Not a Proper Rescue [Active]
Character(s): Elizabeth Swann, open to all
Content: Elizabeth Swann arrives in Paixao
Setting: Inside Joutenheim Gate
Time: Evening
Warnings: None
Elizabeth woke to the unfamiliar sensation of cool stone pressed to her cheek. Not the grainy shift of sand or the uncomfortable tickle of brittle grass. She opened her eyes to dusky darkness at felt at once alarmed.
She recalled building a fire while Jack mumbled drunkenly in his sleep. Stacking and burning barrels, watching white smoke spiral into the sky like a fantastic writhing snake. She’d only waited an hour after Jack had fallen asleep, to be safe, before she began hauling crates out of the rumrunners’ cache. It took her until mid-morning to build a sizeable flame, one the Royal Navy would surely see. By then she was exhausted, and surrendered to the tired tug of her muscles. She sat down for a moment, just a little nap before Jack woke up and would probably try to kill her, before the Navy would come and they’d be off this wretched island, before she could save Will…
The sky was dark now, a gauzy purple, and she couldn’t feel the salty scent of the sea clogging her nose. She had overslept. But as Elizabeth’s vision cleared and the world came into sharper focus, she realized much more was amiss than that.
She had fallen asleep on the beach, not far from Jack. Now she couldn’t see him, nor the sand or the sea. She couldn’t hear the crackle of a bonfire or the whisper of the waves. She felt panic close its skeletal hand around her throat as she scrambled to her feet and looked around.
Elizabeth was standing outside a gate, with stone giants standing stalwart on either side. Their raised clubs crossed over the top of the large doors. Elizabeth spun, hoping to find the ocean at her back, but it was nowhere to be seen. Feeling ill, and knowing she was much too conscious to be dreaming, she rushed up to the gate. A man stood to the side, who appeared not to notice her until she was standing directly in front of him.
His eyes were clear blue, the eerie color of a shark infested reef. In Port Royal, they might have frightened her - but now, after encountering living corpses and evading death multiple times, she was merely a bit unnerved.
“Where am I?” she asked. “Where is Jack?”
The man replied in an unnaturally pleasant voice - not disinterested or bored, merely automatic, as if he were made to say this one phrase rather than merely instructed to, “Name, please.”
If there was anything Elizabeth had learned while in the company of Captain Barbossa, it was that names were a dangerous business and you were almost always better off without one. She also did not appreciate her question being rebuffed. More insistently, she asked, “Jack Sparrow? We were deserted on an island, and I built a signal fire. I must have fallen asleep.” It occurred to her that if she had been taken, Jack must have too, and certainly he knew where they were. He had been more places than Elizabeth had read about or even heard of. “Where is Jack?”
“If you’re looking for your friend, you should try the electronic journal network,” he said smoothly, and handed her a small, sleek metal object. “Welcome to Paixao, miss. Please enjoy your stay.”
She was about to grab him by the collar when the gates yawned open, revealing a city inside. As the crack grew, Elizabeth saw more buildings, plants… even people. She glanced back at the man who’d welcomed her, and he already seemed to have forgotten her. Clearly he was a bit mad - but perhaps she could find someone inside who could direct her to Jack, or more preferably a member of the Royal Navy.
Elizabeth entered hastily. The more people she saw, the more aware she became that she was wearing the chemise Barbossa had left her in upon reclaiming the burgundy dress. However, most of the passersby seemed not to notice - they had the same dreamy disassociation as the man at the gate.
Content: Elizabeth Swann arrives in Paixao
Setting: Inside Joutenheim Gate
Time: Evening
Warnings: None
Elizabeth woke to the unfamiliar sensation of cool stone pressed to her cheek. Not the grainy shift of sand or the uncomfortable tickle of brittle grass. She opened her eyes to dusky darkness at felt at once alarmed.
She recalled building a fire while Jack mumbled drunkenly in his sleep. Stacking and burning barrels, watching white smoke spiral into the sky like a fantastic writhing snake. She’d only waited an hour after Jack had fallen asleep, to be safe, before she began hauling crates out of the rumrunners’ cache. It took her until mid-morning to build a sizeable flame, one the Royal Navy would surely see. By then she was exhausted, and surrendered to the tired tug of her muscles. She sat down for a moment, just a little nap before Jack woke up and would probably try to kill her, before the Navy would come and they’d be off this wretched island, before she could save Will…
The sky was dark now, a gauzy purple, and she couldn’t feel the salty scent of the sea clogging her nose. She had overslept. But as Elizabeth’s vision cleared and the world came into sharper focus, she realized much more was amiss than that.
She had fallen asleep on the beach, not far from Jack. Now she couldn’t see him, nor the sand or the sea. She couldn’t hear the crackle of a bonfire or the whisper of the waves. She felt panic close its skeletal hand around her throat as she scrambled to her feet and looked around.
Elizabeth was standing outside a gate, with stone giants standing stalwart on either side. Their raised clubs crossed over the top of the large doors. Elizabeth spun, hoping to find the ocean at her back, but it was nowhere to be seen. Feeling ill, and knowing she was much too conscious to be dreaming, she rushed up to the gate. A man stood to the side, who appeared not to notice her until she was standing directly in front of him.
His eyes were clear blue, the eerie color of a shark infested reef. In Port Royal, they might have frightened her - but now, after encountering living corpses and evading death multiple times, she was merely a bit unnerved.
“Where am I?” she asked. “Where is Jack?”
The man replied in an unnaturally pleasant voice - not disinterested or bored, merely automatic, as if he were made to say this one phrase rather than merely instructed to, “Name, please.”
If there was anything Elizabeth had learned while in the company of Captain Barbossa, it was that names were a dangerous business and you were almost always better off without one. She also did not appreciate her question being rebuffed. More insistently, she asked, “Jack Sparrow? We were deserted on an island, and I built a signal fire. I must have fallen asleep.” It occurred to her that if she had been taken, Jack must have too, and certainly he knew where they were. He had been more places than Elizabeth had read about or even heard of. “Where is Jack?”
“If you’re looking for your friend, you should try the electronic journal network,” he said smoothly, and handed her a small, sleek metal object. “Welcome to Paixao, miss. Please enjoy your stay.”
She was about to grab him by the collar when the gates yawned open, revealing a city inside. As the crack grew, Elizabeth saw more buildings, plants… even people. She glanced back at the man who’d welcomed her, and he already seemed to have forgotten her. Clearly he was a bit mad - but perhaps she could find someone inside who could direct her to Jack, or more preferably a member of the Royal Navy.
Elizabeth entered hastily. The more people she saw, the more aware she became that she was wearing the chemise Barbossa had left her in upon reclaiming the burgundy dress. However, most of the passersby seemed not to notice - they had the same dreamy disassociation as the man at the gate.