liked to say, because underneath it all they all looked the same, but this stare felt intimate. Not so much an undressing of clothing, but a peeling back of the layers of personality and emotional walls that kept one safe.

She cleared her throat when he finally spoke and glanced down where the entire length of her leg was clearly visible.

"Ah..." she brushed her red curls behind her ear, "Yes...I don't care much for your human modesty laws. How can you feel starlight or hear the wind whisper when you're covered head to toe?"

It also made her, slightly dangerous, habit of balanacing on the ship's rail easier. The first time she'd done it the crew thought she was planning to jump into the sea and had practically tackled her to the deck. It had not been an easy conversation but eventually they were convinced she was not going to jump, nor was she likely to fall. They didn't like it, but the tackling never happened again - though at least one person always seemed to be nearby when she was up there.

Humans were funny.

Or maybe, "If I fell overboard, would you have blamed your crew?" She asked suddenly.

Now he titled his head the other way, a hand moving to brush what remained of her hair from her face.

"And why would I need to worry about you falling overboard?" He asked, stroking a hand through her hair. 

He studied her face.
"Planning on escaping that way?" He asked,  light smirk upon his lips.

She smiled contently as his fingers brushed through her hair and a small shiver traveled down her spine. It made her more at ease to know that he was still moving, still talking, despite his close call with death.

Her eyes rolled at his question and she clucked her tongue in reprimand, "No. Nothing like that. I chose to come with you, that would just be stupid. No...I just think I'm really good at giving the crew heart attacks. They've really taken to music at twilight, but they're not so keen on me walking along the railings. Seem to think I'm going to fall and it just dawned on me that their concern might stem more from worry about your reaction than my safety."

"Well, I can't argue that," he went on, a hand still stroking softly through her hair. "They'd likely know I'd break their necks or worse were something to happen to you."

He studied her, still wearing that subtle smile.
"You smell nice."

She sniffed, feeling oddly annoyed at that knowledge, "Well, that makes the chaperone I've had less cute. And so you don't worry too, I won't fall. Probably. And even if I do it wouldn't be their fault."

A light sigh left her and she shifted, still feeling slightly uncomfortable under his continuous gaze.

"Is that why you keep staring at me?" She asked.

At such a reaction he smiled, his hands having moved down to meet with hers. He wrapped a few fingers around one of her hands and continued to study her.

"Can a man not enjoy the view.. being happy he woke up.. alive?" He questioned. "And what's this you speak of crawling up and around my railings. Have I brought another cat on board?" He asked, amused.

She squeezed his hand gently when their fingers met and then proceeded to turn his hand over to slowly trace the lines of his palms. She hadn't had time to experience the small things since they met seeing as every meeting had been wrought with peril. His hands were larger than she expected and seemed to dwarf her own. Even the color of her skin was stark in comparison and made her, for a moment, see the elven side of her lineage. At home her coloring had always been human but here....she saw clearly that she didn't fit in either culture. She was simply....different.

"I'm glad you're alive." She told him, while still staring at his palm, "Truly. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't woken..." and she'd thought about it, too. Mostly she'd wondered how deep the crew's loyalty lay and if they were all contracted. If Opus died and there was mutiny her chances of survival were low.

And then he called her a cat and she chuckled, "Dao said the same thing." She said with mirth and a hint of fondness, "and no. I don't catch mice." She glanced up at him with a twinkle in her eyes.

He leaned back, inviting her forward.

"No.. no mice for a cat like you," he said, a hand moving to rest at the small of her back. "No... you're a cat more fascinated with birds."

"Birds?" She let him pull her up, still holding onto his hand, "What birds have caught my eye, then?"

She could feel the warmth of his hand on her back through the fabric of the dress he had clearly purchased for her before she even knew about this ship.

"I feel.." he went on, his hand still smoothly, warmly moving down her back, coaxing her even closer. He studied her eyes. She had such beautiful eyes

.  "It's not a type. No.." a finger moved,  slow and purposeful,  tip toeing up the strings that kept the dress laced together. 
"You don't crave birds... but.."his hands pulled, her dress becoming loose. "But the desire to fly."

"And you," she reached around to grab his hand where it had just loosened her dress to pull it back to the front and held it tightly in her own, "will surely die if you continue what you're attempting in your current state."

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it lightly.

"Let's get your health sorted first, yes? What will it be? A ring, a potion, or time?"

Opus gave her a look.

"Surely die?" He cocked his head to the side. "You see me as so weak?" He challenged, the air growing tense at the very accuasation. 

Saoirse didn't even blink as the fire seemed to rise in him and just cocked her head to the side as if looking as a young child throwing a tantrum over a lost ball.

"Is your pride so easily wounded?" She asked, pushing his hand into his own chest, "I'll not play games with you, Opus Dey. Not this kind." She leaned forward until she was close enough to smell the bad wine still on his breath.

"Potion. Ring. Or time?"

"And if i don't oblige?" He asked, staring her over. "Or of I told you something outlandish, such as only death or sex could cure me...?"

His smile grew along with the sparkle in his eyes.

"And if I said neither? Or none of those would work except time?"

She couldn't help the eyeroll that followed his sorry attempt at evoking pity, or impatience,  or whatever it was he wanted her to feel.

"Opus." She said matter of factly, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear, "I am one hundred and eighteen years old. We are not considered adults until one hundred and complete the rituals to be welcomed by The Lady herself." She leaned in even closer until her lips just barely brushed against his, "If you are planning to see which one of us will break first you will lose."

Then she untangled herself from him and took a few steps back before nimbly tying her dress back into place - though it was clear she still favored her right hand.

"If time is the only way, then time will have its due. We will be on this boat for awhile yet, so it seems we'll have it."

He frowned as he watched her slip away. Was she proud to reject him? Proud to tell him no?

No. She  was genuinely concerned for him. Perhaps he should care more about his own life- but who could blame him? To feel a real thrill when at his weakest? 

It reminded him he was mortal- not a God or demon, like many might presume- even at times himself. Here he was, most vulnerable, yet this woman sought to dictate him from self harm.

He smiled and rose, moving towards her without a word, hands moving to trace up her arms.

She sighed visibly at his tenacity and caught one of his hands after the first pass against her now goosebump covered arms. Part of her considered pushing him away, but she found herself entwining her fingers together with his instead and kept it up against her chest and inbetween their bodies.

"Why are you smiling?" She asked in exasperation, then reached her free hand up to brush the back of her fingers against his cheek, "I'm telling you no and you're smiling. You have an entire empire tasked to say yes and yet you're smiling." And basically ignoring his own health....repeatedly.

"Likely the same reason you're still here and haven't left over the side of my ship." The smile was still there, even dancing in his eyes.
"Maybe I want someone to tell me no.."

She sighed again and slipped back into her particular brand of Elvish to mutter something about him being an incouragable child with no care for his own well being. But, despite the words themselves, her face and her tone reflected fondness.

"What do I need to do to convince you to take care of yourself?" She switched back to common, "Should I carry you to bed? Force soup down your throat? I could do it, you know."

Opus raised a brow. And simply watched her.

"I fail to see the threat "

She gave his hand a squeeze and bit her lower lip while contemplating her next move. Was she crazy enough? Would he be angry?

Did she care if he was?

A large smile slowly spread across her face and her eyes twinkled mischievously, "Yes."

And at the same time she answered she deftly swung her arms around his back and scooped him up like a princess before gently laying him down on his bed. In response to the incredible feat of strength, the silver tattoos across her shoulders pulsed with moonlight and then faded back to their usual barely-visible thin traces after he was properly deposited.

Then, For the grand finale she planted a kiss on his forehead and then trailed down to whisper in his ear.

"Do I need to get the soup?"

He.. had not been expecting that. His entire body tenses as she lifted him up like he were a child. The very idea and sight of them was a ridiculous one- for he towered over her greatly, and despite the weeks of bed rest- he was still all muscle; brawn.

So when she asked about the soup...

Opus' smile turned rye. 

"It depends what you actually mean by soup. But next time.." hr went on, and she'd feel the light tap of something metal against the back of her neck. "You ought to warn me."
He showed her the knife, and moved to stow it away.  

She had been so focused on him, and her tattoos tingled when she exercised the gifts provided her under the moon, that she hadn't even felt the blade against her back until he showed her and tucked it away. Her eyebrows raised in surprise and she sat on the edge of the bed, still facing him and pressed her hand against her back where the blade had been moments before. That...was potentially a problem that she might need to address.

"I did warn you." She finally replied, "You chose to see it as an idle threat and then pull out a blad--would you have actually used it on me?"

Of course he would, who was she kidding? This was the man who had slaughtered every man who had hurt her even if only slightly even if only distantly related to her captivity. She had grown complacent in the last two weeks and forgotten to whom she attached herself.

"I already have."

And all he could do.. was smile. Like a cat in the cream.... only somehow more.. satisfied? And then she would feel it- her dress threatening to fall off her form.

He had cut her ties.

Sure enough, every single cross of  ribbon on the back of her gown had been severed from shoulder to waist and now was noticably loose around her where it had once been snug. Her surprise faded as quickly, nay, quicker than it had come and was replaced with a scowl in complete contrast to that insufferable smile on his   face.

Saoirse said nothing as she stood, mouth still turned down and brow furrowed as she let the dress slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground. She stood there, arms held out to her sides to just let him look.

"In my language we call sex a Giving. It's a gift from one person to another. So take a good look, Opus Dey, for there will be no giving to you until you do something worthy of my gift."

And then she sat on the chair that had become her throne over the past two weeks and crossed her legs before leaning back with both hands on the arm rests and just...glared at him.

Despite being completely turned down, the battered man eyed the prize hungrily as she sat upon her chair. That stubborn pride...
He was almost tempted to cheat. But no.

He had to pay his dues. Sure, he slaughtered men- every single one deserving of it- however...

Who could put a price on a life?

He had grown so accustomed to thwarting bad luck and mortality that it was times like these, where he pulled at those seemingly endless resources, and had made a vow to himself to never forget what he was.

He was human.. mortal..

And someday, like those men he slaughtered, he too would pass.

He moved slightly, the painful reminder of his body's condition making him wince through that subtle smile of his. But his eyes remained upon her's once he was finished appreciating her naked form.

"I suppose the gift of corpses and an invitation onto my ship were not enough."

Not a question, but a statement. His eyes sparkled.

"What kind of songs did you sing in my absence?" He asked, after holding a long moment of silence.

Her eyes remained steadily on his face and she never wavered. This she understood. Humans loved what was underneath all the layers of clothes and that wasn't something that often excited her or her kind. Bodies were just that, bodies. It was actions and words that held sway over her desires. It was the overwhelming joy of being plucked from certain death that claimed her weeks before, that sent her passionately into his arms. It was a Giving she didn't regret. A Giving she would never regret. That was a gift of life.

Here, though? She would never give when it was demanded and Opus' actions with his blade had felt like a demand. She owed him nothing for the choices he made in that time they were apart. She owed him nothing for his apparent assumption that she would agree to come with him - he had been prepared for her well before their paths converged.

And there was guilt there, too. He had, unbelievably, slautered those guards for her and yet...that one decision on his part and more than likely saved her life yet again. Her plan had been to drug their wine and set them alight. Her plan had a very slim chance of escape once she had made it into the jail.

But she didn't like to admit it to herself let alone to Opus.

"Many." She answered without moving, though one slender finger absently drew circles on the arm of the chair, "Often what is requested - love songs, songs of going home....once they were more comfortable with me they started requesting more bawdy styles. Perhaps tomorrow night I'll throw in ones about you. Characatures, naturally. Humorous. Parodies."

She was curious if the suggestion would cause a reaction so she watched him closely.

"Songs about me?" He asked, arching a brow. "And what exactly is there to sing about?"

It was time for her eyes to sparkle and a mischievous smile crept onto her lips as she leaned forward to rest her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. She was almost completely covered in this position, but that wasn't why she took it. No, being naked was a human issue, not one from the Bloodmoon Elves.

"Oh. So many things, nin vrae." But he had to know that already. No one in his position would go through life without at least a small curiosity as to what others said about you. She wouldn't be surprised if he knew each and every one. Maybe not to sing it, but certainly by lyric or by melody.

Her eyes danced as she began to sing.

"Out there along the eastern hills amidst the dying lands,
Where children cry and women shudder alone in misery,
For once did come a shadow great, and screams replace commands.
Until the sun doth rise again and shadows chased away,
For there is nothing more to fear - no fear, no more, of Dey."

The first verse was slow and minor with many chromatic modulations and tritones laced throughout to paint the picture of something horrible and spooky. But then the tone shifted and the haunting melody changed into something jaunty and bubbly that would likely be accompanied by much drunken dancing.

"He stands just shy of four feet high,
His grin askew, his grin askew,
He showers naught and smells of lye
His words do coo, his words do coo.
With arms so long they reach the ground
With eyes so black so small so round
With teeth so gold and grossly browned
No fear, no more, of Dey, of Dey
Ole ola ole ole."

That.. she had chosen that song of all to sing about him? He could have laughed but held it in reserve, but his eyes nearly burst with what he was suppressing.

"You waste your talents on such a tripe song." He titled his head, thoughtful- but the warmth of amusement hung about him.

"Oh, no, never a waste." Her eyes continued to dance, "I think it's quite accurate. The description especially is just....mmm....perfect."

Perhaps she was testing the limits, perhaps she could have been kinder, but as far as she could tell the man before her hadn't been teased enough in his life and needed to build some character. Besides, any other time he might actually win in a fight with all of his magic rings and talismans, but here and now?

She had the upper hand and wasn't about to squander it.

"I..prefer some of the more... truthful ballads," he went on, a small grin upon his lips.

"Have you ever been to the Whore houses of Ir'dahza?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, and began to hum. Then sang .

"We loathe his passion, truthfully-
A man of fame, and pride you see.
He comes, and comes , quite oft you see-
The man, the myth, virility. 

Some he scares, other he dares.
His tricks and clever plans.
But fame comes 'round an' at the end of the day-
Opus Dey is but a man."

He then scrunched up his face and waved his hands at it.

"It goes on about taking all the whores and buying the place for the week and women plump with child and coin. But that part is a little exaggerated.  "

All Saoirse could do was stare. Her hand dropped slowly from her chin until it rested on her knee and her lips were parted in surprise. His voice sent chills down her spine but other than that she felt nothing but the sound of the melody ringing in her ears. She felt his timbre vibrate through her, the well rounded tones of a Gods given talent hidden beneath cobwebs and years of disuse.

And then it was done. And he was talking and Sweet Lady she didn't want him to talk.

In an instant she was sitting on the bed beside him, resting a hand against his cheek while staring deeply into his eyes.

"Don't..." She croaked, "Sing it for me. please."

He raised a brow, grin crooked as he saw the way she reacted.

"Sing? But I just did. Did you mean the rest?"

He just stared at her, amused. 

"Have you never heard that one? Well.. I suppose it's reserved only for the ladies working at the whore house.  They treat me well.. I pay them well.."

"No...it's not..." color was rising in her cheeks from...embarrassment? No, that wasn't right. Surprise? Desire? Perhaps all of the above.

She reached her other hand to place alongside his other cheek, "You said you didn't sing. Back when I followed you to that house. But...Opus....I....I don't care about the song, I want you to sing. For me."

He couldn't help but grin at her reaction. Was there perhaps a little flush to his cheeks as well?

"I don't sing. Or rather when I do, it's a rare occurrence. "

Who would expect the crime Lord to be a singer?
And he knew he wasn't bad at singing....

He just.

There wasn't exactly time nor purpose for it in his life.

She kept her hands on his cheeks but climbed fully into the bed before stradling his legs. Her eyes never left his and the color continued to rise in her cheeks.

"Please." She begged, "Please, sing"

Pure amusement shone on his eyes. He hadn't fully expected such a reaction from the half-elf.. then again, he didn't fully foresee her turning him down after he cut off the bindings of her dress. 

But that look in her eyes..the reddening of her cheeks...

He suddenly caught the hand cupping at his face affectionately and gave a yank, forcing her to become but a mere few inches from his face. 

He braces the rest of her body, so she wouldn't just topple across his form and kept her eyes.

"And just what would I sing for you?" He asked, his voice a deep rumble, but not aggressive, almost like a purr.

Despite knowing full well she out strengthed him in this moment, Saoirse didn't fight or pull back against his hands as he drew her forcefully forward. A sharp explosion of breath left her and her entire body was leaking with electricity, with excitement.

All of her reservations from before were gone. This. This was a gift worth Giving. He didn't sing, he said, it was rare, he said, but he'd given her the gift of his voice without request.

Given it by choice.

"Anything." she whispered, voice trembling, "Anything."

"But now I feel timid. You've put me on the spot..."

However, as much as he wished to continue to torment her over this, apart of him wanted to see her reaction to him singing again. Was she really so surprised?

I mean.. from what she's found out about him.. there was little he could not do....

He moved a hand to tuck her hair away from her face, eyeing that longing and passionate look in her eyes.


And so he sang- and the next song's words were in Essryn. The song was about the love between a crocodile and the heron who- by the end of the tale- as many others predicted- the crocodile ate the bird. As was in his nature- for could a beast truly redefine his nature from love?

He sang this song in particular- recalling stories about his mother and her death and the way his father had surely been the crocodile. Strangely enough- the union created another crocodile. 

And now... would he repeat the same awful sins of his father?

Opus believed she had found out much about him, but truth be told she knew a lot of stories that rarely represented truth. She knew of hid deeds, yes, she knew of the fear his name invoked, she knew the silence that followed.

But she didn't know him. Not really. And a man was more than his reputation.

That was who she hoped to know. There were glimmers beneath his words. She saw the way his lips twitched and his eyes danced when she caught him off guard, but more importantly the way he treated her was different than all of the stories would lead her to believe. She truly believed he would let her leave if she decided to do so. Maybe he would follow her, but she felt in her bones that he would not force her to do anything. Within reason. She wasn't a fool.

Which was why she hadn't sung any of the humorous songs about him to his crew. Not yet and not without his consent.

But she also knew that she only had two choices. Her meeting with The Lady had made that very clear. This man, for better or for worse, was the key she needed to return home.

She listened, tranfix by his voice. She didn't know the language, though she assumed from his ethnicity that is was Essryni, but she didn't need to know the words to feel its beauty and its intermingled sorrow. He was a man of many facets and she was certain, whatever this song was about, was selected on purpose. But it's full intended meaning was lost on her.

So she closed her eyes and let his voice wash over her and her skin prickled with goosebumps. She leaned into his hand and found herself humming quiet harmonies as the song continued and the melodies became more familiar. And as their voices mingled her skin took on a gentle glow like moonlight kissing frost that lingered until the last note faded

A long moment passed once the song had ended and he just took her in, enjoying the moment and just holding her. But soon, his words broke that silence.

"You know.. you're glowing," he told her, smirking as if the mere idea of it were audacious. 

A laugh burst from her lips and she quickly covered it with her free hand while her eyes opened to find his.

"That is what my kind tend to do." She grinned, her eyes dancing as the glow faded back to her usual not-quite translucent skin, "Especially when the moon is full. You should see my full-blooded kin, this is nothing by comparison. Does it bother you?"

"It does not. It.. suits you. Even if your kind wasn't known for.. glowing.. I feel you'd find a way to do just that."

She raised an eyebrow in question, "Find a way to do what? Glow?" Another crystal-like laugh bubbled against her lips, "Doubtful."

She found his eyes again, "What was your song about? I'm afraid I am not well versed in human tongues and do not know this one. Essryni?"

He studied her, a hand smoothing down the soft skin of her back. 

"A Heron and a crocodile."

"Mmmm..." she cocked her head to the side and studied him for a moment while allowing his hand to travel along her back. She thought back to the melody, the tempo, the key.

"It doesn't have a good ending, does it?" Her question was a loaded one. He didn't choose things on a whim and a part of her recognized the likelihood that his choice of piece was representative of them.

"What makes you say that?" He asked, amused.  His eyes never left her's. 

She cocked her head to the side and studied him for a few moments trying to decide if he was being purposefully  withholding or was truly asking for clarification. He was difficult to read, though she always erred on the side of holding back verses the latter. He didn't speak much, but he saw a good deal.

Especially for a human.

"Music speaks." She finally replied.

He nodded to that, thoughtful.
"But not well enough for a full translation," he replied, amused. 
"Of you were to come across a song about a heron and a crocodile... what fate do you think would befall the pair?"

She slipped from his grasp to move to sit next to him with her knees drawn up to her chest - still completely naked and completely uncaring. She rested her chin on her knee and looked at him with a quiet pensiveness that was in stark contrast to the exuberance she had shown upon hearing him sing.

"I expect the answer you're seeking is the crocodile consumes the heron, but they are both predators. Who's to say the heron isn't the one to pluck the eyes of the crocodile and plunge him into darkness."

Opus's eyes sparkled with amusement. 
"Wouldn't stop his snapping teeth," he drawled. "But it would be interesting if the crocodile were so foolish to allow both of his eyes to be pecked out."

Saoirse reached over and spun her finger absently around the center of his palm. Her other hand was still

"Hmmm..." was her only response to his comment. She disagreed with him, emphatically so. In fact, she felt his answer was short sighted and indicative of his life's work. He was used to being invincible, his trinkets practically ensured it, but it didn't change the fact that he was human. A simple infection, a sickness, a bad heart could all kill him.

"You ask me a lot what I know about you." She finally said softly, "now it's my turn to ask: what do you know about me?"

"Besides being a cock tease?" He joked. He eyed her over, taking in each and every unique detail he could before those dark eyes returned to her face.

"Next to nothing, I'm afraid. But not for lack of trying."

Despite the confession of his failure, he was smiling. 

"Aside from the fact your race isn't something well documented, and you.. well you certainly hadn't a criminal record until I met you and you entered into Connlaoth...."

At this he shrugged, eyes taking a moment to indulge in her nudity.

"But we have an entire boat ride for me to do my research. " his eyes then returned to hers.

"Should I get my ink and pen?"

Saoirse noted each time Opus' eyes wandered up and down her body, both amused and annoyed at how easily distracted a naked figure could be.

"Humans." She muttered with an eye roll before letting out a long breath that was accompanied by what looked like wisps of moonlight. In an instant, she was covered again in what looked to be a dress made of silky fabric that flowed over her features. Of course, it was an illusion, so she was still very much nude but hopefully it would be less distracting.

"One thing you should know about me and my people is that we don't sexualize nudity. Better? Can you focus now?" Even better was the fact that he couldn't attempt to remove any of it. She would need to drop the illusion.

"I'm not surprised you found nothing." She continued, "we keep to ourselves since humans...believe our way of life is an abomination."

Opus kept that cool smile as she hid her body from view. His eyes then returned to her's. 

"Not worshipping the sexy body of a woman is heresy," he agreed coolly. "But I'm sure there are.." he leaned in closer, as if he might kiss her.  "Secrets.. You'd be willing to share?"

She smiled at him, her heart racing as he got closer, but she lifted her slender fingers and pressed them gently over his lips.

"Perhaps." Her reply was straight and lacked any level of playfulness and her smile did not reach her eyes, "But every secret is kept for a reason and once it is learned it cannot be forgotten."

Saoirse sighed and closed her eyes as she leaned forward until her forehead rested gently against his own, "Tell me, nin Vrae...would you entrust me with secrets of your own, or do you simply wish to know everyone else's?"

"Mmm.." he made a thoughtful noise and let a hand smooth across and up the air above her 'clothed' body. "I can not lie when I say a good mystery intrigues me.. nor deny the more secrets I know, the more I have in my amory."

He kept himself close but titled his head as a hand moved to cup her face.

"Tell me, my lovely elf, if the whole world wanted to obey you but equally make you dead.. what weapon is the greatest of all to protect your back?"

Despite not actually being touched, Saoirse's skin reacted to the mere closeness, the energy, of his hand as it hovered along her body before resting on her face. Every hair she had along that trail was raised and she was forced to suppress a shiver that, undoubtably, was still noticeable with his hand against her cheek.

She leaned in his touch while resting her own hand against the back of his and closing her eyes again. The full moon enhanced all of her senses, and even though she had bragged earlier about her ability to wait him out, her skin was on fire beneath his touch.

"I think it's something that you are missing in your world of contracts and threats." She finally replied, then opened her eyes and let them bore into him with an almost fervent intensity.

"Trust."

His expression didn't change. Trust? Is that what she thought he needed?

Trust...

"The correct  answer is knowledge."  He continued to stroke her face, using his thumb as he studied her eyes. 

"Knowledge is invaluable.  It's indifferent, impartial to right, wrong.. good, evil. Knowledge.. just is."

"Now trust? Trust can be deadly.  And trust can only go so far." He stopped stroking her cheek and looked into her eyes.

"Yes, it can be earned- bought and paid for... " he made another thoughtful noise, one that almost seemed predatory. "How is it that you think trust can be an asset to me?"

Despite the feral look gleaming in his eyes, he was genuinely intrigued.  But part of him couldn't help but feel like the wolf. 

For a moment she just stared at him, her eyes wide and lips slightly parted in surprise. He spoke with such passion and an almost assaulting superiority that existed almost exclusively in those who lead.

Then, the moment passed and she laughed. She laughed so hard that tears sprung in her eyes and she clutched at her stomach as cramps began to form. She laughed long enough that she found herself pulling back from him and waving her hand at him as if she were about to speak, to explain, but the laughter would return and she found she couldn't talk , couldn't form any kind of coherent response.

So she unfolded herself and placed her feet on the floor before aimlessly wandering his room while the humor subsided into small, occasional chuckles. She ran her fingers delicately across the picture frames, the tops of chairs, sometimes against the slats of the walls themselves.

Then she turned to him again, finally in control.

"Oh Opus. You are a marvelous fool."

He remained, seated as he was, and just let her.. watched her laugh.  A smile of his own tugged at his lips, but he did not let it grow more than that.

"That goes without saying. What man in their right mind would wantingly maintain an empire of murderers and thieves?"

He stared at her, silent.. contemplative but said nothing more. But there was something simmering in the depths of his dark eyes.

"Oh no, that doesn't make you a fool." She responded, one finger resting on the top of the empty desk. Her illusion of clothing was so perfect that it moved seamlessly with her as if it were made of cloth and not magic.

"What man wouldn't yearn for power? For control? For that's what your empire is - a display of absolutely control, wealth...you claim to have everything. Women, money, underlings, business, things. So many things."

She stepped forward and gently cupped his chin in her hand, her face suddenly serious and calm.

"Trust can't be bought or signed into existence. Trust isn't a thing. Trust is out of your control, so you push it away as dangerous - claim it is deadly." She spoke with the wisdom of over a century, "Trust won't kill you, Opus. But one day the signatures on your contracts will mean nothing and they will rise against you. When fear no longer controls them, you will have nothing."

Amusement sparkled in his eyes. 

"It seems you've got me figured out. Actually.. it seems you've got my entire future figured out."

She let him go and took a step back, arms wide as she bowed, almost mockingly.

"My apologies. I've overstepped, My Lord. What is it you demand of me?"

She held his gaze with a face of stone.

"Perhaps I should remove this enchantment? Come over to you and let you use my body for your pleasure?" She didn't waiver, didn't even blink as she continued to stare at him.

"Is this what you prefer? For people to follow you, be with you, because you have taken away their choice?"

Her arms stayed wide, her eyes sad.

"If you would prefer that to trust, I'll come over right now and...what is that crude terminology you humans use...fuck you? I'll come over and fuck you every night of this trip until I can grasp my freedom and then I'll leave you."

As she moved, he eyed her head to toes. There was much spoken in her movement as with her words. 

It also reminded him what she didn't know.

Maybe it was better to lead her on...
Let her see that side of him again...
Remind her what his life completely entailed.

Except other words came out.

"You can always leave when you wish."

She cocked her head to the side, arms dropping from their outstretched position until they hung delicately by her side.

"And why is that? Why am I different from everyone else?"

"Well.." he began, eyes never leaving hers.  "You and I are not.. business associates."

He kept a neutral expression but said nothing further.

"Hmmm..." it wasn't really an answer, at least not a full one. It was certainly an Opus answer.

And it was enough that she felt her own annoyances with their conversation diminish and she stepped back over towards him and sat on the edge of the bed, both hands clasping the edge. She looked over at him from under her hair, studying him for a few moments.

"Tell me something. Anything. That I don't know about you from songs and rumors. Something true. And I'll tell you something about me, or my people, whichever you'd prefer."

He studied her from where she sat beside him before shaking his head.

"That would be too much like a business contract. " He looked away, eyes distant in thought.

"What do you really want to know about me?" He asked, sounding like he was almost distracted.

Well that was interesting. She never considered it a business transaction when sharing information between two people. And yet...

"That's easy." She said with a soft smile, "What is your favorite food? One you'd be excited to eat every day if you could?"

He returned his gaze to her, only the subtlest hint of confusion.

"My favorite food?"

He took her in, the way she smiled at him- genuine...

He was good at reading people. Yet...

He looked down at his lap, seeming to actually think it over.

"Hehl'shemwhar." He paused to add. "Cooked in fish oil over a clay-brick fire.  It's best when the dough is hot and burns your mouth with its steam. "

They were like  dumpling of sorts.. of course, not many new about it outside of Essryn.

Saoirse found herself inching ever so slightly closer to him as he pondered and then, finally, answered, until her leg was just barely touching him. When he spoke, her attention was riveted on him as if he were telling an overly involved story; she hung on every word.

"Tell me about it." Her smallest finger was also touching him. At those two points of contact, the elf could feel electricity and warmth tingling through her.

Her eyes were wide and glued to him as she waited for him to continue.

The barest hint of amusement itched upon his features. 

"Hehl'shemwhar can be stuffed with anything from old bread and cheese to fruits, meats or vegetables.  And if you fry it in butter rather than fish, the dough can be stuffed with chocolate and other sweets. It's pretty good with a mixture of bitter chocolate blocks and ever sweet cream. The two melt inside to create an interesting consistency that blends together marvelously on your tongue. "

"But.. you have to eat it hot from the brick fire. Hehl'shemwhar is only as good as how much you burn your stomach and the roof of your mouth."

His smile grew, itching out crookedly.

"Have you never has any? It's pretty common in Essryn- although it's usually a middle class meal or treat. "

As he spoke she wove her magic together with her breath without a second thought and began creating the image of what he was describing. Dough stuffed with elements and then fried in some kind of oil. She didn't know the shape, so she did her best to create what she assumed would make the most sense - like a circular piece of dough then folded over and sealed on one side.

The illusion wasn't even a choice so much as a habit. Her magics were an extension of herself and, when comfortable, she used them without thinking. At home those with her particular gifts often were accompanied by images built by the words of other or even their own tales - it was expected, encouraged.

And certainly not a normal trait in the human world.

"No, I haven't." She admitted while the image continued to tweak as he went through his description, "I only left my family a little over a year ago, and against their wishes. So far I've only traveled parts of Adela and Connlaoth....though...we both know how that turned out."

She nodded towards the illusion, "like this?"

Opus studied the illusion and before he could reply- his stomach did for him, as it released a large, rumbling growl in demands for food.

Opus smiled at her more genuinely, if not a little coy. "You planned this, didn't you? To change the topic towards food to remind me I haven't eaten in days."

His stomach growled loudly again.

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying as none of this moment had been planned and, quite honestly, the illusions were just normal for her. It was one of the reasons that losing them so suddenly to the Mordecai in Connlaoth had been so devastating. It wasn't so much magic as it was her very existence. Losing it was like suddenly realizing you no longer had a hand.

"What?" The image dissipated back into wisps of moonlight, "No, not planned." She assured him, "But it has been a while..."

She was suddenly concerned. How long could humans survive without food? She honestly didn't know. Probably not nearly as long as the elves...

"Can I get you something?"

Her response had his smile tug more leftward, dimpling his cheek.

"You're not about to fuss over me now.. are you? I should like to politely remind you I'm not an invalid and besides.."

He rose now, his form easily towering over hers.
"I am Opus Dey."

She snorted in an attempt to hide a laugh.

"Oh. Are you? Opus Dey? I'd forgotten!" She steepled her fingers under her chin and grinned, eyes glittering with mirth despite his impressive height. Lady, he was tall, and she came from a long line of tall, lithe people.

Despite his condition, and the fact he very well new she'd be upset, he scooped her up with a triumphant laugh.

"Should I remind you just what that means?"

And before she could protest, he suddenly began to sing her a childhood song about Hehl'shemwhar. 

A soft shriek escaped her as he leaned down and lifted her deftly from the bed. She could feel his arm against her back and her legs while his hands, his fingers, wrapped against her waist and upper thigh. She might look like she was wearing clothes, but it was just an illusion after all, and their touch was skin against skin.

"Opus! Stop!" she said in protestation, but couldn't help the giggle that blossomed on her lips, nor stop her hands from sliding around his neck for support.

She would have said more, but then he was singing again and gooseflesh tingled across her skin with each notes. By the Lady she could listen to him sing all day! And here, held up by him, her body was on fire as each note coursed through her.

He paused, nearly at the end of the song. His grin was positively wicked. 

"Now why on earth would I do that?"

And he went to sing the song again. 

"You're going to hurt yourself!" She tried again, but couldn't hide the glee from hearing him sing again. It felt like a special gift just for her...this smile, this playfulness. Every time they'd been together before it had been dire; life or death. Even their coupling had come from a place of desperate desire to celebrate life with the man who had nearly died to save her. Who had wasted precious resources and time on an ignorant she-elf who had decided a stroll through the worst place possible for her was a terrific idea.

But he had no intention of stopping, and she didn't want the song to end. She wanted him to sing her into oblivion...Gods his voice sent shivers down her spine and desire to spring deep within herself. One finger traced the outline of his ear and she subconsciously pulled herself a little closer into him.

Opus Dey was no fool. He could see the way she squirmed excitedly as he sang- so when he finished he paused a moment to let his hands wander- just enough to let her know that he knew she was actually naked. 

"I can see why you thought you'd be fine in Connlaoth.  Your magics are impressive."

The mention of Connlaoth made her stiffen, and despite shaking it off quickly, it was clear she continued to struggle. It had been long enough that she had found ways to function, ways to suppress, but then certain sounds or words would remind her of those dark days. Music helped. Being busy helped. Being worried about Opus helped.

While she was awake at least. Her nights were still plagued and restful sleep a thing of the past.

"No," she tried to keep her voice light despite the clamminess of her hands and the quickness of her breath, "You were right with your first assessment of me. I was ignorant and naive. A mistake that won't be repeated." In this case, she almost agreed with him about knowledge being important. But not quite. Even with knowledge she probably still would have gone into Connlaoth, if the stories were to be believed it was where her mother was from and she wouldn't cut out that part of her learning of herself. So maybe things would have gone differently, and maybe they wouldn't.

In a move to change the subject, she gently pressed a hand to his cheek to maneuver him to face her, "Sing another?"

She let his wandering hands consume her thoughts and chase away the past.

He could feel the mood shift, even as his hands continued to glide across her form.

Then he began to sing.
This time a soft, serenading lullaby. The song was gentle... tender... and his voice quieted as he got near the end, even as feelings inside him crescendoed.

And as the words faded away like dust, he had drawn in closer so that his lips threatened to brush against her's.

Saoirse poured her whole attention into his voice while he sang. Her eyes closed and she nuzzled closer while the feel, the sound, the smell of him consumed her and made her forget. His hands evoked tingles of pleasure and his song chased the demons back.

Nothing else existed but him. Nothing else mattered. She wouldn't let anything else matter.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe she should have been stronger.

But his lips were right there and she needed something all consuming to make her forget again.

So she bridged the gap when he paused and pressed her lips against him with passionate restraint. Her tongue gently ran the length of his upper lip - tantalizing, suggestive...

He read that invitation like an open book .  His tongue ran out to meet her's as he leaned forward, pressing into the kiss and into her mouth. He moaned, his tongue and lips vibrating as their tongues wrestled and their body's pressed. 

Gods this woman was intoxicating to him, and had they both been naked, he'd been inside her trying to move like a jack rabbit in heat. Instead he was left to grinding the front of his pants  between her legs as he kissed her over and over again.  And soon she'd find herself with her back pressed up against the wall as his hands held her close to his rolling hips and he moaned at the growing tension and pleasure. 

The way he was able to deftly reposition her body made her question whether or not he had truly been injured at all, or if it had been a vie for sympathy. Of course, she had seen the exhaustion in his eyes and felt him wilt upon entering his home room. Perhaps passion drove him and he would be worse for it at the end.

But for now he held her, pressed into her as he bare back felt ever slat of the wooden walls. She opened her mouth to him, letting her own tongue dance with his as she gasped for breath but kept going back for more. Every second she could feel him rising as he pressed against her. He was right there, but thwarted by clothing so his hard cock couldn't even touch her warmth, not yet.

And so they teased, each thrust, each grind a shadow of what was to come.

"Opus..." she moaned between kisses, "Don't...hurt yourself." She managed to get out before grabbing his hair and pulling him back for more.

He was moving, unlatching his belt but still kissing her and keeping her pinned against the wall.  Then she'd hear his pants drop- the belt clattering on wood- and without a beat- he was inside. 

He held her there, trembling at the raw feeling of their bodies finally coupling in union. But he didn't move- not at first, as he panted and kissed her... lips moving down to her neck and throat...

Then he began to move- painfully slow and tasting her body with his- one long glide in, a quick jerk out, then repeat.

She cried out when he pressed into her without pretense, without hesitation, and filled her to the point she could feel herself stretching to make room. And Lady she responded. Her body wanted him just as badly as her mind and he quickly became slick with her.

Then, he moved. Everything aligned so perfectly and her body was so primed for him that he was able to move without the slightest resistance. She moaned and lifted her chin towards the sky with her eyes closed to feel him more acutely. Feel every slow entry...every quick exit that made her squirm and press her hips forward to feel the length of him again.

This was different than before and she was here for it.

He cut into her body like a knife- purpose and desire, in each measured thrust. He wanted to feel her, unite with her, and draw out a fire of ecstasy that they both could share.

So he continued to thrust into her, keeping the same pace and rhythm, and smiling as she enjoyed the ride. A large, warm hand cupped her face as he looked deeply into her eyes.

"How is it that you've mesmerized me, Saoirse?" He asked, lips sealing hungrily over hers. "I don't want to just fuck.. not with you.. this..." he slowed his pace, angling his sex inside her as he slowly pulled himself out and even more slowly- slid himself back inside until he was buried deep as her body would allow.
"I want.. something more.." came his voice, husky, as he kissed her deeply again.

She couldn't help but giggle slightly when he used that human slang to describe what they were doing. It was foreign to her, this idea that sex was animalistic and just...thrusting and grunting with pleasure. It was a gift, as she knew it, a gift that could be freely given or taken away. It wasn't coerced or forced and to remove that choice was worse than murder.

By the Lady he made it so she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, as he continued to thrust slowly, burying himself deep within her until they couldn't be joined any closer and then...he was out and she was trembling, aching to be filled again.

"More?" She asked as another thrust sent a gasp from her lips, "I don't..." she opened her eyes and gazed at him confused. His movements and the pleasure that rippled through her made it hard to think, "Is...are you proposing to me? Is this a human marriage thing?"

She knew some humans were really particular about sex. She hadn't really thought about it before, nor had she needed to.

His pace quickened at her query.

"Oh.. are you saying you want to be Lady Opus Dey?" He teased her, not just in words at her question, but she'd fine one hand with fingers joining in. His other, powerful arm somehow supported her, despite the bruises and fatigue of his condition. 

She tensed ever so slightly when his fingers found her, but they stayed on the surface and she relaxed. This she could handle. This was ok. She relaxed and felt pleasure sweep through her as his pace picked up and his fingers moved in rhythm.

She moaned and her back arched which allowed him to enter even deeper with each thrust. Lady he felt good. They felt good together.

"No." She groaned which turned into a sharp cry as the angle shifted and hit unexpectedly. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she lifted her hips to meet him, to keep that angle, "Human marriages don't make sense. There is no true bond there."

He continued to thrust, body slapping into hers. But at her words he laughed, then kissed her.

"You're right... marriage is all business.."

He kissed her again, still moving, still hungry as he rested his forehead against her's. 

"Then are you saying you want to bond with me?" He asked, pace still quick with need.

Small cries left her lips with each thrust and her fingers dug into him. Her legs were wrapped firmly around his waist and she could feel a climax building under his thrusts and his fingers. She shook and whimpered.

"Oh Lady, yes!" She cried and with encouragement as he continued to thrust and continued to tease. She kissed him hungrily, "Please don't stop..."

And then his question interrupted her cries and a laugh mingled with pleasure.

"You don't know what you're asking." She gripped him harder and used her legs to encourage him to go harder - deeper.

He moved, hot with fever, and felt the sensation begin to pool within. But at her words, he laughed- plucking her off the wall, fucking her as he walked, then tossed her onto the bed. 

He gave her little time before climbing back ontop of her. His lips claimed hers, their hands entwining as he pinned them against the bed and rocked his hips in and out of her.

"Why don't you think I understand? Don't you want to become my secret?" He purred, body slapping into her's, deep.

She giggled with glee as she fell onto the bed, finally letting the illusion drop to reveal her naked form, legs falling open to tempt him back as he took his time returning to her. And then he was back and she let her fingers slid between his. The way their hands folded together made him pinning them down bearable, where last time it had sent her into a panic. But now? It felt intimate, it felt like a connection between them rather than a feeling of control.

"Because you don't understand." She gasped, hands tightening within his as he took her. Her eyes rolled back and he body arched against him, her now-visible breasts pressing into his chest. She was so consumed by him it took time for form her thoughts, to form words.

"Bonds connect souls. Exchange...gifts...this is just a part of it."

As he continued to thrust into her, skin smacking against skin, moonlight had begun to seep from her, lightening them both as her pleasure continued to rise.

His grin went wolfish as he pulled up her legs, resting them over his shoulders and continued to pound.

"Exchange.. gifts?" He panted out a laugh.  "Is that your poetic way to say you want to sire my children?"

She laughed again and reveled in the feeling of him pounding into her. The new angle was just as delicious as the last. Her breath was ragged and her nipples firm as pleasure continued to build.

"Oh no. That's a completely different ceremony." After a few moments, she lowered her legs and pulled him back towards her so she could press her lips against him again, her tongue exploring every crevice of his mouth, then kissing down his chin and biting playfully on his neck.

"Gifts that come from your Iluliani" there was no word for it in human tongues that she knew, "Some are gifted strength, stamina...a human bonded to an elf might be gifted long life. Resistance to disease."

She pulled him closer and entwined her legs around him again while he thrusted, rolling her hips to match his movement.

"Ceremony? You saying my seed isn't enough?" He asked, hardly slowing his pace. 

Then he thought over what she said.

"So are you going to teach me all these rules and tricks of yours?" He goaded, then began to pound into her harder.

She just laughed again like he had just said was a terrific joke and pointed to just between her beasts and then the inside of her wrists, as if that should clear things up for him, not realizing that her people were unique in this way and that it didn't translate to humans.

But her laughter was cut short as the intensity with which he took her increased to just the edge of pain and she couldn't form words. All that existed was each thrust of his hips and the cries that were forced from her as he moved.

"Yes, please yes." Was all she managed to stutter in pieces as he pounded her. By the Lady none of her past lovers had been like this. A handful of elves who delighted in little pleasures, but this? This passion? She'd never experienced anything like it before and she was drunk on it.

He smiled as he panted, reveling in how she writhed. The he grabbed a hold of both her ankles and shifted so her legs now draped over one shoulder as he held onto them around her thighs.

And still he continued to pound into her, moaning.

"Then bond with me, Saoirse. Let me take you how those of your kind should."

"No."

Her words were firm, but she did not discourage him or even want him to stop the Giving. She reached down and let her hands land on his hips to encourage his thrusts, pulling him into her with the same rhythm he had chosen.

"It isn't possible." She added, "but don't you dare stop what you're doing."

And the small cries of pleasure continued to be pounded out of her with each thrust. Her skin was on fire, her breath fast, her head spinning.

Again, that wolfish grin consumed his lips as he moved to pound into her harder. 

"Nothing.." he panted, slap, slap, slapping into her.  "Nothing is impossible for Opus Dey."

Then he gave her entire body a tug, pulling her up off the bed and held her close as his wild, bucking body would allow.

"And if I can't.." he panted, absolutely dominating her in his wild thrusts. "Then let me bond to you."

The next round of thrusts pushed her over the threshold and she cried out, but this time in pain instead of pleasure. She pressed her hand against his chest and pulled her body back to protect herself from those dominating thrusts.

"Peace." She gasped, "Less, please." It was getting too close...it was bringing up the memories she was desperately trying to forget.

But she didn't want to stop. She was still addicted to the passion, to the wild abandon that their couplings brought...so she used her strength to lay him on his back and straddle over him. She waited for a few moments longer than he probably wished, then positioned herself over his hard, slick cock and let him slide inside again.

She leaned down to kiss his neck, his ear, his jaw, and let her hips rock.

It took him some time to come down from his frenzy, but by then she was in charge and his cool smile returned. 

He moved to gently cradle her face, then leaned forward and kissed her softly.  Then again. 

"Bonding isn't sex." She swirled her hips in a circular motion around him and let her fingers slide through his hair to grip him gently, "It's...a part of it. Probably the most enjoyable part..."

She pressed her lips against his again and drew it out for a long time while simultaneously pressing her hips down so push him deep inside. Then she kissed his neck and moaned softly at the feel of him.

"There's a ritual. We'd design moon markings, like the ones on my back. Carve them into our hands under the blood moon." She thrust her hips, "Then offer our gifts...a request really...The Lady ultimately chooses..." she thrust her hips again, finding the angle that forced a soft cry of pleasure from her lips.

"It's life-long. Only death can break it." She concluded before sitting up and arching her back as she slowly increased the pace, shuddering each time she push him deeper.

His eyes were intense as she moved over him- his own hips rising to meet her need. But he let her steer this boat.

His own hand smoothed in and through her hair, gripping it lightly as he felt her ride him and moan. 

"The blood moon is this week.. is it not?" He asked, voice rough as he moaned through long breath. 

"Would you bond with me... take me under your ritual?"

His hand found her's, kissing warm and softly across her fingers. 

"Would you dare bond with your nin vrae?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, recognizing that he couldn't possibly understand what she was telling him. If they went into a bonding without proper preparation The Lady would just deny them anyways and they'd be forced to heal the normal way.

Just like her father had done when the bond between him and her mother had been denied. He'd never explicitly explained why they had been denied, but Saoirse always wondered if all bonds between elves and men would be...even if she found, one day, that she loved Opus so much she wanted it, perhaps it wouldn't even matter.

"Shut up and touch me." She murmured in his ear and began thrusting her hips against him harder, letting the sounds of them joining fill the air and mingle with gasps and moans. She wanted to coax him to climax, take him to the brink...

At her words he actually laughed. It was a beautiful, deeply rich sound that was pure as fire.  It soon turned back into grunts and groans of pleasure, as his large and powerful hands cupped and ached over her body.

"As you wish," he Whispered hotly, breathing and nibbling on her ear.

His thrusts grew more needy, as he raked teeth and breath down her neck, pausing to suck and breath and kiss upon her flesh.

His lips and teeth against her skin made her cry out in pleasure and her whole body was charged with passion and electricity. As he thrusted up, she pressed down and she could feel him beating against the deepest parts of her and he rubbed her and teased her and took her so completely that she could no longer hold on. She tensed as the climax rose to dangerous levels, her body swollen with desire until she toppled over the edge.

Her hips thrust forward and down, pressing him deeper as she came and squeezed him deep within her body. His name left her lips as she jerked, back arching to reveal the full length of her body as she shook violently, uncontrollably, and her body exploded with pulsing light.

Waves upon waves washed over her and each uncontrolled spasm sent him deeper and made rise to another orgasm, another quiet scream. Over and over until she didn't know what way was up and what way was down.

There was only him. There was only this.

He gave unto her everything she desired. For a lover of Opus Dey should want for not. Hands felt, raked, took- their bodies a blend of writhing ecstasy and light.

It wasn't until she exploded with light did he stake claim, thrusting up wholly inside her and bursting with his seed. And he cried out towards the heavens, riding that high until he and she both were a crumpled, useless mess of limbs upon the bed.

There he held her, their bodies still united, as his heart raced like a horse. He moaned softly in the after glow, kissing her tenderly and tasting her sweat.

Saoirse lost herself completely to him and let her fingers dig into his shoulders as he gave one final thrust and cried out. She shuddered against him, her light giving one final pulse before she collapsed forward onto his chest in a heap. Her limbs were like jello, her eyes barely able to open as she just breathed him in and listened to his own thudding heart.

A part of her, deep down, knew that she had given in to his desires and she should have stood her ground, but that small nagging voice paled in comparison to the euphoria that came in the after. His soft kisses sent shivers coursing through her and she could still feel him where they joined. She turned her head and left a small trail of kisses along the side of his neck, but couldn't bring herself to move more than that.

Her light had faded and she almost had returned to a normal, non-glowing state, except for the soft diamond like iridescent sparkle that glittered subtly in the lamp light.

"Opus..." she murmured and let her finger trace the hollow of his neck.

He lay there with her. His eyes were closed and he made a noise at his name. He then softly exhaled through his nose and let a hand race through her hair.

His entire body ached from the stress of their coupling, but he didn't care. It had only aided in the intensity he felt when they fucked. He hadn't fully recovered after their escape- and it seemed he wasn't in any hurry to heal, either. 

She laid there for a good amount of time, making quiet, content noises as his fingers ran through her hair. It has grown a good amount in the time they'd been apart, but it was still much shorter than it had ever been in her life. Her people didn't cut their hair...ever. Perhaps that was why she'd been so convinced it would have provided a good disguise when she cut it before. Stupid, she knew that now.

As the time passed, she felt herself starting to doze and forced herself awake. She couldn't sleep. Not here. Not with him. She had no control in her sleep and she didn't want him to see her that weak; didn't want him to know the demons that lurked in her dreams.

She shifted up onto her elbow, her body moving up against him in the process, and kissed him gently on his forehead.

"You should rest." She told him softly, "Regain your strength." And she moved to put her feet on the floor.

As she moved to go he didn't stir. Contented as he was, he could lay there all day. But when she began to step away from the bed, his hand found hers. 

"So should you."

She hesitated, loath to brush off his hand and walk away. It would be so easy to just slip back next to him and let her body fit against him while the rhythm of his breathing lulled her to sleep. She'd probably even be ok sleeping in his fancy box if she shared his warmth.

"I will." She promised after a time. She couldn't stay...Lady why was she so weak? Others had been through similar situations, or worse, and were fine in the aftermath. They functioned normally. Why was she still broken?

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and slipped off of the bed to collect the dress with the ruined ties.

Except he tightened his grip and gave a yank. He caught her before she'd topple over top of him and smirked up at her. 

"And what's so important that you're already eager to leave?"

There was no mirth in her face when he looked up at her after pulling her back. Instead, he would find trepidation and even a level of embarrassment.

"I..." she didn't have an answer. She hadn't expected him to pull her back or question her which, again, stupid.

She ran through every excuse she could give him, but by the time she had a list it had taken too long for anything she could possibly say to sound like the truth.

"I...can't." Lady, I what kind of answer was that? He would ask for clarification, she would have to explain, he would find out. But...he would find out even if she didn't tell him now, wouldn't he?

"I can't sleep here..." she added softly.

Except he didn't question, only kept his eyes on her as he slackened his grip.

"Very well. I likely smell like shit."

She didn't know what was more surprising: that he was just going to let her go or that he did it without asking a single question. For all of his faults, and there were many if she was being honest, and all of his insistences that trust was dangerous, by not asking a single question he was granting her his own trust. He could have asked and she would have felt obligated to answer fully but...he didn't. And by staying silent, he was offering her a level of respect she didn't realize she had needed until now.

Her hand slipped from him and her dress was in her hands in the same moment another illusion covered her form once again.

Then she hesitated again before turning back towards him and bridging the gap with a few swift steps to press her lips against his in another, deeply passionate kiss that even left her feeling winded.

"Thank you." She whispered before fleeing from his room and back up into the moonlight, to the exact spot that she had slept every night since boarding the ship. Right against the rail with no blankets or pillows, just her, the open air, and the moon.

She apparently wasn't the only one out one the deck that evening. Along the bow his form leaned against the side of the ship, hidden in the shadows at first until the clouds parted like curtains. His form was revealed, casually leaning as he looked out into the endless ocean where- at night, it seemed as endless as the twighlit skies.

At first he said nothing, the clouds slipping back over head to mask his form again. But when the moonlight returned, he was grinning at her.

"He kick you out already ?" Dao asked, jovially, laughter sparkling in his eyes.

Saoirse didn't even blink when Dao's voice drifted across the deck. It wasn't unusual for him to be out and about at night and it certainly wasn't the first time they'd had conversations with her in this very spot. She was also certain that he would be the reason Opus learned about the nightmares.

She shook her head and let a few butterfly illusions blossom from her fingertips in an attempt to calm her racing heart. If she could stay awake forever, she would.

"No. He wanted me to stay." She replied, not looking at him, her mouth in a firm line, "I...couldn't..."

"Ah." Dao clasped his hands behind his back, giving a sage nod. "I don't blame you," he went on, strolling past her. "He'll likely have a horrible case of diarrhea after all he's been through. Won't be a pretty sight for his chamber pot." He tsked. 

She snorted with an unexpected laugh that she simultaneously tried to hold back. Dan was a character she never thought would keep the company of Opus, if that was even what you could call their relationship. Whatever it was, there was a level of trust there that seemed...confusing considering their very different personalities.

Unless Opus was secretly just as ridiculous but couldn't show it. He had serenaded her with children's songs and the way that smile pulled at his lips when he thought she was being clever, or he was proud of himself....

Thinking about it brought a smile to her otherwise stoic expression and she pressed a finger softly to her lips in remembrance.

Then she rolled her eyes at Dao's comment and finally made eye contact.

"How are you still alive?"

He tilted his head, smiling broadly. 

"That's easy, I stay on the other side of the boat when he's got explosive shits! Besides.." he went on, leaning forward and giving a playful waggle of his brows. 

"It's really hard to kill a vampire."

"Ah, yes...sage advice." She looked him over, pensive, and thought about the conversations they'd had over the last two weeks. From the beginning he hadn't tip toed around her like most of the others onboard. Saoirse almost felt like he was the only one who didn't completely fear Opus and follow him based on business and contracts. But...she also felt that he must be on one...not that she'd ask. That was his business.

"You know, you and I have the potential to outlive everyone on this ship unless you know...we get killed by something or someone." She grinned mischievously up at him, already comfortable in her little corner of the ship. The dress she'd laid down to sit upon because, despite what it looked like, she was still complete naked beneath the illusion of clothes and the deck wasn't exactly comfortable.

"Perhaps in a hundred years or so you'll be able to gain some wit."

Laughter exploded from Dao. He was all smiles, even his eyes glittered with it. 

"I was wondering if you had a point to it but really, most things come to an end."

He grinned that goofy grin of his and eyed he'd.

"Don't you get cold like that? I mean, I can't see that you're naked but can sure smell it "

She raised her eyebrow, honestly surprised at his abilities. She'd never met anyone like him - dead but alive. He was almost like her opposite. He had to take life to continue living while her people, generally, nurtured life and cultivated it.

"Hmm?" She had to think about his question because she was so distracted by the fact that he could smell that she was naked. And that meant he also could probably smell Opus on her which made her blush more than she thought it should. She'd been around humans too long and was starting to adopt some of their prudish tendencies.

"Oh, no, not cold. You know...I don't even think I understand what that means. I mean, I could jump in the ocean and it would feel different and I'd call it cold, but...humans get all bumpy and then shake. Is that what being actually cold is?"

He tilted his head curiously.
"So you don't feel temperature like humans? "

He mused over her question, tapping his chin.

"Cold is just the lack of warmth, and humans need warmth to live. If humans remain cold for too long.. well they'd either be dead dead or dead like me."

The idea made him grin broadly, eyes glowing.

"What about fire? Can you feel burns?"

"So fragile." She mused, "A small illness could be the death of them...it's incredible the race has survived this long. Is it because they can procreate so quickly? And so young?"

There were human women plump with child at barely sixteen which was just fascinating to her. At sixteen she had only been the human equivalent of four - though in size only. By then she was already devouring books and creating art - learning languages and cultures and taking part in all of the celebrations in their entirety.

"Yes, I can feel fire and heat." She replied with a shudder, "Though perhaps not heat from weather. I haven't experienced that before so it will be interesting to see."

"What about you? Heat? Cold? Did that change when you turned?"

"Oh things are drastically different for me. Those senses are lessened.. I suppose similar to how you sense it. It's a change.. but maybe it's just because it prickles my other senses. " he mused over that idea.

"Like I can hear and feel the warmth of blood and even smell fear.. but my own pulse is nonexistent, so reactions just aren't the same. " He shrugged but then smiled.

"Like having reactions that affect one's heart are still there.. that.. that's a strange one to me." He laughed. "Emotions weren't robed when I became an undead super hero." He flashed a fanged smile then asked, "So's the boss trying to knock you up?" His eyes sparkled. "Would make things interesting to his story. "

Her eyebrows shot up again, this time in complete confusion, "What are you talking about?"

They'd never had a conversation about children in any of their couplings and after their brief interactions with him mentioning his seed being enough, hadn't she shown him her bare wrists and bare chest? What other confirmation did he need?

She showed Dao her wrists also, but left her chest concealed - why? By the Lady she was becoming a prude.

"No markings. I don't know how much clearer I can be."

Dao cocked his head, confused.
"Markings?" 
She wasn't the only one confused. 
He waved it off.
"Knocked up isn't an expression for violent sex," he went on with a laugh. "I was just commenting that I didn't smell that you used protection. " he grinned.  "You know... because of the general end result of sex? Making babies? Taking his seed? Mating? Breeding? And you... reek of Opus' seed."

Then he paused to considering, adding, "Well not reek but well ... vampire noses are sensitive things. " he went on with a sniff.

Her arms were still upturned with wrists facing the sky as his response slowly trickled into her brain. Confusion was the name of their current game and she wasn't sure where to go from here or what was happening or...

"...do...humans not have a choice?" She asked slowly, letting her hands drop to her knees, "In having children?"

She thought back on what Opus had said, is my seed not enough? She had thought he was making some odd comment because he hadn't seen her close enough to tell but...that didn't make sense. They were no strangers to each other. She had seen the whole of him, and he had seen her, months ago in that safe house. Then again they were together today and...

A frown grew on her lips, "My kin can't have children without a ritual to prepare the womb...but...humans are different?" Things were clicking in her brain slowly, but the pieces were coming together, and she met eyes with Dao as a simmering...something...began to bubble beneath her skin.

"Protection isn't a sword or a shield, is it?"

Dao tossed his head back into a laugh.

"Then perhaps it's why he's been particularly reckless with you," Dao mused, eyes dancing at how cute it was to see her perplexed. "And I suppose you could call it a shield for your vagina." He went on with a shrug.  "Guess he didn't try to wrap his dick in something before be began to plow your fields! But I guess there's nothing to worry about if you don't want to his offspring.  Honestly, I don't know how that would play out in his game. Unless of course he's intending to sire an heir. I know thatd what his father did."

To sire an heir. Opus might not have asked her because he was...what? Hoping to just create a child without her say? Or did he think she would have stopped him if there was a problem? Or...Lady there were too many options. If humans could just always have children and he thought she was like them, then he had made a choice had he not? But then where did that leave her? It wasn't as if she had put up an argument...

Lady, she was too tired for this. Her brain could barely function.

"Thank you, Dao. For never sugar coating things. It's a...gift...I suppose." She rested her head against the side of the ship and felt her eyes drift close against her will.

Maybe tonight would be different.

"Of course," came his reply, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Enjoy your night, Sarrie," 

And like most nights things progressed uneventful... except now that Opus was awake..

Well.. he was awake and decided he would take a stroll beneath the stars upon the deck of the ship. The night air would do him well 

Her hopes that tonight would be different were met with the Gods themselves laughing at her. For tonight was different.

The nightmares were worse.

At first she looked normal, albeit a little odd just sleeping curled up against the railing with her knees up to her chest. But not long after her breath became shallow with sleep, her eyes began racing behind closed lids. Back and forth, constantly. Her neutral expression was replaced with a frown and her brow furrowed.

Then her breathing became faster. First only just, and then like she was jogging. A few beads of sweat blossomed across her forehead.

Then she whimpered. A quiet sob into her knees. Her head jerked to the side and her fingers dug into her legs as she unconsciously drew them into her chest as tightly as she could.

And when his face swam before her...his hands began to touch her, the fear of being in his company over came her so completely she started shaking in her sleep and half-sobbed nos mixed with nonsense escaped her lips.

"Wake up," a voice would cut through the chaos.  "Saoirse, you're dreaming. Come back to me.." she might feel the pull and shake of his powerful grip as he did so, Trying to wake her. "Wake up!"

The night had been beautiful... quiet- despite the sound of ocean winds and waves and the creaking of the boat and flap of its sails. The twinkling stars were beautiful, a sea in themselves of an endless depth. There wasn't even a cloud marring the glow of the moon.

It was her whimpers that drew his attention first, and he approached her, curious at first until he realized her despair she suffered from within. 

Now he moved with purpose, taking her body carefully and trying to bring her back to the world of the waking.

"Saoirse.. you are dreaming! Wake for me now!!"

At first, his attempts to wake her melded with the nightmare that plagued her. The hands belonged to him. The voice was just a phantom of her own hopes to be saved. But Opus never saved her in these dreams. At times he was there, but only to be brutally murdered to leave her alone with Callum as he brought her back to that room. Back to the dark.

But then his voice became clearer, the touch on her shoulders more pronounced and, though not exactly gentle, were anything but rough.

Her eyelids fluttered open with a gasp and her head jerked up with eyes bleary and wild; half in dream and half in reality. She looked at him with fear. She was frozen for just a second. Then...

"Opus?"

He sighed with relief when she spoke his name and those eyes of her's found his. He smiled at her beneath the moonlight before brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Glad to see you're awake."

It was interesting. When she had been dreaming, her mind trapped in that room with that man, the light of her skin from the moonlight had been almost flickering, diminished, but as consciousness returned so did the light.

"It's...you?" She was still blinking away that night's nightmare, understanding and realization trickling in slowly, "You're not dead...oh..." she pressed her palms against her eyes and took a few steadying breaths, "A dream. Another dream...I'm sorry...I didn't want you to...I tried keep them..."

Another breath, "I can't make them stop." She croaked, hands still pressed to her eyes, "I'm trying...I...I'm sorry."

She was weak. Lady, she was so weak.

Opus studied her, realization setting in. The reason for those nightmares was the reason he had done what he had back in Connlaoth- the terrible acts need only a terrible reply...

But that would never fix the holes that had been made and cut into Saoire's mind. 

"If you know the secrets so well of a broken mind, then I would have needed you to teach me your secrets," came the soft rumble of his voice. "The horrors of life will scar us until death." He moved to brush her hair again, much more gently this time- but still gave her space. "I suppose as an elf.. you will accumulate many more scars than I."

"A broken mind." She repeated back to him, circling her palms against her eyes again before letting them fall into her lap. The illusion of clothes were still firmly in place despite all of the internal turmoil, "My mind is broken isn't it." She stared at her hands for a moment before lifting her eyes to meet his again, lower lip trembling.

"He's going to kill me." She whispered, "I feel it. He's going to find me and he's going to kill me."

The words the Lady had given her during her coming of age ritual echoed in her head Shadows will consume you and on the wings of a shadow you'll return home.

Opus frowned at those last words, eyes hardening.

"It will be very difficult for a dead man to do this," he said, voice just above a growl, a whisper. "He will threaten you no longer, this I promise you "

Because no one, no where - would simply survive the wrath of Opus Dey. Did she not recall?

He could make the world burn. 

"Opus..." she started, licking her lips in an attempt to chase away the dryness, but her tongue wasn't any better. She needed to tell him, but...he was probably right. Right? No one could survive those wounds. No Connlaothian healers could save you from that. Even she had told the priest he was furthering suffering rather than saving lives.

"When you...when I...when we were in Connlaoth, Danning - the priest - was trying to save them. He was trying to save him. Callum. He...he was still alive when you showed up." Her eyes shined with tears for the first time since waking. Even the nightmares didn't make her cry anymore but this? Thinking about him surviving all of that. Thinking about him coming back.

Now she trembled.

Opus stiffened. And for a long moment he didn't give her a response.  But how could he simply talk after such a revelation? That the one man he aimed to suffer and snuff out may still live? He'd need to contact the priest immediately, but for the moment, he needed to channel his anger- for as he might have seemed cool and collected...
He was absolutely about ready to explode.

His mouth twitched as he clenched his jaw.

"If he lives, I can guarantee it won't be for much longer." His words belayed the stillness of his exterior and perhaps highlighted what he held back- for his words were sharp and bitter and laced with a dark promise he would see to the end.

She had been alive for a long time - Much longer than any normal human, certainly longer than Opus - and she could feel his anger radiating off of him like a looming storm. Part of her immediately wished that she hadn't told him.

"He's probably dead."she whispered in a desperate attempt to placate both her own fears as well as his rage. "No one could survive that...Danning didn't know...he didn't know. He didn't even recognize me." What else could she say? That she had gone back into that church with the sole reason to ensure that man would suffer? It wouldn't change the fact that she hadn't done a thing. That she had chosen Opus over revenge.

She'd always choose him over revenge, she realized with a start.

"Opus." She leaned forward and pressed her hands to his cheeks doing her best to keep them steady so he wouldn't have more fuel. "Stay with me."

But what could she do? The fact that he might still be alive was haunting her - had been haunting her for weeks. She was no better than him.

Only one thing in all these months had helped her forget, helped her exist.

She pulled herself up onto her knees and kissed him so deeply she felt herself falling into the depths of him.

He wouldn't turn away from her attentions, her heated kiss meeting with one of his own. But after a few minutes of this he pulled away, his expression still cold, and his eyes simmering with passion and hate anew.

"You should try to rest. I.. have drugs that can help quell those dreams for now."

Until the real problem was squashed and quelled.

"Oh, it's ok." She said with a laugh, "This is just about the amount of sleep I get every night." But even as the words left her lips she realized the ridiculousness of them. First and foremost being that just because it was her new normal didn't mean it should be, and Opus would know that. Instead of making light of the situation she was probably just making it worse; giving him more things to be angry about.

Are you dreaming about me yet? Callum had asked as they were escaping the prison. Lady she hated that her answer was yes. She hated that he was the only thing that she dreamed about anymore.

"Ok." She finally said, smile replaced by seriousness bordering on a frown as she watched her fingers circle around each other "Ok, I'll try. But..." she looked up, "What are you going to do?"

His lips twitched with a bitter smile, held back by a clenched jaw. 

"What do you think?" He spoke, words low, dangerous. "I keep my promises."

She stared at him in silence for a few moments, her eyes dark and contemplative as she mulled over her next words. He wouldn't like it. He would turn her down, she knew it.

"You're taking me with you." She said, unwavering. It didn't matter what he said. It didn't matter what he thought. Not with this. "And before you say no, before you tell me you won't, or it's too dangerous, I deserve to be there. I need to be there." Her words were firm, demanding, but unnaturally soft in volume. They held every day, ever hour that the torment followed her.

"If I can't be the one to wield the blade then I at least need to see it buried in his chest." Her teeth clenched as she spoke.

Opus' expression did not change.  He studied her and simply nodded. She deserved to see that man's blood spilled.

"I'll of course confirm his fate before we would change course." Perhaps the fool would be lucky and dead by now."For now, we continue south, as planned."

Saoirse had been convincing herself that he was dead for weeks, but a part of her was still angry that she hadn't verified all those weeks ago. She could have told him then. Told him Callum was still alive and then he would have taken care of it right then and there.

But she had been so caught up in his return. His touch against her skin had consumed her and then he'd kissed her and they were transported. There hadn't been time.

"Thank you." She sighed, a weight lifting from her shoulders knowing she didn't have to fight this, grateful that he understood, "I'll try to sleep...with help." She added with downcast eyes.

It was hard for even a man like Opus to hide his agitation. His work was never spoiled by a damned survivor- especially such a pestilent  one. But he had Saoirse to focus upon, and he gestured for her to follow.

Back inside his private rooms, he produced a few opens for her from various places within his room. He set a small gemstone down, a small vial filled with a red liquid- and a small, metal cuffed earring.

"I might have more options, but one of these should work for you."

He gestured towards each as he described them.

"The vial is a basic sleep tonic- you won't wake up for atleast 5 hours once you consume it and your mind remains in a blankened state.  It's some sort of energizing stasis rather than actually sleeping- so you won't risk nightmares. "


He looked at rhe other options, fingering the gem.

"The gem can be eaten and lasts for a month. Each time you rest it feeds off your dreams. You won't remember them when you awaken, and the effect lasts about a month. It's some sort of fae in origin so I'm not sure how you body will react to it."

Then he lifted the cuffed earring- it looked completely dwarfed pinched between his fingers. 

"And I have this earring, wear it and it'll bless you with a peaceful sleep. It's designed to pull at good memories- some sort of blessed charm. I've only used it a handful of times but seemed to work.  It stills the mind and will help your mind ignore those darker thoughts when you are sleeping. I'm not sure how long it's meant to last- it might be permanent, but as always- I can't promise how the blessed item might work on a elf. "

Saoirse followed silently, feeling guilt? She could sense his agitation despite all of the effort he took to ensure her own comfort. He wasn't one to take failure lightly and this? If Callum was still alive? It was a massive failure...not that she blamed him for any of it, nor would she, but he had done all of those horrible things for her. He had attempted to destroy her own demons and now had to watch her battle nightmares knowing that the reason for them hadn't even properly been put down.

But maybe he was dead. He had to be dead. Only magic could have saved him, right? Or complete divine intervention? If he was alive...was it a God's will?

That was a terrifying thought.

She listened to his explanations of each items carefully and couldn't help the face she made, along with the quick shake of her head, when he mentioned the fae.

"I'll take the tonic." She picked up the vial and didn't even wait before throwing it back and placing the empty container back on the table, "I don't trust the Fae. And no earrings."

Then she tilted her head, "I guess I should have asked how long this takes to work...if I should have waited until I was in bed..."

He smirked at how quickly she selected one- then downed it without any real reservations. 
"Well, considering you just knocked it back like liquor- the initial effects shouldn't take too long. You'll be out in the next ten minutes. "

He hesitated, studying her.

"You'll need to rest inside here- to be sure you can be watched since you won't be able to be awakened until its run its course."

Yes, her sleeping on the lip of the ship wasn't exactly an option now- especially if she were to sleep alone. Unless of course he strapped her in- the very idea amused him.

"Do you need anything before you sleep?" He asked, gesturing towards his large bed.

Saoirse shrugged at his comment and smirk, not really thinking it was anything about the way she had handled it. He had offered her a few solutions and she trust him enough to know that he wouldn't intentionally put her at risk – he had even mentioned the possibilities of the other options going wrong without prompting. Besides, it had been weeks since she had slept longer than a few hours and the possibility of immediate relief was just too good to pass on.

She nodded when he mentioned needing to be watched, "That makes sense." She added, then blushed a bit from a mix of shame and embarrassment, "Sleeping under the stars...helps with the nightmares, usually. At least makes the waking easier." She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the floor, "Maybe it's stupid, but I didn't want you to know. So...thank you, I guess, for not judging me too harshly for my failings..."

It was getting more difficult to keep her eyes open and she blinked more often in an attempt to remain awake.

"Stay with me?" she murmured, reaching for his hand as she started to move towards the bed, "At least until I'm asleep?"

By the lady, the tonic worked quickly, and by the sound of things she wouldn't be able to wake until it wore off. Maybe that was a terrifying thought but...right now it sounded lovely. After everything, to be here, to know that Opus was alive, to know that she would be safe with him by her side....

It felt like a blessing, despite the horrors he committed. Perhaps she was a fool to trust him so completely. Maybe one day it would lead to her own doom, or perhaps she was just lucky to have attracted his positive attentions.

She'd likely only partially see, partially feel him helping her into the bed. 

He nodded at her words and that may have been the last she'd see until she awoke- or perhaps remember. 

And she'd awaken alone- to the ships creaking and the room in a shallow darkness. Opus Dey was no where within the room- and everything was.. oddly quiet on-board. 

One moment she felt Opus' hands guiding her, helping her, though even those memories were shrouded in mist, and the next her eyes were fluttering open to stare at the clock on the nightstand. It ticked away happily, without a care in the world, and filled her vision with its intricate carvings and small little doors that would open only on the hour. It brought a smile to her lips.

Opus Dey the sentimental. It was an odd thought but one that seemed to be supported by the clock's very existence on this boat. At least he was sentimental when it came to her.

She sat up slowly, realizing that she felt completely rested for the first time in months, and also realizing that when the potion had taken hold her illusions had broken and she was on full display to anyone who might happen to walk in. Not that she cared...but humans were funny like that.

A wash basin with fresh water had be laid for her, along with a cleansing towel and a green dress from the collection of clothes selected for her before she had even set foot on board. Not just that, but before she had even decided to go. Opus didn't like being caught off guard and clearly planned for every situation and scenario, even situations as silly and unimportant as her.

It didn't take long before she was washed and dressed. Her hair, now an inch or two below her shoulders, had been intricately twisted into braids and pulled back to keep tendrils out of her face. This time, however, she didn't try to hide her ears. Instead, they poked out prominently between plaits like tiny beacons against her red and gold curls.

Opus was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't surprise her. He was a busy man who had spent two weeks recovering from some kind of transportation spell - she couldn't expect him to just sit for a minimum of five hours.

Her elvish eyes allowed her to see through the low light without a lamp, and she made her way to the door before stepping out into the silence. It was very quiet, especially for the amount of sunlight that lit the deck.

The quiet was the cut into by some humming. The voice, when the humming turned into signing, was quite obviously Dao's. He was fiddling with something before the signing went to whistling, and as he worked on whatever it was in his hands, flops of his dark hair fell over those bright eyes of his. 

Then he lifted his gaze when he noted her presence. He grinned, that broad, silly grin that he had- before pocketing whatever it was he was working on and nodded as he approached. 

"Ah, you're awake. He told me just to tell you he'll be back soon. "

And with that, he moved back towards the rail of the ship and took out the crude wood and instrument from his pocket and began to widdle away at.. whatever it was he was widdling away at.

She nodded at that and promptly followed him to the rail and nimbly pushed herself up to sit on it while facing him. Her bare feet swung playfully and peeked out from under the hem of the dress. She assumed that Opus was busy working on something important, and didn't even question what he might be doing. He had his own life and she wasn't about to hover.

"What are you working on?" She leaned over to look at the piece of wood in his hands with a playful smile on her face, "Looks....interesting."

If she were being honest it looked like...nothing. She had nothing; not a single clue as to what it could possibly be.

"Hrm?" Dao looked up at her, then down at the wood in his hand before he lifted it closer to her face. "Oh this? It's a stag! Or atleast is going to be." It looked nothing like a stag. Infact, if anything it looked closer to a duck - as there was no defined limbs carved out.

Saoirse tilted her head to the side, the hair that was unbraided falling over her shoulder as she leaned closer to examine his work. It was....nothing like his explanation lead others to believe. It was...a lump of wood with some chunks taken out of it and it was much more bulbous than any stag she'd ever seen before.

"Hmm." She did her best to keep from laughing at his work, and pressed her fingers delicately to her lips in thought, "It's....cute."

It wasn't a lie. It was kind of adorable for a very-not-a-stag piece of wood.

"How long have you been working?" she pointed to the part he was currently working on, "Are these the antlers?"

Dao pauses to consider her words, then jerked a thumb towards a pile of wooden shapes hidden in the shadows of the ship's deck.

"Don't know. A few minutes on this one. Can't seem to get the hang of this. But I'll keep trying. Those over there.. They're my graveyard stags." The last part he leaned in to whisper. "I threw them there to die. Don't know what shape they even look like."

And at that, he tosses his head back in a maniacal laugh.

"You any good with wood?" He gestured towards his hands and tools and the "stag".

"Oh, Dao..." she chuckled and tilted her head to the side before reaching forward and plucking the "stag" from his hands and examining it quietly with a soft smile continuing to pull at her lips. She ran her fingers delicately over the wood, feeling the history of the tree that birthed it. It had been a young thing, at least by the age of trees, but even a young tree experienced more life in a single breath than a mortal being ever could.

"It doesn't want to be a stag." Saoirse replied thoughtfully, "You can always coerce it to be, but it's always easier to transform something when it wants to be transformed."

She reached over and pulled Dao's hand towards the piece and lead his fingers in the direction of the grain, "The grain pattern swoops gracefully this way." She pulled his fingers along.

Then she let him go and pulled her own dagger from under her skirt and deftly shaved off the side of the piece in one sweeping motion, then another, and then held it up for Dao to see.

"It wants to be a swan." In her hand the wood now had the general shape of a swan's neck.

Dao blinked and cocked his head. The little piece of wood now had a more obvious shape to it than the splintered lump he had been widdling. His smiled, of course, Dao was always smiling, but before he could say something a simple, small ring on his finger began to pulse with a soft red light.

Dao looked towards the light a moment, lightly touching the ring, and the pulsing light had stopped. Then he went back to examining this swan.

"I dunno.. " he went on, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. "Looks more like a gourd to me."
He shrugged and smiled, returning his gaze to Saoirse.

"We still have some time to kill.. want to see how many drinks it takes for us to get drunk?"

Saoirse blinked at him for a moment, ignoring the obvious red light blinking on his figure in the moment. If it was important to her own personal wellbeing he would have told her what it was about, but also she had a sneaking suspicion it was very similar to the ring she had given to the priest months ago back in that town in Connlaoth. She assumed it had a pair, or multiple pairs, that linked together to send a signal. Was she curious? Sure. Would it consume her? No. She was over one hundred years old and time passed much differently to her than it did to humans. The answers would come to light in their own time and she would worry about it – or not – at that time.

Then she laughed, a pure crystal-like laugh, and looked down at the swan neck and back up to Dao.

"I suppose gourds look like swans, yes." She admitted, and then continued to sweep the blade masterfully across the wood until a rudimentary swan body complete with a lightly fluttering wing began to form.

"Here." She handed the piece back to him, "You can finish it if you like or toss it in your pile of rejects." Her words were warm and kind with not a small amount of mirth mixed in. It had been a long time since she had woken from uninterrupted rest and everything about her seemed to sparkle because of it in a way that none of them had seen before. The gold in her hair was practically stardust against the sunlight and here eyes bright and alert. The last time she had felt like this had been that night she had met Opus for the first time. Now, with sleep finally acquired, she practically exuded her elfishness like an aura that encompassed her and not just because her ears were prominently poking through the braids in her hair. Even her skin seemed to glow, though that only every really happened in moonlight.

She eyed him again when he suggested a drinking competition and pondered for a moment. On one hand it seemed like it could be fun – she'd never actually tested her constitution in human liquor though she had drunk a few ales here and there and determined them to be....mediocre at best.

Finally she shrugged, "As long as you recognize you're not up against a weak human and doing this isn't going to cause Opus to throw you into the sea, why not?"

She leaned forward until her face was close to his and smiled mischievously, "I hope that vampirism thing gave you some extra help."