Crow and Genevieve

Chapter Three- A Thief in the Night

Genevieve grunted as she was taken beyond the doors to the Captain's quarters and away from the eyes and ears of anyone who could offer her succor. With his hold still prominent within her hair, Marrow forced the quivering beauty face down upon his desk. Aware of what lay ahead of her, Genevieve attempted to fight for her freedom while beseeching to his humanity. But present to him as property, Genevieve's well being had been the utmost last concern of the wicked corsair. 

The skirt of her dress having been lifted upright to his desire, a sudden gust of air came to her virginal skin, deepening her tremors. Begging to be released, tears began to collect in Genevieve's kind eyes and eventually escaped down her cheeks. Despite her pleas and consistent fidgeting, Genevieve was forced down by Marrow's malicious intentions and surprising strength. 

The sound of his belt making contact to the ligneous floor beneath them, Genevieve was notified at the disrobement behind her. She clenched her fingers around the edges of the table in anticipation before a vicious repetition of knocks could be heard at his door. Ignoring them, Marrow returned his focus to the ability to release himself within a beautiful woman before him. 

"Captain!" Klaus's voice echoed upon the opposite side of the door as the knocks continued to increase in volume and speed. 

"Enough!" Marrow answered angrily before pulling the strings of his pantaloons back together and rushing to the door to answer. "You best tell me your reason is not worth a flogging!" Marrow warned as Klaus informed the Captain of a crew member's absence. 

"He allowed the rum to make him tired-" Marrow began to  answer for ‘Two-Tooth’s disappearance, while showing the frustration to this intervention as Klaus had interrupted the non-consensual actions.

"I believed the same...Before noticing the blood upon deck, Captain." Clenching his jaw and grunting, Marrow forced his way out on deck, leaving Genevieve in tears upon the ground. Her eyes followed the ruthless pirate as he left her in emotional smithereens, speaking her following punishment to Klaus before the doors came to a semi-permanent close; "prepare her for the bow."

Following his Captain's instructions, Klaus pulled Genevieve upright and onto the deck, where many of the pirates stood around the section of blood made present by Helene's force; a detail she would never utter aloud, Genevieve kept this gem of knowledge away from the financially gluttonous pirates. 

"Preparing her for the bow" having meant she would be tied to the bow spirit, Genevieve's body was forced forward by the edge of Klaus's blade as she was escorted to the edge of the ship. Standing in the forecastle, Klaus brought thick rope from an unseen location and bound her hands together in a tight knot before heading her towards the pointed extent of the aquatic vessel. "You best pray the knots are tight enough or you will end up split by the barnacles beneath the hull." Klaus spoke into her ear before another pirate assisted in making Genevieve the figurehead of the Dead Man's Raft. 

She would remain here until that next night, deprived of sustenance and stricken with heat stroke from the sweltering summer temperature. Only released from her bonds as the ship docked for the evening, Genevieve was then carried back to the Captain's quarters. Her skin burning with fever, she was left sick and abandoned as the majority of the pirates left her alone upon the vessel, convinced she was not a threat in her condition. 

Fading in and out of consciousness, Genevieve could not find comfort in the poor excuse of a bed beneath her. The symptoms of her heat stroke had affected every aspect of her body from a rapid heartbeat to the nausea, but nothing more than her mind. Hallucinations plagued her psyche as she began to envision the sight of insects crawling upon her and ghostly skeletons perambulate atop the water towards her, through the window overlooking the water. Hiding from these views by turning her attention to the wall supporting the bed, Genevieve was met by a figure whom she was unaware of being a genuine collection of bones and blood or a figment of her heat fever. 

Succumbing to the lethargic side effect of her condition, Genevieve was entirely unconscious as a man in all black moved closer towards her. Spotting the beads of sweat upon her visibly soft skin, he removed his glove to feel the temperature of her skin. Understanding her sickness as he had endured it himself, he lifted her from the harsh wooden platform and carried her from the captain's quarters and down the gangway. Unseen by Klaus, who had been entertaining a female gypsy from Carpathia, the thief was able to escape with Genevieve under the guise of the night. 

Awaking to a room she had never seen before, Genevieve pulled herself upright in a jolt before turning to see a man at her side. Having taken in her surroundings in quick succession, she came to understand that she was not upon a ship, due to the window that overlooked the dirt streets below. But  was seemingly aided by her second captor. 

"Who are you?!" She asked with a throbbing ache stretching from one temple to the other. Due to this pain, her hand immediately moved to the main origin of pain as the man rushed towards her with a cold compress to help her. "What do you want? Did my father send you?" She questioned while eyeing the man in front of her.

 She could not deceive herself with his appearance as he was incredibly handsome with obvious lineage having stemmed from Spanish ancestry. A pair of ghostly blue eyes focused upon her own seemed familiar to her as she immediately recalled where she had seen them before. 

"You danced with me…" she commented while remembering the feeling of excitement and anticipation that accompanied his skin making contact with hers the night that she had escaped Ironwall with Helene. But as her eyes fell to him now, she became aggravated at the soft arrogance that laid effortless upon his scruffy yet chiseled cheeks. The figure did not speak to her words, just simply nodded as he then withdrew the cold compress and dipped it back into the basin of water. As his touch reached for her forehead once more, she pulled back in being confused by his kindness. Upon doing this, her eyes fell to the coverings her body had been wrapped within and realized she had been undressed and given a simple sheet to keep her modest from the man in front of her. With no more than a thin piece of fabric keeping her from revealing her womanhood to him, she jumped from the bed entirely, the sheet clenched within her fingers and kept close to her frame, ignoring her headache, and standing across the room-as far as she could venture away from him. 

“How dare you put your hands on me! I am not some trinket for you to touch as you please!”

“Calm yourself….” His voice spoke, a similar British accent to her own having left his full lips. “I did not bring my hand to you...One of the women here had...you were sick with sunstroke…” He informed her as she suddenly recalled small fractions of her hallucinations and symptoms that were synonymous to his diagnosis. “You were feverish and quite barmy in your mumblings…” She glared while being described as having been ‘mad’ and ‘foolish’. 

“Why is it you were even present? Why did you take me from that ship?” She questioned with a tone of deep anger and a stance of reservation reading as clear as day to him. 

“I can return you, if you wish…” He taunted her as her eyes grew wide with surprise and her lips parted with a quick objection. “Captain Marrow hornswoggled me...and I intend on repossessing what is mine…” His eyes draped down her body, as if insinuating she had been a form of p*****t, when in truth, he was drinking in her voluptuous frame hidden poorly beneath the sheet. As his eyes moved back to her, he was met with a sturdy glare that made him learn of the hatred she had for him-even if his intentions had been principled. 

“There must be some mistake...I am no more valuable than the dirt beneath our feet!” She attempted to lie her way to freedom, before watching him reveal her mother’s hairpin from the small table beside the bed. 

“If that were true..how is it you have possession of such an antique? Unless you were a thief…” He paused. “Although thieves do not usually keep what they steal…”

“Blister your tongue! I harbor an impressive moral compass and do not appreciate being assumed as a...a glos pautonnier churl cutpurse!” His brows raised to this collection of words having meant ‘gluttonous scoundrel, poverty stricken thief.’. As much as Genevieve desired to disclose how she was born into wealth, she recalled Helene’s warning of keeping this detail a secret. After all, she did not even know the man’s name standing in front of her, and even though he had been kind to her at first- did not mean that it was something that would be in repetition. 

“What exactly are your intentions with me?” She asked with a broad stance, attempting to show her control over the conversation. 

“To keep you.” The unnamed man smiled proudly as her lips came open in shock. Despite the uncertainty she felt against this man, she could not repudiate his effect on her that was similar to that of her sunstroke; racing pulse, warm skin, and dizziness. But this effect would be kept hidden behind her look of apprehension against him.

“I am not an object to be kept!” She yelled at him. “I am a woman-”

“Indeed, you are...and quite perceptive…” He taunted her as she scoffed at him, her arms crossing upon her chest and her eyes narrowing in his direction. “And if you wish to stay here, I will not force you to come with me...however, if you stay...Marrow will indeed find you and he will be unkind to you...As I fear you know this already…” Genevieve was able to sense a compassion in his tone that matched his gaze, reflection the same emotion. 

“If I am to be forced as your bond servant, may I at least know a name?” She questioned as he paused before reaching for the handle of the door to leave. 

“Crow.” Goosebumps formed upon her skin as his name seemed to encompass him to perfection. Similar to the corvus avifauna, he was adorned completely in Stygian outerwear and existed as an enigma between dormant danger and pure empathy. 

“You may want to dress before emerging out...you may cause quite a spectacle…” He commented with a cheeky grin before leaving her to dress on her own. Glaring as his back turned to her, she hurried across the room to dress in her attire, before coming to a dress that had been new to her. Without any other option aside from remaining perpetually draped in a sheet, she slipped into the fabric of the dress and tied the strings of the corset herself before following his impressive figure. She was unable to tell if he was a savior or a captor...but with a league of pirates after her, she could not risk losing time in focusing on a detail so minimal. Instead, she followed Crow from what she quickly learned as having been a brothel, and into the streets of Carpathia-a new adventure awaiting her...or perhaps the beginning of a nightmare.