"Soracha. Ship's doctor."
"My doctor, Soracha."
"The ship's doctor."
That was how she was usually introduced or referred to.
She was a doctor. A self-taught female doctor on a pirate ship.
A doctor who spent most of her days at sea healing injuries after battles and treating illnesses, teaching herself a little more with every patient who made a successful recovery.
A doctor who ignored her own physical and mental state until she was sure anyone and everyone who needed her attention had received it.
Soracha was a doctor.
But the wanted poster, which bore a badly-drawn image that vaguely resembled her, as well as her first name misspelled, didn't list the word "Doctor" anywhere.
Instead it said :- "Wanted for murder, torture, mutilation, violent interrogation techniques, threatening authority with sharp instruments, aiding a known fugitive from justice, associating with known pirates, and other crimes of a similar manner."
"How is even possible to misspell Soracha?" Edward Teague asked, gesturing to the poster on the table in the surgery.
"Technically, I misspell it. That spellings right, with no first "A". The way I spell it is an Anglicised version, that's the Gaelic," Soracha explained, a grin playing on her lips as she glanced at him.
"That "known fugitive from justice" is you by the way."
"Well I learned something today. And I'd already figured that out."
"Good. It's about time ye learned something."
Soracha grinned again as she teased him.
He grinned back, elbowing her lightly in the ribs.
Her eyes fell on the poster again.
"So, I'm a murderer, torturer, violent and considered "threatening" with sharp instruments, otherwise known as knives."
Soracha ran a hand through her hair.
"I'm a wanted criminal now," she murmured. "When I only went to sea to get away from Torryn. I'm a doctor."
"Does it bother ye?" Teague asked.
"Nah, not really," Soracha replied, shaking her head.
After a moment, she smiled.
"It amuses me actually, that I'm a wanted woman. I don't really know why, but I find something funny in it."
"I find it funny that the EITC are scared enough of you that they want you dead."
Soracha's grin turned dangerous, a menacing look suddenly darkening her emerald-green eyes.
"They fuckin' should be. They all should be scared of me, every last bloody one of 'em. Cause they've done a few things I owe them a visit for."
Her dark gaze flickered to Teague's wrist, though the brand that lay there currently couldn't be seen, hidden under the lace on his shirt cuffs.
She looked back at the poster.
"They'll find out first hand just how good I am at threatening, torture and murder."
Standing, she drew the two long knives from their scabbards on her back, twirling the gleaming blades casually.
"Your doctor shall be back in an hour or so. She's off to be a murderer now."
With that, Soracha left the ship, blades ready.
She wasn't a doctor at the moment.
She was an assassin.