we have found our solace here in this unexpected place

[herotypical]

Who: slaying & lists_to_port
What: there is a tradition that needs to be upheld on the eves of horrors.
When: sunday night.
Where: good spirits, at first. then elsewhere.
Summary: debriefing and de-traumaing and all kinds of good stuff.
Rating: danger danger high voltage -- things get r-ratedish. fair warning!

Back on Friday, Buffy had scribbled a tense little note to Captain Jack Sparrow:

Need some time. Don't worry. Mission accomplished -- no deaths. Just gotta look after me for a bit. Good Spirits on Sunday night?

-- Buffy

After returning to the village, Buffy had wanted nothing more than to find the pirate and curl up next to him. But the fight with Derek had been harder than she would care to admit and she wanted to scrub as much of that from herself before rejoining the rest of Luceti. She had Giles to look after and she had her own mind to tend to and she spent hours focusing on those meditation crystals -- begging for peace. Peace was so far away.

But on Sunday, Buffy took a long long bath. She put loose, fashionable curls in her hair and she took the luxury of all the time in the world to dip into her make-up drawer and line her eyes and mascara her lashes and pick a natural, light lip gloss. The aim was to look healthy if she couldn't look happy.

She walked into Good Spirits with apprehension in her step and looked around for the man she had asked to meet with her there.

Comments

[herotypical]

She would've liked to claim her death wish as simple but it really, really wasn't. It came in layers. The layer where she wanted to test out the limits of her invulnerability -- revived twice, after all. The layer where she had glimpsed Heaven and returning to the world had been the most painful relocation of all. The layer where the Slayer was expected to have a short, violent life and her time was just waiting to pounce on her. It was easier to set aside in Luceti not only because death was permanent but because her own position on the chain had been so radically displaced. One hero in a pantheon of heroes where many of them made her look small-time.

However, this didn't mean that, should the opportunity ever present itself, she wouldn't give limb and life to free these captives and dismantle either the Third Party or the Malnosso. It was exactly why she had asked Jack to hold onto the locket. But she knew that there would come a day when she would ask for its return. It would be a difficult day.

But these worries were far from her mind as she nudged a knee between his knees and brought herself close enough to catch his earlobe with a kiss.

[all7seas]

Jack began to fumble with the hem of her shirt, now, tired of the balance of power being wholly with her, clothing-wise. This was the closeness that he was slowly becoming addicted to. Typically Jack wasn't bothered by being out at sea for long stretches; there wasn't a girl to keep his mind fixated on life back on shore. This time? This would be different.

[herotypical]

She wouldn't fight to keep that shirt on; the prospect of more skin-to-skin contact was all kinds of persuasive. She may even be attempting to egg him on with her kisses turning into soft, encouraging nips with her front teeth on the curve of his ear.

[all7seas]

That was plenty to encourage a former Chief Cannibal. Jack pulled back just enough so he could coax her shirt off over her head.

"Seems you're due for another tattoo, you know, Annie."

[herotypical]

She drew back. Talking, hm? She felt more secure in not having been the one to break the silence.

"Am I?" Said with a tone of of course I am. "And you without your glittery trove of fake, grade-school tats."

[all7seas]

"This saddens me, for I would dearly love to decorate you tonight."

[herotypical]

"And I'd -- wait." A light-bulb moment in the dark of the room. Buffy let go of Jack's shoulders and pushed backward. She had left her purse somewhere in the room. She knew, at least, that she had taken it from the bar and she hadn't left it with her shoes by the bathroom door.

Getting up on her knees, she hastened to the end of the bed and leaned over to try and find the missing article.

[all7seas]

"You've some sort of cunning plan in mind, and that? That is something I love about you, Buffy. Resourceful when it comes to getting to Singapore with Sparrow."

[herotypical]

Resourceful in almost every capacity. In both temporary tattoos and in using common everyday somethings to dust the vampires. "I don't know about Singapore, but..." she trailed off as she fished her purse off the ground and settled it on her lap. Buffy turned to face him in the shadows.

"I do have this." She tossed him a small clutch. A smaller purse from inside the larger. Her on-the-go makeup kit. Nothing too fancy -- eyeliner, a small compact, a mini lipstick. Mascara. A trio set of eye shadow shades.

[all7seas]

He caught it, rifled through it, and looked up with a devilish expression. "You want to make me pretty? Er?"

[herotypical]

"...Please, I doubt those colours'd suit you."

She reached over and plucked the eyeliner pencil from the lot of it. And then she inched up and clicked on a lamp by the bed. It spilled a warm, revealing light over the two of them.

"Give me your hand?"

[all7seas]

"Is that all she'll have, hm?" A teasing tone as Sparrow extended his hand, palm up, toward the girl. "And aye, those colors? Not quite in my spring palette, are they."

He HAS read Cosmo.

[herotypical]

"For now," she teased and took his hand in hers -- popping the eyeliner's cap off with her teeth.

She touched its tip to muscle just below his thumb, sketching the easy shape of a small, lopsided heart. But she was apparently not quite satisfied with this because she shifted her grip and moved further along his arm to find a small patch of uninked skin and there she drew an equally clumsily skull and cross-bones.

"See?" She asked around the cap still held in her mouth.

[all7seas]

"They'd love you in Tortuga, Annie. Talent like that. Is that a rabbit?"

[herotypical]

"...Why would I draw a rabbit on you?"

Beware the pout.

[all7seas]

"You know how much I like to run?" The pout is sort of turning him on even more, actually. "Give me your little pencil, Annie. And show me where you want it."

[herotypical]

"It's supposed to be a skull. And little cross-bones, underneath."

Buffy popped the pencil's cap onto its non-pointed end and surrendered it to the pirate. This freed her hands to pull back her hair and expose the front of her right shoulder. "Here?"

[all7seas]

"Lie down. I need my parchment horizontal-like." He examined the tip of the pencil, tongue protruding slightly between his lips. What to draw? Symbols were all well and good, but Sparrow would rather words words words. The things that so often came between them. He had bits and flotsam and other scattered treasures in his head and he decided that her body would carry them well.

[herotypical]

"Call me parchment again and the next thing I draw on you'll be something thoroughly of the reputation ruining variety."

And yet, she turned and leaned back until her shoulders hit the sheets. The dim light did make her a little extra-conscious of her demi-nakedness but it was something she could cope with in the wake of previous adventures in no-clothing with Captain Jack Sparrow.

[all7seas]

Jack could only gaze on her in the soft yellow lamplight--soft and supple and beautiful, that shape that drove men mad. He twirled the stub of pencil in his fingers and leaned in close, concentrating. Then he kissed the skin of her shoulder before deciding to start with something very simple.

A delicate sparrow, in flight. Clearly in flight, not falling, not falling in the slightest, no question.

With each stroke, he pressed the pencil lightly into her skin, adding in his own peculiar flourishes.

[herotypical]

At first, she tried to drop her gaze and watch the image unfold. But the angle was tough and, really, beyond his working hand she could only see flat lines. She would need some alternative perspective and so for now she settled her head back and soaked up the sensation. The pencil's tip was soft and at first just a little cold.

Buffy tried not to shiver or twitch too much with each light touch; she didn't want to spoil his artwork.

[all7seas]

Gently, the pirate pressed the tip against her skin for one final flourish. Then he kissed her, just brushing his lips against hers to signal that it was finished.

"Where else, darling?"

[herotypical]

Buffy was beginning to believe that most things should be heralded with a kiss.

"What?" She asked without lifting her head or opening her eyes. "This isn't some plan to fill all of my skin, is it?" Buffy shifted briefly for the sake of her wings and then began to earnestly consider where she wanted to direct the pirate's attention next. She tracked her hand diagonally across her chest and settled the tip of her index finger at a point where her lowest rib on her left side would be. Just off center and a span higher than her navel.

[all7seas]

"It could be; we've all the time in the world, remember?"

Next...next a poem, one Jack was fond of and had picked up during one of his voyages to the Orient. He straddled her legs this time, smoothing his palm over the spot she had chosen. Fair and soft; he touched the point of the pencil against her skin and wrote in his familiar, flowing script:

Barn's burnt down
now
I can see the moon

They both knew about loss. They were going to find ways to make things better in spite of it. It had nearly been a promise. Jack kissed her belly and laid his cheek against it. Finished.

"More?"

[herotypical]

Unbeknownst to Jack, Buffy had once professed an interest in poetry thanks to a freshman course at UC Sunnydale. Then, Joyce got sick. She had to drop classes and had regretfully explained to the professor of the course that she simply didn't have the time. Well, maybe short poems. But for all Buffy knew, this new addition to her skin could've been anything. It could've been an eggplant -- though that wasn't on her short-list of suspects.

"More." She responded, nearly with a sense of supplication to receive more of his input on her skin. Especially with him so focused on her stomach at the moment. It felt like better healing than her own supernatural talents had accomplished. "Maybe just one...or -- you know. Two small ones." Bargaining? A sure sign of her enjoyment.