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18 September 2007 @ 12:24 am
It's not that he's lonely. Captain Jack Sparrow doesn't get lonely. It's all a part of being Captain Jack Sparrow, this never-loneliness. Even if he's about to be getting close, he keeps his own self company and with a little bit of rum, soon forgets about the lonely -- not that he ever felt that in the first place. It's just... This place has a very alone feeling abouts it. Not lonely then, he isn't. Just alone. And it's very hard to keep being Captain Jack Sparrow when no one is around to appreciate it. Might make a man feel a bit, well, lonely. Alone

Jack lolls his head back and forth and tries to think up all the words to his favourite song. It's mumble mumble something and really bad eggs, mumble mumble, a pirate's life for me. There's some strange noise coming from just behind his left ear. Sounds a lot like silence. He listens to it for a few moments and then goes back to trying to think up more words to the song.

Current Mood: lonelylonely
17 August 2007 @ 02:03 am
On the shore line, the waves lapped around a figure lying in the sand. For a long moment it appeared to be nothing more than just a figure, dark in colour and wet. No movements were made or even attempted to be made for a long time. If someone saw it from the distance, it would be easy to dismiss it at as a piece of wreckage from a ship, but no, it was a person just slowly starting to wake up from a hefty blow.

Is this real? Or am I dreaming?Collapse )
Current Mood: lonelylonely
01 August 2007 @ 09:59 pm

The deck of the Pearl was sort of... grey, and glittering oddly, and James squinted at it curiously.  He knelt, and put a hand to the deck, brushing over the wood.  A great swipe of black appeared where his hand had been, and he realised that the glittering substance on the deck was granules of something, sugar or crystal or- he sniffed, raised a hand to his mouth- salt.  He stood suddenly, staring out over the vast plains of Davy Jones's Locker, all flat and white, and saw in them a strange movement, a crawling, as though billions of tiny insects were making their way towards him and the ship.  He would have said it was wind, perhaps, if there had been wind in this place.  He leaned over the rail to see better, peering down at the hull of the beached ship, and a short gasp escaped him.  There was.... whiteness, crawling up the sides of the ship, thousands of millions of grains of sand, encroaching like water until they poured over the gunwale, flooding the deck, and James looked down and realised with a sick shock of terror that he could not distinguish the deck from the flatness around him; everything white and nondescript, utterly featureless, like the Locker was absorbing the Pearl into itself, denying James even the faintest hope of a way home-

His eyes open.  Or one of them does, at least; the other seems gummed together with sleep and the residue of tears.  He runs a rough hand over it, and after a few blinks, he is able to see clearly.  He is lying on the deck of the Pearl, legs splayed out, one arm resting beneath his head, the other flung out as if to catch at something; his head is pounding dully, and he winces at the unnaturally bright light of this place. The ship, he is relieved to see, is just as it was the day before, and quite free of anything out of the ordinary.  He chastises himself vaguely for even thinking that it might be otherwise, but he is still half asleep, and the dream was vivid and disturbing.  It is, he supposes, morning, though as there is neither sun nor moon in the Locker, there technically aren't days or nights at all.  He props himself up on one hand, thinking to get up to shake himself futher into wakefulness, but the hand gives out with a lance of pain, and he looks down at it, realising that it is his right hand, and that it is crusted with dried blood, the fingers crooked with pain.

Current Location: The Pearl
Current Mood: groggygroggy
24 July 2007 @ 11:14 am
The waters hadn’t seemed overly menacing, in fact the winds had been good and the current strong. It seemed as if everything was trying to make haste to Captain Sparrow’s return. So far it seemed that everyone had taken all of these into account for a good sign. The world needed Jack Sparrow back from the land of the dead as much as his broken hearted crew.

Tia Dalma had told the pirates the coordinates for this portal to the land of the dead. Many had been chilled to hear the name she called it, the Triangle. Barbossa was appointed captain with little fuss, since he had already been to the land of the dead. Still, the thought of Hector Barbossa as their captain made Will uneasy as much as the rest of the crew.

It has to be done, Will told himself silently as he looked to Elizabeth.  She had looked awful that day after Jack was killed.  It seemed as if she hadn't faired much better a few days later.  If it makes Elizabeth happy...I shall see this task done.
Current Location: On the shore
Current Mood: worriedworried
19 July 2007 @ 12:37 pm
There was something of a regaining consciousness at some point; of that much he is certain. He is very much conscious and lying on his back. Where, though, is the question.
Cautiously Jack opens one eye -- as good a place to start as any -- and looks about. Something vaguely like sky is above him: like sky but not. Too grey; too bright. No blue or clouds at all. He closes that eye and opens the other, gazing off to the right. Looks like sand. He switches back to the first eye and looks to the left. More sand. He paws a palm against the ground beneath him. Feels like sand.

So obviously he is somewhere with sand. 
Current Location: The Pearl
Current Mood: awake