Turning Time: Shifts
The little AU: Winter Work: Shifts
slashfairy
G
~~
Someone, maybe one of them, maybe Henry, maybe Henry's friend, circled the Equinox on the calendar months ago. All he knows is, at seven minutes after Midnight, Winter is officially over in the Northern Hemisphere, and it can't come too soon, that moment.
What Spring will bring is unclear. This game of reading from Pirates is having unintended side effects: Orli's sure he saw Will down on the beach, talked to him even, somewhere between the confines of his own head and his heart's questions. Karl's begun to argue the politics of the British Empire and the Commonwealth with Norrington, finds the man alternately a pompous ass and a fellow who took the wrong step once and paid forever after with his sacred honor. And Viggo turns one day from his writing to find Jack Sparrow sitting on the sofa in the studio, just watching him.
They shake their heads and don't really speak of it amongst themselves, not yet. It's just a script, right? Just a movie. The fact that it's been the largest part of Orli's life besides Rings is an undertone, unacknowledged as yet, though it's the most significant thing that's come up since he came home: He is, for the first time in ten years, free to choose who and what he wants to be, and it's exhilarating and frightening and satisfying all at the same time to find out that who he is is enough, is full and rich and deep and growing, new shoots at the end of every branch, new roots mirrored under the ground he's laid.
So each of them at some point has looked at the calendar, noted the circled date and the time written in in red Sharpie: 00:07!!! and breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever else happens, they've made it through the Winter together, come ashore safe and sound and together.
Will and Jack and Norrington wait on the beach, watching. Norrington's not sure he cares. Will and Jack, though...This turning of the calendar might free them, too. Only the Moon knows for sure, though, and she's not telling. They'll have to wait, too, to see what sprouts, what blooms, what has sent out runners under the snow over the winter, to know how what's gone before will play out now.
They can wait. The world may have an end, but time, as it turns out, does not.
Viggo turns, and Jack is gone. The studio's quiet, except for the clock ticking, and the page of the calendar blown every so slightly by a breeze in off the ocean, a lick of sea-wind that's found its way up the bluff and into the house at the end of the bluff road.
previously: Recouping
(interlude & whisper: Will)
next: Fresh Takes
slashfairy
G
~~
Someone, maybe one of them, maybe Henry, maybe Henry's friend, circled the Equinox on the calendar months ago. All he knows is, at seven minutes after Midnight, Winter is officially over in the Northern Hemisphere, and it can't come too soon, that moment.
What Spring will bring is unclear. This game of reading from Pirates is having unintended side effects: Orli's sure he saw Will down on the beach, talked to him even, somewhere between the confines of his own head and his heart's questions. Karl's begun to argue the politics of the British Empire and the Commonwealth with Norrington, finds the man alternately a pompous ass and a fellow who took the wrong step once and paid forever after with his sacred honor. And Viggo turns one day from his writing to find Jack Sparrow sitting on the sofa in the studio, just watching him.
They shake their heads and don't really speak of it amongst themselves, not yet. It's just a script, right? Just a movie. The fact that it's been the largest part of Orli's life besides Rings is an undertone, unacknowledged as yet, though it's the most significant thing that's come up since he came home: He is, for the first time in ten years, free to choose who and what he wants to be, and it's exhilarating and frightening and satisfying all at the same time to find out that who he is is enough, is full and rich and deep and growing, new shoots at the end of every branch, new roots mirrored under the ground he's laid.
So each of them at some point has looked at the calendar, noted the circled date and the time written in in red Sharpie: 00:07!!! and breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever else happens, they've made it through the Winter together, come ashore safe and sound and together.
Will and Jack and Norrington wait on the beach, watching. Norrington's not sure he cares. Will and Jack, though...This turning of the calendar might free them, too. Only the Moon knows for sure, though, and she's not telling. They'll have to wait, too, to see what sprouts, what blooms, what has sent out runners under the snow over the winter, to know how what's gone before will play out now.
They can wait. The world may have an end, but time, as it turns out, does not.
Viggo turns, and Jack is gone. The studio's quiet, except for the clock ticking, and the page of the calendar blown every so slightly by a breeze in off the ocean, a lick of sea-wind that's found its way up the bluff and into the house at the end of the bluff road.
previously: Recouping
(interlude & whisper: Will)
next: Fresh Takes