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Faye hiccupped drunkenly as she sat watching the flames of her make shift bonfire consume her effigy of Guy Fawkes down by the docks. She hadn’t found a single person who had held this tradition since she moved here. But to be fair, she was miles from home and it represented a part of her cultures history, unlike All Hallows Eve that seemed to span the western civilisations. The woman wrinkled her nose and took a swig of her single malt as her body petered over to the right, the liquid poured slightly on her chin before she moved the bottle from her lips and wiped at the mess she made, grinning at the fire.

She plonked the bottle down and wiggled it in the sand a bit then plucked a tube of sparklers from a pocket of her puffy black anorak. Faye’s amber eyes grew excitedly as she popped the top and pulled one. The woman bent forward, her dark hair falling over her face before pushing herself up in an imbalanced manner in her attempt to stand and push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She was, let it be said, more than slightly off kilter. She moved towards her bonfire, not overly large by any means but it did have her Guy Fawkes which was well burnt by now and stuck her hand towards the flames, as close as she dared to light the sparkler.

Sizzle.

Laughter filled the air as soon as the sound was heard. Faye quickly removed the hand that held the sparkler and snagged a half burning branch before moving herself away from the fire, dancing around in a merry drunken state then moved over to pre-planted fireworks set up to arc into the air away from her.

“Remember, remember the fifth of November,” She almost whispered before her voice rose. “Gunpowder, treason and plot!”

She giggled and bent over to light them all until the only sounds that filled her ears was the crackling of wood and the sizzling of the pretty lit things.

“I see no reason, why gunpowder treason…Should ever be forgot… “ Faye fell backwards then, looking up into the nights sky as each firework sped into the air and exploded in wondrous colours up above her.

Leaning on the rails of the boat, he took a swig from his bottle and closed his eyes as the delicious flavor of the ginger blood that Ari had sent him. She had him hooked. He'd need to make his way over to Arbor Vitae and make a mass purchase, as this perhaps bettered any desire to be able to drink again. He missed that greatly underappreciated ability, no longer to eat or drink regular food anymore. Ari had introduced him to some of her bottled delicacies though, and he was quickly hooked.

Taking another swig from the bottle, he watched into the night as the raving mad woman drank herself into a giggling stupor in front of the fire on the docks. He hoped she had that fire contained, as he really enjoyed the scenery of this particular site. He had to admit, she was a firecracker this one. In truth, he'd been watching her for a short while now, and she intrigued him. Most of the time she portrayed herself as this quiet, reserved mouse of a woman... and then she goes and shows him this. He wanted to read her inner most thoughts, to venture into that mind of hers and see what it was that motivated this woman. What is it that inspired her now? What made this chick tick? But, the booze made that a moot task a while ago, as it was primarily random aspirations of drunken stupor. But it was hilarious.

Tipping the bottle back, he frowned as the last drops fell and splashed across his tongue. "Ugghh. That's disheartening..."

He looked for a moment back at the girl before turning and heading down the steps into the cabin. Opening the wooden swing door, he walked in and smiled at the dark-haired beauty that laid there in all her glorious beauty of naked white flesh. He'd been on a near full day tryst with this woman to bide his time during the daylight hours. Hours of sex, drinking, drugs and art. He gave a cheesy grin at the chesire cat art he'd done on the entirety of this woman's front upper-body. The white, wide eyes of the cat placed upon her breasts as the smile spead across her abdominals. Leaning in to give a kiss between the chesire's eyes, he gave a laugh as she writhed and laughed at his antics.

"You're incorrigible!" she laughed as he straddled her upper-body.

Smiling up at him as he looked down at her, holding the bottle in his hand. She adjusted herself on the plastic sheeting that covered the bed. After the tattooing, they'd spent a good hour playing in body paints. At that point, he'd laid down large plastic sheeting to protect his good sheets.

"Oh, there's something I am most certainly craving, love." giving a waggle of the brows, he leaned in and kissed her, grabbing a handful of her hair in a tight fist.

She loved it when he'd get a little rough. "Oh please do, then....my skeleton maaaaan."

With his free hand still holding the empty wine bottle, he quickly smashed it against the headboard. Glass shattered as the top half of the bottle split into fragments falling to the ground while he held to the bottom portion and it's newly scerated rim. A deft hand carried the bottle across her throat, slitting the skin, muscle and artery as it passed, and finally remaining to allow her blood to quickly fill the bottle. Leaning in to drink, suck and slurp at the crimson fluid that now spread down onto the sheets, Psyche laughed as he filled himself.

Rolling over next to her, he looked into her horrified eyes with his won passionate gaze as she choked and bled slowly away, fading into darkness as her life slipped through her fingers. Laying there next to her, holding her as the blood puddled underneath them, he smiled warmly.

"Thank you, my sweet Aphrodite. I've been craving this since I met you."

Sitting up from the bed, his shirtless form now partially smeared in blood and body paints, he looked out the portal of the room over to the dock where the girl sat at the fire. Drinking from the bottle, he leaned a hand against the wall, watching, whispering to himself, How wonder how sweet you taste, little mouse."

She lay there in the sand for a moment, or was it a while? Faye really wasn’t sure of time right now. The fireworks had died down and there was only the gentle roar of the fire slightly to the left of her. The grin was still in place, lazy but still there as her mind drifted into itself her eyes barely keeping open under the lenses of her glasses and yet they followed the thick metal frame around as much as she could on the right then went cross eyed. Faye chortled then and rolled onto her side, reaching out for her abandoned malt, in a half crawl with her butt in the air then staggered up snagging the bottle up at the same time.

“Three score barrels!” She shouted as she envisioned the potential scene that played out and drank deeply from the bottle. It had to have been very boring waiting to see the plot finalised. Hanging around, only to be busted. Faye snorted thinking it was a poorly discovered plot. Duped into trusting, that Guy Fawkes was. The raven haired woman pursed her lips mischievously and crept up to the fire as if it were prey before whispering “With a darkened lantern and burning match…”

She kicked at the bottom of the fire, sciffing the base of her blaze bringing causing it to burst as more oxygen got in amongst the kindle. The Guy crumpled further in, and she watched the flames lick at the remainder of him. She gave pause, loneliness crept into her heart and head having not been here long. Where she came from people gathered in droves to burn the guy and tonight, it had been almost silent, almost as if there was a curfew on the place.

“Pfft… That’s why you took tomorrow off.”” she said. More to herself than anyone because there was no one around! To have the freedom to connect with her own history and get unruly. The left side of her face quirked in amusement. Good job, she would be in for a killer hangover with what she had brought to drink this night.

The woman then moved over to the edge of the water, peering over the water’s surface and along the length of the docks noting some of the docked boats looked vacant and ready for inspection. “Perhaps even, occupation!” She stated almost triumphantly but mostly decisively and viewed the fire slightly askance in her line of vision. Plot and plan made in a fraction of a second. The plot? Burn a boat. The plan? Swim over there and make it happen!

Faye dropped her bottle and began divesting herself of her anorak. The red yarn jumper with a wheat sheaf design running up the front was discarded, leaving her glasses askew on her face before she began unbuckling her belt and wriggled from her jeans. Each sock was removed from her feet as she made the attempts unbalanced, almost toppling over a few times before righting herself. Wrinkling her features, Faye pushed the bridge of her glasses up her nose with her middle finger and straightened down her over-sized t-**** with a look of determination that sat almost awkwardly under her mantle of disheveled hair.

Slowly, she moved closer to the water’s edge. Her plan faltered. The coolness of the autumn air coupled with the lower temperature of the water sent goose pimples along her otherwise smooth flesh and caused her to curse under her breath. Maybe it was just the alcohol. The left foot stepped into the ebb and flow and chills shot up her leg. Faye bit down on her tongue and danced around like a fool at the pain before turning back to the water.

“Buggar it…” She cursed her doubt, cursed the cold and praised her plan. Maybe this is how Guy Fawkes felt in taking down parliament, except for she only planned to take down a boat. The woman splashed in hap-hazardously into the docks and when she found some depth. She dove in.

Watching as the girl undressed and decided to take the dive into the chill waters of the river, he raised a brow and pursed his lips as he admired the spunk the girl clearly had. Though it could have just been she was clearly intoxicated and her inhibition levels were near non-existant, he still found it amusing. It brought back fond memories of his own as he watched her swimming; recalling a time he'd gone to Big Bear to hold a Body Art Exhibit. He and some of the other artists had decided in a drunken stupor to swim the lake naked ... in January. Because who doesn't enjoy hypothermia right?

Watching her carefully it suddenly became clear that she very well could wind up trying to jump on board his boat. If she were to make such an attempt and found the cabin in such disarray, let alone a body on the bed, it would surely raise an alarm and compromise this location. Perhaps if it were just him, he wouldn't mind all that much; but he knew there were other vampires holed up here in boats as well. That'd be a sure fire way to move him to the unpopular list.

Setting down the make-shift glass, he made his way over to the bed and grabbed the end of the plastic sheeting. Taking the end and tossing it over the body of the girl, he began to roll her up in it fold over the ends to ensure no blood would go leaking all over the place. Psyche grabbed the large roll of electrical tape and began securing the ends to the rest of the bag until the girl was properly wrapped.

Looking through the bag at the girl's compressed face contained within, he ran his fingers over the surface and sighed. He'd have liked to work more with her skin while it was still so fresh, but it would have to wait. Picking up the body and hauling it over his shoulder, he carried the girl over to the closet door, opening it and dropping the body inside before closing it back up.

"Damnit, girl. I really hate altering my plans."

Having disposed of the mess, Psyche headed back up the stairs topside...

Damnit!

It had been a miscalculation to dive into the November waters with no thermal swimwear. Her teeth began to chitter and her breast stroke falters. To be fair, it wasn’t that fluid to begin with. What with the alcohol that swirled around her system. Thankfully it was though, she had thought it was helping stave off the extreme cold that bit at her fingers and toes.

Nearly there...

Faye pushed herself on, the dock was so close and it helped push her forward as she moved her arms in an awkward front crawl. Her hands did not slice through the water and her legs batted their force against the surface of the water. Not a very stealthy operation and to her bleary eye, Faye noticed as she neared the dock the boat she had aimed for was nowhere in sight as she came between two moored boats. Her hap hazardous swimming slowed as she neared a ladder to climb causing her to drop below the water level. She panicked, gulped in a mouthful of water and kicked in a frenzy. Her hands wove circles in the water to keep her afloat before she broke the surface and gasped for breath and inhaling the bays dirty water.

Coughing, the woman hooked an arm on a ladders rung trying to shift the choking feeling, goosebumps ran the length of her skin as it hit the frigid air.

“Yeah…” she half coughed out. “Right bright spark you are.” It dawned on her then that her plan was full of flaws as she bobbed slightly in the canter of the water. Her glasses were gone, so her sight was even more blurry than the simple effects of alcohol. She was freezing. Would she have found something to start a fire? Would her hands have functioned after the swim?

“Shoulda just stayed on the other side…” Faye shook her head before turning fully to the ladder and ungainly clambering up it. Feet and hands were not in full cooperation and at the top, she crawled shivering onto the dock and looked towards the two closest boats. Thinking not of some gun powder treason plot but which one would be vacant for her to get some heat in.

The water from the bay was dripping from her, unsteadily Faye rose to her knees and ran her hands through her bobbed hair to squeegee as much as she could out. It poured down her back and caused her to shiver more, teeth began to chatter. She then grabbed as much of her sodden t-shirt as possible to wring it out, the cold water splattered against her toes. This night was turning out to be bad enough to take the week off work.

Faye, was now as dry as she could get. Which wasn’t very! Both of the boats near her looked pretty empty, but her eyesight was bad. There was now potential for another miscalculation on her part. But she needed warmth knowing she wouldn’t make it back to where she left her fire, which was now a blur in her line of view. She puffed out air and made her way to the boat that looked easy enough to get on board, hoping that whoever it belonged too, had some cosy clothes.

During his ascension topside, he'd heard the girl pulling herself up out of the water onto the docks. Into the shadows of the upper-deck, he tucked himself away behind the steering column and watched her with intrigue. She was a curious creature, for sure, and quite frankly he wasn't sure what to make of her at all. So far, his evening had been spoiled. He'd really hoped he could get away from the nuances of both faction and blood and spend some time alone, left to his own devices. That didn't seem in the cards tonight. His dinner'd been stopped short and left half-sated, his art project had been forced to be ruined and the precision of his work hindered. To say Psyche was irritated would've been greatly understated, but the mannerisms of this girl had his curiosity piqued and perhaps an evening could still be made after all.

He duck-walked himself over to the side of the ship, to better allow him to catch a clear gaze of the girl. Her wet carcass seemed to be standing there upon the docks looking for a potential ship to board.

Damnit, girl. Of course you'd be wanting to play Dread Pirate Robinson at THIS boat.

And there she went, obviously in the mindset that this was the ship to conquer. She hadn't the clue that now by default she'd volunteered herself as the toy of the evening. The cabin was still in a mess of sorts, despite the protective sheeting to guard his bedding. Obviously with her being THIS snoopy, she'd find the body in the closet and if left unattended the police would be hawking over this private get-away like flies on ****. That couldn't happen. He liked this quiet spot too much. She'd just have to get snuffed out and perhaps tossed in the river, he guessed.

A shame. You're drunken antics could've proved a continued amusement had you just stayed across the river.

Watching as she made her way to the boat he'd have to sit back and wait for an opportune moment to 'Meet and Greet'...

“Oh cosy boat… where for art thou cosy boat?” She chattered as her muscles began to seize. The world was just a fuzzy mess as Faye felt and shuffled her way along the railings to the boat which felt almost warm to her touch. The goose bumps the ran the course of her flesh felt like they were going to burst and turn her into a million pieces before she reached her destination. Her mind then wondered into thinking if she did shatter, would she feel warmer in tiny pieces? Would the tiny atoms bounce more quickly like little bits of jelly wobbling on a plate causing better friction, thus more heat?

She tittered and chattered at the thought, at the imagery her drunken mind created. She was not paying attention to where she was going. She knew she was at the boat but her vision did not show an easy access point that she thought she saw way back then. Faye let go of the railings and flexed her hands to try getting the circulation around her digits. She would have to board by force! But boy was she worried that the attempt would land her straight back in the water, maybe even crushed under the bulkhead. Faye rubbed her eyes and gave herself a jerky shake.

“Ready or not…” Her mind wavered more on the not but she resolved heat was more important.
Clambering onto the railing a leg got swung over. Faye had some balance but only momentarily. Her thighs tightened together as she felt her body topple. Not the normal type of sober topple, it was like she was already hanging upside down like a monkey on waltzers. Faye’s hands reached for the boats hull and grabbed what felt like rope the ran along the top that caused her body to stretch, her thighs tightened their grip more as did her fingers, knuckles going white and she hung there for what seemed like an eternity afraid to move.

“Jolly good, old sir…” Faye’s voice broke through the chattering with a well to do English gentleman’s accent before returning to her own. “F***** that up well and good.”

Well, holy s**t. You couldn't ask for more opportune than that. The girl was three sheets to the wind and now caught up in the rigging. Giving his head a slow shake, Psyche stood and inched his way over to the side railing. Taking a moment to drink in the current scenario, he watched the limp-bodied, babbling girl hang there swaying to the rhythm of the ocean. He looked up to the night sky and raised up both hands in mock praise, "I suppose I should be pouring thanks, now? Just giving away free gifts? I'm the lucky winner? Pffftt, whatever."

Leaning over the rail, he inclined his head to get a better look at her. Such a pretty bauble. Skin like fine cream. He breathed in heavily and took in her scent, allowing a moment to distinguish between her smell and that of the ocean breeze. Before he realized what he was even doing, his hand was carressing her leg with the slightest, feathery touch. "Well, my sweet hibiscus flower, you seem to come bringing me signs of better things. My message in a bottle. Let's get you inside, lest you catch cold."

Bracing her back with one hand, he deftly untangled the rope and freed the girl from the side of the boat. He tucked his hands under her arms and reeled her up, bringing her into a cradled carry and starting towards the cabin. It was obvious she wasn't unconscious, but she certainly wasn't lucid either. She'd offer no fight, surely.

Descending the steps into the cabin, Psyche brought her to the bed and set her down atop the patchwork quilt. Laying beside her, his face remained inches away from her own as he studied the contours of her skin. His fingers softly tracing along the surface of her cheek with infinite appreciation and enamoured curiosity.

"Oh, my little china doll. You are a pretty pretty, aren't you?"

The chilled November air was biting at her cold, damp skin and Faye felt her fingers strain to keep gripping the rope. Her wet t-shirt did nothing to protect her; in fact the way in which she was currently hanging caused it to sag away from her back and allow the breeze from the water below lift and creep along her spine. Next year a tamer solitary excursion would be on the cards, none of these rambunctious drunken endeavours. That line of thought however did not solve the problem with the now.

Lost in a maze of thought to solve the issue, Faye barely heard a voice from almost above her. Her lips moved as if to say hello but no voice came out as she peered up to the sky to view a face. The eye sockets were as black as the sky overhead but lacked the pinhole stars, Faye merely put it down to the fact that her drunken state and lack of glasses did not provide 20/20 vision. Faye did not feel his touch against her numb skin but heard the word inside. Inside was good, outside not so much.

“Cooollld…” She breathed through tight lips, her mouth unable to form the audible ‘d’ sound and she groaned as she felt herself being fished off the double ended mess she’d landed herself into. The hands that touched her were probably only a degree or two warmer than she was and as she ascended a chortled fell from her mouth thinking her saviour was something straight out of Conan short story. She wanted to poke its eye socket and rummage around.

That thought quickly dispersed as he’d held her to him and moved further onto the boat. Faye let out a small ‘mmm’ as she tried to ball herself up. The lids of her eyes felt heavy, her mind wandered nowhere in particular and the blurry images of the world were closed off as if all her focus was on the source of the heat.

She felt the departure of his body and hands as she was placed on the bed, right side down. Faye stayed in the fetal position as her left arm grabbed or was it fumbled around to pull some sort of cover over her, the bed moved under his weight causing her to roll slightly on her face. She scrunched her nose up and awkwardly pulled something over the majority of her freezing form.

Immediate heat began wrapping around her as if it were cotton wool. The woman blinked a few times trying to focus in front of her. Was his face really that close? A blur in her vision then a touch was felt on her bare skin. Closing her left eye and scrunching her right she was attempting depth perception but it was the feel of puffs of air that let her know just how close the man was, it should have worried her. It would under normal circumstances that did not involve alcohol and a chill but all she cared about was that she was both warming and beginning to dry. Though a change of clothes was in order and it would appear she would not have to pinch them.

Psyche wrote:"Oh, my little china doll. You are a pretty pretty, aren't you?"

“Pretty … darn drunk!” She responded softly waiting for her body to function in a somewhat normal fashion. “Stupid… thoughtless… wet… cold…” The list was endless; her view of him wasn’t getting much clearer though she looked straight at him as if she could see every detail of his skin. “I need my glasses… you still partying like its Halloween?”

He was being creepy too. Serves you damn right for thinking you could swim drunkenly and board a boat as if you were the Queen of the Black Coast. Drunk too! I said that! Minus a cutlass and the ability to use it… poke his nose hole! With that string of thought in her mind she started laughing in jerky and almost uncontrollable movements.