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Post by Hector Barbossa on Jun 3, 2007 17:45:40 GMT -5
Barbossa watched Elizabeth impassively as she took particular interest in her sword, rather than the man who was speaking to her. For a moment she had challenged his glance, her will matching his ruthless own, but her natural breed compassion for human life won out. As deft as she was with a sword, and no matter how well she walked the deck of a pirate ship, she was a woman born into a higher society. One where lives were sacred, and murder was… frowned upon. She killed as willingly as he did, but he doubted she held the same detachment to the fallen bodies, the blood spilled over her hands, as Barbossa. Kicking the severed limb from the deck of his ship, he nodded as Elizabeth spoke, watching her move to the Dead Man’s Chest.
“Aye, we’ll set a course to Singapore. I have an idea that Sao Feng’s legacy is not so easily destroyed,” Barbossa was not a stranger to Singapore, having more of a reputation there than he did even in ports like Tortuga. He knew many of the pirate workings, the most of all Sao Feng’s expansive operations. A part of him simply refused to believe the Royal Navy had managed to bring it all down, after having thrived in secret for so long, “as far as my end is concerned, I maintain my reservation.”
Working with deliberate ease and casual air unbecoming of one handling dead bodies, Barbossa hoisted each body, in turn, over the railing and into the water below. If people docked nearby, or walking along the dock saw the sparse rain of corpses, they did not seem to care. Pirates killing other pirates had little to do with them, as long as it wasn’t their crew being slaughtered. He even ventured to where Elizabeth had felled her opponents, giving the same treatment as the others. Not being honorable men, they deserved no honor in their deaths. He was giving them to the sea, a right in itself that they did not deserve.
His task completed, Barbossa looked back at Elizabeth, his blue eyes catching the sun in a way that made him seem almost content.
“My crew returns at sunset. Will ye be sailing on the Pearl, Captain Turner?”
(I'm so distracted by all the goings on around the boards, but I thought I'd get SOMETHING out.
Don't worry about lenth (I clearly don't): as long as you move the story along I'm as happy as a clam.)
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Post by Elizabeth Turner on Jun 3, 2007 18:21:38 GMT -5
Elizabeth tried not to pay much mind to each splash of the discarded corpses. She had killed two men willingly, and that much was no trouble to her. She was perfectly capable of murder - as Jack knew - but could easily be consumed in guilt concerning such dark matters. Over these men, however, she felt nothing. Nothing besides a certain pity towards their ignorance in challenging the Captain she now glanced upon. She held the iron chest oddly close to her body as she paid attention towards Barbossa's reply, feeling that it made sure sense and needed none of her further concern. She even nodded in acceptence towards his decision to keep his end of the bargain something of a mystery to her. It made it so she owed him something. What that something was would be up to him when he saw fit. Oh yes. It worked out wonderfully in his favor, as it usually did. Mrs. Turner did not fear over this, however. She trusted the Captain would come up with something reasonable and perfectly within her abilities. Then again, trusting the Captain was never a sure thing to do.
The young woman took note of how his eyes caught slivers of sunlight within their intense blueness. Often, his eyes were frightening, fierce, and commanding. As she had observed before, they were possibly the most striking of his features, and her dark eyes of brown were set stern within them as she responded after a brief moment of thought. "After our meeting at Shipwreck Cove, I left the Empress in Tai Huang's command. So, it would seem that I have little choice in this matter..." She was acting oddly serene at the moment, though her voice was still its usual tone of strength and determination. It was true that she had bestowed control of the Empress to her First Mate, for what use had she for it? She knew not of its destination or of its status. It lowered her spirits slightly as she wondered if it was still grand and beautiful with its oriental design and fin-like sails. As much as she was attempted to detatch herself from the ship and its meaning to her, it's Pirate Lord, she found herself missing it. But only slightly.
The Pirate King hated feeling so... distant. Perhaps it had been her argument with Barbossa that had shaken her thoughts so much. After all, he had spoken of honor in piracy - in the very honor she had aroused in each and every one of them while they prepared to hoist the colors before plunging into battle. And then, to have seen him in battle - to have seen this gruff Pirate Lord killing a man slowly and painfully without mercy... it had been all, in a small way, overwhelming. She hated feeling so pathetic and distracted and hugged the chest closer as though its heartbeat would calm her own. No. She wouldn't let Barbossa see her like this. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of her troubled thoughts. Hadn't that fight been just what she needed? Hadn't it revived some of the pirate prowess that lurked beyond her innocent face? Indeed, it had. Reminding herself of this, she held her head high and smirked, eyes finding new light as they lost all air of troubles or wondering. "If, of course, you'll still have me aboard, Captain." There was a slyness in her voice now, as though she was questioning his word. The wind tousled her hair further beneath her black tricorn and the daylight highlighted her defiant cheekbones and somewhat regal facial structure. How could one possibly begin a venture feeling so down? So fixated on nothing? They couldn't. So Elizabeth Turner made to reassure herself with a bit of an impish gleam in her eye and a sense of adventure swelling in her breast.
{ Yup. The story's what important here. I'll try my best to move it along, even though I tend to ramble now and again... ^^; }
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Post by James Norrington on Jun 3, 2007 19:27:15 GMT -5
Tortuga in the daytime was nearly as disturbing as Tortuga at night. Perhaps more so, due to the fact that James could see everything going on. It was hard not to, really. The city was chaos, as he remembered, with Pirates everywhere, and many, many, scantily dressed ladies with an obvious intent. Brows creased in irritation as a swarm of the aforementioned ladies brushed affectionately against him as he made his way through the winding streets, Norrington decided that he had better find a ship soon, or he was going to have to do something drastic. It was hard enough to turn a blind eye to such things around you, much less ignore them when they chased after you. Norrington wasn't interested in such things though, or at least not as much interested as he was in escaping them.
So, giving the ladies nothing more than a fleeting glance, the ex-officer pushed through the swarms of people, continuing down the clogged, main street of the dingy little port. Norrington felt very keenly that he stuck out like a sore thumb, though his clothes were as dirty as theirs, and his appearance generally unkempt due to lack of proper grooming aboard the ship he had previously been serving on. Perhaps it wasn't his appearance, or even his gait ( which would be impossible to judge, as he was being jostled about in the crowds around him ), but rather his person itself.
James Norrington was not a pirate. Well, he was, but he wasn't. He didn't go after rum ( to any great extent ) , or seek physical pleasure, or money ( he had enough of that saved up from his lengthy terms as a British navy man ), so didn't that disqualify him from the pirate genre right from the beginning? Yet he still participated in the battles, smuggled illegal goods, and generally defied the law. What was he then?
He was lost, that was what he was.
In a city where everything was dirty enough to look nearly identical, it was easy to get disoriented. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what had happened to Norrington. Green eyes flashing urgently around, he searched for any familiar landmark that could lead him to... anywhere, really. All he wanted was to get a room, clean up, grab a bottle or two of rum for the road, and leave, preferably on a ship.
Swiping his tricorn hat from his head, Norrington tucked it neatly under his arm, along with his money purse and his folded Admiral's coat. He didn't trust the people around him, so he wasn't letting anything of value out of his sight, or in this case, out of his tight, white-knuckled grasp.
Thank goodness.
Now that the crowd was dispersing, he could see his way through.
Seeking the sign of the only somewhat reputable inn in town ( and it was only so because it admitted none but those who were willing to pay through the nose to get such luxuries like a bath, and a moderately clean bed, and good rum ) Norrington pursed his lips. He obviously hadn't been here in too long. The inn was gone, replaced by yet another tavern.
Apparently, he had been pretty much alone in his willingness to pay through the nose.
Norrington breathed a pungent explicative, not suited for civilized ears.
Well, at least he could complete half of his plan, though the less important part. Rum.
A moment from entering, Norrington left, this time a couple cloudy bottles of amber liquid sloshing under his arms. Time to head for the docks. Who knew, maybe the captains could be convinced to take him away before sundown, so he didn't have to spend the night here. Miracles could happen.
Sure they could, and pigs could grow wings and fly, too.
Norrington scoffed, downed a mouthful of the acrid tasting rum, and headed for the water's edge, hoping that maybe luck would find him this time.
Apparently it found him.
Stopping suddenly, James nearly dropped his things all over the docks. He managed to regain his composure, though not without some amount of fumbling around to keep from spilling his rum all over himself. Smelling like alcohol, and having a yellowish stain down one's front regions did nothing to help one's respectability, after all.
Placing the bottles, his coat, and his hat down on the side of the deck ( he re-tied the leather straps of his purse to his belt ), James made his way slowly along the wooden docks, conscientious of every sound his boots made on the creaking wood.
Elizabeth. Barbossa?
And then Barbossa spoke.
Mrs. Turner.
Norrington's heart sunk, though he knew that her marriage was to be completely inevitable from the start, as Miss Swann had lost her heart to the blacksmith almost from first sight. Leaving Norrington, unfortunately, out of the loop. James sighed. Maybe it'd be best to just take one more night in this city. He turned back to his bottles, and scooped up his hat, no longer softening his now-audible footfalls.
(( So I figured, it would be kind of O.O.N. : Out of Norrington, to have him just like saunter up and say 'Yo peeps! Take me witch-u!' so you can just have someone hear him... as he's probably making lots of noise with his fancy boots of his. ^^" ))
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Post by Hector Barbossa on Jun 3, 2007 20:15:21 GMT -5
Hector Barbossa allowed himself a grin. It was almost amiable, his bellow of a laugh admitting that he was impressed by her performance, on the whole. He liked that she could play coy with him, even when she was so obviously conflicted. It was, for lack of a better way of describing it, very pirate-y. He nodded slowly, moving to the ramp that led down to the docks. They had to wait for nightfall before the Pearl crew would return, and he imagined that left them time to make up for their previous behavior in the bar.
“We’ve settled it again, then. The quest begins. Now, I can’t be sayin’ what you’re going to do until the sun sets, but I think I’ll be spending me time relaxin’ in the tavern. Maybe… a different one than before. It got a bit ugly,” he grinned, “before I ended it.”
He spoke over his shoulder to her, leaving the deck of his ship and knowing without glancing back that she would follow him. It wasn’t that he expected her to spend the rest of the evening with him, and he privately hoped she did not. He knew she was a worthy companion on the sea, but there was something about ‘hanging’ out with her, or anyone for that matter, during his sparse moments on shore that unsettled him. He was not a people person. He did not have friends, confidants, or even trust-worthy acquaintances. It was revealed to him that his personality often clashed with people who tried to get close to him, and those were few. The rest were just pirates trying to win favor in the eyes of a legendary Pirate Lord. He did not have time for submissive, flowery platitudes from spineless bilge rats.
His stride down the ramp came to an abrupt end as he found a familiar face crossing the docks near the Pearl. He arched an eyebrow, thinking back to where he had seen the man before. A navy officer, as he recalled, and one with some history with Elizabeth Turner. With that thought, he looked back at the Pirate King, wondering if she had noticed the man from her past. Barbossa, not particularly caring for the drama that comes with relationships and troubled pasts, continued down to the dock until he was standing in the path of the slowly ambling Norrington.
“I know your face,” he said by way of a greeting, “but more your story. Betrayed the Heart of Davy Jones to Cutler Beckett. Died allowing Captain Turner and her crew escape the Flying Dutchman.”
He grinned, not missing the irony of the sentence he had yet to say. His voice dripped with the venom that elongated his words, the vowel sounds played like a haunting, judgmental wind instrument, each consonant biting and definitive.
“It seems it’s gettin’ a bit harder to kill a man, these days… and have them stay dead.”
(Yeah, I'm havin' a bad writing day. Sue me. -sigh-)
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Post by Elizabeth Turner on Jun 3, 2007 21:08:47 GMT -5
The Captain's laugher only allowed her smirk to feel more confident on her face, lacking the weakness of whatever she had attempted to mask before. She had the rest of the day to spend however she pleased and now that she and Barbossa were on sure terms, she felt a tad more content with how events were turning. Perhaps not all together bright and beaming, but content. She even couldn't help but chuckle softly as he reminded her of their disagreement in the tavern, something which now seemed ages ago. "A different tavern sounds good." So perhaps she would spend some of the evening with him, but she could tell that clinging to her presence would only irritate him. She didn't need him this night. She could wander to the beach and simply gaze out into the horizon. See? Many possibilities. But a drink before such things never hurt anyone, right? And so she followed him, even with her precious treasure tucked beneath one slender arm. She hadn't even acknowledged the notion of leaving it aboard the Pearl. It would be too vulnerable and exposed for her tastes. At least when it was in her grasp, no one could take it without suffering the wrath of a very ferocious Elizabeth. She was still new to guarding something so precious as a human heart, but perhaps time would allow her to relax with such a duty.
The Pirate King stopped just as suddenly as Barbossa, her brow furrowing as she took note of the intrigued expression that had surfaced upon the man's scarred features. What now? She followed his stare to rest her own upon a pathetic image of a man, one that caused her heart to stop beating in a moment of surprise - of disbelief. No. It couldn't be. It absolutely couldn't be. And yet... hadn't she thought the very same when a certain Captain had swaggered down the stairs of a voodoo queen's hut? "James?" she whispered, more to herself than to anyone. Her face was still in an expression that suggested she thought this all a dream. How could it be real? She saw him die. She had screamed his name as Bill Turner's sword was sunk into his heart. But then again, she had also seen Barbossa slain by Jack's last shot. He'd been dead too. After all that had occured in Elizabeth's experience with pirates, she was well aware that sense wasn't part of the game anymore.
Elizabeth heard Barbossa's voice but didn't quite register the poison that lurked there. All that she took from his words was that he - a man very much in reality - recognized the creature before them as James Norrington. As this as a confirmation of his presence before them, the English belle placed the Dead Man's Chest upon the floor and rushed forward to take the man into her arms. It was a strong, almost fierce embrace - one that suggested that the girl didn't care that the mess over his clothes didn't matter to her. "James! My God, James! You're alive! But how? I... I saw it happen." Her voice had at first been somewhat high-pitched with her delight, like that of the girl that she truly was. It had faded into something of a gentle murmur now, one that was personal and warm. "I can't believe it," she muttered into his shoulder, fingers squeezing his back as though she feared he'd crumble if she let go. He smelt awful and she could tell he'd been a tad too careless with some rum, but she didn't care. The man had saved her life. He'd saved her crew. He'd shown himself to be the man she knew he was.
She managed to pull herself away from him to look about him. Yup. He was a wretched sight to behold. And why? Elizabeth was concerned. Why was he wasting his life away again? Especially when he wasn't supposed to be living? She wasn't given much chance to think that, having heard Barbossa's voice again come from behind her. But this time, she detected something. It was a bitterness. It was slightly and it was subtle... but it was there. She twisted her head around and questioned him with a stern, almost puzzled look. What was he getting at? Yes, he had pointed out the obvious, but Elizabeth couldn't help but feel as though she was missing something. Perhaps she was. Or perhaps her time dealing with pirates had developed an oversensitive ear. She turned her gaze back towards Mr. Norrington, still soft but stronger with her own curiousity. "You gave your life to save me and my crew. And now you're here, right before my eyes. James... how?" And she just stared at him, a grateful, small smile on her lips but something of uncertainty dwelling in her eyes. How many more twists and turns in a day could a girl take? Not many. But this was the Pirate King, remember? A somewhat confused and positively perplexed Pirate King, to be sure.
{ I'm having a weird day. Everything's coming out 'blah'. o.o }
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Post by James Norrington on Jun 3, 2007 21:54:07 GMT -5
James set his hat upon his head, tucking loose strands of brown hair up inside it. He snatched up the rest of his things, and downed another large mouthful of drink, pacing himself. He wouldn't overdo it this time. He wouldn't end up in the slums of Tortuga, wallowing in his own guilt, and a barrel full of alcohol. He woul- who was he kidding? That was exactly what would happen. James Norrington, for all his strengths, had his weaknesses. A gravelly voice, obviously a pirate by the accent attached to it, brought Norrington's attention out of his bottle ( which was almost empty, despite the fact he just picked it up) and over to the man, who addressed him.
Norrington listened in silence, his face not once betraying the contempt he felt for the man in front of him. Barbossa.
" I know your face," James retorted, sounding a true officer in his refined British accent, " but more /your/ story. Hector Barbossa, Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, Captain of a formerly cursed vessel, killed, and now..." He looked up and down the man, taking in his somewhat foppish appearance. Vanity rings, slitted jacket sleeves to reveal white silk beneath the initial blue-grey felt, ostrich feather...
" And now, very much alive."
He let a small smirk creep over his features at Barbossa's next, almost disdainful prod at Norrington's evident... lack of decay.
" Yes, I suppose it is." Was all he answered with. Norrington took a last, long swig from his bottle, and swallowed, smacking his lips. His emerald eyes never left Barbossa, until a sudden familiar voice squealed his name. Flicking his vision toward Elizabeth, Norrington was hardly prepared for the ferocity with which she greeted him. He stumbled back a few steps, not from a drunken stupor, which for one would take a lot more time and a lot more rum to set in, but simply from astonishment. His hat toppled off his head, falling softly to the dock behind him.
" Elizabeth, I-"
He stared down at her, unable to keep a warm smile from overtaking him as his gaze met hers. He never could have imagined such a reaction, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He freed his arms from her embrace, and returned it warmly. " It's so good to see you. And you're right, it happened," James tugged on his coat and blouse, revealing the pale, puckered scar over his heart for a second before hiding it once more. He reached down, softly, and brushed her hair out of her face, forgetting for a second that she was a pirate captain, and that he was out of place. For a moment it didn't matter, she was his friend... and maybe a little more, despite the fact she was lost to him forever.
" I-"
He licked his lips, frozen at the explanation of his survival.
Glancing up from Elizabeth to Barbossa, Norrington narrowed his eyes, tone of voice changing from friendly to something bordering on hostile. " What do you know of Aztec gold, Captain Barbossa? What do you remember?" His face remained stoic, but something in his voice changed drastically. " Nothing. There isn't anything to remember. Then again, I suppose you would understand that." Nothing.
Not the wind on his face, nor the sun on his hair... the cool water coursing down his throat, or the salty-spray licking his hand when he toppled over the side of his ship... when it was going down into the tumultuous sea in the midst of a hurricane-
" Forgive me, Elizabeth." No, he chastised himself silently. I can't ask her to do that. But his mouth wouldn't listen. Maybe she already had. " Take me with you." He realized with sudden awareness how close his lips were to her, how close he had leaned when speaking tenderly into her ear. He pulled away suddenly, appalled at himself.
" I'm a good mate as any you're apt to find, Captain," he reported to both Elizabeth and Barbossa at the same time, " and from the sound of things, you don't have much time otherwise to look." Norrington walked over to the bottle of rum, pulled the cork, and tossed it into the sea. " And I don't drink on the job."
(( Tell me if you have any issues with James's sudden lack of self-control. xDDD I just thought it'd be a little interesting, and help him decide not to rum himself to death much anymore. )) [/size]
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Post by calypso on Jun 4, 2007 14:04:46 GMT -5
A dark skinned woman was hidden in the shadows of the tavern, dark brown dreadlocks hanging down her nonchalent face. A low humming sound emerged from her lips as she watched the chatter of a pair of pirate lords and an ex-Navy officer not too far from her.
Calypso, in a random act of interest in the affair's of a certain Pirate Captain named Hector Barbossa, had once again taken the form of Tia Dalma and had been watching his conversation with Elizabeth for some time now. A smug smile washed over her exotic features as she leant against the beam, face hidden by a Singapore style hat, the very same one which had adorned her head during the Singapore fight. All through the conversing she had remained quiet and out of sight, waiting for the right time to act. Gathering up her skirts, she descended down the single step and made her way over, placing a hand on Barbossa’s shoulder and standing on her toes to whisper in his ear.
“Are ye plannin’ to sail to Shipwreck cove Barbossa?”
A slight taunting note in her voice was evident. To Norrington, whom she had not had the pleasure to meet in person, though she knew his name; she would appear to be a `normal` woman, not the Goddess of the sea herself. Tia Dalma would await Barbossa’s answer before she would say anything else to either man, though she inclined her head in greeting to the Pirate King, Elizabeth.
“So ye be plannin’ to disrupt de court and leave your title?”
This was more statement than it was a question. No scorn was evident; indeed, it would seem as if the mystical woman approved of her choice. Though of course, nothing was certain with the Goddess, the court definitely knew this from the time they freed her. Teeth flashed in a grin as she returned her full attention to the man she had brought back from the dead, eager to see his reaction at her presence since her outburst of wrath when he, with the help of Ragetti, had freed her from her human bonds.
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Post by Elizabeth Turner on Jun 4, 2007 19:10:43 GMT -5
Bloody hell. None of this made sense. Then again, what had ever made sense in her experience with these rapscallions? Sense was gone. Forgotten. Lost in all that was this piratical chaos. As much as Elizabeth's natural reason wanted to question how much it was wrong and bizarre that James Norrington was alive, she had become accustomed to accepting such twists of fate. He was alive. That was all that mattered. But of course, her curiousity wanted to now how and why. It was simply natural. Her eyes widened as they fell upon the scar that decorated the flesh just above her heart, a weight clinging to her own chest as she eyed it for the brief moment it was visible. Such a scar was familar; horribly, eerily familar. It was like Will's.
She was silent as her tousled friend brushed tendrils of hair from her flushed face, though offered him a smile that was small but true in a sense of gratitude. This man - once stiff and almost cold - had warm eyes now as she stared kindly into them. She had once accused him of betrayal, having handed over Davy Jones' heart to the enemy. Had he truly redeemed himself? He had saved her life, hadn't he? Not to mention, he had died to help her and to secure her saftey for that small window of oppertunity. Apparently, such a death couldn't even hold James Norrington for too long. She didn't mind that their faces were close or that his voice was tender. She was simply content with his presence - with this reasonless notion of him actually being alive. And once she had actually thought than when you died... you stayed dead.
It was when James addressed Barbossa that Mrs. Turner became, once again, somewhat distant. It was almost cold, even. She took a few steps backward as he touched the subject of Aztec gold. Though the dame could've been perfectly mistaken, she felt she knew exactly what Norrington was saying. He hadn't said it directly. He hadn't even brought to thought the curse. But still, Elizabeth knew. "Aztec gold...?" Her brow furrowed and her eyes became stronger in their stare. The warmth that had filled her was now fading, if ever so slowly and very reluctantly. She even averted her glance to the dock's floorboards as James addressed her once more, in that warm, gentle voice that almost made her want to cry. No. At that moment, it made her spine prickle in discomfort. She finally turned her gaze back upon his own, though it was cold and distant in something very much like disappointment.
"James... you didn't... did you?" She was still trying to reassure herself; still trying to make some beauty of this moment. But why, dear reader, was Elizabeth so suddenly vexed? It was his mention of the gold. It wasn't just any gold. Oh no. This was the cursed treasure of the Isle de Muerta. This was different. She had seen the curse's touch on someone - how it could meld men into monsters with its madness. She'd seen the yearning, desperate gleam in Captain Barbossa's eyes just before he had stepped into the moonlight. Remembering it now was nearly enough to make her flesh crawl with distaste and sympathy. And here, standing before her, was a man who had obviously used the curse as he pleased... just to escape something so simple as death. He was supposed to be better than that.
"I can't believe you," the young woman muttered, in a voice soft but heavy with disappointment. Her eyes never left his as she shook her head in disapproval and wrapped her arms around her torso in evident uncertainty. "You used the curse, didn't you? And after all that had happened?" She wanted him to tell her he didn't, even though she knew he wouldn't. Damn him. "It's not just something you can dress yourself in when you feel like it. It's not an advantage. It's not reassurance. That curse is madness, James. I'm sure you know that now. You knew it then too, didn't you? When you were fighting them, didn't you see the desperate hunger in their eyes? And after that you still went about cursing yourself to evade something so iminent as death?" Her voice was not loud. Neither was it harsh or furious. It was soft... and in that softness, it was eerie and cold. Sure, James had escaped death, but in a way that made the belle's stomach churn and her veins chilled. "Of course I've forgiven you. You saved my life, didn't you?. But I still don't know who you are, James Norrington." She paused, sighing and tilting her chin upwards with as much strength as she could muster in this moment. "I truly am glad you're alive..." her frown became a weak smile followed by a bitter chuckle, "I just thought you were better than that." And the frown returned.
The Pirate King had returned to Barbossa's side, bending over to return the iron chest to her arms. Oh Lord. What would the Captain think of her now? An ungrateful wench, to be sure. After all, she was welcoming a friend back into life with a scowl and bitter disappointment. It wasn't supposed to matter how he had returned to life... but that he simply had returned to life. But no. Elizabeth had responded with a sourness she hadn't even expected from herself. Her eyes shifted uneasily to Barbossa's, as though expecting a glare or a sneer from him in his own disappointment of her. But her eyes didn't linger there for long. They returned to the Dead Man's Chest, clutched precious within her slender arms and held close against the troubled beating of her heart. She felt awful. She felt conflicted. But she had spoken her mind. At least that much was sure.
The Caribbean purr of a familar voodoo queen slithered into the troubled woman's ears as she glanced upon to behold a new presence. Tia Dalma? Hadn't she returned to her life as the sea? As a goddess wild and free? She supposed this was another twist of fate for that day. God. Elizabeth was becomming irritated with the day's turns and spins. Enough with the plot twists! Was it so much to go through with her duty without all of these sudden, controversial arrivals? It was evident that the young Pirate King was disgruntled as she bore dark, stern eyes upon the goddess, further miffed by her voice and her statement of a question. "I'm planning to do what's best for the sea," she corrected in a dull tone, her defiant visage lacking expression as she addressed the bayou witch. Was all too hard to ask for day that actually turned out to be what you hoped for? Apparently it was very hard. Nigh impossible. And downright frustrating.
{ Hmph. I'm kinda venting here. So sorry if you find this OOC for dear Lizzie. I just felt some tension inside of her so it kinda came out with all of mine. Sorry. -sigh- }
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Post by Hector Barbossa on Jun 4, 2007 20:07:33 GMT -5
(Forgive me if this sucks. I'm... so out of it.)
Barbossa watched the reunion simply because it was taking place in his line of sight. He wanted to get to the tavern, to relax in a corner once more and dwell in his own company. Keeping conversation with others, entertaining their lives in junction with his own, was a tiring and worthless endeavor. Aloof and self absorbed, the Captain of the Black Pearl had little interest in the drama that plagued those with personal relationships. He did not let Norrington’s jab at Aztec Gold phase him visibly, though, it send his mind reeling. A masterful strategist, he worked his way to possible explanations for the ex-naval officers survival, each involved the curse Barbossa himself had endured for so long. It made his skin crawl, an exciting, raw feeling that he thrilled in. Thinking of the curse while experiencing any sort of sensation was a victory all on its own. He kept his thoughts private.
Letting his piercing eyes shift to Norrington as the traitorous man spoke of his own merit, Barbossa let out a scoff. He looked up in time to see Elizabeth returning to him, and he nodded at her, understanding her revulsion at the idea of harnessing the curse for personal gains. Of course, if Barbossa had been allowed the chance to, almost literally, turn the curse off when ever he felt like it, rather than lead a torturous existence under its unebbing grip, he would probably have come up with a plan like Norringtons, though, he did not know all the details of how the sea rat had managed to pull it all off.
“As good a mate as I’m apt to find, eh? That not be sayin’ much for the lot ‘round these parts,” he let his hands rest on the hilt of his sword, one on the other, his shoulders drawn back and his chin held high. He kept his feet wide apart, his hat tilted over his eyes not just to keep the bright, though sinking, sun from his sight but to add a shadow to his entire demeanor. He spoke slowly, deliberately, drinking in the sound of his own voice, “I have me crew, Mister Norrington. We’re not looking to take on worthless brigands as yourself. A nice thought, you bein’ sober and what to swab me decks, but I’m not inclined to willingly let traitors onto my ship. As far as I sees it, all you’re good for is jumping ship. The Royal Navy, the Black Pearl, the East India Trading Company. Tell me, boy: is there a power in these waters you haven’t already served on and failed or betrayed?”
He would have continued with his verbal assault had he not felt a surprisingly heavy, strong hand on his shoulder. Somehow, he recognized the touch, his eyes narrowing as she whispered in his ear. He turned his head and found himself looking into the fathomless depths of Tia Dalma’s eyes. Her hat did not hide those eyes from him, and for a moment he found himself without words. Regaining himself, lost for only a fleeting moment, he steeled his gaze and allowed his mouth to sneer bitterly.
“Aye, that be our destination,” he said gruffly, not following the impulse to shrug her hand away. He had not forgotten her games on the Pearl, when he had put so much faith and, to his own chagrin, hope into her helping defeat the Armada. As far as he was concerned, the two were square and needed never to see each other again. She had brought him back to life. He had released her from her human prison. She could expect nothing more from him, and he considered her, now that she had returned to the Goddess form that pirates before him had so feared, an enemy. Or at the very least, an obstacle as he struggled to tame the seas.
Sighing, Barbossa felt the same strain that Elizabeth was battling. He felt the fortunes of the day were shifting, and not to a good place. He did not trust Norrington, as a sailor nor as a person in general. And he certainly would never be fool hardy enough to allow himself the thought that Calypso was here to play nice with him. Bristling, his gruff expression shifting to Elizabeth, who had somehow become his only ally in these strange happenings, he grumbled a pirate’s sigh and took a step forward.
Breaking away from Tia’s hand without being obvious about how uncomfortable the touch had made him, he moved with purpose down the dock, being sure to shoulder check Norrington with as burly a motion as he could muster in the span of a few seconds notice. He did not look back at the group, his eyes on the sky and, dropping down to make sure he did not walk into something, the road in front of him. He was going to make it to a tavern if it killed him.
“Sun down, Mrs. Turner,” he called, emphasizing the name just to tug at Norrington’s emotions as viciously as possible. He knew the other two were listening, and would most likely be on the ship at the appointed time, whether Barbossa wanted them to or not, “we sail at sun down.”
Feeling confident, he continued with his loping stride, each step just daring for one of the three to stop him.
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Post by calypso on Jun 6, 2007 3:33:00 GMT -5
Tia allowed her painted lips to curve into a sneer as she watched Barbossa walk away and that in turn grew to a smile as she heard him taunt the man known as Norrington with Elizabeth’s new surname. Her dark gaze followed him as he walked slowly down the road, most likely searching for something he could control, unlike the sea. She chuckled softly to herself; The Sea could never be tamed. Truth be told, she had rather thought her sudden presence would unsettle the tough old pirate; perhaps he was tougher than she thought? Calypso would find out soon. That she knew for certain.
“Elizabeth Turner”
Twisting a dreadlock of hair absently between her bejewelled fingers, the Goddess would turn round to address Elizabeth and to glance suspiciously at James. She did not entirely trust this man. Despite what Barbossa may think of her, she trusted his judgement far more than he dare to imagine, and his unease around this man was just cause for her mistrust.
“I do not care what ye do to de court, they have angered me and though my anger has...”
She broke off, looking thoughtful for a second as she lowered her hand to finger the crab like locket resting on her chest.
“Well, it not be as strong as it was. All I need to say to you is dis”
With this she reached out and took Elizabeth’s hands in her own, far darker coloured ones. She glared momentarily at Norrington, as if judging whether or not he should hear this. He claimed to have changed his ways, to be loyal to the pirates but still. However, she thought hurriedly. As Goddess of the sea, what should she care which side he was on? Should not all the farers of the sea receive the same treatment? But she had always sided with pirates, she reasoned.
“Something stirs on de waters. Something strange and dangerous”
She locked her eyes on the young pirate king’s own as she relayed what the crab claws had told her.
“I must go with you to de brethren. See what is happening with dem”
Looking to the place where she had last seen Barbossa, Tia shook her head slowly; he didn’t trust her she could tell. However, he would have no say in this. She had decided, and of course she could go there without his aid. It had been so long since she had been on a ship though, and she found she wanted to.
“I am telling you first. Barbossa does not trust me. You have no reason not to”
She smiled and tilted her head to one side, wondering what Elizabeth’s reaction would be. She was already planning how to break the news to the proud Captain.
(I did this at school, so sorry for the poor quality >.<
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Post by James Norrington on Jun 6, 2007 11:46:55 GMT -5
Norrington pursed his lips, wincing inwardly at the sting of Elizabeth's words. They didn't hurt because they were cruel, or because they were meant to wound, but because they were honest, and true. She was exactly right, and had every right to let him know that. He had betrayed more than her trust, the night he took the treasure from the Isla de Muerta, he had betrayed the foundation of her belief in him. She /had/ thought him better than that, maybe everyone had. He was at once ashamed and relieved at revealing his secret. In the pounding of his heart, he felt as if a great burden had lifted from his shoulders, and with the lifting of such a load, all he wanted was to go and crawl into a little hole to escape its memory.
" It was madness, Elizabeth, but I entered it willingly. I have no excuse. I'm completely to blame."
But was it necessarily wrong, what he did? Self-preservation was the main rule of nature, and shouldn't it be more highly sought after than anything else? It wasn't the /noble/ thing to do, to hide from one's fate, but wasn't it the smart thing? He wasn't trying to justify his actions, but he couldn't help thinking in the back of his mind, that he had chosen the right course, through it all. Was what he did, really any different that what Elizabeth and Jack had done for William? Perhaps, but perhaps not.
Of course though, Norrington would never speak his convictions aloud, instead, inclining his head to Elizabeth's barrage of emotion.
She didn't know who he was anymore. Had she ever really known? Through all the time they had spent together over the years, which, granted, wasn't much, Norrington couldn't remember a single time they had had a serious discussion about such matters. Sure, they had spoken about Norrington's feelings for Elizabeth, his subsequent fall into piracy, his betrayal, and his redemption, and now, his playing around with a curse... but had she ever asked him his aspirations? Had she ever asked him what he wanted for himself, in the world? Even now, did she know that he didn't know who /she/ was anymore, either? He didn't know her, and she didn't know him. Perhaps she thought that she knew him, but she only knew the part he revealed to the world. He was the same as he always had been, except now, he had either the strength, or the lack-there-of to show it a little more often.
" I had hoped I was better than that, but I guess I proved us both wrong." He answered finally, after lengthening moments of silence. A sorrowful expression twisted his mouth up into a soft smile, and he reached down to pick up his hat once Elizabeth had finished. He couldn't tell if it were strong, or weak, to slip behind his facade of cold detatchment, but slip behind he did. It was habit from long years of naval service, where showing certain emotions could easily affect the performance of the crew, so it was better to show nothing, than risk it.
It was a good thing he had that experience, for what Barbossa said next rubbed salt into his open wound. Without twitching, Norrington maintained eye contact with the pirate lord, and neatly responded with a quiet, " Many could say the same for you, Captain Barbossa." Mutineers were traitors in their own right. He had did just the same to forward his own cause, and now he had the gall to accuse Norrington. And, here James was, using other's wrongs in justification for his own... again.
Still, he was not exactly keen on letting the direct assault on his person go unpunished. Unfortunately, as Barbossa roughly shouldered him on his way by, Norrington felt that his only hope of ever surviving the journey on the Pearl he planned to take, was to do exactly that. Ignore him.
Thankfully James's job was made somewhat easier by a distraction, namely a dark skinned woman with a strong, unfamiliar accent. She seemed to be speaking to Elizabeth, but was not discouraging Norrington from being attentive to her words whatsoever.
Something dangerous on the waters? What else was new? he reflected, somewhat bitterly. [/size]
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Post by Elizabeth Turner on Jun 9, 2007 14:06:56 GMT -5
It hurt her, to hear Norrington's voice so stiff in response. It was all too much. James was supposed to be dead and yet, here he was. She should have welcomed him back with a smile and warmth and yet, she was frowning and distant. In truth, she dearly wanted to shrug off what she had thought of his using the curse, but she simply could not. Elizabeth Turner had never been one to ignore such prominent points no matter what the twist of plot. She didn't want to look in his eyes as he spoke to her but she had to keep that stare. Her eyes, so dark and brown, were fixed within his own of strong green. Her expression was stony with disappointment, slight yet noticable in concern as well. She hadn't wanted his business with the curse to be a big deal to her and here she was, distancing herself from him because of it.
"I guess so," she replied, in that voice still touched with the chill of her doubt. Mrs. Turner would have liked to have disregarded all of this tension with a flourish of the hand or a warm smile, but she couldn't bring herself to such things now. She was stubborn in her tension with James now and quite a few pirates knew how stubborn the English belle could be. Though she battled with herself as to whether or not she had stepped up against the right thing, she felt little regret in acknowledging her concerns. Perhaps people did do things for themselves regardless if it was right or wrong. Hadn't she left Jack Sparrow to the Kraken so that she and the crew could escape its wrath? So how was James so different to have provoked this sort of disappointment in the young Pirate King? It was because he was, beneath whatever pirate-like behavior he had required, a fine man. And just to have him suddenly stooping down to such levels was simply enough to vex her into all of this.
Elizabeth was tugged from her irritated thoughts by Hector Barbossa's strong voice, her eyes shifting from James to the Captain as she acknowledged his reminder with a nod. She was tempted to follow him; to get away from Norrington's stare and guilt-prodding presence. She doubted, though, that Barbossa would want the Pirate King following him about like a lonely pup. She felt she had already been enough of a burden on his broad shoulders. She bristled slightly, however, when James muttered a bitter observation towards the Captain, and it made her gaze ever colder as it flashed between the two men. If there was one thing she didn't want, it was for a fight to break out. Something so simple as tension between them all wasn't enough of a reason for a fight for Elizabeth's standards. She remembered how their disagreements had coaxed blades into battle over the Dead Man's Chest, which might have been a better reason for a fray but still not a very good reason at all. A King of pirates, though she was, Elizabeth still had some morals lurking behind her dark stare.
Before the dame could do much of anything, however, a musical voice distracted her. Oh dear. She had nearly forgotten Tia Dalma's presence entirely. Such a thing was difficult to do, mind you. She turned her steeled eyes upon the Goddess, grasp tightening on the Chest that she hugged so close to her body. She could sense a lack of trust from the mystic towards James Norrington, and felt a certain sensation pluck at her heartstrings. No. At this moment, James was not someone she could trust so readily. After all he had done, it simply couldn't be overlooked. He had saved her life, and for that she was grateful, but as he himself had acknolwedged, his other sins could not be so easily buried.
When Tia grasped Elizabeth's hands and pulled them into her own, the Dead Man's Chest was sent falling with a hollow thump against the floor. Its guardian glanced to it in worry, a small gasp having slipped from her lips as the box lay on its side. Though its metallic walls would asure that no harm came to its precious contents, it still jumbled the young woman's nerves to have it so roughly tumble to the docks, out of her grasp and vulnerable. The voodoo woman's grasp was a strong one, however, and her stare was direct. She furrowed her brows in uncertainty of what it was that Tia was telling her, obviously confused and with worries still lingering on the fallen Chest. Something strange and dangerous? Hadn't there already been enough of that? Apparently, the ocean had many more a dark and deadly secret. Silly Elizabeth, to have wondered if they had seen the last of it.
The Pirate King managed to speak, finally, eyes shifting from Barbossa to the Goddess as she was addressed in a more personal note. She had no reason not to trust Tia Dalma... Calypso? Trust was a valuable thing nowadays and Elizabeth was in no mood to go handing it over so easily even when Tia Dalma had been a person she had once trusted. But since the witch had been released from her human bonds, the young woman was quite unsure as to where to rest her loyalties. She eyed the river sage for a moment, sliding her hands from Tia's strong palms. "I'm not so sure who I can trust anymore," Elizabeth mused, eyes trying not to shift towards Norrington in fear that they would remain upon him in the tension that could easily lock them there.
She turned her eyes instead, to the docks about them, searching for the Chest she needed back in her arms. It had managed to roll to where Barbossa had wandered, a farther distance that the lass had expected. "The Brethren Court aren't exactly in good terms with you, but if it is what the Sea sees as her course then who am I to redirect it?" The young woman spoke in a soft tone when saying this before swiftly rushing to where the Chest had tumbled, nerves revived to this sensation of panic that could always become her whenever the box was out of grasp and sight. Usually the outspoken type, Elizabeth had been oddly quiet through this. It was the tension, it was the air, and it was her thoughts. The winds were carrying her into dangerous, metaphorical waters and all she wanted was to get the show on the road. It was never easy when one was dealing with pirates.
{ Bah. Sorry if this post is confusing/ooc/or just plain horrible. I know I apologize a lot but I was half-asleep when I wrote this. Didn't want to keep you guys waiting. }
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Post by Hector Barbossa on Jun 9, 2007 15:00:47 GMT -5
(Short but... there ya go.)
Barbossa stopped. He turned his head towards Norrington, though, he stood beyond the man and would have to turn his shoulder back if he wanted to look at him directly. He did not want that, so he did not turn. His head tilted low, eyes menacing and mouth pulled back in a snarl, he responded in a tone that only Norrington could hear, “that be true. I am not a man to be trusted, or tested. Watch yourself, whelp.”
The Dead Man’s Chest rolled, fumbling in its bulk, towards Barbossa, and he turned abruptly and put his foot atop it. The resonating slam of his heavy boot meeting metal, and that metal coming to a sudden halt on thick wood, vibrated the dock. He was tired of this strange gathering, each person with their own agenda, each trying to use the others for their own personal gains. A lot of pirates and brigands, but powerful ones. Barbossa would not stand for his ship to be at the center of the bargaining.
“The three of you are seeking passage on me ship, correct? Mrs. Turner to secure a new heir to her titles. Mister Norrington to redeem himself in the eyes of the aforementioned married woman. At Calypso, Goddess of the sea in her human body seeks my vessel to carry her to Shipwreck Cove,” his eyes drifted from Tia Dalma to Elizabeth, then to Norrington. Lingering for a vicious moment, he let them return the way they had come, fixing a suspicious gaze on Tia Dalma, “I suppose I have no choice in these matters. Captain Turner, we will continue with out agreement. The scabberous Norrington will be a bilge rat on me crew, for the time being. And you, merciless witch, will be a guest aboard the Pearl. I know naught what you seek at the Cove, but it be not in my power to deny you passage.”
He bent and picked up the Dead Man’s Chest, nestling it under his arm with a care he made sure the others did not see. Looking to the sky, he noted the how late in the horizon the sun was, creeping inexorably towards the bend of the earth. Frowning, he knew his crew would be returning soon, and they would all be off on this mixed up, complicated expedition. He did not know what part he would truly be playing, but something inside him told him not to turn them away. And so he hadn’t, welcoming this fortuitous crossing of events as a sign of adventure that he could not escape.
Sauntering towards his ship, shoulder checking Norrington as he passed again just for good measure, he mounted the ramp and looked back at Elizabeth. Altering his path, he moved to her and returned to her the Dead Man’s Chest, keeping his gaze steadily on her eyes, feeling obligated to do so with Tia Dalma so near. He did not want to look at the witch, and while she was aboard he planned to stay as far from her company as possible. Flashes of what power she had over him, what she had done to his hand in a flare of anger, came to his mind, and his fist tightened reactively. Nodding at Elizabeth, he boarded the Black Pearl without saying any thing more.
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Post by darthphantom08 on Jun 9, 2007 16:29:21 GMT -5
The salty scent of the sea hung over the town of Tortuga, mixing with the smell of spilled rum and other drink left in the streets after another rowdy night. This was truly a town that never slept. People were still dragging themselves up off the floors of taverns and out in the world. There were very few people who actually wandered around the little back roads of the port town. The sun was slowly sying in the sky, warm still however beating down on the disgustly, crowded streets.
Dust was kicked up from underneath the black soles, creating small clouds that settled back down. Tiny specks of dirt landed on the highly polished black boots, causing their owner to cringe inside just a bit. It had taken him a bit of time to finally get those damned things looking just so. The whole process had taken about an hour, and he would do it again meticulously once he returned to his darling ship. If he ever got there of course.
“Bloody hell.” The Irish-tinted voice grumbled as a couple of drunks were physically removed from a small bar. The Renard Dore. Hmmm… His French wasn’t up to par but he gave it a good try anyways. The Golden Fox? Something like that. Captain Jacob O’Neil scowled as the pair got up and began quarreling as they stumbled down the way. Why couldn’t there be decency among thieves? He shook his head, continuing onward. He supposed that it would take the job from honest men like him if there was such a thing.
There wasn’t an exact place that he was going. It was more of a general location. The docks were always the best place to find anything if you were looking for something. Sometimes, even if you aren’t. The old wood of the docks creaked slightly under the weight of people going back and forth.
O'Neil listened to the thud of his boots against the dock as he walked. He was painfully that he stood out among the dirt masses. Especially the boots. However, no one had dared come oppose him yet. Strapped to his side was his beloved sword and pistol, exposed as to pose a threat to would be attackers. The man let his eyes wander, looking for anything.
That would be something. A eyebrow raised as O'Neil saw an ex-officer. James Norrington? The last report was that he was murdered will in the service of the late Lord Beckett. He quickly surveyed those around him. They struck a chord for some reason in his mind. Those soul-sucking eyes landed on the water.
A black ship with black sails. Patched with lighter materials. Could it be the infamous Black Pearl? The pirate hunter inside of O'Neil chuckled with glee. What a day it would be to hand over that crew to the King. Of course, that was a near impossible task. Unless...
He began to walk closer to the ship and the pirates. Prehaps they were in need of an extra hand or sword.
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Post by James Norrington on Jun 12, 2007 10:39:02 GMT -5
Norrington bristled when Barbossa addressed him, in a tone that was almost a growl, and nearly inaudible at that. He was not a man to be tested either, and the man was getting dangerously close to doing just that. Whelp? That might have been pushing it a little too far. Perhaps that was the point. In any case, it took quite a lot of effort not to snap back. The odds of him getting on the ship after doing such a thing would be even more slim than they were at this moment.
Then, Babossa spoke again. Scabberous. Bilge rat? Though his eyebrow raised in slight irritation, James couldn't say he was exactly surprised. Still, a bilge rat was better , by far, than hanging around Tortuga. Again. Tensing at the next shoulder check by Barbossa, but not stumbling, or moving in any other manner, James decided that he wouldn't let Barbossa get under his skin... at least until later. Later would work.
Slinging his Admiral's jacket over his shoulder, Norrington turned to Elizabeth and Tia Dalma. " A pleasure to meet you," he directed towards the latter, before sending a cordial farewell toward Mrs. Turner. He knuckled his forehead in a kind of salute, and marched promptly across the deck, eyes fixed on the wooden slats. His long legged gait was halted suddenly at a sight he had not seen in a long while. Clean, black boots, polished to such a shine, that even after the man had been walking around in Tortuga, Norrington could still see his own reflection in them. Only one man he had known of had /ever/ worn boots like that. Raising his head to meet the startling icy blue eyes of Jacob O'Neil, Norrington couldn't help but smile, just a little bit.
An inch taller, and perhaps five years older, Jacob O'Neil had never exactly been Norrington's close friend, but they certainly weren't on bad terms either. It was good to see a familiar face. " If it isn't O'Neil." James shook his head at the incredulity of meeting the man here, of all places. Norrington's smile faltered a moment, and he was painfully aware how he had fallen in the world. He hoped that Jacob hadn't been standing there long enough to hear that James had been accepted onto the Pearl only as a Bilge Rat. "How are you doing, Jacob?" James glanced down to the man's boots. " The same in some aspects, I see."
He glanced to the Pearl, then to the setting sun. " Pardon me for a moment," James excused himself, and slipped past O'Neil, turning into the first eating establishment he saw. A moment later, he returned, carrying a slab of salted meat wrapped in course brown paper, and a surprisingly fresh apple. He sunk his teeth into the flesh of the fruit, eyes squeezed closed. James was a little wary of what he might find. Thankfully, to his great relief, the inside looked as good as the outside. There weren't any vermin in sight. It even tasted pretty regular. " She's not much to look at, is she?" Norrington asked Jacob, guesturing vaguely to the Pearl. Despite the meticulous care Barbossa gave to it, it /was/ after-all, a pirate ship. The wood didn't shine, the sails were patched, and worn, and except for some rather ornate windows gracing the captain's cabin, there wasn't anything spectacularly eye-catching about the ship. Of course, anyone who had even heard of the Pearl knew that it's fame wasn't for its appearance, but it's speed. James had witnessed it first hand, both from pursuing it, and from being on it. No, she wasn't flashy like the Endeavour... but she was beautiful in her own way.
(( Zom. I love the Endeavour. <333
I was rather mad when they shot it down. -sniffle- It's so... triple decker, and colour coordinated, and cool. ^^" Oh heck, I love all the ships in that movie. xD ))
[/size]
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