She giggled at his mock anger, and put one slender hand on his shoulder, leaning forward to reach him. "I, also, am glad to have a companion in this disaster for myself, though I wish it were not so, as well." Then she added. "And that you have a sense of humor about you, makes it doubly so."
He grinned at her, and noted that her arm smelled vaguely of spice. It was a nice smell, with a bit of fire mixed with subtle earthiness. "That is a lovely scent you wear, Miss." He said.
She smiled. "So my folk have been told for many a long year." She held her forearm beneath his nose. "It is our normal scent, Coghlander."
He sniffed appreciatively and deeply. "Then I am doubly fortunate, but you are now cursed. I smell not so appealingly after days at sea with but a barrel to wash out of."
She sniffed the air gently, and said. "I smell hard labor on you, and the sea, and I smell a bit of your anxiety over our peril." She looked at him. None of those are so bad, though the anxiety makes it somewhat disheartening. "I must admit, I find your odor far less offensive than I was told it would be, should I be within touching distance of one of your kind."
He chuckled. "Well, I am glad then, for this vessel is a bit small for two people who cannot abide one another's scent."
She looked about them and then took off his shirt as the morning sun warmed them. Handing it back to him, she said, "You will need this as the sun grows harsher in the day." She looked at his fair skin. "I will not be harmed greatly by it, though your skin where you were covered looks like it would."
He shrugged the tunic over his head and looked at her. "I thank you, Miss. I was not going to ask for it back." He said quietly.
She giggled. "Besides, your well-muscled body was distracting me." She said, her smile was soft and warm, and her eyes, as well.
He felt his loins stir at her kind words. Then thought that she was simply being kind in flirting with him so, and curbed his ardor. He looked at her body, though and said. "Now I will be distracted, even more so. You are quite lovely, Miss." He said.
She looked down, then smiled back at him. "We seldom need more garmenting on our island." She shrugged. "And on the ship, we enjoyed the benefits of a weather magician, who could keep the decks comfortably warm."
"I understand your people do not concern themselves in the affairs of men, how comes it you were among the isles?"
She looked at him carefully, with deep consideration. Then she said. "We have decided that the Black Theocracy cannot be allowed to wax victorious on the Isles of the Crystals. She indicated east with her chin. "They are dangerous enough as it stands, and to allow them unlimited access to the stones of power would make them a threat, even to our island."
He nodded. "I knew you had been in the area, and even heard other sailors tell of your ships attacking the black ships." He said. "But I only somewhat believed it, to be honest. I thought it was but sailor's tales, which can be taller than the masts on their vessels." He looked over the elven woman again. "Obviously, I owe those gentlemen a drink for doubting their words."
She giggled again. "I suppose you do." Desella said. "We have been lending what sea power we have to your cause, but it is not much. We do not build mighty sea vessels, and must acquire them from our kindred in the far west." She looked wistfully north. "The 'Thunder Wing' was our newest, we only received her three weeks ago." She looked down. "This was to be a training exercise for her crew."
He looked at her, somewhat aghast. "You are novices?" He asked. "The entire crew?"
She nodded, almost all of us. "Other than a handful of our Windir kindred, yes." She said, then she looked at him. "Myself included."
"What would lead you to attack a larger vessel with a green crew, Miss?" He asked, his face still incredulous.
She stared into his eyes. "We were aflame with rage over their sinking of one of our smaller vessels, an unarmed transporter of goods." She said. "The captain's anger overruled her mind, I fear." She raised her eyes to him and there were tears in them. "Think you that between our two vessels they could triumph?"
He nodded. "I cannot say." He said. "It is possible, I suppose, with a veteran crew on our ship and the special abilities that I have heard your folk possess." Then he glanced down. "But that is far from certain. Barges like that one have several hundreds of crew." His expression turned to that of a sour smile. "That is why we were fleeing them, though not very well."
The long day on the open ocean passed slowly. And the two conversed at points throughout it, discussing their ships and their operations, and the peculiarities of their crews. He told her about 'Dark Thedred,' his vessel's own navigator, a odd man with a penchant for drinking to excess and smuggling rum aboard ship despite the captain's orders against it. She informed him of Veldathan, an elven lad who fancied himself every woman's fantasy come true, and had been hewn down by virtually every woman on the Thunder Wing. He laughed and nodded at that, and told her about 'Lovely Uthgan,' a man of similar temperament, and luck.
"We thought your folk did not have women aboard her vessels, at least as crew." She said.
"Not many, no." Brannir said. "But, some women eschew the so-called security of home and hearth and take to occupations that involve more travel and risk, but also great reward." He chuckled. "I, myself, am glad for them to be there, it makes a ship more bearable knowing there are at least a few lasses about, even if they be as crude or cruder than the lads of the ship."
She laughed again. "Given the tales our western kindred speak of Coghlanders, that almost frightens me." She said.
He laid down on the planks, and grinned. "It should." He said, casting his eyes downward, toward her. "Though it is all bluster and blarney. Most of them are very much women down in their hearts."
She nodded. "I had thought this was probably so." She said, laying beside him, so that he could look into her eyes by simply turning his head.
They sat in silence for a long while, simply looking at one another in furtive glances and watching the ocean when they were not. The sun slowly tracked across the heavens, and was well into its descent when she said. "We will likely die out here, you do know that?" She finally said.
He nodded. "I have given it thought." He said and looked at her. "Though a small part of me hopes for us still." Then he looked northward again.
She smiled at him gently. "As it does in me, as well." She said. She reached out a hand and tentatively touched his cheek. "But not much, now."
He turned back toward her, and saw tears on her flawless tanned cheeks. He lifted his large hand and brushed them away, only to watch replacements spring forth in an instant. "Please do not yet despair, Miss." He whispered.
She sniffed, and regarded him. "I wish I did not." She said. "For I wish to ask for something of you that should not be asked in a moment of despair."
He looked a bit concerned, knowing she was a magician, and her abilities and needs were beyond his ken. "If I can grant it, I will, for my life is yours since the moment you lifted me with your magics from the frigid water."
She smiled at that. "Then I will ask." Desella said and looked down and her face seemed to redden slightly. "I would ask you to make love to me"
He looked at her with eyes wide. "Had you not asked, I would never have assumed to try. But, I would quite gladly, Miss." He sat up. "Yet, I cannot call it giving you a favor, by any stretch, for I am sure I will glean more joy from it than you."
She touched his arm. "Lie down, Brannir." She said, her voice suddenly very soft and warm. He laid down and turned to his side and she leaned close to him. The scent of spices wafted over him as she neared and then she kissed him. Gently their lips came together and touched, sending a surge of warmth radiating from his mouth. Her lips were incredibly soft, and he felt them part for him, inviting his tongue.
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