(no subject)
They bring her up from the wretched, waterlogged hold, bound in rope and chain.
O ETERNAL Lord God, who alone spreadest out the heavens, and rulest the raging
of the sea; who hast compassed the waters with bounds, until day and night come to an end;
Be pleased to receive into thy Almighty and most gracious protection, the persons
of us thy servants, and the Ship in which we serve. Preserve us
from the dangers of the sea
They needn't bother; her bindings are too tight already, the body she is trapped in heavier than the thickest chain, but still she holds her head high and stares at them until they drop their curious gazes. Sailors, of all mortals, are superstitious men, and they do not dare to meet her eyes.
They're scum, worthless. She searches the crowd to find Barbossa, and their eyes meet: of all the sailors he and Elizabeth alone stand their ground, but she doesn't watch or listen to them; her attention is on a small iron bowl held by one of Barbossa's men, and on the small pieces that roll about in it, clinking. It's Barbossa who pours the oil over them, Barbossa who lights them, Barbossa who intones in solemn voice the charm to release her from her bonds. She takes a breath, impatient, straining against her bonds.
"Calypso!" His voice is deep, rasping; he lets it roll grandly over the gathered company, and pauses to enjoy the silence. "I release you from your human bonds."
It isn't enough. It isn't enough, and she struggles for the first time, in impatient and impotent fury. Barbossa has no idea what love might be, the charm won't work, all this has come to naught and the Pirate Lords who bound her will never be punished, she'll never be free...
"You aren't saying it right."
It's gentle and almost impossible to hear, but she focuses on the voice and glares in it's direction to see Barbossa's man, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly under the weight of attention. He looks nearly apologetic, but maybe, maybe...
His breath is but a whisper against her neck, his voice unheard save by her ear, but he says it and
Calypso?
she takes a breath and
I release you
it returns as a wind that shakes the sails of the Black Pearl.
from your human bonds.
Above her there are stars and deep, deep black; below her are the sparkling fish and the shifting sands and she is no she any longer but a massive presence only, fierce and furious and drifting--and yet there is one hold still, one slender thread that focuses what is left of this human mind that they caught her in. A voice, one among her own myriad, but strong nonetheless, and familiar, and saying words which draw her back. It questions her; she answers with a snarl and a tempest.
Who? it asks, in the silence of her pause, who betrayed you?
The Pirate Lords.
How did they betray you?
They bound me.
How did they know to?
I do not know.
Who told them?
I do not know.
A pause. She feels water swirling about her feet. He knows. She pushes towards his mind but cannot find her way through. Aggrieved, she demands:
Name him.
Who betrayed you?
Fury.
Name him!
There is silence, and then Will leans forward, his voice a harsh whisper against the scream of wind.
Davy Jones
The human heart they had so cruelly given her limps; the human body they had sentenced her to begins to shake--but the charm is spoken, what was done now undone, and she releases her hold on the fragile thread that is Will to dive deep into the cold, the dark, the multitude that welcomes Calypso back to it.
Her mind, free of its human weaknesses, calms, but her rage is unabated. With one stroke she could obliterate the Pirate Lords from the sweeps of her ocean; with one wave shatter the Pearl into less than matchsticks, but she is confused. Who was the betrayer, the pirates or their enemy? Was it her followers or her lover who snatched her away from this her bed and forced her into a singular form lifted above the waters and the creatures she once had been?
Is it the Black Pearl or the Flying Dutchman that deserves her wrath?
In her uncertain anger, the waters begin to swirl, clouds gather, lightning strikes and wounds the slate-colored waves. Far above comes a cry of "Maelstrom!" as she pulls together the two ships that are all the power and glory of the men who had betrayed her before drawing away herself, to some secluded and peaceful part of the ocean, to keep watch.
The fight is fair, and her anger appeased: neither side has the advantage. The strong winds keep the Pearl from flanking or fleeing; the steep drop of the whirlpool holds the Dutchman's formidable arms at bay.
Her part in this war is ended, and she turns all but the smallest portion of her attention to it, to the cries and the sounds of cannon and screams. Soon it will end, but before then she has other matters to attend.
O MOST powerful and glorious Lord God, at whose command the winds blow, and
lift up the waves of the sea, and who stillest the rage thereof;
We, thy creatures, but miserable sinners, do in this our great distress cry unto thee for help; Save, Lord,
or else we perish--
The living, the living shall praise thee O send thy word of command to rebuke the raging winds and the roaring sea
O ETERNAL Lord God, who alone spreadest out the heavens, and rulest the raging
of the sea; who hast compassed the waters with bounds, until day and night come to an end;
Be pleased to receive into thy Almighty and most gracious protection, the persons
of us thy servants, and the Ship in which we serve. Preserve us
from the dangers of the sea
They needn't bother; her bindings are too tight already, the body she is trapped in heavier than the thickest chain, but still she holds her head high and stares at them until they drop their curious gazes. Sailors, of all mortals, are superstitious men, and they do not dare to meet her eyes.
They're scum, worthless. She searches the crowd to find Barbossa, and their eyes meet: of all the sailors he and Elizabeth alone stand their ground, but she doesn't watch or listen to them; her attention is on a small iron bowl held by one of Barbossa's men, and on the small pieces that roll about in it, clinking. It's Barbossa who pours the oil over them, Barbossa who lights them, Barbossa who intones in solemn voice the charm to release her from her bonds. She takes a breath, impatient, straining against her bonds.
"Calypso!" His voice is deep, rasping; he lets it roll grandly over the gathered company, and pauses to enjoy the silence. "I release you from your human bonds."
It isn't enough. It isn't enough, and she struggles for the first time, in impatient and impotent fury. Barbossa has no idea what love might be, the charm won't work, all this has come to naught and the Pirate Lords who bound her will never be punished, she'll never be free...
"You aren't saying it right."
It's gentle and almost impossible to hear, but she focuses on the voice and glares in it's direction to see Barbossa's man, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly under the weight of attention. He looks nearly apologetic, but maybe, maybe...
His breath is but a whisper against her neck, his voice unheard save by her ear, but he says it and
Calypso?
she takes a breath and
I release you
it returns as a wind that shakes the sails of the Black Pearl.
from your human bonds.
Above her there are stars and deep, deep black; below her are the sparkling fish and the shifting sands and she is no she any longer but a massive presence only, fierce and furious and drifting--and yet there is one hold still, one slender thread that focuses what is left of this human mind that they caught her in. A voice, one among her own myriad, but strong nonetheless, and familiar, and saying words which draw her back. It questions her; she answers with a snarl and a tempest.
Who? it asks, in the silence of her pause, who betrayed you?
The Pirate Lords.
How did they betray you?
They bound me.
How did they know to?
I do not know.
Who told them?
I do not know.
A pause. She feels water swirling about her feet. He knows. She pushes towards his mind but cannot find her way through. Aggrieved, she demands:
Name him.
Who betrayed you?
Fury.
Name him!
There is silence, and then Will leans forward, his voice a harsh whisper against the scream of wind.
Davy Jones
The human heart they had so cruelly given her limps; the human body they had sentenced her to begins to shake--but the charm is spoken, what was done now undone, and she releases her hold on the fragile thread that is Will to dive deep into the cold, the dark, the multitude that welcomes Calypso back to it.
Her mind, free of its human weaknesses, calms, but her rage is unabated. With one stroke she could obliterate the Pirate Lords from the sweeps of her ocean; with one wave shatter the Pearl into less than matchsticks, but she is confused. Who was the betrayer, the pirates or their enemy? Was it her followers or her lover who snatched her away from this her bed and forced her into a singular form lifted above the waters and the creatures she once had been?
Is it the Black Pearl or the Flying Dutchman that deserves her wrath?
In her uncertain anger, the waters begin to swirl, clouds gather, lightning strikes and wounds the slate-colored waves. Far above comes a cry of "Maelstrom!" as she pulls together the two ships that are all the power and glory of the men who had betrayed her before drawing away herself, to some secluded and peaceful part of the ocean, to keep watch.
The fight is fair, and her anger appeased: neither side has the advantage. The strong winds keep the Pearl from flanking or fleeing; the steep drop of the whirlpool holds the Dutchman's formidable arms at bay.
Her part in this war is ended, and she turns all but the smallest portion of her attention to it, to the cries and the sounds of cannon and screams. Soon it will end, but before then she has other matters to attend.
O MOST powerful and glorious Lord God, at whose command the winds blow, and
lift up the waves of the sea, and who stillest the rage thereof;
We, thy creatures, but miserable sinners, do in this our great distress cry unto thee for help; Save, Lord,
or else we perish--
The living, the living shall praise thee O send thy word of command to rebuke the raging winds and the roaring sea