(no subject)
Title: Dragon of the Sea (A PSoH/PotC crossover)
Author: Lithium Delusions
Rating: PG 13 (just to err on the side of caution, it may go up later)
Characters: D (actually one of his ancestors) and you guessed it... Captain Jack Sparrow.
Notes: Yeah, so here's the first chapter of that PSoH/PotC crossover. Don't know what I was thinking, don't want to know. My roomate was giving me funny looks the whole time she was betaing this. Can't say as I blame her.
Comments welcome. (Did I get Jack right?)
The streets of Singapore crouched like a torch-lit spiderweb over the black water. A man poled carefully beneath them, bright eyes darting quickly over the shadows. The beads braided in his long, black hair clicked softly with each nervous turn of his head.
At last those frantic eyes spotted what he sought and he tied off his boat carefully, stepping onto the dock with the rolling stride of one unaccustomed to long periods on dry land.
The shopfront was unassuming and quiet. The single window in the carved door was dark, but he knew the owner was about. He’d paid much for reliable information about the comings and goings of the one who ran the shop. A small monkey perched by the door chattered warningly, baring sharp teeth.
Pausing, the newcomer contorted his face into a grimace back at the monkey, stuck his tongue out and pushed the door open.
“Welcome to my petshop, where I offer love and dreams to those who seek them. What can I do for you?”
Where the voice was deep and clear, the gender of the one who spoke was not. Deep blue silks, embroidered in a motif of climbing vines, sheathed an androgynous figure with hair as black as storm clouds hanging in a long, neat braid over one slender shoulder.
The man waved a hand vaguely at the simple sitting room. “You are the proprietor, owner… person who runs this shop then?”
“I am. You may call me D. How may I be of service?”
“One hears rumors and whispers, tales and tidbits spoken over drinks and gin-soaked whores of a place where somethin’… dangerous can be bought. Whereas a gent might take hisself home a cat and be found come the dawn, quite… dead. You savvy me?” The man prowled the sitting room as he spoke, be-ringed fingers lightly touching a silk drape here or a jade statuette there. His moves spoke of a man with something to hide.
D watched him with a slight smile, the look of someone with more than just a hand up their sleeve, “I sell pets, Captain. No more, no less.”
“Ah, pets.” The man paused to finger one of the many ornaments braided in his hair. “So’s if I was t’ask you t’sell me a pet?”
D regarded him with a smugly superior smile. “You do not want or need a pet.”
“Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong, D-my-lad - lass… whatever… I do indeed need one of your marvelous creatures, beings … pets. It’s t’be a gift for me old friend.” His fever-bright eyes darted sideways.
D took no visible note of the tell, but very little escaped his notice. “Ah, a gift. Who for?”
“Old friend.” His patron insisted stubbornly.
D contrived to look exasperated. “I simply cannot help you if you do not offer me more than that! What kind of friend? What do they like?”
The man gnawed nervously on a fingernail. D waited patiently as the little monkey who had greeted his visitor clambered up his arm to perch on his shoulder and chatter distrust. D reached up to caress the monkey’s head.
Xac growled low in his throat. “I don’t trust him, Master D. He smells funny.”
D could not disagree, not when he could very clearly smell the odor of rum and unwashed flesh, among other things, from the man. He nodded at Xac and smoothed the fur along the monkeys’ spine with gentle fingertips.
“He like… steam baths.” The man said at last, ring-heavy fingers playing nervously with his beard. “He believes the dragon is his luck symbol or somethin’ like. Maybe his crest, cause all his men ‘ave a dragon tattooed on ‘em.” He looked up hopefully. “I don’t suppose you has a dragon stowed around here somewhere’s then?”
“Perhaps.” If there was sudden tightness to D’s smile, his visitor did not seem to notice. “Come, tell me more about him.”
Patiently, D coaxed tidbits of information from the reluctant man. It wasn’t that he was not willing to talk, for he chattered like one of Xac’s relatives; only about nothing very useful.
Finally, D raised a hand. “Very well. I believe we can come to an arrangement. You understand there will be a contract to sign?”
“A contract? For a pet?”
“Indeed. All of my pets are quite special and require careful handling.”
“… And the terms of this contract? How then do they apply to me?” The man asked shrewdly, fingering his beard again. “When the pet’s not for meself, but someone’s else’s entirely, savvy?”
“The contract will apply to you as the purchaser. After the pet has passed from your hands into his, the contract will be null and void. His relationship with his new pet is of his own making.”
D watched the calculations being made in those dark-lidded eyes. The man said nothing aloud, but his lips moved and a finger twitched back and forth as if tracking words in the air.
“So then if I was t’break, mangle or otherwise bend or not adhere t’the rules of said contract, unspeakable things might happen t’me own person, right?”
“I did not say that.”
“But you didn’t not say that, am I right?” His grin was feral, flashing gold teeth. “And should harm befall me own person afore said pet reaches its new owner, then?”
“Are you toying with me, Captain?” There was a note of genuine anger in D’s voice now.
The man waved a hand negligently. “Nay, perish the thought. I simply want t’know the pet gets safely t’ it’s new owner, should somethin’ unfortunate-like happen t’me person…”
The skin around D’s eyes tightened and his pleasant smile slipped. His eye drifted over several of his creatures that had slipped quietly into the main room. Several growled low in their throats and one of the large cats offered to eat the man, provided he was forcibly bathed first. But one of the eldest, and one of D’s staunchest supporters, quieted the others and nodded her regal head at D. “Do what is necessary, D. We will also do what must be done.” She said.
D sighed and relented. “Very well. I shall add a clause to the contract, assuring that, should something… unfortunate happen to you, the pet shall be delivered to its new owner. Does that satisfy you?”
“That should do very well indeed, methinks.”
D managed a pale shadow of his usual smile. “Come then, and we shall see if I can’t find a pet to your friend’s liking.” He did not mention that he already had a very special pet in mind, not to mention an unpleasant surprise for this uncouth creature who dared to think he could outwit D himself. Picking up a censer of incense, he led the way into the back rooms of the shop.
The room he led his visitor to smelled pleasantly of brine and sea-wind. The man took a breath and a smile eased his face. The chamber bore the look of an underground grotto, softly lit with glowing lichens and things that looked like living bits of coral.
The man skipped back with a surprised yelp as his boot splashed into the pool that covered most of the floor.
D ignored him and knelt beside the pool, trailing slim, pale fingers in the water. “Come, little one.” He called softly.
Water rippled and something delicate and colorful coiled around D’s fingers, lifting a tiny, triangular head clear of the water and regarding both of them with dark eyes.
“What the hell might that thing be?” His visitor stepped back a pace.
D used his free hand to pick up a bowl of glass and slip it into the water. When it was full, he lifted it so the man could look upon the creature now within it. “This lovely creature is a relative of the common seahorse, which I’m sure you are familiar with. They are often called a sea-dragon, for they bear an uncanny resemblance to the dragon, unlike their less colorful relatives.”
His visitor squinted at the bowl, where Neria obligingly fanned her delicate, wing-like fins.
“This… this little bit o’ seaweed is a ‘dangerous pet’?” He asked in disbelief. “While it’s admittedly a very pretty bit, it doesn’t look very dangerous t’me.”
D’s voice went cold and deadly. “All animals are dangerous in their own ways, Captain. Did you know that a single sting from a bee could kill a full-grown man? And it’s an agonizing death, one that makes you long for the final oblivion.”
D was pleased to see him flinch back from the suddenly threatening bowl.
“Will she do for your friend?”
The man eyed the bowl with wary regard. “Quite well, methinks.”
D smiled at Neria and gently transferred her back into the pool. “Then come with me and we shall draw up the contract. With the clause included.” He stressed.
It did not take long to write up a contract. D waited patiently as his visitor perused it, lips moving as he read.
“Rule one: Until she is safely with her new owner, no one save you, the purchaser, may see her.
“Rule two: Keep her in the jar provided until she is in her new home. Make sure the water stays fresh.
“Rule three: She remains under your care until ownership is transferred. Until that point, you must take care that she is kept content.
“Should any of these rules be broken the contract is void and the pet shop assumes no responsibility for the consequences thereof.
“And lastly, should something happen to the purchaser, it is agreed that the pet shall be delivered to her new owner.”
“Are you satisfied then?” D asked, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Aye. Well enough, then. How much?” He dragged a leather bag from beneath his sash. It was fat and clinked softly as he shifted it from hand to hand.
D’s smile widened and he looked suddenly rather predatory. “Keep your gold. I have another price in mind.”
The man blinked warily. “… And that price would be what then…?”
“Sit down, Captain. We’ll have tea and you can tell me a tale.”
“A tale? A tale of what?”
“An old one I heard some time ago from another young man. A story of the Nine Pirate Lords.”
Eyes widened before he could catch himself. “What would you be wanting to know?”
D allowed himself another small smile and poured tea neatly into two cups. “Oh, merely a bit of fancy that he shared with me, but we were interrupted before he could finish the tale. You see, I am quite fond of tales of myths and magic and the creatures that inhabit those realms. He began telling me a quite fanciful tale of how the Pirate Lords bound a sea goddess to their whims. All sheer nonsense, of course, but a fascinating story nonetheless. I would like to know how it ended.”
*--------------------------------------------------------------*
It was some time later that the man left D’s shop, cradling a small glass jar inside his leather vest.
D’s hand tightened on the wood of the doorframe until it splintered, glaring down at the signed contract in his other hand. “So he thinks he can play games with me?” He hissed softly. “He is a fool. Xac, follow him and keep a careful lookout. He knew more than he said and said more than was truth.”
“Yes, Master D.” The monkey leapt from D’s shoulder and disappeared into the night.
D watched the darkness for a few moments more, fingernails punching holes in the piece of paper clutched in his hand; the contract his visitor had signed with a flourish.
The sweeping signature mocked him with its blatant deceit.
‘Sao Feng.’
Author: Lithium Delusions
Rating: PG 13 (just to err on the side of caution, it may go up later)
Characters: D (actually one of his ancestors) and you guessed it... Captain Jack Sparrow.
Notes: Yeah, so here's the first chapter of that PSoH/PotC crossover. Don't know what I was thinking, don't want to know. My roomate was giving me funny looks the whole time she was betaing this. Can't say as I blame her.
Comments welcome. (Did I get Jack right?)
The streets of Singapore crouched like a torch-lit spiderweb over the black water. A man poled carefully beneath them, bright eyes darting quickly over the shadows. The beads braided in his long, black hair clicked softly with each nervous turn of his head.
At last those frantic eyes spotted what he sought and he tied off his boat carefully, stepping onto the dock with the rolling stride of one unaccustomed to long periods on dry land.
The shopfront was unassuming and quiet. The single window in the carved door was dark, but he knew the owner was about. He’d paid much for reliable information about the comings and goings of the one who ran the shop. A small monkey perched by the door chattered warningly, baring sharp teeth.
Pausing, the newcomer contorted his face into a grimace back at the monkey, stuck his tongue out and pushed the door open.
“Welcome to my petshop, where I offer love and dreams to those who seek them. What can I do for you?”
Where the voice was deep and clear, the gender of the one who spoke was not. Deep blue silks, embroidered in a motif of climbing vines, sheathed an androgynous figure with hair as black as storm clouds hanging in a long, neat braid over one slender shoulder.
The man waved a hand vaguely at the simple sitting room. “You are the proprietor, owner… person who runs this shop then?”
“I am. You may call me D. How may I be of service?”
“One hears rumors and whispers, tales and tidbits spoken over drinks and gin-soaked whores of a place where somethin’… dangerous can be bought. Whereas a gent might take hisself home a cat and be found come the dawn, quite… dead. You savvy me?” The man prowled the sitting room as he spoke, be-ringed fingers lightly touching a silk drape here or a jade statuette there. His moves spoke of a man with something to hide.
D watched him with a slight smile, the look of someone with more than just a hand up their sleeve, “I sell pets, Captain. No more, no less.”
“Ah, pets.” The man paused to finger one of the many ornaments braided in his hair. “So’s if I was t’ask you t’sell me a pet?”
D regarded him with a smugly superior smile. “You do not want or need a pet.”
“Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong, D-my-lad - lass… whatever… I do indeed need one of your marvelous creatures, beings … pets. It’s t’be a gift for me old friend.” His fever-bright eyes darted sideways.
D took no visible note of the tell, but very little escaped his notice. “Ah, a gift. Who for?”
“Old friend.” His patron insisted stubbornly.
D contrived to look exasperated. “I simply cannot help you if you do not offer me more than that! What kind of friend? What do they like?”
The man gnawed nervously on a fingernail. D waited patiently as the little monkey who had greeted his visitor clambered up his arm to perch on his shoulder and chatter distrust. D reached up to caress the monkey’s head.
Xac growled low in his throat. “I don’t trust him, Master D. He smells funny.”
D could not disagree, not when he could very clearly smell the odor of rum and unwashed flesh, among other things, from the man. He nodded at Xac and smoothed the fur along the monkeys’ spine with gentle fingertips.
“He like… steam baths.” The man said at last, ring-heavy fingers playing nervously with his beard. “He believes the dragon is his luck symbol or somethin’ like. Maybe his crest, cause all his men ‘ave a dragon tattooed on ‘em.” He looked up hopefully. “I don’t suppose you has a dragon stowed around here somewhere’s then?”
“Perhaps.” If there was sudden tightness to D’s smile, his visitor did not seem to notice. “Come, tell me more about him.”
Patiently, D coaxed tidbits of information from the reluctant man. It wasn’t that he was not willing to talk, for he chattered like one of Xac’s relatives; only about nothing very useful.
Finally, D raised a hand. “Very well. I believe we can come to an arrangement. You understand there will be a contract to sign?”
“A contract? For a pet?”
“Indeed. All of my pets are quite special and require careful handling.”
“… And the terms of this contract? How then do they apply to me?” The man asked shrewdly, fingering his beard again. “When the pet’s not for meself, but someone’s else’s entirely, savvy?”
“The contract will apply to you as the purchaser. After the pet has passed from your hands into his, the contract will be null and void. His relationship with his new pet is of his own making.”
D watched the calculations being made in those dark-lidded eyes. The man said nothing aloud, but his lips moved and a finger twitched back and forth as if tracking words in the air.
“So then if I was t’break, mangle or otherwise bend or not adhere t’the rules of said contract, unspeakable things might happen t’me own person, right?”
“I did not say that.”
“But you didn’t not say that, am I right?” His grin was feral, flashing gold teeth. “And should harm befall me own person afore said pet reaches its new owner, then?”
“Are you toying with me, Captain?” There was a note of genuine anger in D’s voice now.
The man waved a hand negligently. “Nay, perish the thought. I simply want t’know the pet gets safely t’ it’s new owner, should somethin’ unfortunate-like happen t’me person…”
The skin around D’s eyes tightened and his pleasant smile slipped. His eye drifted over several of his creatures that had slipped quietly into the main room. Several growled low in their throats and one of the large cats offered to eat the man, provided he was forcibly bathed first. But one of the eldest, and one of D’s staunchest supporters, quieted the others and nodded her regal head at D. “Do what is necessary, D. We will also do what must be done.” She said.
D sighed and relented. “Very well. I shall add a clause to the contract, assuring that, should something… unfortunate happen to you, the pet shall be delivered to its new owner. Does that satisfy you?”
“That should do very well indeed, methinks.”
D managed a pale shadow of his usual smile. “Come then, and we shall see if I can’t find a pet to your friend’s liking.” He did not mention that he already had a very special pet in mind, not to mention an unpleasant surprise for this uncouth creature who dared to think he could outwit D himself. Picking up a censer of incense, he led the way into the back rooms of the shop.
The room he led his visitor to smelled pleasantly of brine and sea-wind. The man took a breath and a smile eased his face. The chamber bore the look of an underground grotto, softly lit with glowing lichens and things that looked like living bits of coral.
The man skipped back with a surprised yelp as his boot splashed into the pool that covered most of the floor.
D ignored him and knelt beside the pool, trailing slim, pale fingers in the water. “Come, little one.” He called softly.
Water rippled and something delicate and colorful coiled around D’s fingers, lifting a tiny, triangular head clear of the water and regarding both of them with dark eyes.
“What the hell might that thing be?” His visitor stepped back a pace.
D used his free hand to pick up a bowl of glass and slip it into the water. When it was full, he lifted it so the man could look upon the creature now within it. “This lovely creature is a relative of the common seahorse, which I’m sure you are familiar with. They are often called a sea-dragon, for they bear an uncanny resemblance to the dragon, unlike their less colorful relatives.”
His visitor squinted at the bowl, where Neria obligingly fanned her delicate, wing-like fins.
“This… this little bit o’ seaweed is a ‘dangerous pet’?” He asked in disbelief. “While it’s admittedly a very pretty bit, it doesn’t look very dangerous t’me.”
D’s voice went cold and deadly. “All animals are dangerous in their own ways, Captain. Did you know that a single sting from a bee could kill a full-grown man? And it’s an agonizing death, one that makes you long for the final oblivion.”
D was pleased to see him flinch back from the suddenly threatening bowl.
“Will she do for your friend?”
The man eyed the bowl with wary regard. “Quite well, methinks.”
D smiled at Neria and gently transferred her back into the pool. “Then come with me and we shall draw up the contract. With the clause included.” He stressed.
It did not take long to write up a contract. D waited patiently as his visitor perused it, lips moving as he read.
“Rule one: Until she is safely with her new owner, no one save you, the purchaser, may see her.
“Rule two: Keep her in the jar provided until she is in her new home. Make sure the water stays fresh.
“Rule three: She remains under your care until ownership is transferred. Until that point, you must take care that she is kept content.
“Should any of these rules be broken the contract is void and the pet shop assumes no responsibility for the consequences thereof.
“And lastly, should something happen to the purchaser, it is agreed that the pet shall be delivered to her new owner.”
“Are you satisfied then?” D asked, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Aye. Well enough, then. How much?” He dragged a leather bag from beneath his sash. It was fat and clinked softly as he shifted it from hand to hand.
D’s smile widened and he looked suddenly rather predatory. “Keep your gold. I have another price in mind.”
The man blinked warily. “… And that price would be what then…?”
“Sit down, Captain. We’ll have tea and you can tell me a tale.”
“A tale? A tale of what?”
“An old one I heard some time ago from another young man. A story of the Nine Pirate Lords.”
Eyes widened before he could catch himself. “What would you be wanting to know?”
D allowed himself another small smile and poured tea neatly into two cups. “Oh, merely a bit of fancy that he shared with me, but we were interrupted before he could finish the tale. You see, I am quite fond of tales of myths and magic and the creatures that inhabit those realms. He began telling me a quite fanciful tale of how the Pirate Lords bound a sea goddess to their whims. All sheer nonsense, of course, but a fascinating story nonetheless. I would like to know how it ended.”
*--------------------------------------------------------------*
It was some time later that the man left D’s shop, cradling a small glass jar inside his leather vest.
D’s hand tightened on the wood of the doorframe until it splintered, glaring down at the signed contract in his other hand. “So he thinks he can play games with me?” He hissed softly. “He is a fool. Xac, follow him and keep a careful lookout. He knew more than he said and said more than was truth.”
“Yes, Master D.” The monkey leapt from D’s shoulder and disappeared into the night.
D watched the darkness for a few moments more, fingernails punching holes in the piece of paper clutched in his hand; the contract his visitor had signed with a flourish.
The sweeping signature mocked him with its blatant deceit.
‘Sao Feng.’