The Raven and the Sea
Jan. 2nd, 2007 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriTitle: The Raven and the Sea
Word Count:
Status: incomplete, on hold
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG13
Comments: Characterization, scenery, plot (even though there's not much to go on)
Chapter 1: Empty Seas and Abandoned Isles
"Now this be an interesting turn of events," mused Jack to himself as he looked around himself. Open ocean streched around the Black Pearl to the horizon in three directions as she tacked towards a small harbor. Without a crew, and no sign of the kraken anywhere.
"Where are you taking me, luv?" He stroked one hand along an unsplintered rail that he didn't recall repairing, or having repaired. A rail that shouldn't be there. In fact, as he recalled with a sardonic smile, he probably shouldn't be there, with the kraken having claimed his ship and himself.
Jack shook his head, lightly leaping up the ladder to grasp the wheel, watching as the port came nearer. He didn't recognize it, and it looked to be deserted. "Odd." He frowned, his eyes searching what he could see of the houses that peeked from the thick vegetation further from the harbor itself, only to find no more sign of inhabitation than he could see at the port.
A plague, perhaps? There certainly weren't the signs of destruction that would come from a port being sacked, and even then, Jack expected there would still be people to rebuild the place. Not an eerily empty port. Without even bodies on the streets to indicate people had died there, and not had the man power to bury the dead.
Jack sailed into the port with a strange sense of forboding as he did his best to bring in the Pearl's sails himself. It took him a long moment to place his unease. There weren't even the sounds of sea-birds or small animals, nothing but the quiet sound of water against the dock pilings. Even the wind had gone still, as the Pearl floated gently into an empty bearth.
With a frown, Jack ran out the gang plank before taking up the mooring ropes, his footsteps loud in the unnatural silence of the empty harbor. Once the Pearl was secured, he turned his attention to the town. He needed supplies, and he needed a crew.
"Well, there'll be no crew to sign the articles here," he muttered to himself, slowly making his way down the dock, alert for any sign of inhabitation, even by wildlife. The first buildings he encountered appeared to be taverns, their windows dark and grimy, doors shut firmly shut against... what?
Stepping up to one of the buildings, Jack reached out one hand to shove against the door, his eyebrows going up when it slowly opened, the leather hinges protesting loudly in the silence. Nothing stirred, except dust motes in the air, and inside, Jack could see no one. Not even a body.
"There's no one here."
Jack spun, cutlass in hand, his heart racing at the sound of a voice in a town that appeared dead. He tilted his head, his brows knotting together in a frown as he surveyed the empty street. Where had the voice come from?
He slowly sheathed his sword once more, peering around the buildings along the street, and into the windows. No one, and nothing, still. Jack made his way up the street into the main part of town, where shop windows were coated in salt scum, and behind them, goods were covered with dust. As if everyone left, taking every living thing with them, and leaving everything else behind.
"Perhaps not everything."
Jack spun around rapidly, his one hand dropping to his sword again. "Who's there?"
"I'm not there, Jack Sparrow. I'm here."
"Where?" He still saw nothing, as he turned in a circle, searching for the owner of the voice. Female, he thought, and excellent at hiding.
No response came from the owner of the voice, and Jack smiled briefly, the expression one of annoyance. He headed for a shop whose sign indicated it was a general store, where he might be able to procure supplies. The door opened easily under his hand, and Jack peered in cautiously, looking for any sign of his mysterious companion. One who, come to think, appeared to be able to read his thoughts.
"Now that's just silly."
Jack spun, stumbling over his boots, certain the person had to be behind him, again.
"Would you quit that!" He batted at the air, as if trying to shoo away something, a scowl on his face. "You're not real. Go away."
A chuckle came from thevoice. "You're more perceptive than I thought, Jack Sparrow. But if I'm not real, then neither are you, nor is this place. Could you accept that?"
Jack's scowl softened into a frown. "Who are you?"
"Just another lost soul."
"I'm not lost." Jack stood up, brushing himelf off. "Just a bit uncertain where I've made port." He turned back to the store, examining the goods. They appeared perfectly preserved, despite the state of the town. Barrels of bright red apples and fragrent oranges, of hard biscuits and salted meat were stacked around, along with a variety of luxery foods and staples.
He smiled to himself, reaching out to pick up an apple, and polishing it on his sleeve before taking a bite of it. "Tastes real enough, luv, whoever you are. Wherever you are." He grinned, and headed for the door, looking for a cart he could use to transport the supplies to the Pearl.
It took him most of an hour to locate a cart, the voice remaining silent as Jack wandered through the empty town. Only as he began to wheel the cart back towards the store, singing loudly to himsef, did he hear something besides himself again.
The sharp cry of a bird drew his eyes skyward, the song dying on his lips as he let the cart handles go in order to pull his cutlass free. Above him, on the roof of one of the small houses huddled close to the road, perched a large black bird, head tilted sideways to watch him through one glittering dark eye.
"He's often more trouble than he's worth. But he does strike the imagination, doesn't he?" The voice spoke again, and Jack dropped his gaze to the doorway of the house. Someone stood in the shadows there, mostly hidden from view, except for a pair of eyes as dark as the raven's, and the faintest outline of a face.
Jack didn't relax, and she chuckled, moving out into the sunlight. Black curls to her waist were held back by a bandanna of the same color, and she wore sailor's slops that looked almost white against skin the amber shade of rum. Weaponless, and barefoot, with no jewelry but a twisted silver band on her right hand. Not a state Jack was accustomed to encountering women in.
The raven cawed again, spreading its wings to glide down to perch on the woman's shoulder. A slight frown passed over her face before it settled back into neutral lines. "You don't need the sword here, Jack Sparrow."
"Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack returned the cutlass to his belt, frowning at the woman. "And whom might I have the honor of addressing?"
"Isabella. Just call me Isabella." She gestured to the cart. "Going for supplies, Captain Sparrow?"
"Aye. That's generally what one comes to a port for." Jack picked up the handles to the cart again, starting back towards the store. "What are you doing here?"
"This is my home." Isabella fell into step beside him. "I've been here a long time."
"All alone?" Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise, gesturing with one hand so he didn't loose the cart. "Here?"
Isabella gave him a secretive smile. "Of course. Where else would I go?"
Jack frowned, setting the cart down again to face her. "I don't know. Where did everyone else go?"
"What makes you think anyone else ever was here?"
"Houses, shops!" Jack waved his hands wildly around them. "Docks, the taverns!"
Isabella laughed, her eyes dancing with secretive amusement. "Really, Captain Sparrow, must there be more people than I for this place to exist?"
Jack stared at her in disbelief. "How does one woman live in a town with no one else?"
"Did I say I was alive?"
Her simple statement made Jack's blood run cold. "Not alive?" He leaned in closer, scrutinizing her for a long moment before reaching out to poke her in the shoulder. "Not a ghost."
"Or cursed, not like the greedy Barbossa, or the broken-hearted Davy Jones." Isabella shrugged, and nodded towards the cart. "If you want to fetch supplies, you might want to pick up the cart. I'd imagine it's difficult to haul the barrels without it."
Jack gave her a wary look before picking up the cart again, heading for the store with her walking beside him in silence.
Chapter 2: Shifting Wind and Changing Current
Barbossa glanced over the deck of his ship at the handful of crew still awake. There, in the bow, huddled the miserable form of Elizabeth Swaan, while young William Turner dozed in the shadow of the main mast. The pirate captain chuckled to himself, glancing up at the stars that slowly vanished behind the clouds that gathered before the boundaries of the world. Soon they would enter her world, where any number of souls wandered.
"How much further do we sail, Captain?" Mr. Gibbs came up the ladder from the main deck, his flask in one hand, and his other resting on the sabre thrust through his belt. He took a gulp from the leather bottle as Barbossa let the silence stretch out, looking out with no little amount of fear in his eyes at the ocean.
"As far as we must, Mr. Gibbs. We've only just come to the straits of the world." Barbossa smirked, adjusting the heading of the ship slightly, memory unfolding with perfect, damning clarity. He knew who and what controlled these waters, and even Davy Jones didn't give him pause like she did. Perhaps because one could understand Jones better than the fickle nature of a woman.
Gibbs shuddered, gripping the rail tightly. "Whatever it takes to find the Captain."
Barbossa kept silent, privately doubting any of the crew had the courage to actually pay the price the ruler of these hellish waters might demand of them for Jack and the Pearl back. And what that price might be, he could only guess. Blood, lives, souls. Most of the strange things he'd encountered here wanted only those, and nothing less. After all, what meaning did gold or jewels have for the damned?
A chittering drew him out of his thoughts, his monkey scampering up to sit on his shoulder. It gave him a questioning look, and held up the prize it grasped. Barbossa chuckled as he took the apple, one hand still lightly on the wheel as he bit into the fruit, the juice running sweet and tart down his throat.
The monkey's cries had woken up Will, and he gave Barbossa a hard look before standing, looking out over the ocean without expression. The pirate watched him turn his gaze towards the bow of the ship, fixed on the form of Miss Swaan for a long moment, looking away when she stirred. The pirate raised an eyebrow, curious as to what happened between them since they'd left him for dead on the Isla de Muerta.
Mentally shaking the thought out of his head, Barbossa took another bite of the apple, the crunch drawing Will's attention in the still air. A few short strides, and the young man leapt up the ladder, displacing an uncomplaining Gibbs.
"What are our bearings, Barbossa?"
"Now, now, Mr. Turner, ye don't think ye'll be finding out where we be goin' before the rest of the crew, do ye?" Barbossa waved a hand at the ocean spread before them to the horizon. "We're headed out there, where all the comfortable rules of life are thrown to the wind."
Will looked out over the ocean, his brow furrowing with a mix of annoyance and confusion. "That's no heading. Which direction?"
"Wherever the winds take us, Mr. Turner." Barbossa scowled. Had the boy learned anything since their last encounter?
Before the whelp could ask another question, Barbossa spotted Gibbs out of the corner of his eye grimacing and making gestures of negation, trying to keep Will from doing anything stupid. At least someone had half a wit to his name.
Barbossa turned his attention back to the seas, his senses alert to changes around them. A shift in the wind, a change in the current, those were the markers of direction and navigation here. No stars, no moon, and for all the bright daylight, rarely a sun to guide a ship to safe harbor. Only the tide and wind and the ship beneath your feet.
~ ~~ ~
Elizabeth shifted, feeling the pressure of someone watching her. She looked over her shoulder as the sensation vanished, catching a glimpse of Will as he turned away to head for the poop deck, where Barbossa still stood at the wheel. She chewed on her lower lip a moment before turning back to watch the ocean again, letting her thoughts wander.
The stars had vanished while she dozed, and clouds obscured the sun, dragging her mood further down. She heard someone climb onto the deck behind her, but ignored them in favor of speculating what had caused Will to ignore her. She could almost wager he'd seen her actions to "convince" Jack to stay behind. To stay behind, and be dragged down to the depths along with his ship by the kraken. To die to give the rest of them a chance to escape.
"Watchin' de sea ain't goin' to help you wit' de whelp." Anamaria settled next to Elizabeth as the other woman gave her a startled look. "What you watchin' for, anyway?"
"I don't know." Elizabeth sighed, turning back to the trackless ocean once more. "When did you come aboard?"
"While you talkin' wit' Tia Dalma. You gone an' misplaced Jack, an' de man still ain't paid me back for stealin' my boat. Near got me killed when he decided to outrun de British Navy in de storm, an' left me to heal up de island, instead."
Word Count:
Status: incomplete, on hold
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG13
Comments: Characterization, scenery, plot (even though there's not much to go on)
"Now this be an interesting turn of events," mused Jack to himself as he looked around himself. Open ocean streched around the Black Pearl to the horizon in three directions as she tacked towards a small harbor. Without a crew, and no sign of the kraken anywhere.
"Where are you taking me, luv?" He stroked one hand along an unsplintered rail that he didn't recall repairing, or having repaired. A rail that shouldn't be there. In fact, as he recalled with a sardonic smile, he probably shouldn't be there, with the kraken having claimed his ship and himself.
Jack shook his head, lightly leaping up the ladder to grasp the wheel, watching as the port came nearer. He didn't recognize it, and it looked to be deserted. "Odd." He frowned, his eyes searching what he could see of the houses that peeked from the thick vegetation further from the harbor itself, only to find no more sign of inhabitation than he could see at the port.
A plague, perhaps? There certainly weren't the signs of destruction that would come from a port being sacked, and even then, Jack expected there would still be people to rebuild the place. Not an eerily empty port. Without even bodies on the streets to indicate people had died there, and not had the man power to bury the dead.
Jack sailed into the port with a strange sense of forboding as he did his best to bring in the Pearl's sails himself. It took him a long moment to place his unease. There weren't even the sounds of sea-birds or small animals, nothing but the quiet sound of water against the dock pilings. Even the wind had gone still, as the Pearl floated gently into an empty bearth.
With a frown, Jack ran out the gang plank before taking up the mooring ropes, his footsteps loud in the unnatural silence of the empty harbor. Once the Pearl was secured, he turned his attention to the town. He needed supplies, and he needed a crew.
"Well, there'll be no crew to sign the articles here," he muttered to himself, slowly making his way down the dock, alert for any sign of inhabitation, even by wildlife. The first buildings he encountered appeared to be taverns, their windows dark and grimy, doors shut firmly shut against... what?
Stepping up to one of the buildings, Jack reached out one hand to shove against the door, his eyebrows going up when it slowly opened, the leather hinges protesting loudly in the silence. Nothing stirred, except dust motes in the air, and inside, Jack could see no one. Not even a body.
"There's no one here."
Jack spun, cutlass in hand, his heart racing at the sound of a voice in a town that appeared dead. He tilted his head, his brows knotting together in a frown as he surveyed the empty street. Where had the voice come from?
He slowly sheathed his sword once more, peering around the buildings along the street, and into the windows. No one, and nothing, still. Jack made his way up the street into the main part of town, where shop windows were coated in salt scum, and behind them, goods were covered with dust. As if everyone left, taking every living thing with them, and leaving everything else behind.
"Perhaps not everything."
Jack spun around rapidly, his one hand dropping to his sword again. "Who's there?"
"I'm not there, Jack Sparrow. I'm here."
"Where?" He still saw nothing, as he turned in a circle, searching for the owner of the voice. Female, he thought, and excellent at hiding.
No response came from the owner of the voice, and Jack smiled briefly, the expression one of annoyance. He headed for a shop whose sign indicated it was a general store, where he might be able to procure supplies. The door opened easily under his hand, and Jack peered in cautiously, looking for any sign of his mysterious companion. One who, come to think, appeared to be able to read his thoughts.
"Now that's just silly."
Jack spun, stumbling over his boots, certain the person had to be behind him, again.
"Would you quit that!" He batted at the air, as if trying to shoo away something, a scowl on his face. "You're not real. Go away."
A chuckle came from thevoice. "You're more perceptive than I thought, Jack Sparrow. But if I'm not real, then neither are you, nor is this place. Could you accept that?"
Jack's scowl softened into a frown. "Who are you?"
"Just another lost soul."
"I'm not lost." Jack stood up, brushing himelf off. "Just a bit uncertain where I've made port." He turned back to the store, examining the goods. They appeared perfectly preserved, despite the state of the town. Barrels of bright red apples and fragrent oranges, of hard biscuits and salted meat were stacked around, along with a variety of luxery foods and staples.
He smiled to himself, reaching out to pick up an apple, and polishing it on his sleeve before taking a bite of it. "Tastes real enough, luv, whoever you are. Wherever you are." He grinned, and headed for the door, looking for a cart he could use to transport the supplies to the Pearl.
It took him most of an hour to locate a cart, the voice remaining silent as Jack wandered through the empty town. Only as he began to wheel the cart back towards the store, singing loudly to himsef, did he hear something besides himself again.
The sharp cry of a bird drew his eyes skyward, the song dying on his lips as he let the cart handles go in order to pull his cutlass free. Above him, on the roof of one of the small houses huddled close to the road, perched a large black bird, head tilted sideways to watch him through one glittering dark eye.
"He's often more trouble than he's worth. But he does strike the imagination, doesn't he?" The voice spoke again, and Jack dropped his gaze to the doorway of the house. Someone stood in the shadows there, mostly hidden from view, except for a pair of eyes as dark as the raven's, and the faintest outline of a face.
Jack didn't relax, and she chuckled, moving out into the sunlight. Black curls to her waist were held back by a bandanna of the same color, and she wore sailor's slops that looked almost white against skin the amber shade of rum. Weaponless, and barefoot, with no jewelry but a twisted silver band on her right hand. Not a state Jack was accustomed to encountering women in.
The raven cawed again, spreading its wings to glide down to perch on the woman's shoulder. A slight frown passed over her face before it settled back into neutral lines. "You don't need the sword here, Jack Sparrow."
"Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack returned the cutlass to his belt, frowning at the woman. "And whom might I have the honor of addressing?"
"Isabella. Just call me Isabella." She gestured to the cart. "Going for supplies, Captain Sparrow?"
"Aye. That's generally what one comes to a port for." Jack picked up the handles to the cart again, starting back towards the store. "What are you doing here?"
"This is my home." Isabella fell into step beside him. "I've been here a long time."
"All alone?" Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise, gesturing with one hand so he didn't loose the cart. "Here?"
Isabella gave him a secretive smile. "Of course. Where else would I go?"
Jack frowned, setting the cart down again to face her. "I don't know. Where did everyone else go?"
"What makes you think anyone else ever was here?"
"Houses, shops!" Jack waved his hands wildly around them. "Docks, the taverns!"
Isabella laughed, her eyes dancing with secretive amusement. "Really, Captain Sparrow, must there be more people than I for this place to exist?"
Jack stared at her in disbelief. "How does one woman live in a town with no one else?"
"Did I say I was alive?"
Her simple statement made Jack's blood run cold. "Not alive?" He leaned in closer, scrutinizing her for a long moment before reaching out to poke her in the shoulder. "Not a ghost."
"Or cursed, not like the greedy Barbossa, or the broken-hearted Davy Jones." Isabella shrugged, and nodded towards the cart. "If you want to fetch supplies, you might want to pick up the cart. I'd imagine it's difficult to haul the barrels without it."
Jack gave her a wary look before picking up the cart again, heading for the store with her walking beside him in silence.
Barbossa glanced over the deck of his ship at the handful of crew still awake. There, in the bow, huddled the miserable form of Elizabeth Swaan, while young William Turner dozed in the shadow of the main mast. The pirate captain chuckled to himself, glancing up at the stars that slowly vanished behind the clouds that gathered before the boundaries of the world. Soon they would enter her world, where any number of souls wandered.
"How much further do we sail, Captain?" Mr. Gibbs came up the ladder from the main deck, his flask in one hand, and his other resting on the sabre thrust through his belt. He took a gulp from the leather bottle as Barbossa let the silence stretch out, looking out with no little amount of fear in his eyes at the ocean.
"As far as we must, Mr. Gibbs. We've only just come to the straits of the world." Barbossa smirked, adjusting the heading of the ship slightly, memory unfolding with perfect, damning clarity. He knew who and what controlled these waters, and even Davy Jones didn't give him pause like she did. Perhaps because one could understand Jones better than the fickle nature of a woman.
Gibbs shuddered, gripping the rail tightly. "Whatever it takes to find the Captain."
Barbossa kept silent, privately doubting any of the crew had the courage to actually pay the price the ruler of these hellish waters might demand of them for Jack and the Pearl back. And what that price might be, he could only guess. Blood, lives, souls. Most of the strange things he'd encountered here wanted only those, and nothing less. After all, what meaning did gold or jewels have for the damned?
A chittering drew him out of his thoughts, his monkey scampering up to sit on his shoulder. It gave him a questioning look, and held up the prize it grasped. Barbossa chuckled as he took the apple, one hand still lightly on the wheel as he bit into the fruit, the juice running sweet and tart down his throat.
The monkey's cries had woken up Will, and he gave Barbossa a hard look before standing, looking out over the ocean without expression. The pirate watched him turn his gaze towards the bow of the ship, fixed on the form of Miss Swaan for a long moment, looking away when she stirred. The pirate raised an eyebrow, curious as to what happened between them since they'd left him for dead on the Isla de Muerta.
Mentally shaking the thought out of his head, Barbossa took another bite of the apple, the crunch drawing Will's attention in the still air. A few short strides, and the young man leapt up the ladder, displacing an uncomplaining Gibbs.
"What are our bearings, Barbossa?"
"Now, now, Mr. Turner, ye don't think ye'll be finding out where we be goin' before the rest of the crew, do ye?" Barbossa waved a hand at the ocean spread before them to the horizon. "We're headed out there, where all the comfortable rules of life are thrown to the wind."
Will looked out over the ocean, his brow furrowing with a mix of annoyance and confusion. "That's no heading. Which direction?"
"Wherever the winds take us, Mr. Turner." Barbossa scowled. Had the boy learned anything since their last encounter?
Before the whelp could ask another question, Barbossa spotted Gibbs out of the corner of his eye grimacing and making gestures of negation, trying to keep Will from doing anything stupid. At least someone had half a wit to his name.
Barbossa turned his attention back to the seas, his senses alert to changes around them. A shift in the wind, a change in the current, those were the markers of direction and navigation here. No stars, no moon, and for all the bright daylight, rarely a sun to guide a ship to safe harbor. Only the tide and wind and the ship beneath your feet.
Elizabeth shifted, feeling the pressure of someone watching her. She looked over her shoulder as the sensation vanished, catching a glimpse of Will as he turned away to head for the poop deck, where Barbossa still stood at the wheel. She chewed on her lower lip a moment before turning back to watch the ocean again, letting her thoughts wander.
The stars had vanished while she dozed, and clouds obscured the sun, dragging her mood further down. She heard someone climb onto the deck behind her, but ignored them in favor of speculating what had caused Will to ignore her. She could almost wager he'd seen her actions to "convince" Jack to stay behind. To stay behind, and be dragged down to the depths along with his ship by the kraken. To die to give the rest of them a chance to escape.
"Watchin' de sea ain't goin' to help you wit' de whelp." Anamaria settled next to Elizabeth as the other woman gave her a startled look. "What you watchin' for, anyway?"
"I don't know." Elizabeth sighed, turning back to the trackless ocean once more. "When did you come aboard?"
"While you talkin' wit' Tia Dalma. You gone an' misplaced Jack, an' de man still ain't paid me back for stealin' my boat. Near got me killed when he decided to outrun de British Navy in de storm, an' left me to heal up de island, instead."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-03 09:33 am (UTC)