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Characters' Havens > Rhett's Ship

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message 1: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (last edited Jun 04, 2013 09:15PM) (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments Please post an image of what your haven looks like.

message 2: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments

message 3: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (last edited Jun 09, 2013 11:46AM) (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments

message 4: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (last edited Jul 05, 2013 06:33PM) (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments Smiling to himself, Rhett walked towards his ship invisibly. He could not believe how well that had worked out. He had had his eye on this gemstone for years. But he had never had the opportunity to work with such a skilled thief. Most of his jobs were hit and run but after working with Kaijian tonight, he realized that his team sorely needed a good thief. And he wanted Kaijian.

Walking onto his beloved Rhiannon, Rhett whistled to alert Sèitheach that he was back. "Where is Maarifa?" he asked. "Tell him I want to see him in my office immediately."

"Yes, Sir," the man answered, disappearing.

When Maarifa walked in, Rhett said to him, "All is in order to deliver Kaylock's list?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of Spain's finest wine as he sat down and propped his feet up on his desk.

"Yes, Sir. We had everything already in the ship's storage as you suspected."

"Good," Rhett nodded. He pulled out a chain from his bag of multiple crosses and tossed it to his crew member. "You will go as the messenger and remember Maarifa, weigh her then the gold before handing over the goods. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir."

"You're dismissed," he told him. As he sat there drinking his wine, he wondered what he would do now to pass the next few days.


message 5: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (last edited Jul 08, 2013 09:53AM) (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments Kitara exhaled deeply as she walked up to the boat that she had lived on for three years from the ages of seventeen to twenty. She had no idea how long he had had this ship for nor how he managed to keep it running for so many years in such good condition. Kitara had decided the morning that Vivian had left Charles's that she would pay her ex a little visit. She had hemmed and hawed about what time to go and finally had settled on first light, just when the sun was rising over the horizon. She knew he never left his ship while it was light out nor did he sneak back on with the sun rising behind his back. He would be home.

As she walked up to the Rhiannon, one of the men on guard saw her and frowned. Not sure what to do, he stopped her. "I must see The Saint," she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes and holding white rosary beads with a cross on it. "Please," she added, lowering her eyes and peeking at him through the corner of her lids. The man swallowed the lump in his throat and said, "Just one moment, my lady." He disappeared and Kitara waited patiently. As she waited, she began to walk along the deck, her hand caressing the ship absentmindedly, thinking about how best to approach this. "Buenos días, Kitten," a voice said softly behind her. She jumped. Of course she didn't hear him coming. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath, turned around, and smiled calmly at him. "Rhett," she said, but her voice caught in her throat and he laughed.

When he walked closer towards her, he paused and looked at her carefully. He looked perplexed and she lowered her eyes demurely. "You don't like what you see?" she asked.

Kitara's outfit:

"I do," he said slowly. "But... you have not changed in almost ten years, when I met you at seventeen. Not one bit," he added, coming closer.

She laughed sweetly, backing up one step. "Makeup can do wonders, darling." Then she added, "Can we go below deck? I don't want to be seen here."

He smiled. "Why? Will your jealous husband come running?"

She smiled sarcastically. "Please, Rhett?"

"Very well." He led her downstairs, staying close to her. She told herself to just remain calm, that it had been almost seven years and that he would not dare try anything... (would he?). He brought her inside his office and gestured for her to sit down at the table. She took her seat and watched as he poured a glass of white wine and handed it to her. She arched a perfect brow. "It's 6 o'clock in the morning, Rhett."

He chuckled, "I have yet to sleep and this is Soalheiro Alvarinho Primeiras Vinhas, from Portugal. Your favorite."

Her mouth popped open. "In that case, how can I resist?" she said, taking the glass from him.

He sat down on the opposite end of the large table and lit a cigar. He was nursing a tumbler of Vinho do Porto and he was staring at her intently. She was doing the same. In almost seven years she had forgotten what he looked like--not completely, just vividly--and she had to admit that while he looked older, age was good on him. He knew it too, she could tell, watching her watch him, neither of them flinching or looking away. "You really have not aged, Kitten. I am not imagining it."

"Thank you, Rhett, you flatter me."

He smiled lazily as he blew smoke out of his mouth, keeping his hazel gaze on her face. "I was wondering how long it would take you to come see me."

She looked up at him. "You knew I was in London?"she asked. Then she sighed. Of course he knew. It was his job to know things so that he could either avoid something or use something to his advantage.

"I knew," he responded. "I also know you are staying with Lord Charles Pemberton."

"Only temporarily," she countered. "Well... now anyway."

He laughed. "What can I do for you, Kitten? Are you coming back to me?"

"No," she responded. Her memory flashed back to when things had ended between them. Considering breakups, theirs had been... amicable. They had both simply decided it was time to move on, no muss, no fuss. It had been... good. Like the rest of their relationship. But she had just been tired of living on a boat. Never settling down. He would never settle down.

"I've lost you, Kitten." His voice called her back.

"Sorry," she said. "I was reminiscing."

He smiled. "I do that too, from time to time. So, what can I do for you?" he asked again.

"It's about the Kaylock order," she said abruptly.

He raised an eyebrow. "This is a surprise. What is your interest in the Kaylock order?"

She took a deep breath. "The man she is trying to help... is important to me," she told him bluntly. She could be honest with him. She had always been honest with him. And he with her. For the most part.

He took another sip of his port and savoured it before letting it slide down his throat. "I see."

"Please, Rhett. Please allow us to have what we require in exchange for what you already bargained for. I would... be eternally grateful."

"What will you give me in return?"


"Fair's fair, Kitten. And you no longer get special privileges."

"Alright," she replied. "What do you want?"

He was silent for a long moment. "I need a thief. I know you are one. If in six months, I do not have one, you come back to me. To this ship. To this life." He looked at her sternly.

"As one of your crew?" she asked morosely.

"That would be your decision," he told her. "My bedroom door is always open for you."

"Very well," she agreed. "How will I get in touch with you?" she asked, hoping against hope he would leave London.

He laughed, heartily this time. "You will find a way."

Kitara gulped her wine. That was what she was afraid of.


message 6: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (last edited Jul 05, 2013 06:33PM) (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments As the coach pulled up with his men, Rhett gave a small nod of approval from the deck of his ship. It had not taken them longer than he had expected. He waited for Maarifa to join him with the chest of gold--Maarifa had dropped off the other two hired nameless ones back in the city--and the two made their way to Rhett's office. "Everything went smoothly?" he asked, pouring himself a tumbler of cognac.

"Yes, Sir," Maarifa responded. "We received everything that was listed and she left a pouch for 'the one who met her the first time.'"

"Of course you checked its contents first with a spell?"

"Of course, Sir."

"What was in it?"

"A hair comb."


"It appears so."

"Good. Leave it with the rest of the items in storage." He handed Maarifa a second tumbler of cognac and toasted him before taking a sip. "Job well done as always, Maarifa. I do not know what I would do without you," he told him in Spanish.

"And I you, Rhett," Maarifa smiled.

Rhett clapped the man on his back. "Let us go celebrate, shall we?"


message 7: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (last edited Jul 05, 2013 06:33PM) (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments Rhett woke up the next day at four o'clock in the afternoon. He had the mildest of headaches, nothing that could not be cured with another drink and some good food. Throwing on a pair of light, cotton trousers over his naked body, he went over to his water basin, rinsed his face and then sauntered out his room with bare feet.

When he entered the lounge on his ship, he saw that Sèitheach and Maarifa were already up. Both were dressed casually, sipping their drinks. Sèitheach was drinking his own concoction of God knows what from his rituals and Maarifa was sipping a glass of wine. Rhett poured himself a tumbler of cognac and went to sit down with them. "Who is watching the ship?"

"Culhwch," Sèitheach responded. "He was complaining about his wound. Said that he could not sleep so he may as well keep watch."

Rhett nodded. "What did you think?" he asked.

The men knew exactly what he was referring to. "I liked him," Maarifa responded.

Sèitheach nodded. "Sultan does not want you to include him in missions until he is one hundred percent committed," he told Rhett, his heavy lidded violet gaze on his boss. "He means to tell you but he went back to his quarters to check on Lady Kaikavus Al Davar."

Rhett smiled lazily. "How does Barin think that we can accomplish this next job without a thief? And one that is in London." He shook his head. "No, we need Kaijian."

"Lord Pemberton is unreasonable," Maarifa offered after a few moments.

"No, Lord Pemberton is ambitious," Rhett corrected him. "And I for one cannot think of a better team to accomplish this job than us."

"We can do it without a thief." It was Barin. He had just walked in. "I don't like the idea of including him on such a dangerous mission."

"He gave us his word," Maarifa reminded Rhett's best friend. "I do not think he is likely to turn back on it."

Barin shook his head. "Give him something smaller then. Not this. Not Lord Pemberton's task."

Rhett was silent for a moment and then he asked, "What does Culhwch say?"

"Nothing," Barin replied. "He cares not what your decision is."

Rhett was silent again. Finally, he stood up and said, "I will take your advice into consideration. Thank you, gentlemen." He walked away to take his bath.


message 8: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (last edited Jul 05, 2013 06:32PM) (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments Rhett was waiting on the deck of his ship for Sèitheach to return and when he saw the tall, lean figure of the druid, he smiled. Sèitheach approached the Rhiannon quietly and nodded when he saw Rhett.

"I trust the night was a success?" Rhett queried, although it was more of a rhetorical question.

"It was," Sèitheach responded anyway.

The two went below deck to his office. Maarifa was guarding tonight.

"Tell me," Rhett said when they were in his office. He poured himself a drink but he did not offer one to Sèitheach as he only drank on initiation nights. Once Sèitheach was finished, he retrieved the inventory list and handed it to Rhett. "What is your assessment?"

"He is skilled, intelligent, obedient, bright and green," Sèitheach stated simply.

"Do we include him in Lord Pemberton's task?"

"Have we not already?"

"Do we include him?" Rhett repeated.

Sèitheach was silent for a moment. "We can trust him."

"Do you want to be the one to convince Barin?"


Rhett laughed. "You're dismissed."

"Yes, Sir."

Rhett finished the rest of his drink, lost in thought.


message 9: by ๖ۣۜSαᴙαh, The Supreme Overload (last edited Jul 05, 2013 09:12PM) (new)

๖ۣۜSαᴙαh ๖ۣۜMᴄĄłłiƨʈeʀ (inked_chinadoll) | 0 comments After drinks with Kaijian, Rhett stormed invisibly back onto the Rhiannon, agitated and pissed off. Barin was waiting for him in the lounge, lying on the couch, his head pounding from having been in astral projection form for so long. "What is it?" he asked in Persian the minute his best friend walked in, sensing his mood.

"She told him," Rhett replied in kind.

"What?" Barin queried, a ice cold, wet cloth pressed to his forehead.

"Kitten. She told him that I am The Saint. I am sure of it."

Barin looked up at Rhett then, his green eyes wary. "How..." he began.

"Kaijian let it slip," Rhett explained. "I asked him about his recent activities and he said that his friend had a goodbye party who is going to America. Kitten is American. And he had a look of fear when he realized that he had given away that he knew her."

Barin sighed. His head was throbbing. Rhett's pacing was not helping, the Spaniard's booted feet making far too much noise. He closed his eyes. "Brother... that means nothing. You're overreacting."

Rhett paused, raking his hair with his large hand. "Maybe." He went to pour himself a drink. "But I must be certain." He had not come this far in life for no reason.

"Rhett," Barin said after sighing, "Kitara is not an idiot. She has remained silent for seven years. Why would she open her mouth now?"

"To get back at me?"

"For what?" Barin laughed. "Yours was the cleanest breakup I have ever seen."

"She is my only loose end," Rhett argued, shooting back a shot of whiskey.

"You're being ridiculous. You know you won't hurt her. Just leave it."

He was silent for a long moment, his fingers tented over his sensual mouth. "I want you to look for her in America."

Barin groaned. "How?"

"In astral projection form."

Barin sighed. There was no arguing with Rhett when he had that tone of voice: the one that said his mind had been made up. "Fine," he conceded, his head throbbing even harder.


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