Still stuck on Pirates...
Jul. 23rd, 2007 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dwgmWhile the rest of the flist is absorbed in the Potterverse, I'm still stuck on Pirates.
This is a follow-up to Not Working. Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
choose2live for the beta help, and to artaxastra, along with apologies, for blatant use of her post-AWE universe.
~ Going Home ~
There was a bump, and a low splash, and Jack started awake, though he managed not to yelp. Then he looked quickly around and had to stifle another yelp: Shipwreck Island, twenty yards off the port bow of his dinghy, which was bobbing gently in the clear sea this fine morning.
"Bloody Hell!" he said aloud, then started again as a gray dolphin with merry eyes popped out of the water. She flicked Jack with a fan of droplets and chattered. Jack scowled at her. "And just what're you laughing at?"
The dolphin glided by the boat, circled, then arched playfully, right out of the water, half soaking Jack's coat on reentering her element.
"All right, all right!" Jack shouted, and struggled up, seating himself upon the thwart and grabbing the oars. "Bloody managing FISH!"
She surfaced again, scolding, then, with a final splash, took herself off.
"Good riddance."
Fine, defiant words, but quite at odds with his feeling of abandonment.
Shipwreck Island. Wherein lay Shipwreck Cove, infamous Shipwreck City, and all the many problematic inhabitants thereof, including Captain Grant Teague and, presumably, Jack's beautiful nemesis, Captain Elizabeth Turner, King of Pirates.
Will's words came back as Jack rowed, clear as the morning air. "Jack, when you see Elizabeth, tell her... tell her... oh, God! Just tell her I love her. And that I miss her. Will you do that?" You'd have thought he was yet that green lad Jack had confronted in Brown's smithy nearly three years back, rather than Calypso's immortal Ferryman.
"Dunno where she is," Jack had protested, muzzily.
"I'm sending you to her. Don't worry!" There'd been other words, and Will's sweet smile, but they'd faded as Jack had tumbled into dreamless, restful sleep -- a spell of some sort, no doubt, for how else had the whelp been able to magick him here, three hundred miles from where he'd been picked up? Three hundred miles from where he wanted to be!
He stopped rowing for a moment. Keeping an eye out for that nagging cetacean, he checked to see what Will had left him. The chart, in its waterproof case. An unopened bottle of that excellent rum they'd shared the night before. But that was it.
Jack gave a huff of annoyance, and then reached for the rum. He took a swig, washing the stale taste from his mouth. Then, aware that he was pretty much stale all over, he dabbed a bit here and there, on his coat, his breeches...
He stopped and burst out laughing. Mad Jack Sparrow. "Well, who wouldn't be, eh?" he said, aloud.
His da would shake his head over it. And Lizzie... well, it was her own damn fault, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
Tell her I love her...
These were some deep waters they were getting into here. Didn't Will know of his ill-advised but apparently unavoidable dreams? He rather thought he'd mentioned it, sometime after they'd broached the second bottle.
I'm sending you to her. Don't worry! I'm sending you home!
Home. That was what he'd said.
"Don't do me any favors," Jack muttered, lying to the ambient air.
Home.
Such as it was.
He carefully corked the bottle and tucked it away, and picked up the oars again. Captain Jack Sparrow was going... home.
~.~
This is a follow-up to Not Working. Many thanks to
choose2live for the beta help, and to artaxastra, along with apologies, for blatant use of her post-AWE universe.~ Going Home ~
There was a bump, and a low splash, and Jack started awake, though he managed not to yelp. Then he looked quickly around and had to stifle another yelp: Shipwreck Island, twenty yards off the port bow of his dinghy, which was bobbing gently in the clear sea this fine morning.
"Bloody Hell!" he said aloud, then started again as a gray dolphin with merry eyes popped out of the water. She flicked Jack with a fan of droplets and chattered. Jack scowled at her. "And just what're you laughing at?"
The dolphin glided by the boat, circled, then arched playfully, right out of the water, half soaking Jack's coat on reentering her element.
"All right, all right!" Jack shouted, and struggled up, seating himself upon the thwart and grabbing the oars. "Bloody managing FISH!"
She surfaced again, scolding, then, with a final splash, took herself off.
"Good riddance."
Fine, defiant words, but quite at odds with his feeling of abandonment.
Shipwreck Island. Wherein lay Shipwreck Cove, infamous Shipwreck City, and all the many problematic inhabitants thereof, including Captain Grant Teague and, presumably, Jack's beautiful nemesis, Captain Elizabeth Turner, King of Pirates.
Will's words came back as Jack rowed, clear as the morning air. "Jack, when you see Elizabeth, tell her... tell her... oh, God! Just tell her I love her. And that I miss her. Will you do that?" You'd have thought he was yet that green lad Jack had confronted in Brown's smithy nearly three years back, rather than Calypso's immortal Ferryman.
"Dunno where she is," Jack had protested, muzzily.
"I'm sending you to her. Don't worry!" There'd been other words, and Will's sweet smile, but they'd faded as Jack had tumbled into dreamless, restful sleep -- a spell of some sort, no doubt, for how else had the whelp been able to magick him here, three hundred miles from where he'd been picked up? Three hundred miles from where he wanted to be!
He stopped rowing for a moment. Keeping an eye out for that nagging cetacean, he checked to see what Will had left him. The chart, in its waterproof case. An unopened bottle of that excellent rum they'd shared the night before. But that was it.
Jack gave a huff of annoyance, and then reached for the rum. He took a swig, washing the stale taste from his mouth. Then, aware that he was pretty much stale all over, he dabbed a bit here and there, on his coat, his breeches...
He stopped and burst out laughing. Mad Jack Sparrow. "Well, who wouldn't be, eh?" he said, aloud.
His da would shake his head over it. And Lizzie... well, it was her own damn fault, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
Tell her I love her...
These were some deep waters they were getting into here. Didn't Will know of his ill-advised but apparently unavoidable dreams? He rather thought he'd mentioned it, sometime after they'd broached the second bottle.
I'm sending you to her. Don't worry! I'm sending you home!
Home. That was what he'd said.
"Don't do me any favors," Jack muttered, lying to the ambient air.
Home.
Such as it was.
He carefully corked the bottle and tucked it away, and picked up the oars again. Captain Jack Sparrow was going... home.
~.~