'Black' drabble
Title: Dusk
Pairing: Norrington. Slight Norrington/Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 542
Prompt Word: Black
Summary: James, in Tortuga, reflecting.
My first time posting here, so I hope I followed all the rules and haven't made a big embarassment of myself. :)
Dusk
It is two sides to every story, two faces on every coin.
James Norrington is a man who has had everything, lost everything. Fallen from the top to the bottom, felt the high of accomplishment, and the stinging low of rejection. For all light there is a dark, and he is enveloped in his.
There are brothels and inns, and James stumbles from one to the other seeking his next turn of fate, or further fall from grace. His heart is clouded in roughness, scarred with burnt edges. There are the black depths, and he is lost in them, allowing himself to be immersed and drowned.
“There is no point… in caring,” he tells his dirty reflection, holding aloft a half-full tankard of rum, and letting the liquid burn his throat on the way down. He taps at the cracked glass, almost wanting to laugh, but there is only the choking of bitterness.
He does not want to miss what he knew; that would only make the pain more acute. Instead he familiarises himself with the present; letting it cloak all the garish light of his previous life and leave behind only the few memories he has of darkness.
The Pearl has black sails, a black deck, but there is no solemnity to its colour. Perhaps it is Sparrow that causes this, a man of vividness and vibrancy - reds and golds, stained sashes, and rattling trinkets. The only black is the kohl stained eyes, and perhaps the eyes themselves, but they are black in the way that is not a colour, more of an emotion, or a measure of depth.
Even now he remembers, Elizabeth wearing a mourning dress once when she was seventeen. It was of imported lace, and had gloves to match, and James longed for the paleness of her fingers amongst all those shadows. When she had glanced up from under her lashes, he had found himself blushing. Even then she was the colour in his world, the furious sun to his cold heart.
James knows he first wore a black armband as a midshipman, after a sea battle, which cost them twenty of their best men. There was no sense to his survival, only that he had managed to avoid errant blades, had a few lucky strikes, and yet there were better men dead at his feet, and the blood was slippery on the decks. That armband since has grown to become a shroud that binds his entire body; such is the extent of his guilt.
His former life is reduced to these flurries of memories. A sea of red coats lit against the fierce Caribbean sun. The bright flesh of an orange as Elizabeth’s plump lips savour the taste on her tongue. The flash of green as the sun hits the horizon or the brilliant cerulean of the water, before it turns to foam against the hull of a ship. The soft pink of Elizabeth’s favourite gown, trimmed with white ribbons.
Soon these colours will sink into the void, like everything else in his life. Swallowed by the crushing force of his deeds, his mistakes, his guilt. There is no hope for him - not anymore. He cannot atone for his sins; his soul is black.
Pairing: Norrington. Slight Norrington/Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 542
Prompt Word: Black
Summary: James, in Tortuga, reflecting.
My first time posting here, so I hope I followed all the rules and haven't made a big embarassment of myself. :)
Dusk
It is two sides to every story, two faces on every coin.
James Norrington is a man who has had everything, lost everything. Fallen from the top to the bottom, felt the high of accomplishment, and the stinging low of rejection. For all light there is a dark, and he is enveloped in his.
There are brothels and inns, and James stumbles from one to the other seeking his next turn of fate, or further fall from grace. His heart is clouded in roughness, scarred with burnt edges. There are the black depths, and he is lost in them, allowing himself to be immersed and drowned.
“There is no point… in caring,” he tells his dirty reflection, holding aloft a half-full tankard of rum, and letting the liquid burn his throat on the way down. He taps at the cracked glass, almost wanting to laugh, but there is only the choking of bitterness.
He does not want to miss what he knew; that would only make the pain more acute. Instead he familiarises himself with the present; letting it cloak all the garish light of his previous life and leave behind only the few memories he has of darkness.
The Pearl has black sails, a black deck, but there is no solemnity to its colour. Perhaps it is Sparrow that causes this, a man of vividness and vibrancy - reds and golds, stained sashes, and rattling trinkets. The only black is the kohl stained eyes, and perhaps the eyes themselves, but they are black in the way that is not a colour, more of an emotion, or a measure of depth.
Even now he remembers, Elizabeth wearing a mourning dress once when she was seventeen. It was of imported lace, and had gloves to match, and James longed for the paleness of her fingers amongst all those shadows. When she had glanced up from under her lashes, he had found himself blushing. Even then she was the colour in his world, the furious sun to his cold heart.
James knows he first wore a black armband as a midshipman, after a sea battle, which cost them twenty of their best men. There was no sense to his survival, only that he had managed to avoid errant blades, had a few lucky strikes, and yet there were better men dead at his feet, and the blood was slippery on the decks. That armband since has grown to become a shroud that binds his entire body; such is the extent of his guilt.
His former life is reduced to these flurries of memories. A sea of red coats lit against the fierce Caribbean sun. The bright flesh of an orange as Elizabeth’s plump lips savour the taste on her tongue. The flash of green as the sun hits the horizon or the brilliant cerulean of the water, before it turns to foam against the hull of a ship. The soft pink of Elizabeth’s favourite gown, trimmed with white ribbons.
Soon these colours will sink into the void, like everything else in his life. Swallowed by the crushing force of his deeds, his mistakes, his guilt. There is no hope for him - not anymore. He cannot atone for his sins; his soul is black.