perhapstomorrow | The bell has been raised from its watery grave...

A faint quiver goes through Ulysse's frame and his eyes briefly close at that comment, breath catching sharply at the thought. That quick little smile flashes across his lips and he shakes his head, giving Rook an amused (if heated) look.

"Then you'd better be especially careful so things go smoothly, no?"

Laughing, rook leans in to press his mouth to the sensitive spot under Ulysse's ear while his hands sneak down to the man's arse, pulling him up while he squeezes it.

"Same goes for you, princess."

There's delight and thrill in the fact that Ulysse is just as eager as he is to get that moment later...

With a little huff of amusement, Ulysse shakes his head, smiling despite how he feels himself shiver from that deliberate kiss behind his ear.

"I suppose we'll need to get a room at the inn. Or stay on the beach."

Otherwise the crew might complain at the noise, unless they go into the cargo-hold for their fucking.

"An actual bed wouldn't sound that bad," Rook comments lightly, already imagining all the things they can do in that bed.

He pulls back then, reaching up to finger one of the golden baubles in Ulysse's hair as he looks at the man with half lidded eyes, heat simmering in his one good eye.

"Shall we get to it then?"

"I suppose we should..."

And it's a fair amount of ground to cover. They have to track down their crew to warn them and make sure Midnight and Marco are both out of harm's way, and then to watch the slavers as they conduct their business in the little town.

Once the sun begins to set, they see the slavers head towards the local taverns, leaving only a couple of men to guard the brig at the dockside. The fishers and sailors have cleared off for the evening themselves, not wanting to linger around the unsavory strangers longer than they have to.

Ulysse excuses himself to their ship for short while, going through his things and taking the time by candle light to line his eyes with kohl and adding a hint of rouge to his lips, deliberately biting and sucking on them to make them swell. His clothes are traded for finer, sleeker pieces that leave little to the imagination, a gold-beaded belt and dark red sash around his waist accentuating how slim his hips are, draping over the contours of his hips and ass. Delicate jewelry adorns his throat and wrists, his hair undone artfully to frame his face.

Hopefully it's dark enough that Rook won't notice how much like a painted whore Ulysse has made himself to be when he returns to the deck, because he's honestly not sure the man would find it attractive or plain ridiculous. It's worked in the past to make slavers lower their guard, though.

Rook spends the time Ulysse paints himself up by sitting at the deck of their ship and watching the guards come and go on the brig. His hair that has a few wooden beads here and there is braided from the sides to keep it from dropping to his face. It's pinned up with a bone of a fish, a loose knot at the back of his head. He still wears the bracers Ulysse gave him and it's likely he's never going to take them off unless the other man demands the gift be returned. They fit well over the rolled sleeves of his blue shirt. Over his sash he has tied a leather belt, wide enough to cover most of his midriff, fitted to his form and rocking a few hardy metal rings that he's going to use to hook a few tools in. He's going to enter the brig through water and climb. That way he can free the slaves before the guards on the docks will notice him.

When he meets Ulysse on the docks, he pauses. There's no one but them and Noel standing guard at the end of the dock, and the moon and the lights of the shore are quite enough to give Rook a good look at that painted face and those clothes that he's never seen on Ulysse before.

At first one of the corners of his mouth twists up, then the flash of a smile is gone when he remembers where Ulysse is going like that.

His hand reaches up, grabbing Ulysse's belt and drags the man close. "I can see what you were thinking," he says, voice low and dangerous. "I do not like it."

Ulysse gives him a beady little stare, letting himself be pulled in. The expression is only emphasized with the kohl lining his eyes, making them seem larger and more angular, demanding whoever looks at Ulysse's face be drawn into them whether they like it or not. Then he's just responding quietly, "I did warn you. You said you could and would control yourself."

Rook's jaw tightens as he stares at Ulysse. He had promised this. And while he generally isn't against breaking his promises, somehow it seems like a good idea to keep every last one to Ulysse. In Rook's mind he is like the ocean, not exactly forgiving when he's not pleased.

He fingers the thin fabric of Ulysse's shirt and then lets him go with a growl that is both angry and frustrated.

"There's only one guard at the dock," he says sharply while clipping on his tools onto his belt. "Keep him occupied." Then he slips off the blanks and right into the water, as quietly as a ghost and disappears completely into the darkness as he dives.

Watching the ripples fade from the waters for a moment, Ulysse calmly smooths his shirt down from where Rook had grabbed him and then heads for his target.

It doesn't take long to flirt his way into the pirate's good graces. While not all of them are interested in men, months of being at sea without a single pretty face in sight can make some desperate enough to be swayed by just the right makeup, the right hair, the right clothes. Once Ulysse has the man's interest, the pirate's convinced to take the dolled up man back to the schooner where a couple more of the pirates are on duty.

Along the way, the pirate calls out to his mates, getting the attention of the two that had been onboard the brig to get them to climb down the ropes connecting the schooner to its side.

Rook calls upon a little bit of magic as he swims, making his breath last until the brig. He doesn't want to go all the way and change his ability to breathe under water. It would require some adjustments to be made once he's breathing air again. Once he's at the ship, he grabs a hooked tool from his belt and starts climbing. He takes some time to do a little bit of research on the way, pressing his ear to the hull of the ship and leading an echo from the water into it. It gives him an idea what's inside and how it's situated. Usually these ships aren't completely magic resistant, they enchant the chains and the guards, but that requires constant magical upkeep and they get lazy when there's no push back.

When he gets to the deck, it's suspiciously empty. He directs an annoyed look down at the docks and doesn't see Ulysse anywhere. The dickweed has taken matters into his own hands. This more than annoys Rook because anything could happen before he gets there and he really doesn't like where that anything could lead. It's not so much the fact that he doesn't like Ulysse touched by others - which he doesn't - but it's also the fact that he doesn't want the man hurt. And hurt he will even if he went into that bullshit willingly.

He moves fast then, diving under the deck and going straight for the slaves. He doesn't even think about anything else but locates them at the below in the cargo hold and finds the man who stands up first. This will be the person who leads their own rebellion. He talks with the man for a few moments, making sure he's not going to abandon the rest when Rook leaves him at it, all the while breaking the bond on his strains. It's a slow work because he can't use magic, he'll have to do it by hand. But he brought tools for it. They can't quite pride open the chains around their wrists and ankles, but they manage to yank up the chain that links them to each other. They're still unable to cast magic and that's a problem. So, when they have the whole group moving to save themselves, prying up the chains, Rook focuses on the man he named as a leader the moment he stood up. He has to muddle through some magic that will break the bond on the man's shackles. It takes time and concentration that he doesn't have.

Damnit Ulysse.

But they will need someone who can steer them out of the storms once they leave the harbour. And later to learn how to break the bonds of the rest of their shackles. Rook has to put his mind to it twice before he manages to crack the spell open. He doubts the mage hunter who cast the spell will notice one of their work going asunder but he warns the slaved mages to keep this at minimum for the rest of the night because he doesn't want to warn these assholes ahead of time what's coming. He tells the man to keep their work silent for now, go and get the ship ready, he says. But don't raise the sails yet. An hour, he says, that should be enough. By then he and Ulysse have taken care of the guards and dismantled the schooner.

Once that's done, then he's running, feeding juuust a little bit of magic through the bracers on his wrists to locate Ulysse. Down along the robes, silently on the deck of the schooner, finding a nasty looking hooked knife on both hands and onward...

Rook needn't have worried.

Shortly after he's boarded the schooner, Ulysse is climbing back up out the hatch, looking mostly unruffled. The rouge on his lips has been smeared a bit, his hair is a bit messed, and he needs to adjust his shirt, but otherwise he seems unharmed.

His face though... is cold. Almost statue-esque and otherworldly in how still it is. The expression shifts and warms a bit on seeing Rook, at least, and Ulysse asks softly, "Did you free them?"

Cold and distant, that's exactly what Rook was afraid of. The knives are on one hand while he reaches for Ulysse with the other, patting over him, looking for injuries and upon finding none, he yanks the man close, kissing his forehead.

"What happened? You were supposed to just distract the one at the docks." Also where are the men?

Ulysse might smile but the expression is brittle and quick to vanish. He then shrugs, looking away. "I never said I would only take care of the one at the docks."

He doesn't say where the pirates are, now, because there's no point. "They won't be bothering anyone. Ready to go to the tavern?"

"You--" Rook sighs. There's frustrated anger in his eyes as he stares at Ulysse. "Are you planning to do the rest of this thing like this? Where you let me believe one thing while you do another? Because let me tell you right now.... Don't do that."

His expression is tight and careful.

"I told you I would distract and take care of the pirates," Ulysse retorts, voice just a tad flat, now. "Which is exactly what I did. I'm not letting a single one of their crewmen leave with their lives, tonight."

"I don't want them to leave with their lives," Rook spits out. "But I want you to leave with yours."

There's actual anger and fear now in his tone. Frustration a warm memory, this is real now.

"I mean it," he hisses, his one good eye glaring daggers at Ulysse. "I need to know you won't pull this shit at the tavern. I will clobber you right here and right now and tie you up and go take care of it by myself."

He's glancing towards the schooner's cabin at the back. They're all dead, aren't they? Something about that makes him shiver a little. This man he's holding here is dangerous. Very much so. But so are the people at the tavern. All of them are dangerous.

"Can I trust you?" he asks finally.

Ulysse just continues to meet Rook's glare, refusing to be cowed by it as he answers, "That's entirely up to you. I'm aware of the risks and know how to manage them."

Then his eyes narrow and his voice drops to a low murmur that could almost be seen as intimate, if it weren't for the undercurrent of danger lingering in the air.

"Just try raising your hand to me. Get the ropes. I dare you."

Infuriating. This man is just...

Rook has no word for it. But oh, it gets under his skin.

Usually it takes something drastic to get him so mad that his magic is swayed by it. He is a steady thing, on his own course, like a moon orbiting a planet. But there's something about this man that just ruins him.

The ocean roars into his call, wind picks up, gusting over the deck while a massive wave makes the ship shift restlessly. Rook is wet all over, but soon will Ulysse be as well because the small schooner is rushed and slammed against the docks, waves washing over the deck as if they were on deeper waters.

"I said," Rook grits out between his teeth, his arm tightening around Ulysse's waist. "Can I trust you? Because if I can't, what is the point of us going there together? You asked me time and time again if I will behave. What about you? Will you behave and not do something stupid?"

His jaw is tight and eyes narrowed, his whole body tense as he stares at Ulysse and demands answers.

Getting soaked is an unwelcome sensation at the moment, but Ulysse doesn't let himself be taken aback by it, only lifting his chin as he squarely stares into Rook's eyes. That now-familiar irritation from the afternoon in Grey's cabin is starting to rear it's head again, and Ulysse is only doubly annoyed at how easily Grey's working his hooks under his skin.

"I've yet to do anything stupid tonight. I was in control of the situation."

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The anger swells under the mage's chest and he lets go of Ulysse's waist, pushing him away. There's one long, utterly pissed off stare that he gives Ulysse before turning and stomping off the deck.

While he walks, he drops away his tools, makes sure his knives are at his sides, the sword where he knows it should be, his magic making the trees bend by the shore as he walks by.

This ridiculous fucking man... Rook doesn't know if he wants to fuck him or slap him. But right now, right now he wants to kill something. And he knows where the men are.

Ulysse stares after him, the faintest glare on his face as he watches Rook go further and further away... and the water just drains off of his clothes and hair, leaving him dry in seconds. Then it's his turn to head into town, having a moment to decide if he'd go to the brothel or tavern... but for as infuriating as Rook is being, Ulysse isn't going to let him just go off on his own and get into potential danger, so in the end, he follows the mage.

The tavern is alight with laughter, screaming, music, talking, everything that a good harbour town tavern should be like. Rook walks in, his one good eye sweeping across the patronage, figuring out where his targets are. It doesn't take a genius to spot them, they still have a few slaves with them, chained and kneeling on the floor. Apparently there's been some bargaining happening for the lady with red hair.

Rook finds himself a spot at the bar and orders a pint. His anger is simmering under the surface right now, but it's not hard to see he's not welcoming any company. The barkeep simply gives him his ale and leaves him alone.

Ulysse enters shortly after Rook and spares the mage a quick glance before heading to the bar, pretending to be ignorant to his presence while ordering a drink. The way he leans against the bar accentuates the line of his back, the shift of his hips making the gold disks hanging over his ass glint eye-catchingly in the light.

Once he's got a mug of ale in hand, he turns to the pirates, smiling and sauntering up to them with catlike grace when the obvious captain grins and beckons for him.

"And how are we doing, gentlemen?" he asks, voice a warm purr with his usually barely noticeable accent deliberately thickened to add to the 'exotic' image. It doesn't take too long from there, aided with a few coy looks and suggestive dialogue before Ulysse is grabbed by the arm and dragged to perch on the captain's lap, which he does easily with a pleased little laugh.

Rook has barely begun to assess the situation when Ulysse springs to action and makes his way to the pirates table. Rook's jaw clenches tight again and he finds his ale so very interesting as he listens to the table, his foot tapping nervously.

It makes his stomach roil, his whole body tight as a string and breathing hard and thick through his flaring nostrils. These assholes, these slaving assholes with a ship full of children and women and defenceless idiots are touching something that is his, they're putting their grimy hands on something perfect and ruining it.

There's enough water in that ale that it's easy to encourage it to jump right from its pint when the captain goes for a gulp. Rook's eyes grow distant as he pours his attention on it, watching as the captain struggles to gulp it down, coughing and sputtering. Then someone slams a fist to the bar in front of him and his concentration is broken.

"I said do you want another pint, mister," the barkeep barks at him and behind him somewhere the captain manages to put his pint down without drowning on his ale. A fucking tragedy.

"Yes," he grits out between his teeth at the barkeep. "Give me a fucking pint."

"Yes, alright," the muttered asshole goes completely unnoticed by the mage as he squeezes the ceramic mug he was given in a tight fist.

He had been looking to wait until the pirates would walk out of the table on their own, one by one picking them up. But now he doesn't have that luxury to wait and take them out quietly. Ulysse is smack in the middle of it and Rook feels like it's getting out of his hands.

On seeing how Rook is already diving into action uninvited, Ulysse thinks fast and helps mop up the captain's ale from his beard, leaning in to murmur into his ear something about having a place and several 'friends' who'd be more than happy to host the captain and his crew for the night, even having a holding pen to put the slaves away in until they're ready to return to their ship.

Right as the captain's laughing with glee and giving Ulysse's ass a solid squeeze, there's more raucous noises from upstairs. A woman screeches indignantly and one of the captain's men comes stumbling down, drunk and flushed with a dopey grin on his fast. Ulysse is helping the captain to his feet when the drunk pirate approaches, leering at the pretty little thing.

He waits until the captain's gone to the bar to pay for the drinks before shoving Ulysse against the table, slurring out, "Hello darlin', you gonna show us a good time t'night?"

While Ulysse isn't thrilled about the position or how the man's wrapping his arms around to grope at his ass, he doesn't let it faze him, just smiling and giving him a playful little wink. "Of course. My friends and I will be more than happy to keep you lads a night to remember."

But as he's distracted, one of the crew has broken away, eyes focused on Grey as he senses traces of the magic that had nearly made the captain drown on his ale...

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