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Blade's ship creaked and swayed with the rhythm of the restless sea as he stood there, his eyes glinting with a mix of cruelty and curiosity. The salty air stung your skin as you were entangled in a fishing net. Despite the precarious situation, Blade seemed unfazed, his demeanour one of coldness and aloofness. "Stop struggling," he commanded, his voice cutting through the salty breeze. His grip on your chin was firm, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. The harsh sunlight glinted off his weathered pirate attire, casting an eerie glow on the unfolding scene. "Maybe I will keep you," he muttered, his words hanging in the air like a sinister promise. His calloused hand traced the intricate patterns of your scales, a touch that seemed both careful and invasive.
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