Logs:Itsy's Authority and Drex's Penis

Itsy's Authority and Drex's Penis
"What, even if I tied a bow around it? Girls like bows."
RL Date: 8 May, 2015
Who: Drex, Itsy
Involves: High Reaches Hold
Type: Log
What: An attempted mutiny. An offer of castration.
Where: The Pirate Queen II
When: Day 1, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10)
Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Raum/Mentions
The weather has been variable; not as violent as the storms that destroyed their current ship's namesake, but certainly not calm. The ship itself has been performing admirably, making good time with all her sails let loose. After the recent break at Tillek, most of the crew seems to be in good spirits; some are gathered below-decks, playing (and betting on) games of cards, while a handful, amongst them the fairly vocal Werso, are standing near the main mast, talking in low voices, glancing over their shoulders now and then. "That's trouble," comes Drex's rumble, appearing at her shoulder. "Buildin' like a storm," agrees Itsy, her tone utterly unbothered. She's been so much happier, since they returned to the sea, taking to captaincy as if she were born to it. "Wish they'd just get it over and done with so we can move on, though." Even that is easy, said as she turns her head-- and then her body-- to face the other sailor. Her hair's been fixed, and her skin is as swarthy and wind-chapped as it ever was. "Could give 'em a push," Drex says, with a sudden, wolfish grin. "Drex," says Itsy, but those eyes of hers have lit up beneath the brim of her hat. "What're you thinking?" "Bait 'em," Drex shrugs. "You're a woman. They hate that. I dunno. Flash some leg, show off your cooch. It'll make 'em horny or mad, probably both. Make 'em stupid." Itsy's snort of laughter is loud enough to carry, despite the hearty autumn breeze. "Ought to go put on a dress," she says. "Mince my way around the deck, eh? 'Accidentally' let the wind blow it up. 'Accidentally' lose my parasol." She leans up against the railing, instead, one leg partially extended; it's definitely a pose, if still mannish given her attire and the lack of curves on display. "Ought to," and Drex is straightening now, serious where she laughs. "Beaten up by a woman in a dress -- no one else'd ever take him seriously." There are some glances being stolen in their direction. Itsy turns her attention from Drex towards the group of men about the mast; the expression on her face is her very best come-hither, so low and secretive and faintly smug beneath the shadow of her hat. Calmly, she begins to shrug out of her jacket, despite the chill in the air. "Next time," she says. "I'll come prepared, dress and all. Maybe I ought to start wearing one all the time, eh?" But that's a joke, clearly. "Could," Drex replies, serious enough in contrast to her joking -- mostly: "But your cooch'd freeze and I wouldn't want to have to explain to Farideh why my head was down there trying to stave off frostbite." One of those men catches that look, and his face tightens, he nudges the others, and they're all staring, now. It takes longer for them to confer, or gather up their courage, or both, before they're striding away from the mast and towards their Captain. That makes Itsy laugh outright. "Y'think she'd find out? That she won't end up screwing other people anyway?" But her tone is affectionate, not intended to hurt, and anyway, she's got to turn on the charm-- such as it is-- for the approaching sailors. "Boys," she trills, in a tone of voice she must have picked up at the Weyr, or perhaps from some of the whores at Tillek. "Don't forget; you're on watch at six bells." "Hey, I'm a good fuck. She'll wait for me." Not that Drex can rate himself or anything, but, "She probably wouldn't care if we fucked." He's joking, but he probably wouldn't be if she happened by some outside chance to say yes. His languid posture straightens, his hand reflexively resting on his sword as they're approached, shifting to stand just at Itsy's shoulder. "Change of plan, darling," the leader, Werso, says, with a smirk. He puts his hands on his hips, eyeing her up and down. "We're sick of taking orders from a girl. Time to put a man in charge. If you're lucky," there's some hooting from his fellows, "I'll let you warm my bed rather than walking the plank." Itsy has time to spare Drex an amused glance, but then she's got those sailors to look at instead, brows raising high enough to disappear beneath the brim of her hat. "Funny," she says. "Pretty sure I'm sick of giving orders to mere boys, too." She doesn't wear a sword, but she's got a knife up her sleeve, and it's the work of a moment to thrust it forward; ruthless, she aims to kill, not maim. Perhaps he was ready for something, if not expecting her to be quite that quick; Werso turns just enough that the knife misses his neck and initially slides across his leather jerkin, before the blade slips in between the folds, slamming home deep into his shoulder. He jerks in reaction, face gone red as he roars in pain, fingers of his other hand reaching out to clamp around Itsy's neck. Drex leaves Werso to Itsy, his sword ringing as he draws it and pushes past towards his fellows, the swing of his sword driving them back and leaving enough room for him to move forward as they quickly arm themselves. There's a moment of silence before one steps in, and swords ring. Meanwhile, there's yelling all throughout the ship, though other crewmembers merely watch, waiting to see who the victors will be. Itsy ducks, her small size and relatively quick movements making sure she's not grabbed outright, though she's not entirely safe; she's still easily grabbed. Her knee lifts, aimed squarely for a kick between his legs, as she hauls her knife free and attempts to go in for a second strike. Clearly, she's taken some lessons in dirty fighting from Raum somewhere along the way; her roar, now, is one of ferocity and pre-emptive triumph. "No one," she yells, "challenges my authority!" Werso manages to grab her upper arm, squeeze and attempting to shake her violently with his one hand. It's probably be more painful if he didn't let go a moment later as her kick strikes true; he groans, expression twisted. He never even sees the blade go in, but it does, deep, and blood pumping, he slumps to the deck. Neither is Drex afraid of fighting dirty; he's locked blade to blade with one of Werso's men, and he leans in to bite at the other man's shoulder -- causing him to jerk back in surprise. It gives him just enough room to free his blade, stabbing upwards, deep enough that it all but traps his blade, dragging him to his knees as the body falls. After a moment, he rises, breathing hard; he's staring at Werso's other man, who is staring fearfully at Itsy. There's a silence across the entire crew, broken only by the relentless pounding of the waves. As Werso drops, Itsy steps back. There's blood on her; on her hands, down her shirt, pooling at her feet. That blue-green gaze flicks towards Drex, but only for a moment. Shoulders squared, she turns her attention to the crew. Calmly, bloody knife still in her hand, she says, "I am your captain. Not a girl, not a whore, not nothing else. You respect my word, or you get off my ship, right now." More silence, and then from one of the watchers, "Aye, Cap'n," and others chime in, murmuring it. Accepting, even if reluctantly in some cases. Drex using his boot to hold down Werso's man while he tugs free his sword. "What about him, Cap'n?" he asks, with a nod towards Werso's other man, who takes a step back and into the folded arms of some of the other crew, snickering. "He can get off my ship right now," says Itsy, evenly, with a cool glance towards the man. She reaches down to tear off part of Werso's shirt, using it to clean her knife assiduously. The rest of her will have to wait. "Mutiny is not tolerated on my ship. No exceptions." There is chuckling, now, approving, from the crew. The anticipation is apparent, as Drex approaches the man in question. "Get the plank," he growls, and it's echoed by others, "Walk the plank! Walk the plank!" It doesn't take long for them to get it all set up, gathering around for a look, some climbing the rigging to find the best spot to watch from. Drex hasn't cleaned his sword yet; it's still dripping as he drags Werso's now terrified man towards the plank, making sure he doesn't run, as he glances towards Itsy, as if ready to leave the privilege to her. Itsy is utterly impassive in the face of this; unbothered by the terror, certainly, and by the blood on her deck (it had to be christened eventually), her hands, her face. "You've only yourself to blame," she says, coolly, as she approaches the blank, Werso's man before her. "Take it like a man. Or aren't you man enough for it? Not got the stones?" She takes another step forward. The man squints over his shoulder as he steps up onto the plank, then plaintively back to Itsy. "Please, please! I was only followin' him, Cap'n. Weren't really gonna hurt ya." The guffaws of his fellows perhaps say otherwise, but the others only watch; just as keen to see what their woman captain will do now. Drex holds his sword at his side, as if ready, but otherwise watches along with the others. "Bullshit you weren't," is Itsy's answer, low enough to be almost a growl. "You did this to yourself, man." She steps up onto the edge of the ship, one hand on her hip, the other reaching again for her knife. "I'm captain of this ship, and I say you walk. Go." With her back to her crew, she's not paying attention to them; if she can hear them, she shows no sign of it. As he's backed up further to the edge, the man's attitude changes, his expression caving from pleading to defiant, "Fuckin' women. Why the fuck do you cowards let her tell you want to do? She's a fish-fucking woman." If he was hoping to receive any support from the peanut gallery; he's sorely disappointed. He's also not jumping off that plank; perhaps too much of a coward to do so. Itsy laughs, now, taking another step forward; she's all confidence. "Better a fish to fuck than a limp-dicked, pansy-assed sailor, eh?" She doesn't wait for an answer: quick as she can, she rams her knee into his groin. The man draws in a breath, whatever lewd curse about to spill from his lips evaporating as her strike is true. He drops to his knees, groaning, his lean overbalancing him. Even in his pain, he scrambles for the plank, gripping weakly to the edge, refusing to let go. The rest of the crew is yelling now, "Die like a fuckin' man, Ramin!" "He gonna cry like a girl next?" that gets a few looks and shhes from his fellows, though others laugh, too. Finally, Ramin's fingers spasm, and he screams as he drops to the ocean, splashing beneath the waves. The rest of the crew -- including Drex -- cheers. Itsy's toes threaten to crush Ramin's fingers as he scrambles to hold on, but she holds off; she waits. Finally, he drops, and as he does, she turns back to face her crew. "Let that be a lesson to you," she says, starkly. "No one challenges my authority. Clean up that mess." She stalks back onto the deck, shoulders back, head held high. "Drex," she says. "With me." There's a ferocity in the way that Drex grins, in the way that he regards their Captain as her crew snaps to and starts moving; they're already talking about how Ramin was useless anyway, and Werso completely rubbish at tying down the mainsail. Drex falls into step with Itsy, holding the sword close to his side, silent for once as they move. It's only once she has entered the great cabin at the stern that Itsy says anything; she turns, now, moving to rest her ass upon the edge of her desk. "Reckon that'll hold 'em for a while?" she wonders, wiping hands uselessly on her trousers; the blood has dried. "Reckon," Drex says fervently, if low, thunking the door shut behind them. He reaches for a rag on which to wipe his sword, but his gaze is all on her. "You ok?" Itsy's nod answers that first comment, wordlessly; it's the latter that she hesitates over. "It's just such a damnable waste," is what she says, finally, sliding back down off the desk. "And all 'cause I don't have a dick between my legs." There's that oh-so-familiar whisper of the sword sliding home into its sheath, Drex throwing the rag into the corner as he steps up next to her, grinning down at her, all of a sudden. "You could, if you wanted," he says, in that serious-but-really-not way. "Ain't too late to change your mind." "Why, you looking to lose it?" Itsy's reply is all in good fun, except that there's a note there, too, reiterating her long-term refusal. No. Just... no. "Might consider it for you," Drex hooks his foot up, resting it on the desk, leaning into his bent knee. He seems to take the refusal in stride, at least, judging by the quick grin that follows. "Farideh would kill you though. She'd kill me, too. Don't think that's the sort of present she might want you to give her." Itsy's mouth twitches. "What, even if I tied a bow around it? Girls like bows. She could hang it above her mantle in the huge-ass cave she'll end up in. Decorative." "A bow, huh? Might try that." Drex tucks that idea away for later. "Maybe she'll let you sleep on the floor, like that old goldrider did with her pet." The one that was not-so-old but by comparison, anyway. "Drex." Itsy sounds utterly bewildered. "Why would I want to sleep on her floor? I have a whole ship. She'll come visit us at Ista." Of this, she is absolutely confident. Drex straightens, dropping his foot to the ground with a thunk. "You think a goldrider will take time out of running a Weyr to come visit us?" Itsy gives Drex a look. "You don't?" There's a slight shift of his posture; awkwardness, maybe, covered by a show of lightheartedness. "I wouldn't, positions reversed. Why should she care about a pair of grimy sailors, now?" "Devaki cares about us, and he's just as busy and important as she is. And he's left his hold. Besides--" But Itsy cuts herself off, shrugging manishly. "Anyway. She will. You'll see." Drex grunts at the mention of the Lord, never his favorite topic, and his disagreement with her assessment is clear. Turning, he's already heading for the door. "Ought to go and see that they're swabbing the deck good and proper." "Aye, good idea," says Itsy, though by the furrow in her brow, she is not convinced of him. Drex's, "Cap'n," is all he says by way of parting as the door thuds shut behind him. Left alone, Itsy sits down at the desk... and begins to write.

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Drex (02:26, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...

Annnnd... there goes my manhood. :(

Itsy (02:30, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...

You offered it to me!

Alida (02:35, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...

• sniggers* Alida would whisper near Itsy's ear, "Watch out for the second attempt on her once you start letting a little of your guard down. Almost always one or two who think they can get away with it." ;)

Edyis (02:39, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...

It's not like you were using it for anything important.

Farideh (10:59, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...

I tried to find a meme to express my feelings on this, but no.

Just you wait. Just. You. Wait.

We're counting down the days.

R'van (14:36, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...

We're still on for flamethrowing, right? >.> Just saying, that could be useful. Especially if you have to cauterize anything.

Faryn (15:04, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...

This was the first thing I read (for a second time) this morning, and now Faryn wants to be Itsy when she grows up.

Drex (20:42, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...

"You", me? Or "You", Itsy? Now I'm worried >.>

And YES flamethrowing BRING IT ON. (But not on me pls.)

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