The Open Sea
Elizabeth Swan-Turner climbed the rigging, her thoughts far away from her easy task. On her husband, who would return to her in ten years, and they would be together forever. But ten years was a long wait for someone she loved so dearly.
She ended up in the crows nest on many nights like this one. Many days, too. Just staring out at the sea, her beloved ocean, knowing where ever Will was at the moment, if he wasn't helping someone died at sea, he was doing the same.
She breathed the salt air, and knew. She was loved, and safe. She was the pirate king: the Sea, Will, all hers. . . .
Davy Jones lay at the bottom of the ocean, the currents he knew were a few miles above him the life-breath of his love. This was his penance, to lie here, waiting for her like Elizabeth had to wait for her Will. It was his fault what had happened to Will. He knew that, now he was out of his rage-driven monstrous body. Human again, though obviously not quite, since he was at the bottom of the ocean. It was dark, but peaceful. Dangerous, but soft. Cold, but not unpleasant. Strange, but familiar. His ocean that he loved, surrounded by it, he would wait.
Anamaria dipped her toes in the salty water, listening to the stories of her crew, a half-mile down from her. The wind carried their voices to her, and she heard the tale.
Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Turner, Will Turner. . . . Pirate King, Ocean Queen, Flying Dutchman. . . . Davy Jones, Calypso- Tia Dalma. Chest, Ten-years, love, reunited. . . .
The story had been passsed around like rum through the Black Pearl's crew. It was a legend that Ana was almost positive was true. And knowing Jack, it was.
Anamaria stretched out on the beach, still up to her ankles in the salty brine. The Caribbean sea was her life and her home. To her the ocean was everything.
Will sighed, looking over the weird black waters with an expression of dissatisfaction. But what could he do? He had to wait and ferry soul for ten-years before returning to his Elizabeth, and the sea he knew and loved, as opposed to this poor substitute.
Jack Sparrow tilted is face upward, looking high up to where Elizabeth was standing. Then he looked back over to the deep blue, admiring the way the ocean's waves created patterns where the stars and moon were reflected, distorting the image and making it beautiful, though definitely out of the ordinary.
Calypso gazed upon the five people, her love, the one who took his place, his love, a legend, and a friend of theirs from a few years ago. She was the sea, and she saw everything. She saw their hopes, their dreams, their remorse, their pain, and their love and care for others, for eachother, and for the her. . . the sea.