Fic - Infinity Land
What's that, muse? I shouldn't spend my time today packing jumpers or clearing out files on my old PC? I should work on a oneshot that's been giving me grief for weeks and turn it into a severe geek-fest? Well if you say so...
Title: Infinity Land
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: PotC belongeth Mousewards. And Infinity Land is a Biffy Clyro album, so really I am a shameless thief borrower
Summary: Astronomy, storytelling and necessary conversation one night aboard the Pearl.
Notes: For those without even my bare semblance of French, Loup de la Mer means 'Wolf of the Sea', and 'seeing the wolf' was contemporary French slang for losing one's virginity (apparently).
In the haze of a dawn-lit cabin or the yellow half-light of a stolen moment below decks it's easy to believe that Jack's eyes are the blackest, deepest things she's ever seen, but now they and hers are fixed on the inky ocean of the tropical night and such sentiments are forgotten in its star-strewn swells.
The summer has been difficult; running north up the coast away from the storm season only to find themselves amidst naval ships and ever more ambitious privateers. But autumn has lured them back into warmer waters, and the Pearl rests at ease in the windless dark.
Elizabeth leans back against the rail of the crow's nest, feeling the whipcord-warmth of his arm shift about her shoulders. There is no moon, and the starlight picks out only tiny details of the angles of his face, like delicately worked silver, like the flecks of grey that are appearing increasingly amongst black and brown in his hair. Time might be gentle in spinning the earth on its eternal ellipse through the heavens, but it is a hunter of men.
She feels Jack's long fingers gently trace along her jaw before tilting it upwards, turning her head to look at where the shrouds draw black lines against a haze of white and yellow that scuds like some celestial cirrus amongst the stars.
"The Milky Way," she whispers.
"Aye," comes the reply, "the moon too fresh to outshine her and distract the eye."
"I've never seen it so bright... not since the crossing from England." She hears a slight clink and a rustle as Jack inclines his head down from the heavens. "Father let me stay up late one night and James told me stories about the stars. Some of them, anyway."
His breath tickles softly at her ear.
"There's more stories told about the sky than there are nights in a lifetime, I'd wager. Did he tell you how out in the East Indies they call that beauty the river of the sky, a sacred river of the gods?" She can see the shadow of his other hand, moving in an arc along the cloudy colours. "Or how to some it's a pilgrim path?"
"No," she murmurs, feeling a slight wave of drowsiness brought on by the enfolding dark and the warmth of Jack's body. "I asked him to explain how he could find the ship's position from the stars, but he said navigation wasn't something young ladies needed to know."
"Quite right. Only honest sailors and wicked piratical types know such things."
Elizabeth smiles.
"Which would be how I managed to get us away from the Loup de la Mer when she was stalking us that night."
"And a wonderfully piratical trick that was, darling. Much better to see the wolf, I'm sure you'll agree."
"Jack!" She swats at him, laughing, and feels as well as hears his throaty chuckle in response. "That was bad enough the first time!"
"The joke, or...?"
Smile turning more wicked, she tilts her head back to graze her lips against his beard.
"I'm sure you can guess."
His laugh is more of a purr at that, and his hand strays languorously down her neck before trailing back up again. She feels his chin scratch against her cheek as he tilts his head back up to regard the sky again.
"You know in some places it's always night, in the winter." She does know, remembering lessons on Denmark-Norway, Sweden and Russia in a hot schoolroom a world away from their snowy wastes, but lets him continue. "Lots of stories from there; I suppose there's not much else to do but imagine, pull gods and heroes out of the dark." His tone is wistful and she wishes she could see his eyes. "The Milky Way, there she's a path for birds, flying south from the dark and the frost. And she does have a bird that flies along her, too."
His hand is moving her head again, a slight twinge in her neck as she looks almost straight up.
"See there- the very bright star, and the three above it...?"
Elizabeth gasps as suddenly the constellation becomes clear, the blue-white stars fixing like map pins the shape of a great bird, stretching out southwards across the sky, a vast migrant set against the galaxy-cloud.
"That would be the swan," Jack whispers, voice suddenly very low and reverent, as if he has stumbled across something deeply sacred. "Cygnus, the fair beauty of the tropics. Flying through the infinite."
Suddenly his arm has tightened around her shoulders and she feels him turn his head to bury his face against her neck, mouth hot in contrast to the cool night air as he presses kisses against her skin. She realises he is mumbling something in between them, the words half lost through her hair and the roving of his lips.
"... take her... when I'm gone..."
"Jack," she says, worry clenching at her heart as she pushes him away slightly, seeing his face edged in silver again.
He must be able to hear the emotion on her voice, for he strokes a finger gently, comfortingly, along her cheek.
"You'll take the Pearl when I'm gone, Elizabeth. She'll need a good captain."
"Please, Jack..." She is cut off by the finger, against her lips now.
"No, love. It has to be said. Not even Captain Jack Sparrow can escape death- not more than once, anyway. And I don't want you before the mast aboard some other ship, your wings clipped and my Black Pearl scuppered or sold to some scoundrel." The starlight glints quite intently out of his dark eyes. "And when the sea wants you back for herself too, you can come and find me again in the Locker. Bring rum this time."
She feels his thumb against her cheekbone and realises a tear has escaped, trickling down for him to catch. He says nothing more, only leaning through the silver-picked darkness to capture her lips. His are soft, gentle, but possessive too, as if to assure her of something, to make some promise they cannot form in words.
"But not yet," she murmurs when he breaks away to draw breath. The starlight might ghost over his face, but he's still real and solid enough. It is enough.
"No. Not yet."
Title: Infinity Land
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: PotC belongeth Mousewards. And Infinity Land is a Biffy Clyro album, so really I am a shameless thief borrower
Summary: Astronomy, storytelling and necessary conversation one night aboard the Pearl.
Notes: For those without even my bare semblance of French, Loup de la Mer means 'Wolf of the Sea', and 'seeing the wolf' was contemporary French slang for losing one's virginity (apparently).
In the haze of a dawn-lit cabin or the yellow half-light of a stolen moment below decks it's easy to believe that Jack's eyes are the blackest, deepest things she's ever seen, but now they and hers are fixed on the inky ocean of the tropical night and such sentiments are forgotten in its star-strewn swells.
The summer has been difficult; running north up the coast away from the storm season only to find themselves amidst naval ships and ever more ambitious privateers. But autumn has lured them back into warmer waters, and the Pearl rests at ease in the windless dark.
Elizabeth leans back against the rail of the crow's nest, feeling the whipcord-warmth of his arm shift about her shoulders. There is no moon, and the starlight picks out only tiny details of the angles of his face, like delicately worked silver, like the flecks of grey that are appearing increasingly amongst black and brown in his hair. Time might be gentle in spinning the earth on its eternal ellipse through the heavens, but it is a hunter of men.
She feels Jack's long fingers gently trace along her jaw before tilting it upwards, turning her head to look at where the shrouds draw black lines against a haze of white and yellow that scuds like some celestial cirrus amongst the stars.
"The Milky Way," she whispers.
"Aye," comes the reply, "the moon too fresh to outshine her and distract the eye."
"I've never seen it so bright... not since the crossing from England." She hears a slight clink and a rustle as Jack inclines his head down from the heavens. "Father let me stay up late one night and James told me stories about the stars. Some of them, anyway."
His breath tickles softly at her ear.
"There's more stories told about the sky than there are nights in a lifetime, I'd wager. Did he tell you how out in the East Indies they call that beauty the river of the sky, a sacred river of the gods?" She can see the shadow of his other hand, moving in an arc along the cloudy colours. "Or how to some it's a pilgrim path?"
"No," she murmurs, feeling a slight wave of drowsiness brought on by the enfolding dark and the warmth of Jack's body. "I asked him to explain how he could find the ship's position from the stars, but he said navigation wasn't something young ladies needed to know."
"Quite right. Only honest sailors and wicked piratical types know such things."
Elizabeth smiles.
"Which would be how I managed to get us away from the Loup de la Mer when she was stalking us that night."
"And a wonderfully piratical trick that was, darling. Much better to see the wolf, I'm sure you'll agree."
"Jack!" She swats at him, laughing, and feels as well as hears his throaty chuckle in response. "That was bad enough the first time!"
"The joke, or...?"
Smile turning more wicked, she tilts her head back to graze her lips against his beard.
"I'm sure you can guess."
His laugh is more of a purr at that, and his hand strays languorously down her neck before trailing back up again. She feels his chin scratch against her cheek as he tilts his head back up to regard the sky again.
"You know in some places it's always night, in the winter." She does know, remembering lessons on Denmark-Norway, Sweden and Russia in a hot schoolroom a world away from their snowy wastes, but lets him continue. "Lots of stories from there; I suppose there's not much else to do but imagine, pull gods and heroes out of the dark." His tone is wistful and she wishes she could see his eyes. "The Milky Way, there she's a path for birds, flying south from the dark and the frost. And she does have a bird that flies along her, too."
His hand is moving her head again, a slight twinge in her neck as she looks almost straight up.
"See there- the very bright star, and the three above it...?"
Elizabeth gasps as suddenly the constellation becomes clear, the blue-white stars fixing like map pins the shape of a great bird, stretching out southwards across the sky, a vast migrant set against the galaxy-cloud.
"That would be the swan," Jack whispers, voice suddenly very low and reverent, as if he has stumbled across something deeply sacred. "Cygnus, the fair beauty of the tropics. Flying through the infinite."
Suddenly his arm has tightened around her shoulders and she feels him turn his head to bury his face against her neck, mouth hot in contrast to the cool night air as he presses kisses against her skin. She realises he is mumbling something in between them, the words half lost through her hair and the roving of his lips.
"... take her... when I'm gone..."
"Jack," she says, worry clenching at her heart as she pushes him away slightly, seeing his face edged in silver again.
He must be able to hear the emotion on her voice, for he strokes a finger gently, comfortingly, along her cheek.
"You'll take the Pearl when I'm gone, Elizabeth. She'll need a good captain."
"Please, Jack..." She is cut off by the finger, against her lips now.
"No, love. It has to be said. Not even Captain Jack Sparrow can escape death- not more than once, anyway. And I don't want you before the mast aboard some other ship, your wings clipped and my Black Pearl scuppered or sold to some scoundrel." The starlight glints quite intently out of his dark eyes. "And when the sea wants you back for herself too, you can come and find me again in the Locker. Bring rum this time."
She feels his thumb against her cheekbone and realises a tear has escaped, trickling down for him to catch. He says nothing more, only leaning through the silver-picked darkness to capture her lips. His are soft, gentle, but possessive too, as if to assure her of something, to make some promise they cannot form in words.
"But not yet," she murmurs when he breaks away to draw breath. The starlight might ghost over his face, but he's still real and solid enough. It is enough.
"No. Not yet."