at the cullen house;byakkoyagirlNovember 1 2011, 19:53:15 UTC
The request she was given threw Paprika for a bit of a left field. Not because Jack, who she only spoken to on a few occasions, was suddenly requesting her services. It was rather what she was being asked to do for him. Dream Suppression. Never was she requested to suppress a dream and for good reason. The entire basis for dream therapy was the exact opposite. Not that suppression wasn't impossible, but she naturally felt a bit uneasy about it. She could always turn him down, though the consequences of doing that did not bear good results either. This was the kind of situation she couldn't really win in. More than that the question of "why" still lingered in the air. Dreams are just dreams. It wasn't like whatever Jack wanted to suppress would suddenly leap out of his head anytime soon
( ... )
She watches the scene unfold before her, as the two children vanish away. Two down and one to go. This one would be the hardest. Joyce, who clearly had the most profound impact on Jack, was still left by the side of the pirate. Clutching onto the hand of her "father". Her job wasn't done until she was gone as well. This wouldn't work as well as with the other two. The process would continue
( ... )
1/3 I thinklists_to_portNovember 2 2011, 02:20:01 UTC
Was that all Joyce was? A waste of space and thought? She had been such an idle dream in the beginning. He'd been mooning over Buffy Summers, lovesick fool that he was, even though she would barely acknowledge his existence. The pirate had daydreamed what their child might look like and Joyce was born. But while her mother and her mother's friends had rejected him, Joyce remained. She had rescued him from so much evil while he waited out his illness in Cullen House. She had held his hand the night that her theoretical-mother had walked out on him. She stayed with him on those solitary treks to and from Cullen House to the village.
The best of me. She's the best of me. The best of him who had defeated the worst of him with that laugh. That defiance and joy.
"May I say farewell to my thing first?" Jack did not wait for Paprika's permission. He knelt on the sand before his daughter. It was saying farewell, yes. But it was also asking for forgiveness. And it was saying I love you.
Joyce had never spoken before; she wasn't speaking now. She stared up at him, afraid.
"If he could see you----I don't want them to take you. I can't lose you to them, darling."
The child threw her arms around her father. It was clear that she did not want to go, and Jack was beginning to think he should simply keep her. It might be easier that way.
"If they took you, love--I don't think I could bear it. And they know."
She hugged tighter, shaking, burying her face against the pirate's shirt and tucking her arms under his coat. She was afraid. So afraid.
"Don't...don't be afraid," he managed. This was going horribly wrong. She wasn't supposed to be afraid. He was failing, again. He wasn't managing it.
...you've no bloody idea what to do with a child like her in the first place...
I can't let her go. I can't. Not like this.
If not now, when? Will you let them rip her away from you? Will you let them do horrible things to her? Alter her? Use her? Frighten her? Far better now than then. Giles already knows. Far better now.
Sparrow firmly took the little girl's hands in his own--and pushed her away, stepping back at the same time---leaving a clear meter or so of space between them. He couldn't look at her.
"This...........thing.....this....she only has a face and form and name because of myself. Me. My mad brain. Now she...it.
Now she will not be wanted or desired."
Jack kept his eyes closed. A faint voice in front of him whispered Daddy, and he willed that away. Willed it.
"It will not be willed or wanted. Will not be willed."
Spaces in his mind that had been cluttered with her began to clear. The phrase it will not be seemed to play over and over in his brain, alternating between shouts and whispers and screams and chants. All of him was calling for its erasure, whatever it was, in desperation. At one point he thought he heard the murderous Fetch shouting the words in its hoarse, vicious voice.
And when the pirate finally opened his eyes and found himself standing on an empty beach with Paprika, he wondered what on earth they were doing here and what it was that would not be.
"Erm.........hallo, darling. We're...in Port Royal."
So it ended. At first she was tempted to disturb the moment, as making such intimate contact could threaten the entire process. In the end, she had trust and waited until he pulled away. Thus the last fragments of the girl, who caused Jack so much happiness, was pushed away and suppressed thanks to the suggestive prompts she gave to him and his own controlled desire to remove the unwanted thoughts.
Paprika didn't need to know the details, of what Jack exactly felt for this girl he created in his mind, to know that it was the truth. She could simply feel it within the dream, as it changed and reformed with Jack's will to suppress the children from his mind. In a way, it hurts her too. Everything she said could be applied to any dream every created. Even she, who was speaking with him right now, was simply a concept brought to life with the imagination of a woman who suppressed her internal desires.
Now, the girl is gone. No trace remains and the sun has lifted over the horizon. The loneliness of a pirate illuminated on the empty
Slowly, Paprika walked closer to his side and nods, letting a smile slip onto her expression. The first one she has made since beginning the procedure.
"If you say we are here, then I suppose we are for the time being. Lovely place."
Confusion and loneliness, but mostly confusion. There was a noticeable...something missing.
Rum, maybe.
"It's alright, I suppose---not a very safe port for a pirate like myself." He pointed toward the Navy dock that was just beyond the shipping wharf in the distance. All of it should have been bustling this time of day. It was empty.
"Lots of soldiers there, and--"
He swung his arm about to point toward the open sea, where a curious rock formation rose out of the water. Hanging from the natural stone arch was a sick gibbet, three still-decaying bodies still hanging there. They, Jack, and Paprika seemed to be the only figures in this landscape. The wind blew, and the pirates danced.
"Not a safe place," he finished, now uncomfortable in this dream, but for no apparent reason. All seemed safe, certainly.
She looked to the port as he pointed and made a hum of acknowledgement, though making note that there weren't really any naval men around that ship. So, the dream would continue from this point on. It seems everything was a success then.
Her eyes then darted as he swung his arm to the formation and, briefly, they widened in panic. Were those dead bodies supposed to be the children, or something else completely? When he makes no remarks toward them beyond the recognition, she nods slowly and quickly calms herself, before he'll notice with any hope. There was no need to think about what she had done. No one would know and she would never reveal it. Not even Jack would know of the final moments, if the suppression worked correctly and kept the children at bay.
"Then, we should go?" She asked, looking around carefully. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"I think I need a drink, darling." Jack shivered and turned away from the hanged men---from this distance, that was all they appeared to be, though they hadn't been there at the beginning of the dream---and reached up to scratch absently at Blackbeard's Mark. He let his fingers trail down to Beckett's. Why was it so chilly here in Port Royal? The Caribbean air never got this cold.
A drink, huh? She could go for one herself, but maybe in private. Waking him up will have to go down soon enough. She can't quite imagine the immediate effects this is going to have on him in the waking world, but if all goes to pass then it should just be like it was here. A faded distant memory, which cannot be recounted. The memory of the three children gone. Not for good, without any further extensive therapy, but he certainly won't be able to recount for a while if everything went as she planned it. Suppression can always be undone, but it wouldn't happen without similar methods as the ones she employed.
...Just thinking of it makes her wonder if this was a good thing to do, but she can't quite settle her thoughts on the matter. The cold is noticeable and yet seems so insignificant compared to the rest of the dreamscape.
Jack Sparrow took one last look around this version of Port Royal. Its very emptiness was a horror, and he recalled something Archie Kennedy had told him, long ago: that Port Royal had been destroyed in an earthquake, long after the pirate's time. He felt suddenly as though he was haunting a place that was haunting a dream, inhabiting something that was happy being dead and did not want to be disturbed by other dead things. The hanged pirates jangled and bobbed in a kind of agreement with this determination.
She begins to back away from the pirate, her feet planting over the remnants of the sand where the footprints were once, and nods at him.
"Close your eyes and count to ten. At the end of the countdown you should be triggered awake and back to where you came from. Back to reality and away from this dream."
And naturally, away from the children she had just suppressed.
The rest of the count was muttered as the pirate woke. He was freezing and drenched with sweat. Somehow, during the nap, his blanket had ended up on the floor, leaving him strung up with no warmth in the drafty room.
"Buffy?" he whispered; but he was alone. Very alone.
Alone indeed. Paprika was no longer capable of interacting with him on a physical level. She certainly decided she wasn't going to stick around afterward either. As far as she's concerned, her job was done. None of what transpired would be voiced from her, and she would move on with her own life in Luceti. It wasn't her concern anymore.
...
Still it would be rude, to not even give him a notice. So if Jack ends up looking at the book he discarded before falling asleep, he'll notice there is a card on it. A business card, small and rectangular, with the name PAPRIKA printed on the middle. And, if his curiosity led him to turn the card over, there would be a message for him.
With this concludes our session. Please take care of yourself. None of what happened will be publicly discussed.
Reply
Reply
The best of me. She's the best of me. The best of him who had defeated the worst of him with that laugh. That defiance and joy.
"May I say farewell to my thing first?" Jack did not wait for Paprika's permission. He knelt on the sand before his daughter. It was saying farewell, yes. But it was also asking for forgiveness. And it was saying I love you.
Reply
Joyce had never spoken before; she wasn't speaking now. She stared up at him, afraid.
"If he could see you----I don't want them to take you. I can't lose you to them, darling."
The child threw her arms around her father. It was clear that she did not want to go, and Jack was beginning to think he should simply keep her. It might be easier that way.
Reply
She hugged tighter, shaking, burying her face against the pirate's shirt and tucking her arms under his coat. She was afraid. So afraid.
"Don't...don't be afraid," he managed. This was going horribly wrong. She wasn't supposed to be afraid. He was failing, again. He wasn't managing it.
...you've no bloody idea what to do with a child like her in the first place...
I can't let her go. I can't. Not like this.
If not now, when? Will you let them rip her away from you? Will you let them do horrible things to her? Alter her? Use her? Frighten her? Far better now than then. Giles already knows. Far better now.
Sparrow firmly took the little girl's hands in his own--and pushed her away, stepping back at the same time---leaving a clear meter or so of space between them. He couldn't look at her.
Reply
Now she will not be wanted or desired."
Jack kept his eyes closed. A faint voice in front of him whispered Daddy, and he willed that away. Willed it.
"It will not be willed or wanted. Will not be willed."
Spaces in his mind that had been cluttered with her began to clear. The phrase it will not be seemed to play over and over in his brain, alternating between shouts and whispers and screams and chants. All of him was calling for its erasure, whatever it was, in desperation. At one point he thought he heard the murderous Fetch shouting the words in its hoarse, vicious voice.
And when the pirate finally opened his eyes and found himself standing on an empty beach with Paprika, he wondered what on earth they were doing here and what it was that would not be.
"Erm.........hallo, darling. We're...in Port Royal."
Reply
So it ended. At first she was tempted to disturb the moment, as making such intimate contact could threaten the entire process. In the end, she had trust and waited until he pulled away. Thus the last fragments of the girl, who caused Jack so much happiness, was pushed away and suppressed thanks to the suggestive prompts she gave to him and his own controlled desire to remove the unwanted thoughts.
Paprika didn't need to know the details, of what Jack exactly felt for this girl he created in his mind, to know that it was the truth. She could simply feel it within the dream, as it changed and reformed with Jack's will to suppress the children from his mind. In a way, it hurts her too. Everything she said could be applied to any dream every created. Even she, who was speaking with him right now, was simply a concept brought to life with the imagination of a woman who suppressed her internal desires.
Now, the girl is gone. No trace remains and the sun has lifted over the horizon. The loneliness of a pirate illuminated on the empty
Reply
"If you say we are here, then I suppose we are for the time being. Lovely place."
Reply
Rum, maybe.
"It's alright, I suppose---not a very safe port for a pirate like myself." He pointed toward the Navy dock that was just beyond the shipping wharf in the distance. All of it should have been bustling this time of day. It was empty.
"Lots of soldiers there, and--"
He swung his arm about to point toward the open sea, where a curious rock formation rose out of the water. Hanging from the natural stone arch was a sick gibbet, three still-decaying bodies still hanging there. They, Jack, and Paprika seemed to be the only figures in this landscape. The wind blew, and the pirates danced.
"Not a safe place," he finished, now uncomfortable in this dream, but for no apparent reason. All seemed safe, certainly.
Reply
Her eyes then darted as he swung his arm to the formation and, briefly, they widened in panic. Were those dead bodies supposed to be the children, or something else completely? When he makes no remarks toward them beyond the recognition, she nods slowly and quickly calms herself, before he'll notice with any hope. There was no need to think about what she had done. No one would know and she would never reveal it. Not even Jack would know of the final moments, if the suppression worked correctly and kept the children at bay.
"Then, we should go?" She asked, looking around carefully. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Reply
"Cold," he remarked. "Very odd."
Reply
...Just thinking of it makes her wonder if this was a good thing to do, but she can't quite settle her thoughts on the matter. The cold is noticeable and yet seems so insignificant compared to the rest of the dreamscape.
"Are you ready to wake up then?"
Reply
"Aye, darling. I'm ready."
Reply
She begins to back away from the pirate, her feet planting over the remnants of the sand where the footprints were once, and nods at him.
"Close your eyes and count to ten. At the end of the countdown you should be triggered awake and back to where you came from. Back to reality and away from this dream."
And naturally, away from the children she had just suppressed.
Reply
He nodded to his dream-therapist and closed his eyes, shuffling his toes against the sand before he found a steady balance.
"Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four..."
The rest of the count was muttered as the pirate woke. He was freezing and drenched with sweat. Somehow, during the nap, his blanket had ended up on the floor, leaving him strung up with no warmth in the drafty room.
"Buffy?" he whispered; but he was alone. Very alone.
Reply
...
Still it would be rude, to not even give him a notice. So if Jack ends up looking at the book he discarded before falling asleep, he'll notice there is a card on it. A business card, small and rectangular, with the name PAPRIKA printed on the middle. And, if his curiosity led him to turn the card over, there would be a message for him.
With this concludes our session.
Please take care of yourself.
None of what happened will be publicly discussed.
Reply
Leave a comment