more playing with Lizzie
Had time to write more of the Elizabeth thing while doing laundry. Hee. Fun now. Haven't had time to give it a thorough edit; please forgive any typos.
First part.
***
Black sails had hung listlessly more often than belling full this past fortnight, causing whispers of ill fortune, a new curse, witchcraft... They emptied the hold bit-by-bit, rum flowing more freely than ever. The drunken laughter above board had a wrong tone; it sounded more like shrieking, as often as not, than a good belly chortle.
Jack took to spending more time in his cabin, away from the noise. He drank and drew up complicated, arcane schemes to catapult his ship and himself to greater fame and riches, then abandoned those plans to chase others, from the inane to the macabre. His mind ran thirteen ways at once. He couldn't keep up or rein it in. He didn't try.
Midday. A Tuesday if he'd been keeping accurate track, which was suspect. He woke for a piss, staggering outside, then made his uneven way back to his cabin with no thought in mind but cool, dark. He very nearly didn't notice Elizabeth seated at the table within, soaked through, glistening weeds threading her hair and draping her shoulders, curled 'round her throat like a failed noose. She smiled that same unfeeling smile. "I suppose I see why you'd not grant me a pistol."
He collected himself and moved to sit almost calmly, feet going one-by-one to rest atop the table, arms loosely crossing his chest. His heart beat over-quick there, pattering against the underside of his forearm. "Now, Elizabeth, not that it's not lovely to see you...but what of your agreement?"
"The vote was to maroon me. I allowed you to maroon me." She studied her fingernails, short and jagged and grimed with a bit of ocean sludge. The blood, at least, was gone. "I never said I'd stay there."
He leaned his head back and blinked tiredly at the boards above. "How'd you find us?"
"I'll always find this ship."
He settled that into his mind, beneath surface thoughts, to let it stew.
"I've been under you since last night, in fact. Did you know there's a shipwreck dead below?"
"Is there?"
"Spanish, I think. It's quite full of riches." Muted clacking sounded from across the table, and he looked to find her drawing a moldered string heavy with pearls from within her soaked vest. "See? I brought you a gift."
He reached for it. Her fingers brushed his; a chill curdled his blood. By comparison, the pearls felt warm. "You found this down there?"
"There's more. Much more." Her words wandered in tone, detached, as though she recalled a particularly vivid dream. "You should see it, Jack. You should explore it with me." Almost wonderingly-- "Some of the bodies still have faces."
He took his feet off the table, turned, faced her squarely as he set the pearls on the table between them. "The crew won't have you aboard. Not after what you've done."
"I took their punishment." Finally he saw a gleam of anger in her eyes, heard grit in her voice. "She attacked me."
"Aye, and you were in grave danger, feeling no pain, suffering no lasting harm as you do."
"Am I not permitted to defend myself, even so?"
"You baited her into it."
She held his gaze only briefly, then dropped her eyes, stared at the pearl necklace. Distant memory kicked forward: he thought of a girl, cocky and devious by day, gone soft-voiced with uncertainty by night. It did something uncomfortable to his heart, glimpsing her again. He'd nearly forgotten her face.
"I meant to teach her to leave me be. She moved too fast. It was an accident."
The pearls were looped in a rounded crescent. They resembled a giant, gaping grin, and he thought of Anamaria's wolf-smile. Never prey, Anamaria.
He sat and thought in thirteen directions, new and old, and Elizabeth waited with unnatural patience. The smell she brought with her of dark ocean depths permeated the cabin, clung to every scrap of fabric and porous wood. In his mind's eye he could easily picture her crawling over the ruins of a ship far below, worming through a breach in its hull to investigate the hold, swim-walking through the galley, through crew quarters, the captain's cabin...
A sound, repetitive, familiar, came to him. He straightened and listened. Elizabeth watched him without expression.
Lines snapping, metal pinging. Canvas flapping, whipping, trying to unfurl. The Pearl was swaying now, pulling gently on her anchor. Outside he could hear crewmen coming awake and calling the news.
"You brought the wind with you," Jack told her. "That's what they'll say."
She didn't blink. Didn't answer.
"Have you some gods on your side I don't know about, love?"
"I wouldn't say they're on my side. Their own, if any."
"It just happens to coincide."
"What can I say, Jack?" Her voice again came flat, lifeless. "I'm blessed."
***
I need a grim, kinda dark-themed Elizabeth icon. Anyone know of any?
First part.
***
Black sails had hung listlessly more often than belling full this past fortnight, causing whispers of ill fortune, a new curse, witchcraft... They emptied the hold bit-by-bit, rum flowing more freely than ever. The drunken laughter above board had a wrong tone; it sounded more like shrieking, as often as not, than a good belly chortle.
Jack took to spending more time in his cabin, away from the noise. He drank and drew up complicated, arcane schemes to catapult his ship and himself to greater fame and riches, then abandoned those plans to chase others, from the inane to the macabre. His mind ran thirteen ways at once. He couldn't keep up or rein it in. He didn't try.
Midday. A Tuesday if he'd been keeping accurate track, which was suspect. He woke for a piss, staggering outside, then made his uneven way back to his cabin with no thought in mind but cool, dark. He very nearly didn't notice Elizabeth seated at the table within, soaked through, glistening weeds threading her hair and draping her shoulders, curled 'round her throat like a failed noose. She smiled that same unfeeling smile. "I suppose I see why you'd not grant me a pistol."
He collected himself and moved to sit almost calmly, feet going one-by-one to rest atop the table, arms loosely crossing his chest. His heart beat over-quick there, pattering against the underside of his forearm. "Now, Elizabeth, not that it's not lovely to see you...but what of your agreement?"
"The vote was to maroon me. I allowed you to maroon me." She studied her fingernails, short and jagged and grimed with a bit of ocean sludge. The blood, at least, was gone. "I never said I'd stay there."
He leaned his head back and blinked tiredly at the boards above. "How'd you find us?"
"I'll always find this ship."
He settled that into his mind, beneath surface thoughts, to let it stew.
"I've been under you since last night, in fact. Did you know there's a shipwreck dead below?"
"Is there?"
"Spanish, I think. It's quite full of riches." Muted clacking sounded from across the table, and he looked to find her drawing a moldered string heavy with pearls from within her soaked vest. "See? I brought you a gift."
He reached for it. Her fingers brushed his; a chill curdled his blood. By comparison, the pearls felt warm. "You found this down there?"
"There's more. Much more." Her words wandered in tone, detached, as though she recalled a particularly vivid dream. "You should see it, Jack. You should explore it with me." Almost wonderingly-- "Some of the bodies still have faces."
He took his feet off the table, turned, faced her squarely as he set the pearls on the table between them. "The crew won't have you aboard. Not after what you've done."
"I took their punishment." Finally he saw a gleam of anger in her eyes, heard grit in her voice. "She attacked me."
"Aye, and you were in grave danger, feeling no pain, suffering no lasting harm as you do."
"Am I not permitted to defend myself, even so?"
"You baited her into it."
She held his gaze only briefly, then dropped her eyes, stared at the pearl necklace. Distant memory kicked forward: he thought of a girl, cocky and devious by day, gone soft-voiced with uncertainty by night. It did something uncomfortable to his heart, glimpsing her again. He'd nearly forgotten her face.
"I meant to teach her to leave me be. She moved too fast. It was an accident."
The pearls were looped in a rounded crescent. They resembled a giant, gaping grin, and he thought of Anamaria's wolf-smile. Never prey, Anamaria.
He sat and thought in thirteen directions, new and old, and Elizabeth waited with unnatural patience. The smell she brought with her of dark ocean depths permeated the cabin, clung to every scrap of fabric and porous wood. In his mind's eye he could easily picture her crawling over the ruins of a ship far below, worming through a breach in its hull to investigate the hold, swim-walking through the galley, through crew quarters, the captain's cabin...
A sound, repetitive, familiar, came to him. He straightened and listened. Elizabeth watched him without expression.
Lines snapping, metal pinging. Canvas flapping, whipping, trying to unfurl. The Pearl was swaying now, pulling gently on her anchor. Outside he could hear crewmen coming awake and calling the news.
"You brought the wind with you," Jack told her. "That's what they'll say."
She didn't blink. Didn't answer.
"Have you some gods on your side I don't know about, love?"
"I wouldn't say they're on my side. Their own, if any."
"It just happens to coincide."
"What can I say, Jack?" Her voice again came flat, lifeless. "I'm blessed."
***
I need a grim, kinda dark-themed Elizabeth icon. Anyone know of any?