An Unlikely Alliance, An Indisputable Offer

After a long walk to the docks, the courtesan quickly found out that the two weren't half as bad as they had initially made themselves seem. Crane, the skinnier, much slimier one, wholly animated in his gestures and volume, had a lifetime's worth of stories to tell about his various endeavors in the sea, most of which Faine called bullshit on but laughed at anyway. Rinus was a pleasantly gentle soul. Undoubtedly, the big guy would be able to injure the courtesan beyond repair if ordered to do so, but he was seamlessly polite, and his eyes sparkled at almost every display in the market.

At some point, Faine had to stop their journey just to get the two something, anything that got their spirits rising. Crane almost emptied what was left in the courtesan's pockets with his insatiable appetite, argued with the merchants to lower their prices, and almost elbowed a kid's face to the ground before Faine put a stop to his explosive temperament, while Rinus only held on to his newly bought trinkets appreciatively, a content look on his face.

( "Woah! How's a pretty boy like you so rich? Maybe I should give it a try. With my good looks, business would be booming in no time." Crane, shameless as he was, had the gall to ask as he was pocketing more snacks for himself, sneakily grabbing more than he, as in Faine, paid for.

"..." Faine shared an unimpressed look with Rinus, and, safe to say, he has never felt so understood before. )

Upon reaching their destination, the courtesan could barely hold down a nervous gulp emerging from his throat. The ship was massive, and evidence of ferocious battles fought in the past were clear on its flawed surfaces, almost as if proudly flaunting scars. Its sheer size had multiple onlookers locked in place with intrigue. The flag was vaguely recognizable, and multiple members of the crew were bustling in and out, barely acknowledging Faine's existence.

If the courtesan had to guess, he wasn't the first from the House of Himeros or maybe even their sister counterpart to enter the ship, whether it be for the crewmembers or, in Faine's case, the captain. He fixed his hair upon seeing his own reflection from a couple of metal junk. Crane's incessant irrationality had really taken a toll on him. They had only known each other for less than two hours, and the courtesan already looked twenty years older.

Lads and lasses, uniquely diverse from each other, but ultimately tied together by the gruff and hardened look one would usually expect from a pirate, bustled from one part of the ship to another. It truly was massive. But not massive enough to prevent the courtesan from bumping against a shoulder or two in the crowded deck.

Only then did Faine recall the gossip he had acquired from his fellow courtesans, a lighthearted moment shared with the pleasantly dull feeling provided by alcohol. The captain was a prince, 11th in line to the throne of a foreign land. He was infamous for turning his back on his royal bloodline, opting instead to crusade the seas with an unrelenting fervor. In just a few years, the ex-prince was able to conquer the seas, earning everyone's respect with his daring crusades and the treasure acquired on the way, treasure that had even Faine drooling.

Crane stopped in his step at the sight of a vast door, causing Faine to almost squish his nose out of function. He was ready to stab the bastard on the back, quite literally too, he was sure Rinus would aid him in his murder plot. That nose earned him quite a handful of his income, after all. The offensively oblivious pirate knocked twice before letting his identity be known.

"Cap, it's Crane. I brought you-know-who." He voiced, louder than his already loud outside voice, internally hoping he wasn't interrupting his captain's afternoon activities lest he be faced with the fury of a dozen hungry hell hounds.

An authoritative voice boomed from the other side of the door, the elaborate designs engraved on the wooden frame unsettling Faine even more than he already was, another wave of anxiety washing over him as his palms got increasingly wetter and simultaneously colder.

"Let him in. And scurry off."

Crane, silent for once, pushed on the heavy wooden door, holding it open for Faine. He gave the two a look, almost apologetic. He didn't know for what, as he stepped inside, the floorboards creaking under his weight. The moment the courtesan realized he was without the presence of Rinus and the incredibly punchable Crane, his nervousness got the best of him, his heart beating almost as loudly as the slam of the closing door.

Slowly, he navigated through the spacious room, searching for the source of the commanding voice that was still ringing in his ears like a hypnotizing song, repeating in his head like temptation.

His eyes darted from one corner to another, taking note of the desk in the middle of the room, papers—important documents, he assumed—scattered all over like the result of a cryptic study, an identifiable map or two catching his eye. Shelves decorated the walls of the room, standing eerily taller than the man, an uncountable number of books staring back at him.

The room was full of unusual but evidently valuable trinkets, strewn around on the furniture like dirty laundry.

"Host."

Faine's focus darted from a dagger, handle decorated with emeralds, dangerous and somewhat sexy, to a graciously postured man leaning over a doorframe, one presumably leading to another mess of mysteries. The first thing that reached his eye was the ungodly way the captain's shirt hugged his body, fabric barely transparent enough to expose his toned muscles to the streaks of sunlight seeping through the walls, ones that were very blatantly shown from the two open buttons around his chest. Faine was sure his face would've stayed red the entire day had he not been shocked out of his flustered state. A mask, thick enough to look like it weighed painfully, met his thirsting gaze.

"Oh, yes— Host. Thank you for hosting this meeting with me today—"

"No, I mean—" The red in his ears only darkened, the honeyed chime of the pirate's laughter sending pleasant shivers down his spine. "You are one of Madam Geona's hosts, are you not?"

The captain's footsteps were heavy as he approached the courtesan, and Faine could barely stutter out a response, throat tightening from the manly scent exuding off his body, filling his nostrils with the smell of the ocean, booze, and, strangely enough, firewood.

"Y— yes. Yes, I am. Although," He was quick to save himself from humiliation, a practiced grin forming on his face and a seductive purr, one he was sure he's perfected, returning to his voice.

"I prefer to be called.. other things."

The captain, whose mischief could be heard from his voice, lessened the distance between them in a few long strides, playfully placing a hand on Faine's waist. "Oh? Are you flirting with me or correcting me, dove?"

"That's for you to decide, captain." He placed his hand on the man's sturdy chest, caressing the skin so pliantly opened to him. If he had been bolder, he would've teased the man for dressing so whorishly. Perhaps he had intented to seduce the courtesan, which was a hilariously ironic turn on the situation. They had just met though and the boldness was usually saved for his brooding immortal client, so instead, he exhaled, impressed by what he was feeling with the palm of his hands.

"Indeed." The pirate snickered. "Tell me. What does a lowlife like me have to pay for a night with a beauty like you?"

The courtesan did not answer with his words, choosing instead to move his hands downwards, feeling the strong muscle he could only assume resulted from years of venturing grueling seas. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't doing it to indulge himself, satisfaction fuzzing up his senses like a soft drug. But he knew the indulgence had to stop sooner or later, so he placed his hand where it had been, on the pirate's chest window, before gently pushing his client down onto a leather couch, one of two in the room.

"For you, my darling lowlife with an unfairly attractive abdomen... I might just consider a discount."

He was quick to crawl up the pirate's lap, wanting to feel muscled thighs against his own. His weight elicited a groan from the other, a sound of pleasure, he was sure. He resumed his ventures, drawing out feathery strokes longer than needed as he grew more excited just from his client's body. He, however, paused as his hand reached the heavy mask sheltering the other's face, only then realizing how intimidating it was as it stared blankly at him.

"Uhm..? I would like to kiss you." Before he could think about the implications of his actions, he moved his hand towards the edges of the threatening face, hoping to lift it off to reveal the captain's.

A calloused hand gripped his wrist, the sheer firmness of the hold almost causing the courtesan to flinch.

"No. The mask stays on."

"So the rumors are true, then." Faine quipped.

"What have you heard?" His voice lowered, dangerous that was in no way seductive anymore. Still, Faine did not falter in his games.

"A sorceress, a cocky pirate, a curse."

The mood in the room seemed to have revived because after a moment of silence, Faine's wrist was released, and a firm grip on his waist took its place. "You seem eager for a taste of this cocky pirate, dove."

He stared at the mask for a long time, lost in thought. "You know, I could help you."

The captain only laughed, playful.

"I'm sure. Is that not your job? Courtesan? Is that what you like to be called? A courtesan favored by the gods themselves, the highest clients many could only dream of laying with."

Calixto gestured to the dark fur cloak slipping off of his frame. Something in Faine's head told him everyone he passed knew the furry item was a gift from his client, his god.

"You got me there, handsome. I meant something else, however..."

"Oh? How else could you possibly help me with this..." The grip on his waist loosened enough to play with the other's sides, eventually moving towards the front of his torso to the pretty arch of his back. "..small waist of yours, and pretty chest, and enticing doe eyes. They tempt me to break your feigned innocence."

"Oh, fuck." He groaned, but was quick to catch himself. "You are distracting me from speaking. You are scared of something."

"And you are spouting nonsense." The other chided.

"It wouldn't be nonsense if you kept your excitement for a second longer and listened to what I have to say."

He was instant in following up his words, disallowing the other to question him. "Though I'm not surprised by your impatience. I've heard Altair talking about you. Does it hurt to be turned down by the jewel of Elysia, a mighty captain like you? Your reputation has been dragged through the dirt these days, no?"

"My patience can only handle so much, dove. If you are only here to mock me, then I think you've forgotten whose lap you're sitting on—"

Pain bloomed on the skin of his waist, his client's hold getting dangerously tight.

"Long dark purple hair, reminiscent of the color of wine, that descends to black near its ends, almost as black as her eyes. A crooked nose accompanied by warts, gathered in lumps. The persistent smell of rotten fish. That is the description of your perpetrator, is it not?"

"How do you—"

"Guinevere is a sensitive soul. She is not much of a perpetrator, more like a victim. Correct me if I am wrong, but the longer version goes as is..."

"...A sorceress, a cocky pirate, a curse from conflict poorly dealt with. You opened your mouth much wider than needed, so she kept it open for you."

Faine did not need to see the other's face to know. How. It lingered in the air. So many hows, so many questions that only excited him.

"Crane is a nosy one, so am I."

"That bastard."

"Honestly." He said, almost humorously.

"Who exactly are you? How do you know so much? No amount of gossip could've painted such a vivid image of that witch. I have never told anyone of her face, and she has fled the map long ago. I should know, I've been searching for months."

The interrogative tone the other used had Faine shifting uncomfortably on the pirate's lap. He deliberated on his answers. There were a thousand ways things could go wrong.

He settled with, "She is a friend of mine." But as it left his mouth, he cringed. He had just made himself the captain's enemy's ally which would probably award him with how the ruthless man treated his enemies.

Fortunately for him, he was only met with sharp words riddled with anger. "So what now? Are you here to reprimand me? Worsen my humiliation?"

"No, I'm just here to inform you that she owes me a very big favor. And the only person who can take back your curse is the person who put it there in the first place."

Calixto froze and Faine felt it from how close the two were. How he was still on the other's lap, able to feel his muscles flexing along with his fickle emotions, he was not so sure.

"Look, cap. You have two options, actually three. You can pretend you heard nothing coming out of my mouth except perhaps harmless banter and let me give you some temporary relief, or you can bring me aboard, I can lead you to where Guinevere is hiding, and I can get your curse lifted."

He could feel the other wait.

"Third option is you can stab me with that pretty looking dagger over there for crossing a line or two, but I can assure you that I have bodily fluids that are more pleasant than blood."

"And why do you think I would trust you?"

"Because you're growing desperate. Just a single look at this room and any half-brained imbecile can tell. When you're a pampered prince, and one so pathetically low in the list of heirs, it'd take moving mountains to be respected by swashbuckling pirates of all people. I'm sure you've moved mountains, cap..."

"But that doesn't matter now that you've been hexed by a witch. You're only left with the reminder of defeat and a pretty distorted face." 'That I would still kiss..' Faine wanted to add, but he held down his desire, single-minded, his goals just out of reach.

"What are you getting out of this exactly?"

"A favor."

The pirate finally moved Faine off his lap, surprising the courtesan with his gentleness as he stood to his feet, pacing around the room before ending up behind his desk, body turned to Faine as if ready for confrontation.

"Ha! What are you now, the favor collector, my dearest courtesan? Maybe even.. a sorcerer? Are you ugly beneath all this magic you're working on my mind?" He held a single sheet of paper up with his hand. Out of frustration, Faine assumed, because he did not see how it could be relevant to their conversation.

"You sound like you're falling down a pit of insanity. You sound rabid. I am your only chance at sobriety and a good night's sleep, Calixto. Trust me on that."

He stood up, feet following the places where his client had been. He needed to restore their close proximity. If not, his offer would not be as effective as he hoped.

He found himself regretting that decision immediately after because the captain closed in on their distance for him again, but this time, in a manner that was nearly aggressive and had Faine sweating bullets.

"You might know something I don't, courtesan, but you still owe me the respect I've descended to hell for. It's still captain to you." The pirate spat out.

"My apologies, captain. Slipped my mouth."

The other's shoulders slouched lower, but barely. Tension was still thick in the air. Tension that brewed on for what felt like years, centuries, as no words were heard from behind the pirate's mask. Faine waited for something, anything, and soon felt the walls holding him together start to crack.

He was convinced that he had just set himself up a one-way ticket to corpse town.

"Name your favor. We leave at the first sign of daylight tomorrow."

The immediacy had Faine's eyes widening. He hadn't seen someone so restless in a while. But he let it go, relieved that the captain hadn't stabbed his throat twenty-seven times.

"I will return to the house to gather my things. I will be back here by then."

The captain no longer answered, not even sparing Faine a glance.

"Are we still going to...?" He left the words floating in the air, holding in a sigh of disappointment as his feet moved towards the door Crane had opened for him. He looked over to the dagger again, its emeralds taunting him ever since his arrival.

In a single breath, he took the dandy thing under his cloak and left.