Disclaimer: Davy Jones, the Flying Dutchman, and anything else from Pirates of the Caribbean obviously don't belong to me (Nereid does, though :), and I'm quite happy with her).
This gentle, silvery shower was not the usual sort of storm to pelt the barnacle encrusted decks of the Flying Dutchman. But it was the rain to which every crew member looked forward. It beat in a soft clatter upon every visible surface, faintly warm no matter which sea they sailed, and that warm soaked comfortingly into the undead bones of every man on the ship, like a lover's comforting embrace. And this was good enough, but the best thing, to the crew, was the knowledge that this gentle rain meant that Nereid was coming to visit.
Afternoon was steadily progressing into evening, with dusk hidden behind the blue gray of the clouds, when she materialized before them, perched on the deck railing. At first there was only a swirling spray, glittering like a cascade of tiny diamonds in the swirl of sweet-smelling wind, but then it slowly became the form of a woman, bare feet to dark head, soaked and wearing the tattered remains of a dark blue silk gown of old and foreign origins. She was tiny and fragile-looking, as white as ice with perpetually drenched black hair almost down to her knees, sly, dark-lashed slanted eyes that displayed her human origins in Asia. Japan, to be precise; Nihon, she would pronounce it in her old accent, when she told them stories about the land she grew up in before their great, great grandparents were conceived and older still. No one was quite sure if, besides the change in complexion, this was even her original form. The eyes, at least, had to be different from the ones she was born with, for their irises were like two of the deepest blue sapphires that anyone had ever seem, and because of her age, seemed to stare into the soul of a person, and draw out all of their secrets.
Nereid smiled like a glitter of sunlight on the waves as the crew welcomed her, voices loud and boisterous. One of them wrapped his coral-covered arms around her slender legs, exposed to the knee, and lifted her up, spinning around as the rest cheered, and her laugher sounded over them like chimes. Then, all quieted when Captain Davy Jones emerged from their crowd imposingly silent in the midst of their joy.
The man who'd lifted her set Nereid gently down on the deck before him, and the warmth of the water clinging to her cold skin seemed to seep outward to all those around her. It was not merely the potency of her presence, although after the century that the three-fold elemental had lived, there was that. But the whole crew loved her light, jovial demeanor, the way she sat and talked with each of them as if they were individually her dearest friends. And, because there was nothing in all the world that put their captain in a better mood.
"Tis good to be seein ya aboard, m'lady," Davy Jones greeted her, bowing low at the waist. The Captain was always as subdued and formal as possible to her, but it never fooled anyone. She was the only 'weakness'- here meaning person he was genuinely fond of- who no one would attempt to use against him, partially from her own power, and partially because she was everyone's weakness.
"It is good to be here, as always," Nereid replied, bowing gracefully in return. Her English held no trace of accent to them, an emptiness long perfected.
"T'dinnar, then?" He inquired, offering her his arm.
"Of course." She beamed up at him, weaving her tiny, slender arm round his, and the two of them strode through the parted crowd toward his cabin.
"You know," Nereid remarked as she sauntered along the walls of his chamber, examining the various life forms that clung to the rotting wood. "It my youth I might have thought this all very disgusting."
Davy Jones looked up at her from where he set the small table, meant only for two, feeling a pang of worry as a result of her statement. Does she find me repulsive? he wondered, then immediately asked himself why he cared. "Do ye now?" was all he said in reply, looking down and finishing with his preparations.
Nereid turned, the tendrils of her wet black hair fanning out with the movement. "Now, I see the life on these walls, all over this ship, and it is beautiful."
Davy Jones chuckled, attempting to hide his discomfort as he pulled out one chair, gesturing for her to join him. "I erfraid they be the only life here."
"Do not be foolish," Nereid said as she went to him, gracefully lowering herself onto the soaked, squishy cushion. "You are all just as alive."
"Ye would know." Davy remarked as he lifted the chair, which drew a soft laugh from her, and placed it closer to the table. Her hair, cold as seaweed but softer than silk, brushed his fingertips and claw, and Davy shuddered.
Davy Jones settled himself in the chair opposite her, and lifted one of the silver trays towards her, which made her burst into sweet, sweet laugher. "A taste of yer 'omeland, ey?"
"Pufferfish," She chuckled, lifting one thin, pale slice from the tray with her slender white fingers. Some table manners, at least, were decidedly foolish to them, and they could always eat at ease with each other. "A dish served only by master of its preparation. Are you such a master?"
Davy Jones took a slice himself, and together, they lifted the delicacy to their lips.
"It is convenient that neither of us can die of poison," Nereid said teasingly. When she saw the disappointed look on Davy's face, she warmed him with a dazzling smile. "I am joking, of course. It is perfect."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes." She swallowed the remainder of her slice easily, tilting her head back as she did so, which exposed the long white line of her throat. Davy Jones sucked in a sharp breath that caused her to look at him, her eyes dark and piercing in the dim light of his quarters. She managed to keep her unmarred pallor even in the aqua gloom, glowing so faintly that it was nigh undetectable, to someone who hadn't seen it before.. Davy Jones sucked in a sharp breath that caused her to look at him, her eyes dark and piercing in the dim light of his quarters. She managed to keep her unmarred pallor even in the aqua gloom, glowing so faintly that it was nigh undetectable, to someone who hadn't seen it before. Nereid took up another piece, lifted it to her lips, and proceeded to take smaller, savored bites this time, while she watched him, obviously attempting to figure something out. "Something is troubling you," she stated finally.
Aye, many things . . . "They stole me 'art." Davy admitted.
Nereid blinked, lips parted and eyes going a little wider than usual. "Who?"
"The late Sparrow's crew."
The look of surprise remained. "Jack Sparrow is dead?" Davy Jones wasn't at all surprised by her concern in the matter. Sparrow had been her lover; many of the more renowned captains were, at one time or another. "Well . . . you certainly have been busy. The Kraken, I take it?" Davy nodded. "But now his crew has your heart? Are you sure of this?"
Davy Jones raised a brow at her. "Who else 'ould 'ave it? Twas 'is crew 'we tracked to the isle where I left the cursed thing!"
Nereid's expression relaxed, became cooler. "Love is not a curse. It is a blessing."
"Says you," Davy Jones growled. "Yer the beloved siren of the Atlantic. There's no man 'o's eyes 'ave fallen upon ye, and precious few women, o's 'art hasn't been marked by th' sight. Ye don' know what it is t' be tarned away by the one ye love."
"So you must think," Nereid replied softly, staring down at the table. Davy Jones felt the sudden rush, a wave of irrational anger. Had one of the pirate captains in these waters broken her sun-kissed, silver heart? He clenched his fist under the table, his claw snapping tightly shut. "You men of the sea do not cling to anything, least of all a woman." His frown deepened as he cataloged the captains he knew Nereid had been with. Not a long list; he could kill them all. But then she raised her lovely face again, and there was a joyous expression like the coming of dawn that stopped his heart. "But I do not regret the love I feel," Nereid told him. "Even if it is not reciprocated, or even known. Even if it hurts; the agony is a sweet one."
At first, Davy Jones couldn't find the words to reply with. Finally, he settled with "Foolish men they are," and reach for a roll of sushi on another tray. Nereid smiled at him, but he found that he could not meet her gaze.
"You are sweet to me, Davy Jones," she said.
They dined sparingly through the hours, talking of more pleasant things: the state of the crew, the adventures they'd weather since her last visit.
"It grows late," Nereid said finally. "May I stay?"
"Always," Davy replied. This was not a new thing. Davy had formed a tide pool of sorts near his organ, where she could lounge in the comforting embrace of her dearest element, resting on a bed of brightly colored sea anemones. He stood and helped her from her chair with as gentlemanly an air as he could manage, and watched her cross the room and settle into the shallow pool.
Davy Jones went to his organ and set himself upon the stool, and began to play a melody that Nereid had once remarked reminded her of a calm summer night out on the waves. She would know, of course. Nereid used to ask him aloud to play for her on the nights she stayed, but she didn't need to do so now. Davy would keep his eyes trained away as she made herself comfortable amidst the rocks, and would play with the feel of her eyes on him, attempting to appear regal, perhaps as she looked when she stirred up a storm with such ethereal grace. Davy Jones knew he would never come close to the grace of an elemental, but he liked to hope that she saw a twinge of elegance in his manner when he played.
When the song was finished, Davy Jones knew she had fallen asleep. He turned, staring at her for a long time as she lay against one slope of rock, her black hair spilled over it, her skin like a pearl made of velvet that he desperately wanted to touch, but dared not to. He wasn't like all those other captains she bedded with ease; and not a twinge of guilt, as enjoying the gift of her body was never a sin to her. He was the least humanoid of all the captains she knew. There was no way in the great black, watery hell that she could possibly see him that way.
With a sigh, Davy Jones turned back to the organ, and again began to play. He would play himself to sleep; it had been an eternity since he had actually slept in a bed.
The first time he saw her was the very same day he knelt upon the beach, the day he buried his heart in the sand. The spot had been much farther above water then, having been worn down over the years to the low spit of sand it was now. Every ten years when he could, Davy Jones would return to uncover the chest, then rebury it. But that was the only time Davy had ever seen Nereid on that shore.
She had been just a small white figure standing atop a nearby hill, clad in nothing but her long black tresses, soaked as ever and whipping in the fierce wind of the coming storm. Davy Jones had thought at first that the storm was a result of the change that had allowed him to remove his heart in the first place, but later he discovered that she had called the storm on a whim, holding her hands lovingly out towards the sky, beckoning forth chaos. Davy Jones remembered worrying about what would become of the Flying Dutchman as they sailed out, for he could not remain long on the shore once the curse began to set in. But at the last minute her head turned, and he felt her gaze upon him. The storm seemed to calm, the clouds in the sky becoming lighter, and it remained thus until he was back on his ship and well away from the worst of it.
Only a month later, Davy Jones' appearance, as well as that of his crew, and even his ship, had completely changed. They sailed on a dreary day, wind and dark gray clouds, but nothing more, yet the captain was called to the deck by a commotion amongst the crew. They parted before him as he made his way to the bow, to find the cause perched at the very tip, standing very calmly above the stylized tooth-filled mouth and the crashing waves below.
This time, she was wearing the plain navy blue outer robe of a kimono, held closed only by a sash cinched tight around her waist, which still allowed it to bare the triangle of white flesh below her neck, and most of her legs, which were long though her body in its entirety was short. Her hair was tied back with a blue ribbon that flapped like a flag in the midst of it. There was a cold, slightly annoyed expression on her face; Davy Jones would later learn that one of the crew members had been poking at her with a spear, while saying some very insulting things. By the time he'd gotten there, the man in question was steaming from the bolt of lightning that had shot right out of her fingers, and he lay trembling on the deck. Davy sentenced him to a year tied to the Kraken's drum for it.
"Are you the captain of this ship?" She asked when she saw him, her voice soft and smooth, despite her obvious anger.
"Aye. I am Captain Davy Jones." He replied. "And who might ye be?"
She smiled then, a closed curl of her full lips. "I am Nereid, a traveler of the seven seas." With that, she strode slowly down the bow, the crew giving her a wide berth when her small bare feet dropped soundlessly to the deck. The kimono moved around her as if it were made of a much lighter substance than silk, billowing behind her until it was barely a cover at all for her slender, curvy form. Only Davy Jones did not move an inch as she approached him, and to this day he wasn't sure what gave him the courage to stand so immobile before her. Perhaps cocky from his new-found immortality, or from his captain's status, or the fact that she was female. Or perhaps it was fear that froze him in place before her, because Nereid moved like the ocean itself, embodied in the form of an Asian-later to be identified as Japanese- woman who barely reached Davy's mouth in height.
She walked right up to him until their bodies were faintly touching, and placed a hand on his broad chest. Davy Jones could not move; he felt her power washing over him through that hand, but felt no desire to pull it or himself away. Her hand slid over his soaking wet clothes, then underneath them, caressing the slimy octopus skin that he had gained, but showing no hint of disgust whatsoever at it. Her palm settled over the hollow in his chest. "The one who cut out his own heart to escape love," Nereid murmured, staring up into his eyes.
And so it began. Davy Jones invited her to dinner that very night.
She came with the tides at her heels, silver water lapping at them, the sound of deep, hollow chimes ringing in the air as she willed Davy Jones to hear and awaken. She had left her gown in the pool, her cool skin bare to the air that swirled around her.
Davy Jones shuddered as she neared, lifting slowly from where his head had fallen upon the keys, then staring with wide eyes and open mouth at the bounty before him. He had of course seen Nereid in all of her unclothed glory many times before- what did a century old elemental with the body of a goddess need with modesty- but never standing so serenely, so tempting before him in the dark solitude of his own chamber.
"Nereid . . ." He whispered, but lost his breath as she sauntered towards him. Davy had to turn back around as she circled him and slid between him and the organ, settling herself softly upon his lap. She was practically as light as a feather, but Davy was so very aware of her presence upon him that the weight was nearly unbearable.
"Davy," She murmured back with a small, almost wicked smile leaning in close, as if to kiss him.
He drew back. "Nereid, I . . ."
She blinked at him, face fallen into near sorrow. "I see . . ." The beautiful woman moved to leave.
"Wait." Davy Jones caught her by her slender arms, trying to be gentle, but frantic at the thought of her leaving. "Yer beautiful," he told her. "Why would ye . . ?"
"What?" She stared at him, then realization dawned, and she laughed. "Why would I want you?" He nodded. "Well . . ." He shivered as Nereid slid her hands down his arms, willing power to flow from them like a tingling mist. "They do say love is blind . . ." Davy blanched at that. "But there was never any need. You have always been so lovely to my sight." Without giving him another chance to protest, she kissed him, sliding her hands up his chest, fingertips playing in the tangle of his tentacle beard, mouth and tongue as hot as sunlight against his lips.
Hours later, Davy Jones clung to Nereid's tiny form under the silk blankets of his huge four poster bed, her body now a beacon of warmth against the deep cold all around them. She slept silently and still, and he rested his tentacled head against her hair, breathing deep the moist-salty-flower scent of her. Somewhere very far away, he felt a deep ache, an echo of an emotion he had been running from for ages. Perhaps he had been a fool for wanting to. But when Nereid stirred in her sleep just enough to hug him more tightly against her, Davy thought, just for a moment, that maybe the pain was worth it.
Author's Note: This is actually the prologue to a story I haven' t decided on writing yet. Please let me know if anyone might care to read it (though no promises).
For the purpose of this story, and elemental is anyone born of a sentient race who has the ability to telepathically control one or more basic elements: a pyrokenetic, aquakinetic, terrakinetic, etc. Elementals a rather rare, and usually control only one element, but Nereid has mastered three. By mastering an element, the elemental ceases to be whatever mortal species they once were, and becomes an immortal incarnation of said element with shapeshifting abilities.