Black engulfed her vision. Not the pure void accompanied by sleep or a starless night sky. Something more akin to that of soot having a subtle undertone to it. A comforting softness.
The regular moan of wood was drowned by a much sharper version of the sound.
She lifted her snout, tongue swiping over lips and dangerously sharp, serrated teeth. Storm gray sought out the tiny flecks of startling yellow in the sea of darkness. Thanks to her size, the female slithered closer to that color in no time. A pair with vast differences, one a shark resembling skaelka and the other a cat resembling catteel, but both humanoid enough to be called ‘women’.
The smaller, soot-skinned, catteel gave a full body stretch as she openly declared to the cargo-hold, “Sweet Kalica! That was just what I needed!”
The first maintained a tight little frown despite feeling perfectly content and supplying a velvety, “Always my pleasure.” The words were met with the low rumble of a purr from her partner before she added snark. “The men could stand to care about your end more.”
“O~h, I could make them… but… I like the way you do it best.” Dainty fingers walked up the barely blue-tinted gray of rough skin. “We have that little… something extra, don’tcha think? My precious Scarra?” A fuzzy tail flicked the end of stubby snout then she was being flashed teeth near as sharp as her own in a self-humored grin.
‘Scarra’ sighed, “I’m still not sure how I feel about that nickname…” It made her think of the word scary or scarred.
“I could call you Letty instead?” That was definitively worse.
The larger nearly crushed the smaller to her chest to growl in a pointed ear, “Only if you want me to start calling you my little Nee-nee.”
“Eeeeew! Don’t call me thaaaat!” It came out especially squeaky and unfazed by the show of bravado. “Knees have to be the least sexy part of the body!”
“That’s not what I meant.” The more wholly named Scarlett Skell brought a hand to her own unkempt mess of dark gray hair, never knowing what to do with this woman. Other than what they just did.
“But that’s what it makes me think of!”
The shark finally cracked a smile at her perky petite partner, but it faded quickly, “Tawny… I’ve wanted to ask you for a while, do you want to keep going on like this? Or if you had the option, would you choose another life?”
A ‘mrrrow’ of feline amusement rose as Tawny flopped them to straddle Scarlett’s abdomen. Her figured swayed with the lurch of the waves, “I’m a whore, hon. A damn good one. I like what I do and I practiced long and hard to get my skills. I don’t even know how to do anything else, and I don’t need to because money, honey. Bein’ so close to the top ain’t too shabby either.” Her abnormal position as the ship’s courtesan commanded an unexpectedly intense level of respect.
Scarlett watched as the short mane of black hair was done up to fan out behind her lover’s tufted cat ears, “I think you have more skills than you realize, but that’s not what I meant. Isn’t one of the perks of being a whore supposed to be you can find work anywhere? I don’t want to pressure you, this is… fine. I like it, but… being here is holding us back. Holding me back.” The skaelka were of the ‘demon’ species variety rather than ‘normal’. A divide that, as far as she understood, was based on a war no one remembered. One that meant on a crew like theirs, “I’ll always be at the bottom and I want more from my life. I need to start over.” Fingers caressed the other woman’s face. “I’d like it if I could start over with you.”
“Don’t wanna pressure me, huh?” Tawny rolled head about her shoulders, for once dropping her vibrant smile, “…I couldn’t do that to Sammy.”
A much heavier, finned tail slapped the floor of the ship beside them, “The captain lives for his crew. He’d want you to be happy.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. It’s not that simple, though, ‘kay? I owe ‘im my life and he really depends on me.” The tiny woman officially crawled off her and from under their skimpy sheet to find her underwear.
Scarlett’s long, downward pointed ears wiggled with interest, “Your life? You’ve never told me that.”
“I’d stowed away. Surprise, I got caught and thrown overboard. Luckily, Sammy had been targetin’ the ship so here I am instead of a water-logged corpse. I got to where I was goin’ and well… once I got good at whorin’, I found ‘im again to be the ship’s whore. I don’t talk about it ‘cause I don’t want the others to think I’m like in love,” she said the phrase in a mocking tone, “with Sammy or somethin’. I mean, sure, I love him, but he’s… more of an older brother. Lookin’ out for me.”
A mass of gray and off-white underbelly sat up to slant her brow, “Who fucks you?”
That had her flailing splayed dagger-tipped digits, “We’re obviously not actually-!” It was awfully cute seeing her huff still mostly naked. “Scarra, you just… you really know how to rub my fur the wrong way! Bein’ in charge puts lotsa stress on ‘im! And even whores have a line!”
“I’m willing to concede on that. I don’t like my job, but I wouldn’t want his thanks to Patrick alone…” The shark gave a shrug before standing to dress. “And it’s because I can rile you up that you’re the only one I like to tease.”
“You’re gonna get us caught if you keep makin’ me scream.”
Those jagged teeth were displayed again by a curl of the lips as she hooked her pet in with one arm about the waist, “I’ll never stop making you scream.”
Even with her near pitch-black skin in the dark of the hold, this close it was clear Tawny was blushing. A deep kiss was begrudgingly accepted.
Predator released prey, stating, “Even so, you’re still always right. They’ll get all kinds of ideas if they know about us. Disgusting hetero ideas.”
Tawny giggled as she tightened the stays down the front of her appropriately short dress, “It’s not that bad, big baby. Since when did ya even start hatin’ dick so much?”
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Scarlett was briefly hidden as a loose fitting cream shirt was pulled on that left some of her abdomen exposed with how low her trousers sat, “You know as well as I do these particular dicks are the type to insert themselves between us without invitation. Our relationship isn’t something that exists for them to fetishize. And these days... I’m only interested in having you for dinner anyway.” The towering woman gave the other a flat faced wink before turning her back. “Don’t go forgetting before the next meal… I love you, Tawny.”
“Love ya moooore~.”
Her boots were heavy, not just from their literal weight, but she still navigated from behind the ship’s stores in the dark with ease. One of the benefits of their non-human lineage was both possessed excellent night sight that was a massive help in keeping their adventures under wraps. It wasn’t only none of the crew’s business, but could cause some trouble that Tawny was screwing anyone for free. Especially if that someone was the lowest rung on the ladder.
Scarlett was soon lined on either side by snoring men. She rolled into her hammock. Eyes closed.
Tawny owed the captain her life…
***
“Have fun out there, cleanin’ boy!”
“Hilarious.” Her tone was muted, finding all humor beat from the long running joke of not altering her title to match her gender. Stripped to her skivvies, Scarlett stood upon the side railing facing away from the water. One last clean breath of the salted air.
The woman fell. Her body crashed to the sea with the density of a boulder. She sunk beneath the waves. A hand latched onto the hull of their anchored vessel before she drifted into the unknown.
The role she played really was awful, but this part was always the worst.
She breathed. The water flooded her lungs. Choking and drowning until it burned. Until she might black out. Only then would her body see fit to open dormant gills.
Her reward for partially drowning? The tedious monotony of scraping off every creature that saw fit to attach itself to the hull. If she wasn’t here they’d have to beach the entire ship for cleaning far more often. A potentially dangerous process that ran the risk of them being trapped on a remote island with the law at their throats. Yet, her aid in securing their safety didn’t net her a shred of respect.
Hours. Several of them passed until she scaled the ladder dangling at the stern. Which she did quickly under the panic of suffocation. When Scarlett’s hands and knees hit the deck again, she promptly ‘puked’ up the sea water. She squeezed her neck, pressing on her gills, praying for the moment her body took the signal to transition.
Whatever happened next, she needed her life to be entirely above or below the water. She needed her deciding factor to have the autonomy to decide.
With a wobble, she found her feet enough to drag herself to where she left her pants. Except they weren’t there. The woman stared at the spot for a full minute, already having an idea of where they went. He was a perfectly nice guy and the bane of her existence.
“Where are my things?”
An otter-like man answered, “They were a tripping hazard. I moved them to your hammock.” That settled it. The otten was always inconveniencing her without even realizing he was doing it. Now she would get to stagger her dripping body to where she had to sleep tonight. Things were already always damp at sea.
On the return, she crashed a shoulder against his. His species was small so it nearly sent the male to the floor. He glared up anger and she peered down nothing. Her hand slid to her back. The woman wondered if he’d even notice why she felt the need to apologize.
It was flat, but genuine, “Sorry.” He had no further demands. Step one was done. Step two…
Scarlett positioned herself dead center on the deck. A deep inhale.
“Captain Samuel Hume!” It rang out to the entirety of the ship. Heads turned. There were plenty of other men present besides the captain or Patrick. A couple more appeared on the stairs of the cabin, wondering what the hell she was doing. Other than that, no one moved.
It made it obvious when boot steps sounded from the quarterdeck. The short-haired blonde, sea-side tanned and salted, human male was soon gazing at her. They didn’t have a fancy hat to go with his title. Only a long, thick, black overcoat that it was far too hot to be wearing normally so it was merely hanging on his bare shoulders.
A bottle was in his hand, having been enjoying a drink with their boatswain, ‘doctor’, and… Tawny. He didn’t speak or have expression of anything other than curiosity as he stopped at the railing.
“…Captain Samuel Hume… I hereby challenge you to a duel.”
The general air was soon a slurry of different, evolving reactions. Stunned silence. Shocked whispers. Muted laughter. Claims of insanity. Questions of why. Declarations of interest.
Sammy set his bottle on the railing with a smile.
Her favorite otten helpfully pointed out, “You don’t even have your own gun!”
A heavy sigh, “Patrick, you seriously haven’t notice?” The woman pulled a flintlock pistol from the back of her trousers where she’d momentarily stashed it.
His face furrowed then he quite suddenly gripped the holster at his side. An empty holster. He simply stared incredulously from there.
“…you made it rather easy.” But she didn’t do this to play with him. Scarlett still had her slitted eyes fixated upon their captain. Whom casually glided down the stairs. His coat was thrown across a barrel. He stopped with back to one of the masts. Nothing between the two of them. Funny even their esteemed leader was short compared to her.
“You’re really challenging for captain!? What makes you think we’d want you?” Such things were usually decided by vote and there had been no discontent among the men. Captains were chosen for combat capability and Samuel regularly touted his.
Nothing could have stopped the high volume scoff from spilling out of Scarlett, “I don’t think that. I wouldn’t challenge anyone for something as trivial as a title. This… This is for the life of Tawny Hart. If I manage to hit you, I win, and her debt to you is paid.”
The feline’s alarm spiked and she tackled the railing of the quarterdeck, “S-Scarra!” It spiked to the point she sputtered the nickname she never dared to use in front of their comrades. “Please, hon!” She was hurriedly scampering nearer. Nearly falling down stairs. “You don’t hafta to do this! I’m fine here, honest!”
“You’re still not free to choose! I have to do this. Even if you can never forgive me for it.” The gun was raised, pointed at her leader. She pulled back the hammer, “So. What’s your answer, captain?”
“Sammy, please!” Tawny knew her well enough to know there was no point arguing with her further. So she clung to her friend instead as she came to the main deck, “Don’t accept! You’ve cared for me more than my own blood kin.” The whore desperately pulled at his arm, “I can’t lose you and-. And I-.” Tears wove down her face, “I love her! I love her more than anything! Please don’t hurt her, Sammy!” Further begging was too choked to understand. And yet.
“Step aside, my lovely.” A pat fell between her ears and Tawny fell still. Her touch sloughed from the man.
“Patrick, your holster. If you don’t mind.”
The seaman delivered the item to the cleaner. Scarlett gladly accepted the belt, replacing the hammer to holster the weapon, and strapping the entire thing to her waist catty-corner to her own belt. Her irritation was already rising with the rest of their company focusing on the revelation of the ship’s whore and bottom rung, the only two women aboard, being lovers. Rather than the fact someone, if not both, were about to be shot. They briefly assessed their posture and positions. The distance between them. She tied her hair back to ensure its cooperation. Everything was set appropriately. It was time to conclude this chapter of her life one way or the other.
While Scarlett didn’t bother to so much as cant her head, she was well aware of Tawny’s presence. Where she stood in line with the others with face buried into her hands. Crying. Completely incapable of baring witness to the only family she had hurting each other. Scarlett grit her teeth, wishing for forgiveness. However, no matter the pain it caused, this was the way their world worked.
Sammy flipped a coin and their audience held its breath.
Her arm went limp. The fingers holding the gun did the same. The hunk of metal thudded against the deck as the shock set in. A much heavier one followed. Samuel having grasped his chest with his free hand, blood seeping through fingers, right before collapsing.
How in the twelve hells… did he miss?