and seaweed, awaiting her arrival for when she'll finally set him free.
The shipwrecks creak and crumble on the reefs, rotting timbers tumbling aside. Dead men lay strewn across the rocks, eyes still open and mouths working. Snow begins to fall as he presses his icy body against hers.
He hungers, but she does as well. This, perhaps, is how it's always been meant to be, with one desire played against the other. She tries to hold on but as he moves to her throat, she knows he only wants blood and companionship. Even the dead...especially the dead...can be beset by loneliness.
"Soon, Tyree. Be on the lookout for me. We'll have an end to it, one way or another."
She is a pirate, and she's not afraid of blood.
Reaching, as his lips skim the veins of her throat, she pulls open the shutters and looks down below at all the writhing shadows and souls cast in these dark waters.