(Untitled)

[bringmethatnpc]

Night has fallen, and the Black Pearl cuts through the still and glass-like waters of world's end with hardly a sound. There must be a small wind, their forward progress is proof enough of that, but the air feels stagnant and oppressive, weighing them down with the knowledge that they don't belong in this weird and haunted place

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[bringmethatnpc]

It's an old hobby of sailors the world over.

Not just sailors, actually. Anyone floating endlessly over still water is bound to get bored sooner or later, and start poking about in the depths below them, under the excuse of 'fishing.' Pintel's line got tangled almost immediately, and he struggles half-heartedly to undo it as Ragetti stares downwards.

Then he jerks back all of a sudden and Pintel drops his line in shock as he sees what's under the water - ghostly outlines of people floating there, face-up and limp under the rippling surface.

He swallows. "Eerie," he manages. "That's just downright-" he hesitates, "Macahbree."

Odd word. French, most like. But right now, with them faces, more and more every minute... seems fitting.

[parley_pirate]

((Sorry for the long wait-I’m trying to be more punctual with these things.))

Ragetti is not about to disagree. The weird, empty-eyed figures feel so far away, and at the same time almost close enough to touch, and the idea of actually touching one is enough to send a shudder to rattle his spine.

A pressing question has occurred to him, and he nudges Pintel with his elbow, dragging his eyes from the silent procession. The figures look almost unreal, which begs the question: "I wonder what would 'appen if you dropped a cannonball on one of 'em?"

Inquiring minds want to know!

[bringmethatnpc]

>_>

Well, o'course there's only one way to find that out. Hefting a cannonball each, and trying to snigger quietly, Pintel and Ragetti shuffle their way back to the prow and the fascinatingly disturbing sight of faces under the waves.

Or...

Pintel is already having second thoughts when a dark shape turns around and a freezing glare is turned on the both of them. Because he may be a ruthless, daredevil pirate from the crew of the Black Pearl, but that look on Tia Dalma's face could flay a man's hide without her even saying a word.

There are two heavy thuds as the two cannonballs simultaneously hit the deck.

"...Be disrespectful, it would."

[touch_destiny]

The look in her eyes has frozen braver men than these two; could send fish flickering away in a panic, could chill the steady wind that pushes the Pearl along her mirrored waters

[try_corsets]

The unexpected light of the lanterns, one in each small boat, draws Elizabeth's attention. She walks to the port rail, still deep in her own thoughts until one boat in particular catches her eye.

Not the boat, the passenger within.

Eyes alight with a fierce happiness, Elizabeth exclaims: "It's my father... we've made it back!"

The Locker, the gloom, and all her uncertainty about Will and Jack falls away. It doesn't matter any more. They're back, and her father is here to greet them.

[pirate_jack]

He steps from the shadows where he's been silently watching, coming up behind Elizabeth-- moving for all the world much like a shadow himself, or perhaps even a ghost.

Which he is, to make no bones about it.

Here in this half-world between the Locker and the living lands beyond, Jack Sparrow is one of the few best suited to know exactly what they're all seeing as they watch boats and bodies and the flickering (candle) lights guiding the spirits in from the cold and watery deep.

There's a dark, knowing gleam in the black eyes as his gaze rests on once-Governor Weatherby Swann, but Jack doesn't say a word.

[governor_swann]

It's been night a long time, but the boat's rocking is gentle and the star light gives him comfort.

Nothing matters anymore.

lap... lap... lap...

There are others here, in boats beside his, behind his. He doesn't speak to them, because they don't matter.

Nothing matters but the end of the journey which must come soon, mustn't it?

[try_corsets]

Elizabeth doesn't notice Jack. All of her attention is focused on the man in the boat, who doesn't seem to hear her cries.

"Father!" She lightly slaps the rail. "Father, here, look here!"

Why doesn't he look her way?