Bah.
I am so bored! Augh augh augh! I mean, I suppose it goes without saying, because why would I be on livejournal if I wasn't bored? Honestly? (I mean, besides checking to see what you guys are up to, my online buddies.) I am sitting alone in the kitchen, typing on the computer while my hubby watches the special features from Transformers with a geek buddy of his. He and I are supposed to go out and pay a visit to our puppy (who we get on Friday! Yay!) later on tonight, but I don't know when that is, so here I am.
I, too, have only moaning to do right now. However, unlike Elise, I am not going to post a handy-dandy link. I'm just going to do it.
AUGH! I HATE MY JOB! Seriously! I feel sick whenever I think about it. I dread going in to work! Thankfully, there have been some openings and some of the local banks and whatnot, so I will apply around. I'm just sooooooo sick of small businesses run by old women! There's no real management, and they're so snippity and menopausal. Rrrrgh. I got yelled at for being sick the other day, and told I have to buy vitamins. I was so close to quitting right then. If it weren't for the fact that we're a little tight on money, and my income is also needed, I would have. Who gets yelled at for having the flu!? And can your boss actually require you to take vitamins!?
What else was I going to complain about?
Oh yes.
I have to drive to the cities again tomorrow, and AGAIN, I have to take the 16-year-old beater car. This time, however, I have to go BY MYSELF. I will die, I think. My cousin and her boyfriend will probably just cuddle in the backseat the whole way home, and I will be like the lonely hermit chauffer (how do you spell that? damnit) in the crappy front seat. Lonely. Lonely, lonely. That's me. I have no friends. *sigh* Unfortunately, I am the type that doesn't trust people enough to make new friends. I mean, I hang out with other people when I'm with my husband, but I would never want to hang out with those same people by myself. We just don't share any common interests. At least, none that would make an afternoon together interesting. (Urgh. That sounded kind of racy, but that's not what I meant at all. I just mean they don't read the books I do, they don't listen to the music I listen to, and they don't have the same hobbies. Nothing else did I mean.) *shudder*
I think, to pass the time, I'm just going to type up what I have of Chappy 51 of TWOOOOO CAAAPITANS! Yay!
For the third time in so many months, Jack found himself navigating the treacherous cliffs of Isla de Muerta. Relief and sorrow warred in his chest. He was so near to the end of his physical torture, but for his heart there was no relief in sight. Ryenne had broken out of her strange trance, true enough, but though she was able to communicate with him, she had (thus far) refused to do so. The only news of her he ever received was reluctantly relayed through the ship's young healer-turned-tyrant. In fact, he hadn't had any direct contact with her since that troubling night at Lee's Tavern when she'd awoken from a dead faint, sobbing uncontrollably and crying out for Quinn.
Annoyed as that had made him, he'd had no choice but to call the lad back from his brief exile. His blood boiled to remember the tenderness with which Quinn had gathered her shaking form into his thin arms and the indignity of being shooed out of the room by a 13-year-old's stern gaze. It certainly didn't help that with his final backward glance into Room 13 he'd caught a glimpse of a sleepy, sheepish grin from the man who had been fast asleep mere seconds before, and who was not - much to Jack's chagrin - being forcefully ejected from the room. And then Quinn had slammed the door in his face, something of a satisfied smirk in his mien.
As if in apology for his ability to have been a silent witness, Will had detailed all that happened between the healer and his patient that night...which was nothing at all. Apparently Quinn had murmured a lot of soothing nonsense, to which Ryenne had responded with a hiccuping sob or two. Will had called him a fool for thinking it would be anything else, but still...
The rhythmic thudding of wood on wood distracted him from his fuming, and he turned, frowning, as Will hobbled to his side. A crutch, made of what seemed to be scrap wood and cloth bindings, was tucked firmly under his left shoulder. He, too, was frowning.
"You shouldn't torture yourself like this, Jack."
"You should be in bed." He sighed angrily. "Quinn's orders, you know."
"And you know that Elizabeth will skin us both alive if I'm not able to walk in the door of my own volition"
"What are you doing out here, then? You should be in bed, gathering your strength."
Will flashed him a wry grin.
"I'm practicing." As if to demonstrate, he took a few shambling steps, leaning heavily on his makeshift crutch and wincing as he did so.
Jack shook his head.
"Not very convincing, mate. You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up." He shifted his grip on the tiller, fixing his gaze on the narrow passage he was navigating at the moment.
It was Will's turn to sigh.
"She won't see me either, you know. She won't see anyone."
"Except that damnable boy."
"Can you blame her? After all she's been through, he must seem the only non-threatening person on this ship."
"What do you mean by that?"
Will shifted uncomfortably. "Jack, you know as well as I do what that bastard must've done to her. She's probably afraid that we'll -"
Jack's eyes flashed.
"I would never -"
"- and the lad is the only one young enough to seem...well...safe." Will shrugged helplessly. "It makes sense."
"It most certainly does not." Jack jerked the tiller rather harder than he'd meant to, almost skewering the Pearl on the jagged mast of one of the numerous shipwrecks Isla de Muerta boasted. "Just because he's young doesn't mean the little vermin doesn't still have a -"
"Ahem."
Despite the fact that he had done no more than clear his throat, there was no mistaking young Quinn's voice. Fighting the blush rising in his cheeks, Jack glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was the boy, his face white and pinched with humiliated fury. Mustering a scowl of his own, Jack turned back to the tiller.
"How long have you been standing there, boy?"
The lad's reply, though still terse, was directed at Will.
"If you would be so kind, Mr. Turner, Miss Caelar would like to see you in her cabin."
A thrill of anger shuddered down Jack's spine and he gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter. He could almost hear the sheepish grin forming on Will's features. As Quinn turned sharply on his heel, Jack turned his scowl on the half-crippled fool next to him.
"So much for your theories, hmm?"
***
And that's basically all I have. I'm not really satisfied with it, but it's something. I'm really excited to write a section with Ryenne, since she's my favorite to write about, but it's always hard putting Will into a scene. He's so bland most of the time. And I don't even have any idea WHY she would want to speak to him, anyway. It was just a way to end the scene. Oh well.
I think I hear Mark's geek friend leaving. Maybe I'll go see if he's willing to turn off Transformers and hang out with me. We'll see, eh?
I, too, have only moaning to do right now. However, unlike Elise, I am not going to post a handy-dandy link. I'm just going to do it.
AUGH! I HATE MY JOB! Seriously! I feel sick whenever I think about it. I dread going in to work! Thankfully, there have been some openings and some of the local banks and whatnot, so I will apply around. I'm just sooooooo sick of small businesses run by old women! There's no real management, and they're so snippity and menopausal. Rrrrgh. I got yelled at for being sick the other day, and told I have to buy vitamins. I was so close to quitting right then. If it weren't for the fact that we're a little tight on money, and my income is also needed, I would have. Who gets yelled at for having the flu!? And can your boss actually require you to take vitamins!?
What else was I going to complain about?
Oh yes.
I have to drive to the cities again tomorrow, and AGAIN, I have to take the 16-year-old beater car. This time, however, I have to go BY MYSELF. I will die, I think. My cousin and her boyfriend will probably just cuddle in the backseat the whole way home, and I will be like the lonely hermit chauffer (how do you spell that? damnit) in the crappy front seat. Lonely. Lonely, lonely. That's me. I have no friends. *sigh* Unfortunately, I am the type that doesn't trust people enough to make new friends. I mean, I hang out with other people when I'm with my husband, but I would never want to hang out with those same people by myself. We just don't share any common interests. At least, none that would make an afternoon together interesting. (Urgh. That sounded kind of racy, but that's not what I meant at all. I just mean they don't read the books I do, they don't listen to the music I listen to, and they don't have the same hobbies. Nothing else did I mean.) *shudder*
I think, to pass the time, I'm just going to type up what I have of Chappy 51 of TWOOOOO CAAAPITANS! Yay!
For the third time in so many months, Jack found himself navigating the treacherous cliffs of Isla de Muerta. Relief and sorrow warred in his chest. He was so near to the end of his physical torture, but for his heart there was no relief in sight. Ryenne had broken out of her strange trance, true enough, but though she was able to communicate with him, she had (thus far) refused to do so. The only news of her he ever received was reluctantly relayed through the ship's young healer-turned-tyrant. In fact, he hadn't had any direct contact with her since that troubling night at Lee's Tavern when she'd awoken from a dead faint, sobbing uncontrollably and crying out for Quinn.
Annoyed as that had made him, he'd had no choice but to call the lad back from his brief exile. His blood boiled to remember the tenderness with which Quinn had gathered her shaking form into his thin arms and the indignity of being shooed out of the room by a 13-year-old's stern gaze. It certainly didn't help that with his final backward glance into Room 13 he'd caught a glimpse of a sleepy, sheepish grin from the man who had been fast asleep mere seconds before, and who was not - much to Jack's chagrin - being forcefully ejected from the room. And then Quinn had slammed the door in his face, something of a satisfied smirk in his mien.
As if in apology for his ability to have been a silent witness, Will had detailed all that happened between the healer and his patient that night...which was nothing at all. Apparently Quinn had murmured a lot of soothing nonsense, to which Ryenne had responded with a hiccuping sob or two. Will had called him a fool for thinking it would be anything else, but still...
The rhythmic thudding of wood on wood distracted him from his fuming, and he turned, frowning, as Will hobbled to his side. A crutch, made of what seemed to be scrap wood and cloth bindings, was tucked firmly under his left shoulder. He, too, was frowning.
"You shouldn't torture yourself like this, Jack."
"You should be in bed." He sighed angrily. "Quinn's orders, you know."
"And you know that Elizabeth will skin us both alive if I'm not able to walk in the door of my own volition"
"What are you doing out here, then? You should be in bed, gathering your strength."
Will flashed him a wry grin.
"I'm practicing." As if to demonstrate, he took a few shambling steps, leaning heavily on his makeshift crutch and wincing as he did so.
Jack shook his head.
"Not very convincing, mate. You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up." He shifted his grip on the tiller, fixing his gaze on the narrow passage he was navigating at the moment.
It was Will's turn to sigh.
"She won't see me either, you know. She won't see anyone."
"Except that damnable boy."
"Can you blame her? After all she's been through, he must seem the only non-threatening person on this ship."
"What do you mean by that?"
Will shifted uncomfortably. "Jack, you know as well as I do what that bastard must've done to her. She's probably afraid that we'll -"
Jack's eyes flashed.
"I would never -"
"- and the lad is the only one young enough to seem...well...safe." Will shrugged helplessly. "It makes sense."
"It most certainly does not." Jack jerked the tiller rather harder than he'd meant to, almost skewering the Pearl on the jagged mast of one of the numerous shipwrecks Isla de Muerta boasted. "Just because he's young doesn't mean the little vermin doesn't still have a -"
"Ahem."
Despite the fact that he had done no more than clear his throat, there was no mistaking young Quinn's voice. Fighting the blush rising in his cheeks, Jack glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was the boy, his face white and pinched with humiliated fury. Mustering a scowl of his own, Jack turned back to the tiller.
"How long have you been standing there, boy?"
The lad's reply, though still terse, was directed at Will.
"If you would be so kind, Mr. Turner, Miss Caelar would like to see you in her cabin."
A thrill of anger shuddered down Jack's spine and he gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter. He could almost hear the sheepish grin forming on Will's features. As Quinn turned sharply on his heel, Jack turned his scowl on the half-crippled fool next to him.
"So much for your theories, hmm?"
***
And that's basically all I have. I'm not really satisfied with it, but it's something. I'm really excited to write a section with Ryenne, since she's my favorite to write about, but it's always hard putting Will into a scene. He's so bland most of the time. And I don't even have any idea WHY she would want to speak to him, anyway. It was just a way to end the scene. Oh well.
I think I hear Mark's geek friend leaving. Maybe I'll go see if he's willing to turn off Transformers and hang out with me. We'll see, eh?