La Bella Liza De Mi Amor ( Vaas \ Liza )

For EroomAlly  - The song I used as inspiration ( because I always loved the idea of Vaas and his pirates being secret fans of Hispanic Chancones when they're especially drunk and emotional. Shhh.  ) | x |



 




Liza was never the type to succumb to petty, commonplace seductions - oh, no.


She was the level-headed, calm, responsible, watchful, pedantic type alongside poor Grant and Daisy. The residential adult that stood between Riley, Olly, Keith, Vincent and Jason ever since their mischievous, playful younger days. Especially Jason. The one who partied, danced, traveled, dashed from place to place and drank away most of his green years in shady, neon clubs worldwide the tickets for which he bought through Mrs. Brody's pension checks. Liza was well-aware that was steady beyond her years, yes. She was often told that she acted more like a caretaker, older sibling and a mother to Jason then an actual significant other. She wasn't wounded, in fact, she felt honored to be the wise one here, in this group of rag-tag, drunken, carefree tourists in a strange place at a strange time - so when she was approached by other men, foreigners and locals alike, which was often, she had to admit - she politely, kindly rejected them, explaining that she had a boyfriend who was somewhere on the dance-floor, jumping his ass off. She knew better. She was loyal to a fault. She was waiting for Jason. She was waiting for years now - but, it would pay off one day, she kept telling herself. He had potential. She could feel it. Women could feel such things. One day she would grow into the man she desired and needed. He would transform. He would evolve. He would become better. That was both a self-comfort and a hope she had going constantly, for the past several months now. But, when they were caught on their disaster of a vacation, something happened to her. Something suddenly changed. There was something odd about one of their captives - about this Vaas man. He wasn't even her type. She liked her sweet, smiling, charming schoolboys with those puppy-looks, athletic build and messy hairs. Her picture-perfect, poster, boy-band archetype. She always did, despite of getting teased and poked for it. Montenegro or whatever his name was, well now - he was out of his mind - clearly. A textbook sociopath. A murderer. A torturer. A savage. True - handsome as they come, sadly - in that Latin, sun-kissed, rugged, wicked way. She wondered why madmen had to be attractive? Would have been so much easier if they were as repulsive on the outside as they were on the inside. But, no - he was a looker. The kind which scared her, if going for all honesty. He had no understanding of personal space, norms or boundaries. Or mercy, really. So far, he's taunted her, he's recorded her, he's threatened her and he's made her cry multiple times. Sure - fairly mild compared to what he's done to others. Like Vincent. Or Grant. Oh, Grant. How she shuddered with disgust at the thought. So when he toyed with her in this intimate, almost endearing, darling way, whispering wonderful, odd Spanish nothings in her ear and showering above her like a panther about to strike, she was convinced it was entirely to spite Jason if they ever have a showdown. To rub it in somehow. To fuck with her mind. With Jason's mind. With everyone's mind. His own, even.

Or simply because he could.

Especially because he could, goddamnit.

She swore she heard trumpets in the distance - or maybe not.

They did drug her beforehand, she distantly managed to recall

Everything was possible here - this island was evil.

Evil, despite of all it's natural beautiful.

Not right - neither was he.

-"Niña, is the pasty white boy really worth waiting for that much, hmm? Tell me? Is Jason really that good? Es un buen amante, no? Does he have a bigger dick then me? Does he fuck you right? I wanna try him too. That translucent ass. No, no - not that I don't admire the loyalty towards our loved ones - no, no! But, you know - a man. Un hombre! Un hombre is like the jungle! Like my jungle. You might think you've tamed it, explored it, conquered it, but, really - it serves no one. No woman. No one. Not even itself. Me entendies, no? Amorsito? Me entendies? I know you do. You're a smart lady, aren't you?"-

When he spoke in that sultry, seductive way, his native accent melding with that of a Spaniard, it was like the incoming tidal slash of the blue ocean around them blurred by the hooded eaves of the distant, dangerous wilderness - caressing, warm - but salty, cruel, aching, searing, unpredictable - he was right, in a sense, maybe. Vaas was frighteningly perceptive, in fact. Terribly intelligent. Not that she'd admit it to a freak openly. He'd gloat way too much for her tastes and she only had that much strength to resist him left in her. She was broken but not entirely without pride despite of being in less then a flattering situation, practically pinned beneath her captor's nude, sweaty torso. Jason simply had to waste all his batteries her mind kept telling her, flashing back and forth in a panicky state of delirium. To get tired from running. From experiencing. From craving. From being tireless - and she'd let him. She couldn't force the process of maturing, much like an artist couldn't rush the completion of a complex painting. Boys always needed far longer to grow anyway. Common known fact. She's knew that much since before collage. But, when he does run out of breath - Jason, she was sure, would be a worthy investment for the future. Suddenly, she felt fairly confident and brave, as she spoke again - her voice suddenly giving out her - manifesting a breathless, hushed squeak instead. Her body was betraying her despite of her struggle. This could almost be a scene from a silver-screen back in acting classes with all it's romance, pirates and swoon - except, it was. It was everything but. The only thing only her mind was her boyfriend and if he was alive, alright, safe, sound, warm, clean, well-fed, unharmed. She really was like more like a doting mother-hen then a partner.

-"No, I believe in Jason. He's gonna come back for me. For us all. We're gonna go home safe and sound. Let me go!"

As soon as the lines were spoken, some dark, hidden, nameless part of her understood that it was a beautiful lie - Vaas caught the insecurity instantly, smiling - a line of perfect pearls - way too much like an angel would.

-"Hermosa. Tu familia? Your family's going to forget you. Forget you. They forget everyone. Always. That's what families do. Sí? Your family is the anchor when you're the Tita..."-

She's heard this speech before.

Over and over again, until it stuck firmly inside of ber brain.

She was convinced Vaas didn't realize he was repeating himself like clockwork.

She was far too afraid to point it out.

Far too petrified, even.

He might kill her for it.

Or worse.

In that moment, sadly, despite of dissociating out of sanity and reality, somewhere, in a realm of sobering, haunting fantasy, Liza might have actually believed him.

Jason would return changed or not return at all.