Pirates of Dark Water, Tula/Ioz, "Upper Hand"
Title: Upper Hand
Author: voodoobob
Fandom: Pirates of Dark Water
Pairing: Tula/Ioz
Rating: light R
Wordcount: 2,147
Warnings: bondage
Prompt: Ioz/Tula - Something fun and bantery with Tula topping; use of her ecomancer powers for tentacle bondage a definite plus. Fic preferred.
Summary: Never irritate an ecomancer.
Notes: Oh god, laaaaaaate. *hides* Apologies to the prompter for that, and also because I just couldn't seem to make sex happen.
"Hurry it up, woman! We don't have all night for you to be picking at that jitaten seaweed!"
The rush of the tide, so close to Tula's ears, went a long way towards muffling Ioz's shout, but not quite far enough. She tightened her grip on the stalk and sawed at it rather more ferociously than was strictly necessary, and took small, vindictive satisfaction when her knife finally severed it.
"You could help, Ioz!" she hollered towards the Wraith, waving the kelp indignantly. "You're the one who told us this was good to eat!"
She could just make out Ioz, leaning back against the bow as he yelled back, his arms impudently crossed. "I've done my share! I just hauled three barrels of water onto this ship by myself, woman!"
Only because you turned me down when I offered to help! Seething, Tula stuffed the newly-harvested stalk into the oiled skin slung over her shoulder. It was nearly full by now, heavy with cut kelp and seawater to keep them fresh. Her back was beginning to ache with the weight of it, but she didn't want to return to the Wraith just yet. In part because she still felt they needed more, but mainly to spite Ioz.
If she was to be fair, really, she knew - and understood - the real reason why Ioz was so foul today. It was hard to blame him. It had been a wretched day for all of them.
The sea-storm had whipped up out of seemingly nothing; or perhaps they'd all just been too wrapped up in other concerns to notice, with the Maelstrom lurking hideously on the horizon and gaining. The Compass had been shining its tell-tale light, making the small ship all but a beacon on the waters, and so Bloth had seemed a more immediate threat than the unusually strong wind and heightening waves.
And so they'd been taken off guard when the storm set loose its real fury - high winds threatened to take the sail clean off, or even worse, capsize the ship, while rain pounded down so furiously that Ioz, clinging to the wheel, could hardly see to steer and even the Compass's beam was nearly lost. The waves rose like leviathans, breaking over the deck and tossing the poor Wraith about like a child's ball. Ultimately, Ren had had to put the Compass away and man the sails with Tula, the three of them struggling to keep the ship afloat, while Niddler had fled below decks to make a desperate attempt at saving the provisions. All hope of staying on course was abandoned, and it had been all they could do to bring the Wraith ashore at a small island - a stroke of good fortune that there even was an island, really.
They hadn't come away unscathed, however.
Miraculously, the Wraith itself was still seaworthy. The hull could perhaps have used some patching, and the riggings definitely needed some work, but nothing so pressing that they couldn't care for it at sea, or get better work done at port. Better yet, as the crew had gathered their wits and begun to assess the situation, even Bloth must have been hard-pressed to see them, or where they had gone, in the storm. With any luck, it seemed they might just have scraped past him this time.
Their problem was the provisions.
As they'd fought against the storm, there had been several ominous crashing sounds from below decks. Tula hadn't been able to pay them much mind, the sails demanding all her focus; but when they'd brought the ship in, and Niddler had climbed out mournfully onto the deck, bemoaning tragedy, the memory of the half-heard sounds had risen up to the forefront of her mind. It was with a sense of trepidation that the three humans had descended to see what remained of their food and water.
The reason for Niddler's crestfallen manner became evident at once. What would have been enough to feed the four of them for days yet had been reduced to one day's good food, and another's meager scraps if they were careful. Smashed fruit and melons were spread out all over, and a perfectly good box of bread had been smashed, the mangled loaves soaking into inedibility among the remains of the fruit.
Ioz had sworn fit to strip the paint from wood, and Niddler had whined protests that he'd done his very best to save as much as he could, it wasn't his fault that he was only one monkey-bird and the ship had been jumping around like a fish on the waves. Even Ren (who Tula sometimes suspected, in her least charitable moods, of being some sort of automaton that ran entirely on optimism and sheer mule-headed stubbornness) had looked a little drawn. Tula had just closed her eyes and given directionless but fervent thanks that they'd at least landed someplace likely to yield good forage.
She pulled another stalk taut, and began to cut at it. She'd been the one to see the kelp, when the crew had begun to disperse to scavenge food. It had seemed odd to her, the seaweed growing so close to land in such a shallow bay, and she had remarked on it. Ioz had been the one to recognize the type, and had assured them all from personal experience that it was quite edible - the leaves suitable to pluck and eat, and the tough stalks manageable as well with a little stewing.
Now, of course, Tula wished she'd kept her mouth shut about it.
It wouldn't have been so bad, really, to have to listen to Ioz's almost certainly exaggerated pirate stories after she'd made the mistake of asking how he knew so much about the kelp. It could even have been fun. But the storm, hidden blessing though it might have been, had left him so perturbed that even the chance to recount a favorite exploit had not significantly calmed him; and being the one who had volunteered to hear it had forced Tula to stay in his company as they ventured inland.
"Find us some water," Ioz had ordered, abruptly.
"I think you missed a word, Ioz," Tula replied coolly, staring up into a tree for signs of ripe fruit.
"You're an ecomancer. Find us some water."
The tree had seemed empty. Tula glared at it, for robbing her of an excuse. "It's not that easy!"
"What? What kind of ecomancer are you?"
A young one, she'd thought, and untrained - and do you realize how hard it is do to the things that look so simple to you? I'd have to open myself to the whole island, all at once, and sort through all of it - the trees and the bushes, the rocks, the beasts--
"Not the kind that works as a dowsing rod," she'd said indignantly. "It's not a large island. If there's water, we can find it by walking - which we'll have to do anyway, for food. We'll live."
"Bah! What good are you?"
He'd then walked on ahead, while she'd taken a few moments to hold back an overwhelming urge to take that ponytail of his and choke him with it.
It had only gotten worse, when they had finally found the water and Ioz had insisted on collecting and carrying it himself. Apparently for no other reason than to be able to lord it over her, and get out of work later on.
"The two moons themselves are getting tired of waiting for you! We don't need to fill the hold with seaweed!"
Tula stopped.
Her knife was heavy in her hand. Her shoulders strained under pounds of kelp and seawater. She was up to her hip in water that threatened to take her footing with every roll of the tide. That jitaten arrogant kreld-eater was heckling her about a task he couldn't be bothered to help with, all while he stood idle in the bow, probably for the sole purpose of heckling her. A cool, malicious calm came over her.
It was easier to influence plants on their own. She didn't need to attune herself to the entire bay, spreading her self thin over a multitude of life and the elements, to convince two stalks of the tough, deep-rooted kelp to grow, creeping to shore and up the prow of the Wraith. She could feel the strain starting, but it was worth it as the kelp struck, with ecomantic swiftness--
"NOY JITAT!!"
-- and dragged Ioz down on his back, lashing him securely to the bowsprit.
"TULA!" he roared. "TREACHEROUS WOMAN--"
"Quiet, Ioz!" Tula sang back, sheathing her knife and trudging up through the tide to where the Wraith had come ashore. "You wouldn't want to disturb Ren, would you?"
Ioz's frustration was nearly tangible, but he shut up. He'd been one of the ones to insist, after their long day of scavenging, that the exhausted but stubborn prince stop trying to fix the situation singlehandedly and get some rest. Tula couldn't keep back a smug grin as she strode up the gangplank and set down the skin.
"I thought you said it 'wasn't that easy'," the pirate said resentfully, glaring at Tula.
"Well," she said breezily, "it doesn't take much to keep you down, Ioz."
"By Kunda, you will be paying me back for this--"
"I don't think so," she said, stooping to wring seawater out of her silks. "I think you've had a little humility coming to you."
"Don't laugh too loudly," he growled. "You might wake Ren." He started to squirm at his living bonds. "Chongo-longo, these stalks are as tough as I remember..."
"Am I laughing?" Tula smiled innocently, leaning casually against the railing to watch Ioz's fruitless struggle.
"Aaargh-- noy jitat-- j't-- krrgh--"
"Too bad you can't reach your sword," Tula commented, with mock sympathy.
"Scutpango, woman, all right! You've had your laugh. We're even. Now will you loose this jitaten weed?"
"Hmm... well." She pretended to deliberate. "I'd better take the kelp I've collected down to the galley first. And then I should probably rinse out these silks before they become too stiff to wear... it's a good thing you so kindly collected so much water." She smirked at him. "No, I think you can wait there for a little while, Ioz. Try to relax."
Her hand was on the strap of the skin, ready to haul it up, before Ioz spoke again.
"Suit yourself. It's quite an opportunity you're passing up."
Tula tensed. Ioz's tone had turned sly too quickly. She carefully did not turn to look at him as she asked, "What are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying," he said, his voice laced thick with devilry, "rare's the woman who'd not like to turn the tables, a bit, with a man tied down and at her mercy."
She only just stopped herself from wheeling about to slap him for such outrageous presumption. Ioz was a pirate and all that implied, but with his fondness for games, she'd never thought excesses of the flesh were a favored vice of his. Apparently he was just full of surprises.
No, Tula, keep your head about you. Remember this is Ioz.
When she forced herself to think rationally about it, she could see his plot. He wants me to get riled up. Maybe he's even hoping I'll release him in disgust.
Well, if that was what he wanted...
She put down the strap and turned around, resting a hand at her hip and smiling lasciviously.
"You know, Ioz, I hadn't thought of it that way..."
She'd guessed him right. The look on his face was stunned bafflement. He couldn't have been aiming for this reaction.
"It is quite the opportunity, now you mention it," she purred, making her way slowly to the bowsprit, making sure to sway her hips more than was honestly called for.
The look on Ioz's face was perfection itself. She wanted to put it in a bottle and treasure this forever.
"Noy jitat, Tula, I didn't mean for you to take me seriously--"
She set her hand at the prow and leaned on it, smirking down at him. "You should really be careful what you ask for, Ioz. You might not be asking it of someone who knows you as well as I do."
He glowered at her. "There's no winning against you, woman."
"Not tonight there isn't," she agreed.
"So when are you planning to stop this nonsense?"
"Well, for that..." She stood up and turned back to heft the skin over her shoulder again. "You can wait until I've stored this away, changed my clothes, and bathed. After that..."
She smirked over her shoulder as she opened the trapdoor to go below decks.
"I wouldn't mind seeing if that offer still stands."