G H E D E
There were many things Ghede might have expected, but the woman who appeared before him was not one of them. Dracerdis was an avid storyteller and it was something of a ship tradition, long yarns that made long nights go by faster, but when it came to
her he'd really gone for it; she was something of a legend to the crew, and particularly to an eggborn boy who loved stories more than breathing or eating. Ghede kept his sword pointed towards the ground, stance loose and open; his expression was mild, unaffected, even while his heart picked up a bit in his chest. Surely she wasn't as...
everything as Drace had said - his father had a flair for the dramatic, which Ghede certainly appreciated - but that didn't mean she didn't have him outmatched and outwitted.
He studied The Woman carefully, not feeling terribly reassured by her mild "I'm not here for you". No, of course she wasn't. Not even
she would come dressed like
that to a raid; and besides, he doubted Dracerdis would send
him on any sort of mission that might draw her attention. So far only Anaisa had been allowed to run her own haul, and even that had been small potatoes compared to whatever it was their father was up to. Ghede's rank was far below hers - he didn't even really know what was in the crates, all the better to lie if confronted.
Methodical though he was, it didn't take Ghede long to decide on a reaction. At her questions he raised and lowered his shoulders in a lazy sort of half-shrug. She might not be here for him
now but that didn't mind she wasn't taking notes, and why would he give any more away than he had to?
"King's busy, I hear," he replied nonchalantly, leaning back just slightly against the crate. And then, because it was
her, his head slipped slowly to the side, eyes gleaming just a little.
"Are you going to cut me down, then? Or am I for the dungeons?"
The words might have seemed playful, or even daring, from anyone else, but from Ghede they just sort of...
were. His expression might have been curious - or it might have been bored. His heavy-lidded, hooded eyes gave him a permanent air of sleepiness, and his movements were fluid but unrushed. Knowing it likely wouldn't matter even if he was on alert, his position had grown more relaxed, more casual. He even dared rustle up another hand rolled cig from his pocket, though he didn't light it.
"Or," he finished consideringly, after quite a pause.
"Is your friend more important than little old me?"
He grinned, teeth flashing white against his dark skin, in a way that might have been innocent if it weren't so... piratey.