Tornas did not much care for Turtle Harbor. He had beed sailing with a pirate crew for over a year now but he still found the blatant dishonesty of the town distasteful. For one thing there were no turtles in Turtle Harbor and for another the barely protected waters of the port scarcely classified it as a harbor to his mind. But perhaps worst of all was the fact that the whole town was run by the thieve's guild. He could live on a ship and work with thieves that was no problem, but buying from thieves was completely different. To make matters worse it was not as if knowing they were thieves and trying to drive down their price was any good. There were enough hapless idiot sailors that came through the port that the thieves were not worried about loosing the custom of someone in the know.

He did not know why, given his hate for the town, but he found himself walking up the road into the port. “It was good to be in port” he tried to tell himself. After all once the repairs were made and the prisoners ransomed there would be money to spend even if it wouldn't go far in a thieve's port. Tor was not especially convinced by his argument. He thought to himself that he should just turn around and go back to the ship but he found himself still walking up one of the streets that lead to the market square. He saw up ahead of him, standing on a crate a man with a book and a staff who seemed to be shouting about some religion. Tor walked by him and paid him no mind.

“But wait, Brother! I see you bear our goddess's mark! Come it is so good to meet another faithful so far from home” the man hoped down and attempted to embrace Tornas who stepped back and blocked the man with his staff. Tor felt old fear creep up his spine.

“But brother you are a member of our order. You are marked for our goddess.” the man said.

Tornas looked at the intricate scarification on his forearm, twin snakes coiled around a cat of nine tails, and grimaced.

“This was a decision made for me,” he said holding up his arm “leaving the monastery was a decision I made for myself.” Tor said and attempted to walk away.

“Oh but brother you know you can always return. We live in a world full of suffering and pain and it can all be offered up to her.” The proselytizer said blocking him.

“Well she never seemed too concerned with anything I had to offer.” Tor said again attempting to dismiss.

“You must have faith brother.” the proselytizer insisted.

“Do not call me that, I am not your brother” Tor said anger starting to come up over fear.

“Then what can I call you?” the proselytizer asked.

“Oh his name is Tornas” Lark said seeming to appear out of nowhere.

“Brother Tornas,” the man said as Tor suppressed a shiver “yes I think I have even heard of you.” the man took a step closer forcing Tor to back up to maintain distance. “The prodigal son. You know you can always come home. He really wants you back and your brothers all miss you.” the proselytizer said.

Tor clenched his jaw momentarily paralyzed.

“His home is on the ship, so we will be heading back now.” Lark said and took Tornas by the elbow and steered him back down the street towards the water.

“You can always come home brother!” the proselytizer called after them “we're all waiting for your return!”

“Well that guys seems like a creep. Makes me feel better about stealing his alms.” Lark said showing Tor the money pouch he had taken off the man.

“What?” Tor said still shaken from the encounter and momentarily bewildered.

“Yeah, I usually don't steal from holy people, it's the kind of thing that would make my mom sad, but his whole things just seemed a little...yikes.” Lark answered.

“Yikes is one way to put it.” Tornas said.

“I take it you don't want to talk about why he was calling you brother and referring to you as the prodigal son.” Lark asked.

“Nope” Tor responded.

“Right then, you should probably head back to the ship. I am going to go spend a holy man's money on a prostitute. I've had some time to think since Lucille and there are some things I would like to try.” Lark said visibly excited.

“What could you possibly have thought of--” Tor began

“See you back onboard.” Lark cut him off and disappeared down an alley.

Tor watched him go and headed back to the ship. He hated Turtle Harbor.

#####

"It's a dress." Dimitri explained

"It is fabric for a dress, for a child" Petra countered

Dimitri laughed. "There are many different ways to where it. And where we are going it will be warmer. You where to much kitten. Try it on."

Petra regarded him skeptically for a moment. "Alright, I will try it on" she walked over to her bag and pulled out a dressing screen.

"Petsha" Dimitri laughed, “there is no need for this.”

"I am changing my clothes, do not look." Petra replied stubbornly as she opened the screen in front of her.

"Petsha," Dimitri prodded "do you need help"

"Dima, I can manage!" She retorted.

Dimitri took a step back chuckling to himself.

Petra stepped stiffly put from behind the screen. Her arms were bare But he could see she had kept on her petticoat and stays.

"There is not enough dress in this dress" Petra protested turning around.

"I think it looks very well on you." Dimitri smiled and stepped closer to her.

Petra took a shy step back as Dimitri put his hands on her waist.

"But kitten, are all the under things really necessary."

Petsha blushed a bright red, removed his hands and stepped away from him.

"They are necessary to me" she said with all the conviction she could muster.

"Petsha, Petra I'm sorry" he tried to step towards her but she maintained distance. "I did not mean to cause offense. I'm sorry Petrianna, please forgive me." He entreated.

"It is fine Dima, only that, you stand too close sometimes." Petra said looking down at the floor.

"I stand too close?" he asked taking a step towards her.

"Yes, Dima" she said.

"Is this too close?" He asked advancing.

"No" Petra said.

"And this?" He asked. Stepping closer again.

Petra put her hand out to his chest to stop him coming closer.

"That is close enough." She said eyes darting between his face and the floor

"Always?" He asked pressing against her hand to step closer.

"Not always" Petra conceded bending her elbow to let him closer.

"Petsha." He said his diminutive form of her name. He was right in front of her again. His hands at his sides looking down into her with green grey eyes. "You must tell me when I am wrong. I do not want to make you uncomfortable kitten."

"I do like the dress Dima. Thank you" she said looking down.

He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look in her eyes. "You're welcome, Petsha." He touched his forehead briefly to hers. "I think i should leave you to your privacy now no?" He said taking a step away.

"Yes," she managed "thank you Dima, and thank you for the dress."

"You are welcome Petsha." He took her hand laid a light kiss across her knuckles and went back above deck.

Petra watched him walk away. She could like this. She told herself. She could like his attention and his touch. She could like this. She did like this. She liked it. She liked him