The young woman was quick to pry the edged cutlass from her brother’s swollen fingers and whipped around to clash steel. She held the blade even, a perfect, undaunted horizon; always leveled with the nose, just as her father had taught her. She had stalled the man’s strike, but watched a wretched, stained grin split the pirate’s lips as her blade shivered under the brutality of his compelling strength. “Weapons do not belong in the hands of women,” he throatily crooned, pressing closer to her face. The blade flashed as he brought it over his head and hummed a low, swift tune when he brought it down.

By kikkopirate, March 28, 2015*.