It was dark where she was. There was no air, no scent, no nothing. Just the inky black.
She didn't like it.
Flailing her arms and legs, she tried to clear her vision, but with no such luck. She couldn't even feel her limbs, much less tell if they were actually obeying her commands or not. Then, out of nowhere, a face appeared. The face of the man who had done this to her. She was not afraid though. She stared death right in his tentacled face, hoping he could read the defiance in her eyes. His face, however, remained unchanged.
"Mangy cur! Look me in the eye!" She was mad, mad that this man had broken her. He had turned her mind into this empty void, the fear overwhelming her to the point of oblivion. This anger caused her to loose her fear of the man. He was heartless, yes, and unpredictable, just as the sea he ruled.
She hated him.
Before she could get on with a well deserved dressing down, twin slits of pure white pain exploded through her vision. She blinked once, twice, and her eyelids stayed open. Her vision was as if she were looking through two very long twin tunnels at the world around her; as if she were somewhere deep in her mind, looking out once again. The face in her mind still peered at her, face just as unreadable as before.
"Yer awake." He almost sounded disappointed.
"So I am," she tried to say, but her lips wouldn't move and her tounge felt swollen. She could feel both the ridged top of her mouth and the spongy bottom at the same time, which was not something she was pleased with.
Slowly, her vision began zooming in, then quicker and quicker until she had to blink several times to remain steady and keep from heaving.
"This silence truly suits ye," he said snidely, reaching to hold her jaw in his hand, the tentacle finger wrapping itself up her face and close to her ear. She shuddered, disgusted. Suddenly he twisted his grip so his thumb was pressed at the hinge of her jaw and pried her mouth open. At the sight of her trouble, he laughed cruely, know it it was his work. "As past to the crew, the first thing ye learn is," his expression turned dark at this, "not to distract the captain!" He finished in a bellow. "And how, might you ask, had you been able to use that wretched mouth of yours, is the crew punished-uh?" The darkness grew darker in his face, and a leering smile replaced the angry lone his mouth had been in previously. "Lashings!"
He picked up her limp body and easily carried her under his arm. He made no attempt to not hurt her as he carried her up to the deck, which was empty aside from them. "Yer lucky the crew's at the island, else they'd be seein' this too-uh!"
Her mind raced to try and place what he meant by 'the island'. It churned around while Jones bound her hands to the mast, and suddenly, she knew...
The island that Jack was sailing for. The island with this man's heart burried somewhere on it's shores. Jack was neerby!
Her beautiful black coat was torn from her back, the threads at the seams holding the sleeves on tearing clean apart and the body of the thing flying into the water that surrounded them. The brown shirt underneath was ripped open, hanging loosely by a single thread at the waist and the sleeves at her sholders. All that was left were the bindings for her chest, which did not hinder him from whipping her back raw.
The first blow landed, leaving raised red streaks on her otherwise unmarred back. Jones did not know how many lashes he would give, he did however know that the key and whelp were gone, and it was because she had distracted him.
Ten blows, and blood seeped from multiple gashes, some joining the blood of the rest of the crew on the quartermaster's cat.
Jones kept going, loosing count until her back was covered in her own blood and she was slouched against the mast, with only her hands supporting her and the rest if her lying on the deck. She looked truly pitiful, not even able to shriek for mercy. The best she could do was make a quiet grunt that he never payed attention to.
Then she stopped moaning altogether. She lay there, a beaten, bloody mess, unconscious. The sight did nothing for Jone's rage. Her harm would not bring the key back, nor would it gaur enter his safety.
Damned wench, messing everything to pieces. He should have learned and released her from her duties and killed her on the spot. Why he had kept her, he did not know...
Picking her up once more, he replaced her in the brig, returning a minute later with a shirt found in some of the more recent plunder. She could use her old clothing to make new bindings, as her old ones were still on the deck, having been severed in half by the blows.
Looking down at her pathetic form, he almost felt pity, that such a weak life existed. He scoffed and left, planning to return when the crew returned with a bucket of salt water and a mop to swab the deck. The salt would sting the open wounds, though they may not be open by the time the crew got back. Being relatively immortal, they were able to heal slightly faster than humans. She would wear those scars forever, but they would heal sooner than normal.
The time he returned came faster than expected, and by Maccus' expression, he knew the majority of the crew would be receiving the same treatment as Cassandra. He sent Hadras down below with the salt water, instructing him on what was to happen. He did not specify weather or not he was allowed to take advantage if the girl. Maccus would go down later with her new assignment, and her torturous new life would begin.
Somehow, the thought did not give him as much satisfaction as it should have.
The heart was in the jar of dirt, the dirt was in his hands, and he was on the Pearl, getting as far away from the island as possible, therefore loosing the fish-people as well. Cass was not among them, which he supposed was a good sign. If she was not with them, then it meant she was still fighting.
Brave girl.
The Dutchman surfaced right next to them, right as he thought they were safe. Fueld by anger and a healthy dose of fear, he shouted insults at the offending captain.
"Oi! Fishface! Loose somethin'? Oi!" As he was walking down the deck, he neglected to realize there were stairs in front of him, and he fell, till clutching the jar of dirt. The rest of the crew cringed every time e made impact with the floor, until he lay at the bottom. With no regard o is own state of health, he jumped up once more, jar till in hand and completely undamaged. "Come to negotiate, eh, have you, you slimy git? Look what I got. I got a jar of dirt! I got a jar of dirt! And guess what's inside it!"
"enough!" jones bellowed.
his grin fading significantly, jack muttered "hard to starboard." Elizabeth echoed the command, then Pintel, than Gibbs. The rest of the crew quickly obeyed, and she ship swerved quickly, though not quick enough to dodge the volley Jones had fired.
"Did ye loose somethin' Sparrow? Something... Female-uh?" Jack heard the jibe, and for a moment was torn before attempting a doomed rescue mission. "She wishes she was dead, Sparrow. Because o' ye!"
"Faster," he muttered to Elizabeth, who once again echoed it. He couldn't even depend on the whelp to care for her, as he was now aboard the Pearl.
Once again the Dutchman fired, blasting more holes in the ship. From below, he heard Pintel yell "she's on us!" He knew as much, and did not expect Jones to give up just yet. He did not expect him to give up at all. One more time, the Dutchman shot, this time from the triple guns at her stern.
"She's falling behind!" Elizabeth yelled, and Jack was relieved for a moment.
"Aye, and we've got her!" Gibbs yelled.
Will looked at him questioningly. "We're the faster?"
"Against the wind," Gibbs explained, "the Dutchman beats us. That's how she takes her prey. But with the wind..."
"We rob her advantage." Will finished.
Jack Sparrow knew something was wrong when he saw the Dutchman stop giving chase. He could only assume that they were either safe, or doomed to be eaten by Jone's pet. He suspected it was the latter, though he could hope the opposite, could he not?
"They're giving up!" Marty shouted happily.
Will, however, was not so jovial. Neither was Jack, but he gave no hint of it. "My father is on that ship. If we
can outrun her, we can take her. We should turn and fight," the eunuch said bravely. The news was somewhat of a surprise to Jack, who had thought that his old friend was long dead by now, though he could assume that death would be a better fate than whatever he was subject to on that ship.
"Why fight when you can negotiate? All one needs... is the proper leverage," he replied loudly, grabbing the jar of dirt once more. Suddenly, she ship rocked, and it sailed from his hands and smashed on the deck. Immediately Jack leapt on it, searching among the scattered dirt and shattered glass for the heart. "Where is it? Where is the thump-thump?"
"We must've hit a reef," someone yelled.
Will's eyes widened, and Jack knew for sure the great beastie was already upon them. "No. It's not a reef! Get away from the rail!" Elizabeth asked what it was, and grimly he confirmed Jack's suspicion.
"The Kraken. To arms!"
