A/N: hi all! apologies for the lateness... welcome to the chappie in which we meet a new character! oc... yes... but not at all mary sue. trust me on this one. i mean come on... what kind of guy is named marysue?
this chapter's probably the longest yet! nice! please enjoy! or else... and please review.
yes, i am aware that those of you without an account can't review my story. i apologize. profusely. i used to be one of you. this isn't my account only though; i share it with a friend, so i feel i must respect her wish to limit the anonymous reviewers. my apologies. please understand, it's not my choice---not my email. i'm sorry.
I was not quite so confident later, as the liquid golden sunlight began to kiss the tops of the trees, sending brilliant streams of color out across the horizon, coloring the ocean in pinks, purples, and oranges—a breathtaking Caribbean sunset. If I had been on a cruise ship, I would have stopped to view the lovely scene (and probably would have commented cynically on how pollution affected sunsets), but as it was, I sat unhappily, frustrated beyond belief on a large deserted beach, surrounded by palm fronds, frantically trying to light a fire with two rocks before the light was completely gone. Prior, I had tried two sticks with less luck, for the wood was wet from what I assumed to be rain. Or a hurricane. A hurricane that may come back for a visit… I decided not to think about that.
"Why didn't I pay attention when we went camping in girl scouts?" I asked myself, and then rolled my eyes at my folly. "Not that we learned this anyway." I took on a mocking tone. "Children should never play with fire!" I rolled my eyes again and snorted rudely, but no one was around to chastise me. One of the only upsides of being stuck on an uninhabited island. I cast a worried glance towards the setting sun, whose light was fading fast, its lingering warmth still present on the sand—but not for long I knew, which urged me again into a flurry of frenzied movement. "Work, damn it!" I cried in despair. "Make a spark! You're supposed to! That's what they told me in science class in first grade!"
I calmed myself, still violently banging the two rocks together with little success. "Dear God," I began, my voice prim and proper, "Please, if you would be so kind as to help me make a spark, I would be very, very grateful." Still bloody nothing. "God must be busy," I commented dryly, grabbing the sticks instead and rubbing them together at an almost alarming rate of speed.
Out of nowhere it seemed, a small wisp of smoke drifted up from the sticks, and I smiled in openmouthed elation, rubbing all the quicker. It suddenly lit, and just in time too, because my arms were about to fall off, so I cried out happily and said, "Finally!" as a twig and then some palm fronds lit on fire. "So there is a God!" I cried laughingly.
I moved the other palm fronds so they would not catch on fire in a circle around me, laughing a little shakily at the thought of being surrounded by fire, and tended the flames until I had a good roaring blaze, at which point I deemed it a large enough fire to feed itself for a while, scrambling off to find some larger branches to fuel my growing fire.
I smiled and whistled a jovial tune as I gathered the wood, happy at least for the moment. I gathered the wood up in my arms as if it were a baby instead of logs that would probably give me splinters later, lumbering back to my fire on the beach as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. I set down the wood and then frowned at it as if it was its fault the light had gone, thinking worriedly out loud, "I hope that'll be enough wood to feed the fire all night."
"Should be," someone replied mildly from behind me.
"Who the Hell!" I snapped, whirling around to come face to face—or face to chest rather considering the height difference—with a tall, graceful looking man who stood with the relaxed ease of an experienced fighter, and had a complacent, albeit slightly amused expression on his face. His hair was blonde, pulled back into a ponytail, and he had light green eyes that seemed to change shades of green in the flickering firelight.
"Nice to meet you too," he replied, as if I hadn't just cursed loudly, "My name is Dorian Faber. And you are?"
"Uhh…" I stalled, trying to remember my fake name, "Cara Laney."
"Would you mind terribly if I warmed myself by your fire, Miss Laney?" he asked politely.
I just stared at him for a few seconds, trying not to drool. Normally, I didn't go for blonde guys, but this man had a wonderful elegance to him that made him all too attractive. A few more moments of awkward silence in which I goggled him finally led to him quizzically raising one eyebrow at me. I shook myself, stopped staring and answered hastily, "I wouldn't mind at all."
I cleared my throat uncomfortably and sat down, gesturing that he do the same, my "overly zealous Asian hostess" gene beginning to kick into gear. I scrabbled through my piles of palm fronds and produced the mango. "Here, if you have a knife we can have some mango… if not then I'm sure we can manage something."
He smiled and drew out a small knife that actually looked cleaner than anything I'd seen for my entire trip in the 17th century. I looked in chagrin at my rather filthy hands, wiped them unsuccessfully on my breeches and then took the knife from his outstretched hand. "So… Mr. Faber… uhh… what brings you to an uninhabited island in the middle of nowhere?" I said with determined cheerfulness, hoping that my maladroit manner would go unnoticed as I ineffectually tried to cut the mango, squinting at it in the dim light of the fire.
"Here, let me cut the mango," he said kindly, noticing my troubles. I blushed, but handed his knife and my mango over to him. He very carefully cut the mango into several slices and gave me half of them, popping one slice in his one mouth and looking thoughtful whilst he chewed. I didn't think it was possible to look thoughtful while your chewing, or at least I never managed to do it, I thought, this time to myself instead of aloud as I had been thinking for the past day.
He swallowed the slice and then said, "Truth be told, I'm not quite sure how I arrived here. One minute, I'm locked up in the brig of an enemy ship, and the next, I've been knocked out and when I wake up I'm here."
"What enemy ship?" I asked him, my head tilted curiously to one side.
"The Black Pearl," he replied, his tone of voice still mild and placid. Imagine his alarm when he hears me beginning to choke on my mango.
Coughing and spluttering, I finally managed to ask incredulously, "The Black Pearl?" still half choking on mango. I finally was able to stop choking, much to Dorian's and my relief. "The one captained by Jack Sparrow?"
He looked at me oddly, and now his head was tilted to one side. "Do you know of it?"
"I was just on it earlier today!" I cried. "Curse that man!" I stood up abruptly, mango slices still in hand and began to pace back and forth, feeling positively violent. I stopped in mid-stride, my face crestfallen, I'm sure. "I can't live here for the rest of my life!" I wailed. I resumed my pacing. "If only we had a ship… if we just had a ship…" I said, and then trailed off into a bunch of incoherent mutterings.
Finally, I exhaled sharply in exasperation and sat back down, taking a small bite of mango. "Any ideas?" I asked him.
He shrugged, and closed his eyes tight for a moment—but soon they opened again, and his green eyes were dark as he replied, "I can't think of anything… except maybe building a very small boat to go scouting for other islands…" He shook his head. "I don't know."
I sighed and smiled wanly, saying, "Well, enough of this tiresome thinking. We can get back to it in the morning. For now, we'd better rest I think."
He nodded, his mind obviously elsewhere, lying down some distance from the fire, and then instantly falling asleep.
As for me, my mind was restless, and so there I sat, gazing absently at the fire as my thoughts turned to plans of escape from the island. Every so often I would place another branch on the fire; there was no way I was going to let the fire go out as we slept. Who knows what could be out there. I sighed, preparing myself for a long, sleepless night and sending a quick prayer to God, then returning my gaze to the fire. I sat there in the dark, brooding until dawn, not daring to nod off, my gaze trained on the fire the whole time.