True Colors ~*~
Say the name Elizabeth Swann to anyone in Port Royal, and it would conjure up for them the image of a graceful and charming young lady of proper breeding and impeccable manners. It would call to mind a beautiful girl that was the envy of so many others as she attended the affairs of the elite in gowns from London and Paris; nary a hair out of place on her elegantly coiffed head.
True, the term headstrong would follow fast on the heels of those images, thoughts of how she'd picked a blacksmith over an officer accompanying it. But it was the worst they could accuse her of in her years in Jamaica, and they forgave her for her trespass as it provided them with such ample and delicious gossip.
But what would they think of her this moment, if you said the name Captain Elizabeth Swann, Pirate King, clad as she was in exotic garb from the Orient, and adorned with a blade at her hip so sharp it would split one of the hairs on her head?
What would they say, seeing her now, perched atop the rail and bellowing at the fiercest buccaneers to ever sail the seven seas, leading them into dirty, bloody, noisy, deadly combat?
Her powdered and primped veneer had begun to crumble the moment she'd first set foot on the deck of a pirate ship, and as she looked out over the sea of scarred but determined faces, she tore aside any last vestiges of that Port Royal façade with her last three words.
"Hoist the Colors."