Comment ficlet
Title: They Say
Author: oneiriad
Disclaimer: Neither Supernatural nor PotC belongs to me.
A/N: neotoma asked for PotC/SPN == one trickster god, one drunken pirate, way too much rum. Port Royal will never be the same.
They say that Jack Sparrow is a son of a gun, born in the eye of a hurricane, his father the craziest pirate to ever sail the seven seas, his mother a witch and a savage (though which flavour of savage tends to vary with the telling).
They say so many things.
The truth?
The truth is a little more complicated...
***
June in Port Royal, and this night in the year of our lord 1692 is as hot and humid as every other night of the year.
There is a young man, dancing through the narrow streets of this, the Sodom of the New World. He's been celebrating.
Earlier today, long before the sun sank beneath the waves, he and his friends landed with their loot, the riches of a raid gone well - and maybe it was just a small sloop and maybe the loot wasn't that rich, but it is a beginning, and the beginning is washing everything else away, the stench and horror of the slave-ship on which he worked his passage, the filth and hunger of the narrow streets of London.
Everything. Washed away as by the tide. Because now he has this. Now he is this. And so he is celebrating.
His new friend is celebrating with him, his new friend that he met at the second - or was it the third tavern? - and they are dancing through the streets, arm in arm, drinking from each other's bottles of rum, and oh, it is glorious.
Into an alley they dance, away from the crowds of drunks and whores and men with sharp knives and shifty looks, away from the meager light cast by spluttering torches. Away from it all.
They're laughing, just the two of them, still laughing as the young man sinks to his knees in front of his new friend, fingers sliding through hair that he never bothered to cut, and perhaps this act of carnal worship is as unfamiliar to him as the rites in a Papist church, but oh, he is young and he is drunk and anyway, when has Teague ever been afraid to venture forth where even angels fear to tread?
"Oh, Kali is going to love you."
***
They say that Jack Sparrow is a changeling, that a cold wind came down from the north and got a mermaid with child, that they carried away a human child and left him in its place.
They say so many things.
The truth?
The truth is threefold...
Author: oneiriad
Disclaimer: Neither Supernatural nor PotC belongs to me.
A/N: neotoma asked for PotC/SPN == one trickster god, one drunken pirate, way too much rum. Port Royal will never be the same.
They say that Jack Sparrow is a son of a gun, born in the eye of a hurricane, his father the craziest pirate to ever sail the seven seas, his mother a witch and a savage (though which flavour of savage tends to vary with the telling).
They say so many things.
The truth?
The truth is a little more complicated...
***
June in Port Royal, and this night in the year of our lord 1692 is as hot and humid as every other night of the year.
There is a young man, dancing through the narrow streets of this, the Sodom of the New World. He's been celebrating.
Earlier today, long before the sun sank beneath the waves, he and his friends landed with their loot, the riches of a raid gone well - and maybe it was just a small sloop and maybe the loot wasn't that rich, but it is a beginning, and the beginning is washing everything else away, the stench and horror of the slave-ship on which he worked his passage, the filth and hunger of the narrow streets of London.
Everything. Washed away as by the tide. Because now he has this. Now he is this. And so he is celebrating.
His new friend is celebrating with him, his new friend that he met at the second - or was it the third tavern? - and they are dancing through the streets, arm in arm, drinking from each other's bottles of rum, and oh, it is glorious.
Into an alley they dance, away from the crowds of drunks and whores and men with sharp knives and shifty looks, away from the meager light cast by spluttering torches. Away from it all.
They're laughing, just the two of them, still laughing as the young man sinks to his knees in front of his new friend, fingers sliding through hair that he never bothered to cut, and perhaps this act of carnal worship is as unfamiliar to him as the rites in a Papist church, but oh, he is young and he is drunk and anyway, when has Teague ever been afraid to venture forth where even angels fear to tread?
"Oh, Kali is going to love you."
***
They say that Jack Sparrow is a changeling, that a cold wind came down from the north and got a mermaid with child, that they carried away a human child and left him in its place.
They say so many things.
The truth?
The truth is threefold...