Cursed Seas Pt. 02: The Witch-Eye

The mystery woman stood up and finally looked Veradine right in the eye. Her eyes were locked forward, colored like ice, and her eyelids locked into place like she never blinked. She seemed to regard Veradine for one cold moment and jerked her gaze away.

"Answer me," Veradine growled. Her whip snapped once against the ground, making most of the crew flinch.

The mystery woman turned back to the railing and hopped back onto it. Instead of going back to her ship, she turned and walked down the railing towards the back of the ship, avoiding the crew entirely. Her balance was perfect; the thin railing she walked on may as well have been dry. Veradine could hear comments of envy and wonder rise from the crew.

A surge of rage flooded through Veradine. Who did this woman think she was? She pointed a finger at the woman and said, "Stop her."

In a mass of hands, claws, and tentacles, the crew grabbed the woman by the arm and dress and pulled her off the railing. A few strong women grabbed her arms and pinned her to the deck.

Veradine circled around the mystery woman and planted her boot on the woman's skull. "Now, answer me. What's your business. Who sent you," she said.

The woman ignored her as she stared off at something. Veradine followed her gaze. She was staring at the back of the deck. Only one thing of any importance was back there.

Veradine took her boot off of the woman's head. It couldn't be, could it? Not likely, but something in Veradine's soul wanted to see. A faint glimmer, something like hope, that wondered that if it had been worth it after all. "Let her go," she said.

The puzzled crew obeyed, and the mystery woman stood up and walked up the stairs to the upper deck. Veradine and the crew followed her up, and Gwen locked her eyes onto the mystery woman when she saw her. Yet the woman ignored Gwen's gaze and turned her eyes to the sad heap at the back of the ship. Veradine caught the woman blinking, the first time she had since Veradine saw her, and the woman's face became much more alive. The woman ran to Shella's side and began pulling at the knots.

Some women stared, some gaped, Jenny Ivory hissed, and a candle lit up inside Veradine's heart. It was, wasn't it? Something that Shella had told everyone about. Something that she had been chasing for a long, long time and thought was taken away from her.

Knots were undone and the mystery woman cradled Shella's body in her pale arms, tears mixed with the rain and kissing her unresponsive cheeks.

Amid the rumblings of the oncoming storm and the pattering of raindrops, only Gwen spoke; "Lily."

Lily picked up Shella and stood up. Veradine immediately walked in front of her, her whip cracking against the ground. "She's ours," Veradine snarled.

Lily cocked her head, closed her eyes and shook her head, almost as if she was mocking Veradine.

A shot of rage ran through Veradine's veins. She slammed her whip against the ground, as loud as any thunderclap. "You take our prisoner, you die," Veradine said.

Lily's eyes flickered down to Shella. She gently set Shella down and bent back up. With one silent step after the other, she advanced on Veradine. She stopped a hand's-bredth away from Veradine and looked up. Her lips were moving silently, forming something. Words. Words like...

She's Mine

Growling angrily, Veradine's hand shot out and grabbed Lily by the throat. Lily weighed more than Veradine thought she would, but Veradine still hauled her up. Lily didn't struggle or kick or even act like she was choking. Her face was impossible to read, but Veradine felt like Lily was smiling at her. Bringing Lily close enough to lick her, Veradine said, "Nobody leaves the Harpy. Nobody and nothing."

One of Lily's hand grabbed Veradine's wrist. At first, it was just a firm grip, but it swelled into a grip as strong and as discomforting as her straps, and soon, if felt like her wrist was trapped underneath a fallen cannon. Her hand involuntarily let Lily go.

The crew's murmur turned to awe around them. Veradine could hear snatches of conversation. "Who's she, 'xactly?" "She's strong, ain't she?" "Beatin' the captain. I like her." "Lash is getting matched by a waif."

Screaming in rage, Veradine hopped back. Her whip snapped upwards and came down right on to Lily's face. What happened next happened so fast Veradine wasn't sure it was real until her body lit up in a horrible numbing pain that blocked everything else out.

Howling, Veradine collapsed to the deck. She couldn't control her limbs, it felt like all the strings that controlled them had been cut. She could see the end of her whip. It was no longer the long, snapping, writhing serpent. It was only a crawling worm, cut off just a foot from the remainder of her hand. She could feel the white pain that eclipsed her body emanate from it.

Veradine weakly looked up Lily. One outstretched hand held the rest of Veradine's whip, dead in her hand. From the palm of the other hand, a rusty but wicked knife blade grew. The knife blade slowly sunk back into Lily's hand, and she threw the length of whip aside.

The crew was dead silent. The grey-green storm was nearly upon them, the crack of thunder rolling out as the rain and the howling wind picked up. Lily gently picked Shella back up again and walked away, the crew parting to let her through.

"What are you doing?" Veradine said between the tears of pain that welled up in her eye. She tried to put her hand against the ground and get up, but there was no strength in her arm. She collapsed against the deck again. "Stop her!"

The crew hesitated and let Lily and Shella through. If she could beat Captain Lash, why should they fight her? Lily and Shella disappeared off the upper deck. One of them, a woman with quills for hair, looked at Veradine with surprise and said, "I thought Shella wuz makin' up Lily!"

Gwen kneeled down next to Veradine. "I guess the wishing stone really did work," she said.

"She could've been yours," Veradine shot back.

"Yeah, Shella could've been mine," Gwen said wistfully as she stood back up. She walked towards the main deck and watched sadly as Lily and Shella depart for their own ship.

The crew watched as Lily's ship pulled away from them. The winds began to howl, rain falling down in thicker and thicker batches. The gusts of the storm parted Lily's ship from the Harpy like two hands were pushing them apart. Someone reminded the crew to prepare the Harpy for the storm and the sails were given slack.

The pain faded enough for Veradine to weakly get to her knees. It still felt like her right arm had been obliterated, and she was left cradling it. Only Jenny Ivory remained next to her. "So that whore burned our wish for another whore," Jenny spat.

Veradine struggled to stand. Another flash of sense-killing pain brought her to her knees. "It's your hatred of her that caused her to abandon us in the first place," Veradine said.

Jenny snorted. "It's her fault for being a freak," she said.

Veradine sighed and said, "Help me back to my cabin."

Jenny, reluctantly, shouldered Veradine. "Are we going to go after them? We shouldn't let Shella escape like that," she said.

"We?" Veradine asked as they took the stairs. "The only 'we' now is how much we're going to suffer for letting Shella escape."

Jenny stared at Veradine as she opened the door to Veradine's cabin. "Suffer? What do you mean, suffer?"

Veradine fell against the bed, another flash of pain numbing her ability to feel her body. "The Master wanted us to keep her. Ordered me, specifically. Any means necessary. I've let her get taken off this ship."

If a skeleton could have the blood drain from their face, Jenny was doing it. "H-him? How long do we have?"

"I don't know. We never should've gone after that wish-stone," Veradine muttered.

"More like never should've let Shella take it," Jenny murmured as she left the cabin.

As the wind rattled the panes on Veradine's cabin, she was left alone with her thoughts. Lily had been nothing more than a dead girl that Shella loved. That's what Veradine and the Harpy's crew had thought. But Shella had found a map leading to a stone that could grant wishes during an attack on an old Spanish Galleon. It was what everyone had wanted. Jenny had found the accompanying journal, which said that only one wish remained in the stone. In her hatred of Shella and Shella's desires, she had waited until they had seen the island where the stone lay and announced it to everyone. Undoubtedly, Jenny was hoping to crush Shella's hopes and have the crew hold her back while Jenny or somebody she approved of had gotten the wish. Shella fled the ship, and when they found her, she was standing alone in the sandy remains of the wish-stone. Veradine had never thought that the wish really worked. Not until she realized Lily had come for Shella.

* * *

Something changed. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. All she knew was that she failed and that was that. Don't bother any more. It's not worth it. At least, that was how it had been. Something had changed. What was it?

She slowly flexed her fingers. Her recent memory was a slurry mess. It felt like all it had been was that she had been kicked around and beaten. She deserved -- she had deserved it. Had she? Something had changed; it wasn't wrong, it was right.

Her hand was lying against something soft. A thin cloth covered her body. Wind tickled her feet. A tepid body was pressed against her back. An arm was over her waist. She opened her eyes.

Shella was laying on a bed. It wasn't in any good condition; it looked like it had been through a storm. A flat pillow was underneath her head, and daylight illuminated gray wood planks that had been haphazardly nailed together. Great gashes had been torn from the wall to reveal a blue clear sky.

Someone shifted and nuzzled against Shella's back. For a moment, her heart jumped, dipped and soared. Hope tied with trepidation rose in her belly. She mumbled, twisted around, and came face-to-face with the sweet sleeping visage of Lily.

She had abandoned Lily. Betrayed her. Used her up. Wanted her back. Killed for her. Wished for her. Everything she had been done was a mixture of cruelty and uselessness. It was another dream. It couldn't be Lily.

Could it?

Shella ran a hand along Lily's gentle cheek. Soft, smooth, slightly cold. Just like how she remembered it. And always how it was in her dreams. Lily shifted and brought her hand up and held Shella's hand, running her thumb comfortingly along the back.

"'S a dream, innit it?" Shella said.

Lily shook her head wearily.

A knot of confusion formed in Shella's gut. "'S always a dream."

Lily mouthed a single word; 'no'.

Shella's eyes began to well up with tears. "'S always been a dream. Ye ain't real, an' no matter wha' I do, it never work."

Lily slid towards Shella and put her arms around her, burying her head in Shella's neck. It was strange; Lily was so weak, her arms shook when she moved them. Was that part of Shella's dreams?

Hesitantly, Shella put her arms around Lily. She wore the same old dress, pale and long, even though she was in bed. Her hair was messy, silk-like strings plastered everywhere.

Shella's eyes wandered. The room they were in, if it could be called that, was missing half of its walls. They had been ripped apart or torn off or something, and she could see the clear blue sky. The air was warm, and the sound of waves lapping gently at the hull of a ship tickled Shella's ears. The musk of seawater filled her nose. Beyond the room, a mast had been stripped of its rigging, sails and boom. Two other masts had been ripped down to their jagged stumps. The entire room was tilted very slightly.

If she wasn't in a dream, then there was one other conclusion. "'M back in that weird world, ain't I? Jes' so I ken be wi' you."

Lily broke away, shaking her head. She mouthed the words, 'no, I'm back'.

It couldn't be true. Shella couldn't believe it. Why should anything go her way? She was a traitor, nothing but. But still a tear rolled down her cheek.

Shella let Lily lie back down and sat up. "'Zis? All real?" she asked, waving at the room.

Lily nodded, her eyes half-closed. Now that the sheet was away from her chest, her nipples poked against her dress.

Shella sniffed and wiped away the tears. "'S just like then. How do I know?" she asked.

Something was wrong with Lily. Her chest rose and fell, but slowly. She looked gaunt and weak. Her eyes were half-lidded, and her head fell to one side.

"Lily?" Shella asked as she crawled over Lily. No pain. No death. No illness or pregnancy. Long ago, Shella had been trapped in a world with those rules. She escaped, leaving behind Lily. She had used Lily in order to leave and lied to her just to get her to help carry out Shella's plan. Once Shella was back in this stormy world, she regretted it every single day. And now Lily was back, as if nothing had ever happened. They could be happy together, even though Lily looked a little ill.

Lily pursed her lips and blew an imaginary kiss at Shella. 'Tired,' she mouthed, 'storm'.

Back in that strange world, nobody could have been in the same state as Lily was right then. Something finally gave in Shella. Tears began pouring down her eyes and she took big, heaving apologetic sobs over Lily. Lily was right, she was back.

Shella threw herself atop of Lily. Her heart twisted about so much it felt like it'd tear. Everything she had done, every little cruelty, and here Lily was. Had it all been worth it? Shella didn't know. She could only feel the erratic fluttering of her heart and the tears rolling down her face. "'M sorry, 'm sorry! I did everythin'. I hurt ya so, so much, just 'cause I'm a greedy little whore. 'M sorry...," Shella said sniffling.

Her words trailed off as she cried into Lily's shoulder. Lily was back! She really, truly was! Shella didn't know what to say. Joy flowed through her like a river, making her cry and cry. Guilt stabbed into her because she had wasted so much and had been so cruel. It could've all been better, if... if something.

Lily petted Shella's hair with awkward, weak strokes. She accompanied it with short 'shh's, as if silently accepting Shella as much she could. Shella sniffed and sat back up. Lily looked so frail. Like any breeze could destroy her.

"Yer all righ'?" Shella asked, and Lily nodded.

"Ya need some rest?" Shella asked, and Lily nodded again.

"Yeah, yer right. Get some sleep. Don' worry 'bout me. I'll see where we are," Shella said, crawling off of the bed.

Lily pointed at Shella's naked, firm bust. Shella looked down at her own nakedness, her ebony nipples staring out like two dark stars. "Toldja, don' worry 'bout me! 'Sides, wi' the way th' world is t'day, anyone mortal 's gonna think I'm there t' take their soul."

Lily raised a quizzical eyebrow. Shella waved her off. "Get some sleep! I'll tell ya later."

Shella walked out of the room. There wasn't even a door left to call it a room. Warm sunlight fell across her naked body, making her dark skin shine like a jewel. The ship they were on, or what was left of it, lay on a sandbar like a beached whale. As if by some note of humor, its anchor, still attached via rusted chain, lay in the sand next to it. In all directions, white sand sunk into the sea, clear waves lapping against the sand. Small fish like silverlings flickered to and fro in the shallows.

The ship itself was in even worse shape that what Shella had seen. It looked like a sea monster had taken a bite out of the side of the ship. One side of the deck was gone, taking a huge chunk of the hull with it. Her footsteps either brought out a tortured groan or was on an unsecured piece of wood; sometimes both. If she so much as ran across the deck, she'd go plummeting down below. The storm had really roughed them up, hadn't it?

Shella gingerly walked over to the railing. By some miracle, it was intact. Well, some definition of intact, at any rate. It was attached to the ship. She rested her elbows on the railing and looked across the sandbar. The railing snapped like a twig. As Shella fell onto the sand, she thought, 'So much for it being intact'.

Tumbling head-over-tail, Shella landed wrong on the sand. Her head was trapped between the sand and the rest of her body. She squawked as she heard something pop uncomfortably. She flopped onto her back, sand rubbing against her back and getting into her gills.

Shella blinked. Her neck felt cramped and it was bent. She couldn't move it. Did she just break her neck? Sitting up stiffly, Shella felt her neck's flesh twist and writhe uncomfortably. Her head slowly returned to its proper position, the cramped feeling vanishing.

Maybe she just did. Of course, that didn't hamper Shella. She healed from anything. Cuts, stabs, bullets, broken limbs -- anything. It didn't matter what happened, Shella would never, ever die. She had yet to meet something that tested that.

Rolling her neck on her shoulders, Shella stood back up and brushed the sand off her ass. There was grit everywhere. If there was a cranny, Shella now had sand in it. It especially stung in her gills. Tiny grains of sand in soft, thin, delicate places was not comfortable. Hissing to herself, Shella headed for the water.

The water across her feet was warm and pleasant. The sandy bottom sifted through her toes. Small clam shells and the occasional sand-dollar rested in the sand. As Shella went further out, the water slid up her legs, up her perfect thighs, tickling her sex and ass. It kissed and lapped at her navel. She dived underneath, the gills along her neck and ribs opening up to drink the water. Her breasts tingled with contact with the blessed ocean, her green hair streaming back as she kicked forward.

Water was no different than air for Shella. In fact, there were times in which she preferred it. Water, surrounding her and encompassing her. It was safe, most of the time. She loved it. Back in the old world, there was a pool that Shella could retreat to that was always filled with warm, clean water. Like this sea, she reflected.

Her broad feet sent her through the water like an arrow. Fragile fish swum away from her presence. Her toes kicked up clouds of sand as they touched the bottom. Further away from the sandbar, in deeper, bluer water, she could swim more easily. But she didn't want to leave Lily again.

Shella kicked out of the water, flicking her hair back and sending a rainbow of droplets sparkling. Her breasts jiggled as her gills kissed the open air. It felt colder out of the water. But she knew of one thing that made her warmer.

The ship, from her angle, looked like a discarded skeleton. Ribs poked out of holes, and the planks were always broken in some fashion. But it was where Lily was. Shella licked her lips, her core growing warmer. Lily was always so caring, so selfless. But it wasn't that, not entirely.

Her pale skin, the closest thing to snow Shella had ever seen. Hair like the finest silk, so enchanting to run fingers through. A petite bottom that felt so good to hold. Shella shivered at the memory, though her body felt very, very warm.

One of Shella's hands slid up her body, trailing sparks behind it. Her eyes were locked on the ship's exposed cabin. She wanted to be up there with Lily. She thirsted to make up for lost time. As her hand caressed her generous bosom, a fire of lust blossomed inside her.

She couldn't help herself. Her other hand slid down to her crotch just thinking about how Lily's stiff nipples felt on her tongue. Her fingers graced the petals of her sex, and she shivered as pleasure raced up her spine. Her wetness was thick, thicker than water, and it oozed onto her fingertips.