Post by Joliette Thorne on Mar 6, 2010 1:10:43 GMT -5
The Secret Cove
Jolie had straggled here, to the beach she’d come to call ‘home’, long after the pipers had stopped piping and all dancing feet had stilled at Barrel, after late-night customers had drunk to the contentment of their flesh, if not their hearts, and Simon had finally booted the whole drunken lot of them out the door and into the unsteady night.
Hiccupping faintly, feet sliding over algaed rocks and into briny pools to disturb the slumber of crabs and anemones, the mortal gained the sand, fortuitously enough at the exact moment her balance gave out. She landed face-down, leaving an imprint like a sculptor's mold in the damp ground. After a while, Jolie planted her palms and pulled herself upright.
“Gorram … albatross,” she slurred, for reasons she’d have forgotten by the time the words left her lips. The imprint received her face again when she fell to the sand a second time, and little stars danced a mad polka behind her shuttered eyes.
* * *
“Leo… Nrrrrm!” Jolie turned her face away from where his questing tongue lapped at her own lips in a sloppy kiss. Then at her cheeks.. forehead. Chin. The rogue had always liked to sneak some lovin’ in the morning, before his mate was properly awake-- but damn it all, did he have to pick –this- morning? “Nuuu, I’m so sick. Ohmigods…. Leo.”
And he’d trucked sand all over the sheets, again, her fingers told her, as they dug and clawed into their bed in an attempt to roll away from the pirate’s affections. Lots of sand. Lots and.. lots… of… "Fuh?"
Peridot eyes snicked open. Well, one did. As the morning light assaulted her like a halberd to the face, she whimpered faintly.
By way of reply, Leo stuck his tongue in her ear.
Jolie sat up, then. This action, she soon realised, was a terrible mistake. The other thing she realised, as her mind shrivelled in the light, was that she wasn’t actually in bed. And that Leo … wasn’t Leo. He was black, for a start. And shaggier. Either she'd made an even more horrible sort of mistake the night before or....
Her mouth opened. Then it shut. Then it opened in a grin. “Jack?”
On hearing his name, the mutt woofed happily, plumey tail wagging up a storm of sand, and employed his tongue once in more in the most standard of doggy greeting until Jolie got over her surprise enough to wrap her arms about his neck, whooping. Dog and woman went for a brief roll about the sand, yaps and shouts, grrr’s and gerroffyamutt’s and finally a “nonojackplease, nolicking, omygods, nuuu, I’msick…” to end their reunion, and then she’d flop down once more on a soothing bed of kelp to squint at him.
Jack was thin to the point of pitifully ribby, and there was a lot more grey around his muzzle than she recalled. Jolie frowned. But still... it was Jack, and he was home. Yay! “Good boy, good dog!” She scruffled him, her arm lifted wearily to find his ear. “Where'd you go, anyway? We’ve all been so worried.”
In reply, Jack found a sandless spot on her forehead to lick. Too crippled with her hangover to do more than grin and mutter another “gerroff”, she slung her arm around the Black’s neck, hugging him to her tight until such time as the beach would stop spinning.
Eventually, it did.
“C’mon, you,” she said, stirring Jack from where he’d lain his head on her belly to share that short rest. “Time we got home. Cap’n’s gonna kick your fuzzy butt, goin’ ashore without leave like that.”
Jack was on all four feet in a trice, at mention of the rogue, shaking tide and sand off himself and onto the woman who was scrambling to her feet, hand raised in salute against the spray and the brazen morning sunlight alike, as she glanced out to where Eternity bobbed on the waves just off-shore.
“And then we'll have sausages for breakfast…” She winced, at the thought. “You can have mine, if you want 'em. Okay?”
Jack lolled his tongue, one ear perked to her question, then that infamous tail ruffled in the wind like a black flag as he raced her (winning, by a lot) to the skiff that would serve them for a ferry. Yup, said brown eyes, as they settled into the boat. Sausages sounded really good, to him.
Jolie had straggled here, to the beach she’d come to call ‘home’, long after the pipers had stopped piping and all dancing feet had stilled at Barrel, after late-night customers had drunk to the contentment of their flesh, if not their hearts, and Simon had finally booted the whole drunken lot of them out the door and into the unsteady night.
Hiccupping faintly, feet sliding over algaed rocks and into briny pools to disturb the slumber of crabs and anemones, the mortal gained the sand, fortuitously enough at the exact moment her balance gave out. She landed face-down, leaving an imprint like a sculptor's mold in the damp ground. After a while, Jolie planted her palms and pulled herself upright.
“Gorram … albatross,” she slurred, for reasons she’d have forgotten by the time the words left her lips. The imprint received her face again when she fell to the sand a second time, and little stars danced a mad polka behind her shuttered eyes.
* * *
“Leo… Nrrrrm!” Jolie turned her face away from where his questing tongue lapped at her own lips in a sloppy kiss. Then at her cheeks.. forehead. Chin. The rogue had always liked to sneak some lovin’ in the morning, before his mate was properly awake-- but damn it all, did he have to pick –this- morning? “Nuuu, I’m so sick. Ohmigods…. Leo.”
And he’d trucked sand all over the sheets, again, her fingers told her, as they dug and clawed into their bed in an attempt to roll away from the pirate’s affections. Lots of sand. Lots and.. lots… of… "Fuh?"
Peridot eyes snicked open. Well, one did. As the morning light assaulted her like a halberd to the face, she whimpered faintly.
By way of reply, Leo stuck his tongue in her ear.
Jolie sat up, then. This action, she soon realised, was a terrible mistake. The other thing she realised, as her mind shrivelled in the light, was that she wasn’t actually in bed. And that Leo … wasn’t Leo. He was black, for a start. And shaggier. Either she'd made an even more horrible sort of mistake the night before or....
Her mouth opened. Then it shut. Then it opened in a grin. “Jack?”
On hearing his name, the mutt woofed happily, plumey tail wagging up a storm of sand, and employed his tongue once in more in the most standard of doggy greeting until Jolie got over her surprise enough to wrap her arms about his neck, whooping. Dog and woman went for a brief roll about the sand, yaps and shouts, grrr’s and gerroffyamutt’s and finally a “nonojackplease, nolicking, omygods, nuuu, I’msick…” to end their reunion, and then she’d flop down once more on a soothing bed of kelp to squint at him.
Jack was thin to the point of pitifully ribby, and there was a lot more grey around his muzzle than she recalled. Jolie frowned. But still... it was Jack, and he was home. Yay! “Good boy, good dog!” She scruffled him, her arm lifted wearily to find his ear. “Where'd you go, anyway? We’ve all been so worried.”
In reply, Jack found a sandless spot on her forehead to lick. Too crippled with her hangover to do more than grin and mutter another “gerroff”, she slung her arm around the Black’s neck, hugging him to her tight until such time as the beach would stop spinning.
Eventually, it did.
“C’mon, you,” she said, stirring Jack from where he’d lain his head on her belly to share that short rest. “Time we got home. Cap’n’s gonna kick your fuzzy butt, goin’ ashore without leave like that.”
Jack was on all four feet in a trice, at mention of the rogue, shaking tide and sand off himself and onto the woman who was scrambling to her feet, hand raised in salute against the spray and the brazen morning sunlight alike, as she glanced out to where Eternity bobbed on the waves just off-shore.
“And then we'll have sausages for breakfast…” She winced, at the thought. “You can have mine, if you want 'em. Okay?”
Jack lolled his tongue, one ear perked to her question, then that infamous tail ruffled in the wind like a black flag as he raced her (winning, by a lot) to the skiff that would serve them for a ferry. Yup, said brown eyes, as they settled into the boat. Sausages sounded really good, to him.