Closed Between sand and stars

This request is currently closed and not accepting new users.
Klaire ran after Rob, growing more desperate by the second. For something to be so urgent to the point he couldn't even explain what it was beforehand, it was likely someone's life was on the line, and she had her suspicions about whose life it might be.

She was right. Rob pushed open the door to the brig and Klaire ran past him, recognizing Ishaan's dark hair despite the rest of his body being hidden behind Coffelt. Without giving the officer an opportunity to react she pulled him by the collar, using all her strength to toss him to the side, his body slamming against the metal bars that made the uninhabited prison of the Dragonfly.

Klaire's violet eyes looked like flames reflected in Coffelt's, and one of her arms pressed against the cook's throat while her other hand reached down to grab the blood stained knife he held.

"Ellington, take care of Mr. Riasos." She said, without taking her eyes off him. Her arm pressed harder against Coffelt's neck, making him gasp for air. "You're done here." Her voice ran cold, threatening. She turned to his sidekicks, screaming: "All of you!"

Klaire released Coffelt, tossing his knife on the floor and unlocked one of the cages, while her right hand hovered over her sword.

"Inside. Now."


***

Coffelt had never heard the captain this mad. She was smaller and weaker than him, but there was something frightening about her. He knew strength wasn't all, and that in a swordfight he didn't stand a chance. He lowered his head and so did Jay, walking into the cage before she felt the need to repeat herself.
 
He'd tried to squirm away, inhaling deeply, as if trying to suck himself through the beam. But the knife was upon him, slicing through his flesh, carving. After the second incision, Ishaan felt his eyes close tightly, head turning down and away, accepting his defeat. And then the sound of urgent footsteps descended. The knife was gone, his hip slick with blood but burning with relief. He felt himself drop slightly, the rough hands pinning him to the post suddenly gone. His legs were strong enough though, keeping him upright for a moment longer, until he felt another set of hands steady him. Rob. And then Ellington. Both men assessed him instantly, noticing the slight bruising on his jaw and temple, the sharp, painful intake of his chest, and of course, the wound on his hip.

"Can you walk?" The medic asked, eyes focused on Ishaan's.

"I think so," the man responded with a nod. His first steps her careful, tentative, but he managed, leaning against Ellington for support. Eventually they made it up to the clinic, where he was instructed to lay flat on the table, a cloth pressed tightly onto his hip.

"It'll be easier to clean," Ellington had explained, his movements within the clinic being fast, precise. He flitted from one end to the other, wordlessly grabbing supplies, pouring water. Once he was ready, the medic appeared by his side and slowly removed the blood soaked cloth to check for bleeding. "They're mostly surface level wounds, but here - open your mouth," he instructed. Obedient as ever, Ishaan obliged, only to be rewarded with a chewed up root, straight from Ellington's mouth. "Don't swallow."

Slowly, gingerly, the medic began to pat away the remnants of blood, revealing what lay beneath. A crude, incomplete star shape. "Fuckin' idiots," the medic muttered, shaking his head.

---

Billy, unlike his companions, didn't go away without a fight. Hands rising slightly into the air, his sign of defeat, the man began to bargain. "You think your boy is so innocent? Look what he did to my nose. Unprovoked too."
 
Rob wasn't sure what to do, but after a moment of hesitation followed Ellington and Ishaan on their way to the clinic. The captain seemed to have it figured out, and he wouldn't leave his new friend behind to fend for himself again.

"Do you need any help?" He asked, even though the medic seemed to have it handled.

***

Klaire didn't usually have a problem with anger management. She was the oldest of four siblings, not easily pushed over the edge, but they had done it.

Three men didn't corner an inexperienced soldier if they had any respect for their captain. She had learned from her father that an iron fist was needed to be worthy of respect. Klaire would choose diplomacy over violence most times, but diplomacy wouldn't work in this case.

After Coffelt and Jay entered the cage, Klaire closed her hand on a fist and punched Billy on the nose, like he'd said Ishaan had done to him. While he was disoriented, she tried to grab him by the collar to push him through the metal gate.

"I will not stand bullying in my crew." She said, firmly. "And I will not repeat myself again."
 
"Cut his shirt open," Ellington instructed roughly, without sparing a glance in Rob's direction. The difficulty holding his weight and occasional wince seemed to be a sign of hidden damage, likely around the abdomen. Hopefully it wasn't bad - bruising, swelling, even a broken rib were easily fixed, but anything worse? Their navigator would be in trouble - and their mission? Without a navigator, they certainly wouldn't get very far. "Scissors are in the far right cabinet. Cut it then stay out of my way."

Meanwhile, the medic finished cleaning the wound on Ishaan's hip, bandaging it nice and snug. Although the Captain would likely want to see the handiwork of her crew, his priority was ceasing the bleeding and preventing infection.

---

A second fist connected with Billy's nose, shifting it ever so slightly towards the right. Blood began to pour more steadily again, the man's hand automatically reaching up to cup his broken nose. "Fuck," he groaned, stumbling through the metal gate to join his partners. It took him a couple seconds to get orientated; her punch had him seeing stars. Slumped against the bars, he slowly slid down, sending a wad of bloody spit to the other side of the cage, towards the Captain's feet. "You're a day in and already down three good men. If you think bullying is most of your problems, you're already fucking dead, Byrn."
 
The officer nodded, following Ellington's instructions. He found the scissors, cut Ishaan's shirt while mouthing 'sorry' and took a few steps back, giving the medic the space he needed.

"I should've come sooner. I didn't think they'd be this violent." He apologized, regretting not going in and fighting alongside Ishaan.

***

Billy was right, and that's what scared Klaire the most. Not getting lost in the desert or being groped and later killed by pirates, but being seen as a joke of a captain. She wanted to cry or punch Billy's nose again, but didn't do either of those things.

"You'll spend the night here, and have a fair trial in the morning." She said firmly, turning her back on them before her eyes began to water. With deep breaths every couple of steps, the brunette slowed down her heart rate in time to get to the clinic. Her feelings would have to wait until later that night, when it'd just be her and that bottle of rosé.
 
Ishaan shook his head, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "It was my fault anyways. Besides, you got me out before the worst of it. Thanks for alerting her." Likely a lie, but he didn't know for sure. It was better not to think about it. "And thank you," he added glancing towards Ellington.

Her. She'd certainly stepped in. He could see how she'd gotten such a high ranking position at her age. Whatever that was. Young. Klaire had been fierce, authoritative, she'd stepped in and gotten three grown men under control. Only after he'd gotten his ass kicked, of course...

It worried him. She'd made him a promise, and on the easiest leg of their journey, she hadn't been able to keep it. Ishaan didn't want his mind to wander in that direction, not while everything was so fresh, but currently, he was ready to request an end to their contract. Perhaps she'd find someone better suited for the role in Brimstone. He'd find a way back home somehow. He was clearly not built for this.

---

With the shirt cut, Ellington gently pushed it aside to examine Ishaan's chest. Bruising on one side, but nothing else. His hands ran over the skin, pressing around the area and noticing the slight flinch of pain. But their was no cry, no abnormal swelling or bloating. "You have some bruising but nothing serious. You'll likely feel pain for a couple days but it will subside," the medic said, moving up the table, closer to his face. The jaw was bruised, his temple too. Minimal skin abrasion. "Same with your jaw. You'll probably be in for a solid headache, but you'll survive, pretty boy."

Glancing towards Rob, Ellington scoffed. "No? Cut the crap, Rob." Then he looked towards Ishaan. "Everyone has a role on this goddamn ship. You broke that fuckin' rule. And the Captain rubbed salt in the wound."
 
Klaire hesitated before knocking on the clinic's door. Her eyes were dry, her breath was regulated, but she was still nervous about stepping in. She had promised Ishaan she'd keep him safe, and when she turned her eyes away from him for one second, that promise was broken. By her own crew. She wouldn't allow it to happen again.

"Everyone has a role on this goddamn ship. You broke that fuckin' rule. And the Captain rubbed salt in the wound."

Her hand dropped to the handle and she walked in, brows furrowed and chin up.

"How bad is it?" She asked, approaching the medic and his patient, though her eyes were in the latter.

His face didn't look too bad. A punch, maybe two? Better than how he'd left Billy. Her gaze trailed down his torso until it got to where Coffelt's knife had been. Klaire's heart tightened, and her expression softened for a moment before returning to stern and distant.

"They'll be kept behind bars until we get to Brimstone, where they'll be transferred to a real prison." They could get a death sentence, for all she cared. Klaire looked up at Ishaan's eyes, holding back an apology. Not here, not now. Not in front of Ellington.
 
The door swung open and the very she-devil strut in, chin up, composed as all hell. Good, at least she managed that. It didn't change Ellington's opinion of her though; she'd fucked up, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Swiping the blood stained cloths into the dirty basin, the medic looked from her to the man on his table. "He'll be fine. Some bruising and tenderness to his jaw and ribcage, and the branding, of course, but it wasn't deep. Don't you worry, Captain, at the very least, we still have a navigator." He paused, placing the basin on the cabinet. "I suppose we'll be starving until Brimstone though. And down two good men. Fair trade, wouldn't you say?" Three trained soldiers for a fucking civilian.

---

Gently propping himself up on his elbows, Ishaan averted his gaze, instead examining the purple bruising on his side. It was comforting to know that they wouldn't be bothering him any more, but Ellington had a point.

Thank the gods they were stopping in Brimstone.

"Captain, thank you for stepping in. Sir, am I able to take my leave?" He asked, despite already swinging his legs off the table, wincing from the movement.
 
“Trained soldiers ganging up on a civilian? These are not good men, they are cowards, and I don't need those on my ship.” Klaire spat out, shooting Ellington a glance. They’d be better off without those two, but Ellington was right to worry about the matter of the cook. They had one more day ahead of them to get to Brimstone, that was five meals - four, if they made haste and the weather was favorable enough for them to arrive before sunrise.

Her thought process was interrupted by Ishaan, thanking her and asking for permission to leave. She wasn’t deserving of his thank you for if she had done her job properly he wouldn’t be in this situation, but she nodded, stepping away to give him room to stand. It was then that she noticed Rob was still in the room, quietly watching their exchange.

“Willow. A word, in my office.” She said, turning to follow Ishaan out of the clinic. Out of the entire crew, Rob was the closest thing Klaire could consider a friend, despite their differences in hierarchy. He was a good soldier, much more qualified than his brother, but at that moment, the only thing hoped was that he was able to cook.

“Yes, captain!” Rob saluted, nodding at Ellington on his way out.

***

The entire ordeal took longer than Klaire had hoped. Unsurprisingly, Rob had no experience in a kitchen whatsoever, but was willing to help however he could. She considered interviewing other crew members for the position but didn’t want to give any room for people like Ellington to doubt her capabilities. The next step was rummaging through Coffelt’s belongings and nearly crying when she found a cooking book - completely new, with a love letter from his mother attached to it - amongst his things. She left Rob with it an hour before dinner was to be prepared, reassuring him that it’d be hard for him not to outdo the former cook, and a promise to meet him down there after completing her next task.

She knocked on the navigator’s door, preparing for the worst. He’d want to leave, she knew that, but it wasn’t even what she feared the most. Klaire cared about his opinion of her, and he would have to be a saint not to blame her for what had happened.
 
Alone at last, Ishaan felt himself sink into the comfort of his flat bed, the mattress dipping down beneath his weight as he stretched the length of his body. He'd tossed the tattered remains of his shirt aside, the linen forming a pile between the bed and his workspace. For a moment, he merely laid, gaze up and intent on the wooden ceiling.

His mind wandered; the best option would be to disembark in Brimstone, abandoning the mission and the contract he'd signed. It wasn't pride, no, he'd been cornered, overpowered by three trained soldiers. He could admit that he'd had no chance. No, it was the broken promise that concerned him. How could he put his wellbeing on the line, and for someone who couldn't uphold their end of the bargain? He was done...

And then he was asleep. Overcome by fatigue.

A sudden knock woke him, his head shooting up at the sound, elbows propping himself up. "Come in," he called out automatically, unwilling to get up and open the door. He assumed whoever it was would understand, whether that was Rob or the Captain, or another member of the crew.

But when the Captain did enter, he realized his mistake. "My apologies, Captain," he murmured sheepishly, sliding his legs off the bed and hoisting himself up to his feet. The rest of the crew would stand on alert - a sign of respect - wouldn't they? They wouldn't see her as just Klaire, who also happened to be a Captain. Was it wrong to think that way?

"Can I help you with something?" Ishaan asked, slowly moving towards his dresser.
 
"Come in."

Upon having his consent, Klaire entered the room and closed the door behind her. It was the first time a man who wasn't a family member had invited her into their chambers while looking as unpresentable as Ishaan did at that moment. It wasn't as much due to the fact he was shirtless - she'd seen him shirtless all day - but this time it didn't feel as appropriate as before.

"I can come back another time…" Klaire said, feeling the heat going up her cheeks, but making no mention to move. She didn't look directly at him until his back was turned towards her; her eyes lingered on his shoulders, trailed down to the soft contouring of his muscles under the see-through dark wings and the dimples on his lower back.
 
His fingers had just brushed against the soft fabric of a clean button-up when she asked her question. Without turning around, he slipped the sleeves onto his arms, pulling the material up and over his shoulders. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as he'd anticipated - perhaps if he'd had to lift him arms, it'd have been a different story. Instead, he settled for grasping at the tiny buttons.

"No, no, I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you. I'm still getting used to the formalities." Especially after being beaten in the brig, but that was hardly an excuse.

Ishaan turned once three buttons were secured, quickly noticing the aversion in her gaze and the redness of her cheeks. Still, it was easy to ignore and pretend he hadn't. Once his fingers had secured the last of the fasteners, his hands drifted behind his back, clasping together as he'd seen many of the crew do before.

"Is there something you needed?"
 
Pull yourself together, Klaire. The captain of the Dragonfly cleared her throat and looked back at Ishaan - at his eyes this time.

“I’m the one who must apologize. That… It should never have happened.” She said, holding back on the urge to explain herself. It didn’t matter she didn’t think he’d be in danger, those men were her crew and she had responsibility over them and their actions. She walked forward a couple steps, standing in between him and the door. “I know what I say doesn’t change the fact that it did happen, but from now on, I’ll be by your side at all times, and whenever I can’t, Willow will cover for me. Like I said, Coffelt and the others will be replaced the moment we set foot in Brimstone.”

Her brows furrowed and she examined his expression, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.
 
Standing idly in front of her, Ishaan worked on slowly rolling up the sleeves of the tunic, one careful fold at a time. He listened, took in her apology, and wondered about the feasibility of her plan. Once she was done, his gaze temporarily rose to meet hers, until the second sleeve required his attention.

"With all due respect, Captain Byrn, do you plan on stationing a guard outside my room? I hardly think that would be the best use of your resources, especially after we depart Brimstone."

And head for more dangerous, unpredictable lands.

"Perhaps it would be wise to consider other options. Perhaps you haven't found the right fit."

The right navigator.
 
Klaire sighed in defeat, realizing where Ishaan's arguments would end up taking him. She had an entire speech planned, but her gut told her to drop it and try a different approach, a more real one. If omission was considered a lie, perhaps she hadn't been completely honest with him.

"My father's ship was sent on this same mission thirty years ago." She said, walking over to his desk and glancing over the maps laid over it. She brushed her fingertips over one of them. "They were close, but a fleet of pirates stopped them before they got to the heart of the desert. The ship sank, and the men who survived traveled by foot, searching for Armadilla. At some point, my father and his quartermaster were the only ones alive." Her uncle. Klaire looked back up at Ishaan.

"They would've died if they hadn't met a man who showed them the way back to the mountains. As compensation, the man was rewarded with a property and funding for his studies. That man died three months ago."
 
With both sleeves neatly rolled up to his biceps, Ishaan turned his attention to the Captain, watching as she maneuvered towards his desk. Her fingertips brushed against the organized chaos, where rolls of maps, parchment, and ink laid in a heap. He watched and listened until his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Cilma?" He found himself whispering, unable to stop the name he knew so well from leaving his lips.

What had Cilma been doing in the desert, so close to the pirate city? And no more than fifteen years before taking Ishaan under his wing? He'd always thought that the old man had ownership of the shop long before then, dedicating his heart and soul into his treasure. No wife, no family, nothing but his passion.

"What was he doing there?" The man asked, curiosity overpowering his instinct to remind her that he was not Cilma, nor did he possess the same talent and knowledge.
 
"I don't know." Klaire said. Her fingers slipped away from the parchment and the brunette walked over to Ishaan, looking up to lock her gaze on his.

"What I do know is that I have a crew of people trained to deal with pirates, but only one person that can save us from getting lost in the sand. You may not be Cilma, but you're the closest person in the world to know as much as he did." She paused, and took one more step forward. "I know you want to leave, but we need you, Ishaan. We won't stand a chance of returning home without you."
 
His eyes flickered, narrowing slightly as the man tried to assess the truth behind her words. Did she truly not know? Was she goading him with this information, using it to get him to stay, to play his part? To keep his end of the bargain when she'd been unable to keep hers?

"You are correct, I do want to leave." Ishaan said firmly, remaining glued in his spot, despite her gradually moving closer to him. "I don't know you well, Captain Byrn. But I fully trust your capabilities. It's your crew that concerns me. If I'm being frank, I can't see you making it far enough to require my services for the journey back home."
 
Once again, Klaire felt a pressure in her chest. What else could she say? He was right.

"I… Understand." Her voice cracked, but Klaire forced out a small, sad smile. "We dock on Brimstone the day after tomorrow. I hope you'll reconsider until then." With a nod, she turned and walked to the door, walking out without giving Ishaan another glance. The fact that it was a suicide mission was no secret, and perhaps she'd been stupid to be hopeful. Or maybe too confident.

***

Klaire cried herself to sleep that night. After her conversation with Ishaan she had to hold it in a while longer until after cooking dinner with Rob (that worked surprisingly well). Only after the dishes were all cleaned and there was no one around to see her leave the kitchen she was able to return to her room, lay in her bed and let the tears out. She would announce Coffelt, Jay and Billy would no longer be with them the next day, and didn't plan on going into too much detail about the reasons why to the rest of the crew, though gossip was bound to go round, especially if she considered the Ellington factor. She'd have to talk to Rowan, the only person she trusted enough to ask for advice on how to proceed about it the best way possible. Rob had assured he had breakfast covered , which was at least one thing she didn't have to worry about.

It was bound to be a long day.
 
Once Klaire left, her words of hopeful reconsideration lingered for the rest of the day, and into the night. Ishaan didn't sleep well; he imagined their contract, his precise signature, the saddened expression within her violet eyes - it haunted him. That, and the pounding headache that took hold of him, preventing the man from gaining a restful sleep. It'd been three nights now, three nights of tossing and turning.

He woke the next morning with darker bags beneath his eyes and less energy. Still, he dragged himself out of bed at the crack of dawn and trained. Trained with Rowan, then with the rest of the crew - minus three. The man didn't speak of what had happened, merely winced and dragged his teeth through the pain.

With Rob taking over in the kitchen, he ate silently, glad to have a decent meal, yet yearning for company. A double-edged sword.

Once breakfast was done, he helped clean up, before cornering Rob in the kitchen. Swallowing the pain, Ishaan smiled brightly at the man. "I hope you're getting some hefty coin for that breakfast. Best one yet, I reckon."

---

Rowan had noticed a shift within the Captain. She seemed more tense, more withdrawn than usual. Though skipping breakfast was something she'd done the day before, perhaps there was an underlying reason today. Especially after announcing that Coffelt, Billy, and Jay were being dishonourably discharged in Brimstone. So once he was done eating, the burly man found himself outside her door, knocking twice. "Captain? Might I have a word?"
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top