rainbowfudge | meme 001 ✽ the pirate au meme

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meme 001 ✽ the pirate au meme

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH - okay, who finished the rum?
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ღ Meme originally from

amuse_box but I did add #13 for a wild card.
ღ Image from here.

1. Boarded: Your ship has been boarded, and as captain you've been captured! Better hope the other captain gives quarter. Alternatively, it's a nice warm day for a swim. That plank was made for walking.

2. Victory: You've captured another ship! You knew those extra cannons would come in handy. And let's hope they've got lots of swag! Where's the captain? Are you the decent sort, or are you going to rub their face in it for a bit?

3. Swab the decks: You're a cabin boy! It's a good thing you don't mind doing all the dirty work, right? Anyway, the captain's calling; better see what they want.

4. Marooned: For a bit there you'd thought you were in Davy's Jones' grip, but somehow you've washed ashore with the driftwood. As you stare dazedly up from the surf, you have questions. Where are you? And who's that already on the shore?

5. Buried Treasure: Sink me! You've really found the mother lode. . . but you're not the only one. Who gets to take the treasure back to their ship? Better make sure it's you.

6. Rum: Rum, everywhere.

7. Swordfight: It's that person you can't stand! And they've taken your most valuable possession, that one of a kind thing you just can't live without! Better get that trinket back before it and your nemesis are gone over the side forever. Let's hear some swashes buckling.

8. Mutiny: The tack is full of maggots and this drinking water may as well have come from the gutter. There's one person to blame for this, and you're here to make especially sure that they pay for it. The captain does always seem to take the best treasure before everybody else.

9. Kidnapping: Don't they look rather peaceful, innocent even, sleeping so soundly there with their fancy nightclothes and pillows. Brings a tear to your eye, it does. Better take them aboard and send for a ransom.

10. Take a Gamble: Gotta spend your loot somehow, but it must have been the rum that had you bettin' everything at once! You've lost to your hornswagglin' shipmate; what did you lose, and what will they make you do now?

11. Under the Sea: You are now a Mermaid/Merman! That sailor over there sure looks appealing; let's see if you can lure them in with your charms. Don't forget that they can't breathe under water! You do seem to always forget, don't you. . .

12. The Doldrums: Can you say cabin fever? The sails haven't moved in weeks. You're about seeing if your mates can relieve this awful boredom.

13. Wild card. What do. Your choice. It doesn't even have to be here - wait why am I even explaining this to you YOU KNOW HOW THIS WORKS.

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[ Lovely. Though Irene was aiming for both knees. This would still do. Exposing the map so openly seemed like obvious bait -- a fake -- or was it within reach to taunt her. Regardless, instead of slicing the dangling parchment from his belt, she's forced to raise her cutlass and block. Her foot slides back across the sand, the heel of her boot digging in to keep herself anchored. ]

Observant as ever. But eyes forward, Sherlock dearest. [ Despite the fabric of her skirts weighing her down, eliminating some speed, it apparently did have its advantages for distractions. She lunges forward, not giving him time to calculate another attack, this time plunging the blade dangerously close to his making him breathe through his throat. It nicks the skin on his cheek. A warning. ] That isn't all I left with.

[ Mentally, she does an inventory check. Pistol inside the garter, which no doubt he saw. Cutlass in hand, and her dagger secured inside her bodice. She can see the flicker of torches in the corner of her eye -- a signal. Perhaps this encounter would benefit more without the foreplay. Just a few more distractions to end the game. ]

Tell me, is your brother still allowing you clemency to pillage and plunder?

[Again, their swords are pressed hard against each other, blades trembling under the pressure. He gives a little seethe as he feels a trickle of blood start to slide down his cheek, and his tongue flicks out to catch it.]

Oh, you always take out your insurance, Irene. I'm aware.

[He side steps to break out of their lock, then makes a low swing at her leg, not cutting it, but snapping the pistol clean from the garter and sending it down onto the sand. They do take ages to clean, he thinks with vague amusement before taking a hard swing at her sword. Hopefully the power of the blow could deprive her of the weapon completely.]

If I said yes, would it make you envious, Miss Adler? Because then yes would certainly be the answer.

Edited 2012-04-10 05:48 (UTC)

[ Irene feels the cool flash of metal against her thigh, followed by the quiet thud of sand against her boot. How childish he was becoming. Her mouth tenses, thinning into a straight line. The blow was anticipated, but the sheer speed and force of it was not, and her counter from below was weak. Cornered, sword straining, she still relents. ]

Not at all. I'm investing in better.

[ As if on cue, from out of the black-shadowed vegetation, two burly men, who dwarfed even the towering Sherlock Holmes, charged and took hold of his arms, disarming him first. One forces him into a headlock from behind, cutting of his oxygen supply just enough to knock him out for a bit. Her rogue-painted lips curling at the corners are the last image we will see. ]

Get him onto the ship, now. And carefully. I don't want him to sleep any longer than necessary.

[ Before they carry him to the small rowboat, pushed up on the shore behind a few larger rocks lining the beach, she breaks the scroll off his belt. The parchment unravels and even in the dim moonlight, she knows the map in her hand is a fake. As suspected. But she had something much more accurate, she thinks to herself as she retrieves her fallen pistol and follows to the boat. ]

[Better than a king's secrets? He's about to question her sincerity when the attack from behind comes, and too quickly for him to react. Sherlock had entertained the idea of an ambush, but usually Irene kept their battles as private affairs. He shouts as his arms are crushed into his sides, but is silenced quickly enough, still managing to glare at that woman as everything fades out.

When he wakes, bolting upright and coughing, he can immediately tell he's on board a ship; the swaying is unmistakable. He curses, twice when he realizes his hands are tied behind his back. The lavish bed he's been placed on could be no other's than Irene's, his head formerly resting on a collection of finely embroidered pillows, and curtains drawn back around the four posts. Moonlight shines out from the window behind the head board-- he hasn't been out long. He struggles up to his knees to look out, only to see the lights of the port, and his own ship, fading in the distance.

A bit not good.]

[ Normally Irene didn't involve others, especially when it came to Sherlock Holmes. But this was more than their usual games -- a little cheating was necessary. She needed the contents of the map, and she was counting on him to provide her with a heading. The crew certainly didn't question the new guest (they knew who he was), and even less so that their captain requested to have his unconscious form taken to her cabin. Stranger things have happened.

Once she was behind closed doors, she goes to work. First his wrists, then his ankles -- tied better than any sailor's knot. She had stripped down into only her chemise, off-white and barely transparent, which draped off one shoulder, swooping low under her collarbones. Her hair was down, curls loose and wild. Though her black worn-leather boots, reaching just above her knees, remained on.

Then, to wait. How dull. Seated behind a table, covered in maps, medallions and other assorted trinkets, she kept herself busy with a nearly-empty bottle of rum and the dagger she normally kept hidden, driving it into the wood with a lazy repetition. Her mind was lost in thought, already determining how to expose the information she needed. He wasn't going to simply give it up. Make him beg, perhaps?

But her thoughts are soon interrupted by a deep cough. Finally. She puts the bottle down and wedges the blade into the table so that it's balancing upright. ]

It's not good to get up so quickly. Not in your condition.

[ Irene approaches the bed and steps forward, gaze already on fire, sinking one knee into the bed. ]

[Irene's voice startles Sherlock away from the window and out of his contemplations-- mostly about his crew's instructions to leave without him for the treasure if he didn't return by a certain hour, but also about how meticulously the cut on his face had already been cleaned.

That all flies from his mind when he sees Irene in the battle regalia she kept specific to her cabins. She really does want that treasure, doesn't she? At the very least, the knife was left behind, but she's certainly still armed as she gets closer to him. Sherlock attempts to get up and move away, not noticing his ankles are tied as well. This just results in him tripping forward so that his upper body was dangling over the bed.

Sherlock huffs at the indignity of it all, and refuses to look at her. He still struggles with his wrists as he speaks up.]

I take it you enjoyed my map.

[ Irene is quite enjoying his struggle, however pathetic it looked. Some men enjoyed that sort of thing. Not Sherlock. He needed to be challenged, stimulated and to use those gorgeous brain cells of his.

He would have been able to observe, especially at this angle, the garter was gone now. Just a faint tan line. Then she sighs lightly, finally reaching down and grabbing him by the thick of his neck, just under chin, dragging him upward. Her grip remains firm, though not enough to bruise or constrict. ]

Charming but no. I was hoping you would be more creative than that.

[ She sets him back onto his knees, joining him so that they were level with one another. ]

Would you like to try again?

[Sherlock feels the heat of embarrassment crawling up his neck when he gets a better view of Irene's lower half, and from his decided lapse of grace. Which gets more credit remains a mystery. However, when Irene pulls him up, his lip twists into a snarl, not unlike a cornered animal.]

My apologies. Shorthand seemed sufficient.

[His expression eases when she releases him, not even flinching with his face so close to hers. Other men would find themselves leaning forward in spite of themselves, but Sherlock did not. Even by pirate standards, he's considered strange.]

I'd like to be in my own cabin and sailing off in the opposite direction, actually.

[He knows why he's here. Though the map he carried with him was a fake, the entirety of the real one was imprinted in his brain.]

[ Irene smirks in the face of his snarl. Ready to bite back. ]

Opposite? Really. And then in the direction of what?

[ She knows that's not the point he was trying to make, but her focus stays on the map. She can still feel the tension of his anger and his muscles straining to resist. He would always be the best at playing hard to get, tough instead of flimsy beneath her hands. Like no one who happened to share her cabin before -- man or woman. It only made her want to break him more. ]

We could make this very simple, but I know you far better than that.

[ Her body moves forward, knees straddling his. One hand presses down against his shoulder, lowering him farther into the bed, while the other catches his chin and forces his head up as if examining a newly discovered specimen. The cut wouldn't scar. But she can't help but wonder if those cheekbones could. ]

[Sherlock looks off to the side and narrows his eyes in mock thought.]

Hm. I believe away from you. Mostly.

[Her desire is clashing with his strains of resistance, even as he yields to her pushing him down. Sherlock still squirms, straightening his bound legs as best he can and shifting so that the hands behind his back weren't crushed under both of them. He seethes when she grabs his chin, but looks up at her defiantly even as she dresses him down with her eyes.]

Then you know the marriage tableaux won't make me tell you anything.

Why do you always insist on that? When we know you can't stay away. It's just something you can't do.

[ Irene slows her words down during the last sentence, emphasizing on can't as she releases his chin and speaks toward his ear. His powers are limited, and she wants him to know that -- especially when it comes to her. No one else on the high seas had been able to outsmart him until her. She knew he would always track her moves whenever her name was mentioned. The only way he could prove anything to her was by uttering one simple word: a direction.

She lets her teeth graze his skin as she smiles and pulls away again, leaving him space to seethe. ]

Is that something you were hoping for? Well, I could have let you removed the garter yourself, if that's all it takes.

[ As usual, she's not listening. She is playing this how she wants. Because this would be the time when she makes him beg for mercy. Her fingers trace his jaw, then putting pressure again on his neck where her tongue briefly flicks out to trace where her hands had been. Make him breathy without a chance to breathe. ]

Or maybe you really don't know which direction you should be heading in.

[Sherlock does try to keep his distance. He really does. But somehow, with all the water covering the earth, they seem to keep intersecting anyway. It's hardly his fault she can't seem to stop being interesting.

His breath hitches just as she anticipates when he feels her teeth, then her fingers, then more. Even through suddenly swimming thoughts, Sherlock can tell when Irene is using her tactics. She should know by now that they won't work so easily on him, even if he is practically biting his tongue now to prove himself clever.]

Funny. [Stop breathing so loudly, idiot--] You couldn't pay me to get to the altar, Irene. Nor I you.

[He still tries to loose his hands, but it's a futile effort.]

What did you do that you need this particular stash so badly?

Pity, isn't it? [ Her eyebrows raise in amusement, both at his answer and the loud breaths he takes to say it. ] I imagine we'd clean up well.

[ Not that she doesn't already own dresses made of the finest silk and enough jewels to make herself three crowns from the chests that line the foot of her bed. They could probably rule the entire ocean together if they wanted. But that would never be.

Then, the question is finally asked. Her lips rest thoughtfully against his jaw, and she slides her hands down to his chest and grip the collar of his open shirt. She hauls him back up into a sitting position, hands behind his back and her comfortably in his lap. ]

I acted bad.

[ As if it's obvious -- though it should be. The corner of her lips twitch slyly. Irene knows how he reacts when she's being vague. He will deduce and ask more questions. She's happy to get his imagination racing. ]

In more ways than one. Perhaps.

[Sherlock grunts when Irene pulls him up again, frowning at the wrinkles she leaves in his already battered shirt and overcoat. When he meets her eyes, though, he finds he's closer to her than he was before. Now he doesn't make an effort to move away. She's caught up in her own game, so he'll indulge her a little. The slightest turn of his head allows his nose to nuzzle hers.]

Badly. [The correction comes in an almost seductive whisper.]

I've noticed. But then, you always do. I hear the Crown is looking to move in on native Ceylon territory, and they haven't been free from the Dutch all that long. That the king's treasure is in fact a good chunk of their war funds.

[Sherlock's mouth glides closer to her ear.]

And if the king's subjects are upset he was keeping company with a British subject, lightly as the term maybe used, barter might be a good way to avoid him trying to earn back his people's trust.

[ Her lips thin out, pressed together to refrain from making a comment just yet. His recent time spent with his brother and the Royal Navy was showing. But she keeps still, body close, enjoying his willingness to finally play along. ]

Sharing his bed with a pirate, you mean. I know what he likes, and the king can't resist someone who knows how to tie a good constrictor's knot. [ And who better than a seductress sailor. But Sherlock gets the box tie arm, something she picked up during her travels in the East. Their close proximity makes it easy for her to reach around and remind him, tugging harsher than necessary. ] I think the queen is jealous I'm more likely to give him an heir than she can. And the same for her loyal subjects.

[ Which says quite a bit for anyone who knows Irene Adler. But even with that insult to the queen, there's a flash of vulnerability in her eyes. Sherlock had obviously tapped into her motives and the fear behind them. ]

I need that protection.

[ The map that should have been simple to acquire and enough to safeguard her, but since her plans were intercepted by Sherlock, there would be more legwork required of her and her crew. And if she was to be hanged, then they would surely be taken down with her.

Unfortunately, the stakes were very high this time. ]

[Exactly what Sherlock meant. He's also not surprised to be tied up more intricately, since Irene is familiar with his escape tactics. He seethes again when she pulls on his arms, and forces himself to sit straight again. It puts a little distance between their faces.]

Not that you would.

[The Sinhalese aren't aware of that, of course, nor would they be likely to care. Were this anyone else, Sherlock would tell them they'd made their own bed to lie in, but that crack in Irene's mask stops him. It always does. He sighs.]

Fifty-fifty.

[He's still a pirate, after all.]

[ Irene sits back with a satisfied smile that follows his reaction, allowing her hands to fall and rest on his hips. He was still sharp as ever, and perhaps even more so under pressure. But knowing she could have tied a more intricate knot, raises the question why he hasn't tried to escape this one yet. It says quite a bit about him, doesn't it? ]

Obviously.

[ And a pirate, indeed. One of her eyebrows raises in a way that asks, are you trying to bargain with me? But she would never be able to convince the king with only half. ]

Seventy-thirty.

[Sherlock is in no position to be bargaining, quite literally, but he was certainly going to try. The treasure was supposed to be quite the bounty, but not that bountiful.]

Fifty five-forty five.

[Now he does start to struggle again, slowly but surely.]

My men have orders to get there if I don't come back, so you're getting quite the deal here.

Sixty-forty.

[ Her reply is fast, and her body shifts to lean harder against him. Irene won't settle for anything in the fifty range. ]

I'll untie you. [ She's not above a little persuasion herself as her voice drops into something more promising. ] Unless, of course, you're enjoying it. More could also be arranged.

[Sherlock grunts a bit when she presses against him, but a smirk comes to his face. He wonders if this little game is more exciting than whatever she had in mind.]

I believe that would happen regardless of my agreement.

[He looks down, which only lets him press his nose to her hair. The perfumes and sea salt blend better than he could have imagined. And though it grieves him to part with that extra ten percent, he supposes Irene living to lose more treasure to him is worth it.]

But I can this time.

[That and his hands had long ago fallen asleep.]

[ Their little games are always more exciting than anything else, but this is business that needs to be taken care of first. Even though there's no one better who knows how to mix business with pleasure.

When he dips his head, Irene remains still and closes her eyes in some silent communication -- the kind that only seems to happen on their level. As always, it's nothing so simple as saying thank you. But Sherlock smells of tobacco and the ocean and for a second it's all that occupies her senses. ]

Done.

[ Deal. But she lets the moment linger a bit longer, seeking out his eyes, before sliding away. She saunters toward her desk, pulling the wedged knife out and carrying it back to him. There was still time to enjoy the rest of the night; he would be returned to his ship soon enough.

Reaching behind him with careful and skilled hands, she slips the blade between his wrists and breaks the rope in one swift cut. He could easily take care of his ankles now. ]

[Sherlock is quick to get his hands in front of him again, rubbing his sore wrists in an attempt to get the feeling back. He glances around Irene's cabin with more attention now. Her maps are adequate enough. Sherlock reaches down and unties his ankles, which at least had feeling left in them.]

Quite a few new baubles here. The Persian rug is unfamiliar.

[ Irene balances the handle of the knife in her palm, before curling her fingers around and letting it rest at her side. Still standing in front of his knees, she casts a glance over her shoulder, admiring her own handiwork. ]

Yes, it's new. I thought it looked better on my cabin floor. [ Then she turns back to Sherlock, practically snapping her teeth at him. ] Came with the garter.

As do most things.

[Sherlock says it quite nonchalantly, slipping off the bed and walking over to Irene's table to observe the map. He still flexes his hands to regain feeling.]

We'll have to turn westward.

[ Irene smirks with an amused huff most likely in agreement. It's true, even Sherlock would. But eventually she turns, watching him for a moment before following over toward her desk. She stands beside him and leans around his arm -- perhaps still too close for his comfort. However, her eyes are drawn down at the map. They were headed east of Port Elizabeth, back toward the Indian Ocean. She was wagering that a trip to the Caribbean was in store. Though it was still too early to tell. Thankfully she had a reliable navigator now. ]

Ah, that wasn't so difficult, was it? [ she returns the knife to its groove in the desk. no more playing dirty -- just play. ] But thank you, dear. I'll let my men know.

meme 001 ✽ the pirate au meme

OKAY LAST TIME I REPOST I SWEAR

WE'RE IN SHAMBLES

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