Triple drabble: "Indigo"
Title: Indigo
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Property of Buena Vista and Bruckheimer, and of history.
Summary: Triple drabble, an idea I've had for a few weeks, further inspired by pseudoblu's drawing Downright Macabre!. To say more would be even more spoilers for AWE. No pairings.
EDIT: There's a color version of this same drawing linked to above, here.
He sluiced invisibly through the small flotilla of manned lifeboats, the Dutchman his unerring compass to life’s end. Frozen corpses gave way to the ship’s gently-butting prow. Will squeezed the helm, and the ship slowed, stopped. He heard the footfalls of his crew.
“Careful with those nets,” he ordered, stepping off to look over into inky water. Pale forms by the hundreds stared at him, at the stars, confused and bereft - and, he knew from experience, not a little angry.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught an outline. Despite her gargantuan size, the broken ship’s soul was still new and hazy, shimmering in ghostlight. Will felt Dutchman tilt his bow toward her. She hesitated, then drifted closer, timid as a tugboat. He sensed as much confusion in her as in the frightened souls he helped pull aboard.
He comforted each in their language, amazed even after two centuries by this effortless ability he’d been granted. One paused, gripping his forearm, eyes guilty. “They’re all dead?” Will nodded. “I … failed, then.” He lowered his gaze. “I was First Mate.”
“It was their time.” It was not absolution; Calypso simply didn’t play dice with the sea. “What is your name, sailor?”
“William Murdoch.” He looked up. “And you’re …”
“An overextended captain.” Will offered a small smile and nodded toward the ethereal vessel hovering over his ship, indistinct and raw, dwarfing the Dutchman. “Would you mind taking her helm for the duration? She’d appreciate a familiar hand, I’m sure.”
Murdoch started to agree, then stopped himself. “I should probably wait for her captain-”
Will didn’t waver. “Son, I’m Titanic’s captain now. You have new orders.”
He paused a beat, then nodded in obedience. “What is our duration, sir?”
“Why, off the charts, Mr. Murdoch. Just as you suspect.”
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Property of Buena Vista and Bruckheimer, and of history.
Summary: Triple drabble, an idea I've had for a few weeks, further inspired by pseudoblu's drawing Downright Macabre!. To say more would be even more spoilers for AWE. No pairings.
EDIT: There's a color version of this same drawing linked to above, here.
He sluiced invisibly through the small flotilla of manned lifeboats, the Dutchman his unerring compass to life’s end. Frozen corpses gave way to the ship’s gently-butting prow. Will squeezed the helm, and the ship slowed, stopped. He heard the footfalls of his crew.
“Careful with those nets,” he ordered, stepping off to look over into inky water. Pale forms by the hundreds stared at him, at the stars, confused and bereft - and, he knew from experience, not a little angry.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught an outline. Despite her gargantuan size, the broken ship’s soul was still new and hazy, shimmering in ghostlight. Will felt Dutchman tilt his bow toward her. She hesitated, then drifted closer, timid as a tugboat. He sensed as much confusion in her as in the frightened souls he helped pull aboard.
He comforted each in their language, amazed even after two centuries by this effortless ability he’d been granted. One paused, gripping his forearm, eyes guilty. “They’re all dead?” Will nodded. “I … failed, then.” He lowered his gaze. “I was First Mate.”
“It was their time.” It was not absolution; Calypso simply didn’t play dice with the sea. “What is your name, sailor?”
“William Murdoch.” He looked up. “And you’re …”
“An overextended captain.” Will offered a small smile and nodded toward the ethereal vessel hovering over his ship, indistinct and raw, dwarfing the Dutchman. “Would you mind taking her helm for the duration? She’d appreciate a familiar hand, I’m sure.”
Murdoch started to agree, then stopped himself. “I should probably wait for her captain-”
Will didn’t waver. “Son, I’m Titanic’s captain now. You have new orders.”
He paused a beat, then nodded in obedience. “What is our duration, sir?”
“Why, off the charts, Mr. Murdoch. Just as you suspect.”