((OOC: My apologies for being gone so long. Real life has requested my presence and I must oblige. However, I felt like writing something and here it is. Enjoy :) ))
Cristianno, still at sea with his crew and his beloved, begins to feel awkward. Something's not right.
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The
ink danced across the paper, marking every note he jotted down. These notes
were quickly crossed out, the black ink ruining the neatness of the page.
Another word, another scratch. His free hand pressed against his forehead,
fingers slithering through his blonde hair. Everything he wrote just didn’t
make sense or it simply didn’t look right on paper. He wanted perfection, but
it was hard to attain. Cristianno dropped his hand and leaned back in his
leather chair. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and allowed the ship’s
swaying to move his head from side to side.
Something
was missing, but what? What was it that he sought? He had it all, didn’t he? A
crew, a ship (although he wished it didn’t look like a damn goblin), a
beautiful woman, her love and body, riches, and he had cheated death more than
once.
What
was it that he wanted?
He
looked down at the scribbles on the paper. It was overfilled with numbers,
math, and scribbles. There were drawings of breasts and female bodies. He had
elongated their hair, curling at the end, and flowers decorated them. With a
faint smile, he knew he was drawing Alaia over and over. There was also a
drawing of a cave with treasure and the ocean.
Shaking
his head, he realized he had it all, but still, something bothered him. He
wasn’t sure what that was.
Carefully, he began to draw lines from the nude bodies, to the treasure,
to the ocean. He traced the lines over and over, almost tearing into the paper.
Before he knew it, he looked back and noticed that the lines created a sort of
pentagon-shaped design.
Cris
stared at the paper and realized what was bothering him: he didn’t have a
proper home for her. How did he expect for her to marry him if he couldn’t give
her a proper home? She had told him many times that she was at home wherever he
was, but he recalled the times when she went back to the home she occupied; the
one where he had spent countless nights in, away from her, watching her sleep during
those times when he couldn’t. She would effortlessly make breakfast and sit
beside him, watching him enjoy her creations.
A
home. Azeroth was so large and there were parts of the world that he would
never consider a home. It pained him to even think about it, but Stranglethorn
was out of the question. He had promised another a home there…
He
shook his head and sighed. No, he wasn’t going to think about the past. He
needed a home for her. He needed to provide her with whatever she needed and
desired. He needed to do everything for her.
The
cabin door was knocked and it creaked open slowly. He lifted his blue-green
eyes and his hardened expression softened when her red hair peeked in. “May I?”
she asked with a smile on her lips.
“Always,
my love.” Cris reached forward and began to gather his papers. They were all
gibberish to the world, but they were his plans and he wanted to protect them.
Alaia stepped lightly across the cabin, toward him, and he simply smiled. There
was a gracefulness about her that he adored. Her body was fluid and delicate,
but behind his smile, there was as devilish grin because he knew just how
strong her body really was. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and looked at
the papers on this desk.
“What
are you doing?” She rarely asked him such things, but the scribbles didn’t seem
too important.
Her
arms were soft as silk and her scent was alluring as usual. He closed his eyes
and melted against her hold. She was right. Home is wherever she was and he was
definitely comfortable in her arms. He was still going to find her a home, but
in the meantime, he was satisfied where he was; on the ocean, in his cabin.
In her arms.
He
licked his lips and took a breath, whispering, “Thinking about you.” Her
fingers gently guided his chin, moving his face toward hers, where their lips
met.
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