Disclaimer: I don't any POTC characters, only my OCs.
Hey, guys! This chapter is going to pounce into the deep of the plot now, climbing towards the climax. Circe's coming up and I promise you, things are going to be interesting…A LOT! I'm trying really hard to make it less complicated, since there are so many layers to this story, example: Joey and Will's feelings, Will's past, Joey and Jared's past, The Fountain of Youth….etc, etc…
I'm an amateur writer so please, bear with me as I juggle this story to the best of my abilities.
Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and please enjoy!
"HOW BLOODY LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE?" I yelled for the umpteenth time, sagging my sun-licked, sweaty back against the bow of black rowboat. The white-hot sand burned beneath my resting form, the tiny pebbled grains biting into my down-turned palms as the sun's merciless glare baked me in steaming white-gold. Sweat burned my eyes; up in front of me, standing on the sand against the giant green mount of a forest, Captain Hector Barbossa gazed over his shoulder at me, raising one of those weird eyebrows.
"I thought we all already talked 'bout it," the old man growled, his yellow, rotten teeth jutting over his lips as his wrinkled face lifted in a thick snarl, " Only Sparrow can find her." His black, flat hat shaded most of his face as pure distaste washed over his features, his yellow eyes glinting among all the sweat. At his shoulder, Little Jack watched the scene before us in rare silence.
"Right," I sighed in reply, hitting my sweat-drenched head back against the rotting wood as I closed my heat-sore eyes, "I forgot. Magic compass."
"Aye, lass."
Jared sighed off to the right.
I hate this century.
It had been almost an hour yet we were all still here, waiting on the untamed, white beach that bordered the green-frosted, volcano island. Black soot billowed up ahead, far up in the sky-in the miserable hour that had we had been here, waiting in the dire, stinging heat, the granite monster of a volcano had spat out more smoke, puffing out the black, chugging clouds like the stream of smoke from a tobacco pipe. The few, white clouds had disappeared into its growing arms-it was like looking at an erupting volcano, its mouth spilling out all its guts just before a massive explosion. Faces screamed out of the black, roiling clouds, like a giant oppressive monster growing and evolving just above our heads.
Still, I knew nothing about volcanoes.
For all I know, the growing, black cloud, that somehow had seem to grow at an accelerated rate upon our arrival, was but part and parcel of an ordinary volcano's live.
Then again, I knew nothing about volcanoes.
Beside me, standing at the ripe of the rolling, hot tide, Lestrade seemed to have read my mind.
"It's Circe, Miz Wolfe," his thick voice smoked through the air, accented and odd as usual, "Dat's her wrath dat's speakin'."
Looking up through the stinging sweat, I gazed up against the white-hot sun, turning away from the smoking mountain; Lestrade's sweat-drenched face gazed upward, towards the roiling black clouds that puffed up in the sky like a smoke trail from an old train pipe. His blue eyes were an unusual solemn-the sun's fiery rays shone through his skin, turning the fringes of his face a beet red as if the large man himself was turning translucent. A grim, stoic expression stretched across his hairless face as he gazed silently, his beefy, large arms folded across his enormous, white-clad chest. Dark metal boots shuffled against my laid-out thigh as the tide slowly pulled back, the boiling seawater damping both his feet and my butt. Black beads glistened with sweat atop his shaven head.
"Circe?"
"Aye, Ma'am," he nodded once, his hard eyes trained up above, "She knows we're here. And she ain't pleased."
The black boat rocked against my back.
"I don't understand," I sighed as I closed my eyes, turning my attention away from the other members of the little party as hot water licked against my down-turned palms, "I thought Circe's just a demigoddess."
Off to the side, Scarlett's melodious voice added in smoothly.
"Yes. So did I."
Without another sound, I opened a single eye-the petite, delicate redhead stood quietly off to the side, a gentle arm hitched against her leather-clad hips. Whispers of fiery red clung to the side of her pale face as her large, red braid hung limply to her waist-it was if nature itself could do no harm to the pretty Lady of England. After all, while the rest of us mere commoners sweated it out, burning under the sun's lashing whip, Scarlett still looked as fresh as a lily-her sweat was barely discernible against her pale skin. At her side, one of Will's small daggers had been fitted into her belt, the weird, green hilt pressing against her small, white hands. Bright green eyes, still fresh and alive as dew, winked through the white-tinged air.
Beside me, high above against the cerulean blue sky, Lestrade tore his eyes away from the black clouds, shifting them down onto us again.
"It's true," he grunted in reply, squinting his eyes as if the sun was down here and not up in the sky, "It's true Circe's no more den a demigoddess." The silver of his rapier shivered not an inch from my face as he spoke, its tip nearly piercing the edge of my arm. My throat was dry as hell.
No.
This was worse then hell.
In front of me, Barbossa barked something crude.
"Then, I don't get it," Scarlett cocked her head to the side as she spoke, olive eyes like jewels of emerald against the sun-scorched backdrop, "How could she control the volcano if she's just-"
"De Gods are percu'liar creatures, Miz Errol. Deir' limits are beyon' anything we know."
Sparrow was shouting something back in reply.
Sweat crept down my sore back.
Wait…
"Gods!" I broke in, stinging eyes widening as the words hit me like a cold slap against my heat-streaked face. My heart jumped a mile as the warm water rushed over my sweaty fingers-this was crazy! I mean, what in hell's name could-
"Aye, Miz Wolfe."
"Are you telling me that there are more of those freaks?"
Above me, Lestrade opened his thin, sweaty lips to reply-instead, Pintel's voice cut him off, slicing through the hot air in its thick, low slurs.
"Well, what did yer think, den?" he snarled in his unique voice, snapping my head to the left with a shake of damp curls, "De sea is de only thing dat needs god'din?" His words were tinged with cold humour as the sun whitened my vision-good old Pintel sat on the bow of the second row boat, his fat, pudgy butt sinking the black wood deep into the wet sand. Short, cubby legs dangled off the black boat-thick clear droplets of sweat glided down his unwashed, tanned face as he grinned rotten teeth at me, his whiting, scraggy hair draping around his bulbous neck. A ring of dirt, like a black necklace, adorned the pile of fats beneath his face. Up above, beyond his grinning, hairy face and yellow-stained eyes, his bald spot glinted with golden sweat, making it even shinier then before. A Cheshire grin of broken, brown teeth stretched across his devilish-looking face. Dark eyes winked with an odd emotion.
Beside him, standing on the sand with an equally bemused expression, Ragetti nodded his head with a goofy grin.
It was as if Pintel never went anywhere without his polar opposite-Ragetti was nothing more then a stick of a guy, skinny and bony like some under-fed child in a impoverished nation. It fitted him though-loose black rags, almost identical to Pintel's, hung loosely off his skinny frame, his large pants ending in thick metal boots. Shaggy, dark blonde hair-quite like mine-topped his small head, his skinny neck like a pick holding up bobbing face. Up above, past his hooked nose and chapped lips, a single dark eye bulged out of his sweat-drenched face, the other covered entirely by a thick leather eye-patch. Rotten, bug-teeth stuck out over his tanned skin in the silliest fashion.
The heat was giving me a ferocious headache.
These two idiots won't helping.
"No, you moron," I snapped as viciously as my parched throat allowed, squinting my eyes as I glared at the duo beside me, "I didn't think that anything needed a god!"
"You don't believe in god?" Scarlett was speaking again, her voice as sweet and melodious behind me. In front of me, the comical duo of pirates drew their eyes off me, attention lost as they stared off to my right, at Scarlett. In front of me, limed against the giant green mess of a jungle, Jared's tanned figure made its way back. Barbossa was yelling again.
"What?"
"You know…a supreme being."
"Of course I believe in God!" I glared, sucking in the hot breath as the rushing warm waves wet my lower body in a sticky, salty scent, "At least…hell, where does Jesus even come in all of this?" To the right, under all our tired, squinting eyes, the ever-fresh Scarlett merely nodded in reply, green eyes bright with thoughts. A roll of liquid milk sweat rolled down the side of her pretty face. Dread and exhaustion plunged throughout my weary body. Frustration bubbled beneath my skull.
I hated this.
All of it.
The magic of the painting….Time-travelling…crazy, half-wit pirates….giant, diving ship…undead pirates…magical compass…immortality in a cup…mysterious map…mythical, untouchable gods….
Not forgetting Will, of course.
God.
I just want to go home.
Heavy, wet eyelashes hit down against my cheeks as I knocked my head back on the boat, sinking deeper into mushy, hot sand. Voices droned above me like the irritating buzzing of bees.
Please, God.
Take me home.
NOW.
It wasn't long-seemed like almost hours under the hot sun- before heavy feet moved against the earth, vibrating like thunderclaps in front of me. A lazy eye opened sore fully as a shadow shifted over me, blocking out the white-hot sun; Jared stood over my sitting form a dark shade in between the sombre figure of Lestrade and Scarlett's petite one. His handsome, chiselled face was dripping with sweat, the rough stubbles on his chin dotted with little clear crystals. Large, beefy arms crossed across rough brown tunic, reddened from the relentless sun. Up above, his eyes were not but slits of pure blue in his tanned face. His honey hair was dark with sweat.
Pure frustration splayed across his features.
"Is he done?" Lestrade voiced out, staring at my brother with the air of seriousness that he always seem to adopt on 'important' occasions. I suppose he had to be now, anyway; according to Lestrade, he had to represent Will on this expedition, a messenger to offer the undead captain's alliance with that witch Circe since he couldn't do it personally. According to the lovable, big man, it was extremely important job.
Serious, working Lestrade wasn't as fun as sweet, adorable Lestrade though.
I couldn't wait for him to return back to normal.
In front of me, but a small pint beside the towering giant of Lestrade, Jared frowned his face even more.
"Who? Sparrow?" He wrinkled his nose in distaste, blue slits flashing in agitation, "No. No, he's not done. Not even near it." As usual, his fists were clenched in tight circles. Off to my right, standing stiffly, Scarlett breathed out an impatient sigh. Ragetti mentioned something crude on the other boat. My head pulsed with anger.
"You got to be-it's been almost an hour!"
"Don't go yelling at me!," Jared snapped as he glared down at me, his dark, ominous shadow spreading a cool shade over my burnt being, "It's not my fault!" Up above, past their heads and in the bright blue sky, the dark cloud of ashes had spread higher, like an arm reaching out into the sky. Monkey hoots called from the dense jungle before us, far, far away. The waves were hot against my palms.
"Of course it's your fault, J. You're the reason we're stuck in this god-damn century in the first place."
"What the-YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WALKED THROUGH THE FUCKING PAINTING!"
"What the hell are yer two talking about?" Pintel's voice snapped off to the side, drawing my head down from my brother and off to the left, "What painting?" His bulbous shape seemed like the perfect anchor-in the blinding white hotness of the day, the older man's giant ass seemed to be spilling off his seat at the bow of the boat, his feet sunken into the sand to keep him still. Beside him, Ragetti watched with a confused, unblinking eye.
"None of your business, pirate!"
"Pirate's code, lass. Me entitle to any' thing me crew has to say, and that in'volves yer."
"What the fuck…can you freaking speak English? I have no idea what the hell you are saying!"
"I said-"
"You know what? Don't tell me-its probably just going to insult my very being, no?"
"Yer the rudest, most slime-bellying lass I've ever-"
"And you're the most pig-headed asshole in the entire world!"
"I would impale you, lass, yer hear? I would stab yer miserable guts out right here and now, if only ye and yer bro'ther weren't under dat Turner's protection!"
"Oh wow…a fat little pirate wants to kill me…terrifying…"
At my last sentence, across the tiny space between us, the chubby form of Pintel jumped to his feet, splashing lucid warm water all about in his frenzied jump. Furious, yellow eyes glared down at me ferociously, like a feral animal ready to pounce on his prey. Chipped, black teeth gritted maliciously at me as his short form became but a shadow against the bright background, his pudgy fists squashed to angry clenches. Sweat rolled down his face in lengths.
He was fuming.
Oh, yippee.
"Yer going to pay for that, lass! I mean it-yer goin' to get it-"
"Take one more step, Pintel, and I swear, I'll kill you."
"Look, lad, I don't have anything against yer, yer hear? It's just yer sister…."
"Miz Wolfe was just tea'sing yer, Pintel. She didn' mean it-didn't yer, Miz Wolfe?"
"Sorry, Lessie. Meant every word."
"Why, you flea-bitten mogul-"
"Joey, say you're sorry!"
"Perhaps we should just l-let dis lie, Pintel. She's under de Captain of the Flying Dutchman's protection…perhaps its best-"
"Shut up, Raggeti! This is none of yer problem!"
"Yeah, Rags. Shut up."
"Joey…."
"I'm going to kill yer-"
"Pintel, calm down now."
"Joanna, what you said was extremely-"
"Shut up, Red head. I don't need your advice, aight?"
"Joey, apologise to Pintel. Now."
"I'm going to pull yer scalp right off! Yer hear? I'm gonna take me dag-"
"No way! The last time I'm going to do is apologise to this ass-"
"AVAST!"
A loud cry disrupted our little argument, cutting me off and snapping all our heads in its direction; Captain Hector Barbossa stood at the edge of the green forest, glaring back at us with vivid, yellow eyes. Beneath his sundial hat and dead-still blue feather, his tanned face was covered in a glistening layer of sweat, dark wrinkles creasing his skin into a deep frown. Ringlets of damp, dark hair sank down onto his stiff shoulders, his wrinkled hands clutching the sides of his hips as usual. Up above, beside his snarling, grumpy face, Little Jack watched the forest in eager anticipation. A silver ring glinted at the old man's hand.
Beside him, the shadow that was Sparrow darted into the trees, but a blur of black shaking leaves and cracking twigs. The water bubbled beneath my scorched palms.
About time.
"Get yer lazy assess over here! NOW!"
Without a single word of argument, everyone charged to their feet; sweaty calves and strained muscles winced in protest as I jumped up from the sand, the water sprinkling at my movement. Yellow cloth stuck onto my skin. Every part of me ached.
In front of us, at the edge of the wild jungle, Barbossa and his pet monkey charged after Sparrow.
Just great.
Gulping back my thirstiness and ignoring my heat-streaked weariness, I chased after the 5 of my companions, lagging just behind as the forest closed in on us.
When I was kid, my father would always take my brothers and I hiking during the summer. It was a consistent habit; for 4 days, every June, the Wolfe family would travel up the blue crag mountain that bordered our little town, our packs full with every nourishment needed for a trip outdoors. A giant duffel bag, one our father often carried, was used to pack our foldable, canvas tent.
It was always perfect; the river was always clear and warm, perfect for a quick swim in its shallow deeps. The forest was always just manageable; the often-hiked pathways clear and straight up the mountain without any long detours. The fire was always just right, the perfect temperature to cook our caught fishes and taste our victory to the fullest potential. The sky was always ideal, so clear that the stars would wink down at us all night, dancing about in their separate constellations.
Camping up the mountain with my family was always perfect.
Unlike now.
With an exaggerated groan, I swiped the low branch out of the way, knocking it back with my sweating palm. Beside me, the mangled mess of moss and vines trembled as the branch brushed back, the wooden spikes sticking out of the green blanket like thorny, reaching fingers. A sick squelch echoed through my ear.
Stupid jungle.
It had been hours yet we were still here, all 8 of us, wandering about the humid, endless jungle with no sense of direction whatsoever. It was like we were walking in circles; all around us, the whispering jungle seemed featureless, each tree and each bush as identical to the one beside it. Green clogged our every vision-vines like dark green snakes dangled in between us, separating us as we walked quietly in the untamed wild. Messes of moss grew on every plant in sight, blanketing everything in a thick, carpet green that made it almost impossible to identify anything. The air was thick as mirth.
Up above, high above our wandering heads, the canopy stretched like an endless ceiling, the leaves and branches of the giant trees holding hands as if to create a smooth slate of green. The sky was completely blocked out; trickles of faded gold danced through the tiny gaps between leaves, falling down upon us like showers of glitter and shine. It looked quite beautiful, actually-in the dark jungle completely devoid of light, the sun's meagre rays painted the air with a faint tinge of gold, making patches of green here and there glow and gleam like shining emerald. Off to the distance, at the base of a root-mess tree, a blue flower the size of my fist had caught a single ray of light, but a gleaming sapphire among all the green. All around us, the world chattered and chirped with life, animals and insects buzzing with normal routine as the jungle breathed out loud. Attentive, curious eyes watched us from the dark green shadows. Voices whispered in the near-dark.
Pintel crashed against a tree behind.
Idiot.
Don't get me wrong- I love nature. In fact, more then anything; it was one of the few ways that made me feel connected to the world, to the bright, endless universe around us. Nature was my own little telephone line with Earth. So, don't get wrong-I love nature.
Just not right now.
After all, here I was, stuck in the middle of a terribly hot jungle with all sorts of morons and creatures surrounding me. Not to mention that I was sweating like a beast.
And that my heart still tugged with a familiar name.
Will
Today was not going to my liking.
"We're lost!" Jared proclaimed behind me, piercing through the chirping of the crickets with an annoyed, frustrated growl. A bird cawed up ahead. Beneath my feet, the thick undergrowth cracked with the splintering of wood, as if I was crushing some poor animal with every step I take. Sweat bubbled down my hot skin.
"Amen to that," I murmured beneath my breath-I was too tired to talk, let alone turn around and agree with my brother. I was just too thirsty. In front of me, Sparrow threw his head over his shoulder, flicking his dark dreadlocks as he cast weary, black eyes back at us.
"We're almost there, lad. Have patience," his voice was just as tired as his eyes; sweat gliding down his orange face in thick roils. Black kohl was already smeared out in messy drips beneath his Indian eyes; his shoulders were sagged, as if some invisible weight bore down upon him relentlessly. His feet were heavy against the green ground. Up above, past his riddle eyes, a ray of golden light lit his lopsided hat, passing over as he walked forward slowly. Trinkets chimed in his hair, along with the crickets and other insects that surrounded us like an oncoming army. A golden compass shone dully in his weathered palm.
There was something different about him.
Something I had never seen before.
Something sad.
His lips were but a straight line in his weary face.
Beside me, lumbering about, Pintel grunted in reply.
"Patience?" He murmured, more to himself then anything else as his face deepened into a grouchy sulk, "Patience? We've been walking about dis god-damn place for 4 hours! What more patience does he want us to have?" He was like an elephant in a china shop; instead of snaking around the vines like all of us, the fat pirate whipped them out of his path, creaking wood and snapping leaves as the vines went flying. One of those long, snake-like vines caught me in my side.
I turned a furious glare at him.
He didn't seem to care.
And I was too tired to start arguing all over again.
To his right, at the end of our three-people line, Ragetti leaned to his left, towards his grumpy, sweating pig of a friend.
"You don't suppose dey would have us wait in the boat, no?" He whispered in a low voice to Pintel, his remaining eye kept up ahead. Unlike his lumbering friend, Ragetti seemed to have a skill of walking silently, his skinny, bony form slithering in between the dangling vines as smoothly as liquid. He was a tad bit clumsy though; one of his boots caught in a jutting root and the man almost tripped over. Off to my left, beyond the walls of green and cricking insects, a strange animal hooted through the shadows, a call of sorrow and dread. Tiny little mosquito's were beginning to attack my exposed shoulders.
Every part of me screamed for a cool shower.
Among all the chattering and muttering of the deep, dank life around us, Pintel started whispering again.
"What? And miss out all of dis? I rather'd hang by me toes den to be left guardin' de boats!"
"But its Circe, P-Pint. The Circe. You ought to dink dat we'll be much better off de farther we get from here!"
"Yer listen to me and yer listen to me good, igit-I've no idea why de Cap'tain's all lookin' for de sea-witch but….but de last time Barbossa went lookin fer somethin'-"
"Who is Circe, anyway?"
At my interruption, Pintel and Ragetti swivelled their heads towards me, never stopping in their pace as sweat flicked over in thick, giant drops. Behind us, Lestrade and Scarlett were engaged in some discussion, their voices too vague to be discerned. Jared trailed behind, muttering curses. All around us, the trees stuck out of the ground like dark, moss-covered pillars, holding up the green ceiling with mighty arms. Squirrels and other forms of animals hurried about the endless seas of tangled branches, chattering about in their squeaky, strange voices. Beneath us, crunches filled the air.
The hot was pressing down on us, as if in a bid to suffocate us.
A tear of sweat rolled down the side of my face.
To my right, walking together like some comic duo, Ragetti and Pintel watched me with wide eyes, the latter including a snarl of rotten teeth on his face. A monkey hooted in the distant, only to have Little Jack reply it in return. Something lumbered through the bushes beside me.
"What?"
"You heard me. Circe. Who is she?"
Up ahead, Barbossa said something crude to Sparrow, his voice like the cracking of wood. Every part of me wanted to melt away, right down into the earth. My eyes were becoming heavy.
"What?" Pintel growled, showing his teeth as a pure look of distaste washed over his sweating face, his yellow-rimmed eyes squinted to mere slits, "Ye haven't heard of Circe before, broad?" His deep, sagging cheeks crinkled with lines-I frowned at his rude comment, furrowing my eyebrows together. After all, pirate or not, man should know how to treat a woman.
Even when the woman was a primitive, obnoxious slutty whore.
Pig-headed pirate.
The hot climate did little to dampen my frustration.
Hiking in a deep breath, I glared back at the bumbling pirate.
"Not from where I come from, no," I spit as viciously as I could, biting down on the words and doing my best to ignore the mumblings of conversation from in front of me and behind, " I mean, all I know about Circe is…well, apparently, she's the daughter of Calypso." Off to my left, a passing tree stood studded into the mossy ground-it was darker then all the other trees, its ringed trunk thick and wide as three people. Ferns and lichens decorated its dark design, swirling all the way up to its high, green top-at the base of the large tree, upon one of the several tangle roots, was a dark red imprint of a human hand, smeared through the wood.
For a second, my mind froze as I my eyes blinked all over again-it was still there though, a handprint with rough fingertips and a wide palm. Trails of crusty red, almost as dark as the wood, was slurred off to the side, as if the hand had been pulled away or something. A golden ray light, from the sky above the dark canopy, shone down upon the handprint like a glorified spotlight. My insides churned a sickening roll.
What the hell?
Jared cursed something crude behind me.
A lizard clicked at my feet.
Ragetti's voice drew me back towards the pirates again.
"Not just dat, Miss," he spoke in his usual, gobbly voice, his remaining eye bulging with intensity as he rubbed his coarse, unshaven jaw, "Circe…Aye, Circe's far more den just de goddess' daughter?"
"How so?"
"Well-"
"She's a witch, that's it!" Pintel interrupted, spitting viciously as he walked gingerly over a stuck-out root, glaring eyes always on me, "A conniving, man-killing witch!" His shiny bald head was covered in a glistening layer of sweat-in front of us, leading us all in a snail-pace hike, Sparrow and Barbossa conversed in what seemed like a civil discussion. Scarlett's voice sang behind us in a melodious pitch, like the strumming of a harp. Up above, among the clustered green leaves and swirling branches, a patch of sky opened up-the black-grey cloud smoke covered half of the hole, reaching into the clear sky hands with menacing hands. Streaks of warm, sunset colours tinged the other half of the hole-the sun was already beginning to set but at least, we were nearer the volcano.
That is, if that's where we want to go.
I really had no idea.
"Mind explaining that, sputnik?"
To my right, Pintel just rolled his yellow-stained eyes. Something brushed by my heel-it was Ragetti who continued, keeping that same, concentrated glare.
"Yer don't understand, Miss," he gulped, his goggle eyes somehow reminding me of a sweating, tanned goldfish, "Circe…There are stories about her."
The air was awfully thick.
"What stories?"
"Lots of dem…all of dem…she's a witch, miss. A bad witch. She does things….awful things…de stories yer might here…"
"What things?"
"It ain't fer ladies to here, Miss. Not fer pretty ladies like yerself at least…no, no…not at all."
"Rags…"
It was Pintel who continued now, waving his friend's remarks away as he leaned in towards me, his bulky form lumbering across the thick undergrowth with loud crunches. My feet, too, made loud noises-by my right heel, a strange insect crept about, twitching its colourful feelers as if curious or interested. Tiny little legs carried its elongated body.
Disgust revelled through me as I hopped aside.
"Ye know what happens to lost sailors, lass?" He arched an eyebrow, dropping his voice as if in a whisper. Helplessly, I leaned in, my ears straining to hear him-to his right, Raggeti too leaned closer, eye trained on me completely. Behind, there was a loud crash, followed by Jared's fluent cursing. My heart was suddenly thrilled.
"No."
"Well, let me tell yer," his yellow-stained eyes were even more weird and creepy then Barbossa, his rotten teeth like brown crags, "Let me tell yer, yer igit….I don't know if de stories are true, but…Old Captain One-Eye, de one at de 'Virgin Lady',always talk about her. Circe, I mean."
"Well, what does he say?"
Here, Pintel leaned in closer, his stinking body sending waves of retching stench all over me-it took everything in might not to puke down onto his shoes. Rows of rotten teeth gleamed at me in sudden pleasure; at the corner of my eye, I thought I saw an animal, perched high up in the tree.
It was gone in a second though.
Lestrade droned on behind us.
" Let me tell yer…dey say dat when yer lost at sea, around dis area…………Circe gets yer."
A bee buzzed by ear, causing me flick about in a frightful manner-I never had a love for insects, much less stripped large ones with a razor sharp butt. The tips of a dangling branch, covered with spiky leaves, scratched against my bare shoulders like clawed hands. Something churned within me.
"Right," I rolled my eyes, stepping over a knotted root as we continued to trudge forward, the air thick all around us " Circe's the bogeyman."
"I'm not kidding with yer, lass. Circe…Circe's dangerous."
"How?" I sighed as I gazed down at my knee-high boots, at the green-brown ground that crunched like broken bones beneath our feet, "How is she dangerous? I mean…all you freaks are giving me right now is that Circe 'gets' you…its not much to go on, really."
"And why de hell der yer want to know, anyway?" Ragetti gulped across the space, a paw clutching Pintel's arm. Up ahead, swirling about the vines and dark trees, Sparrow and Barbossa conversed in low tones, the golden compass still glinting in Sparrow's tanned hand. Little Jack sat comfortably on his master's shoulder. Behind me, about a meter or so back in the green gloom, Jared commented something in his hoarse voice. Crickets swarmed all around us like a manifestation, their cries surrounding us at all corners. Something creaked the dark branches up above. My tongue tasted like sawdust.
Not that I had even eaten any, that is.
"I like to know what I'm facing, before I actually do it."
" I though ye liked things unpredictable, miss."
"What ever gave you that idea, Rags?"
"Well, yer always seemed unpredictable-"
"Look, just tell me alright? Tell me what we're up against!"
For a second, in the whispering noises of the forest and the murmuring of the voices, Pintel and Raggeti exchanged a quick look, their faces splayed with an unreadable emotion. Yellow-rimmed eyes goggled down at a single, bug-like eye; their lips uttered no word as a silent message was passed between them, their eyes spelling words to each other. All around us, the hot air was beginning to smell differently- the stench of smoke filtered through the trees in a faint wave, like whispers of tendrils snaking through the dangling vines and tall trees. Sweat boiled down my bare shoulders.
A pair of eyes, much like a cat's, gleamed from under a thick, dark green bush dotted with silver flowers.
A lizard skittered up a tree.
"WELL?"
"We've already told yer, Miss," Ragetti gulped again, sweat streaming down his face, "Circe gets yer if yer come too close. At least, dats what de pirates always say."
"And I'm asking you…what the hell does 'get' mean?"
"She kills yer, ye thumb-sucker," Pintel was growling all over again, leaning in towards me with a wicked, chilling snarl on his tanned, sweating face, " She grabs yer from her shore de minute yer land, dragging yer back to her lair whilst yer holding on, screamin' fer yer miserable life…She don't care if yer hurt or nothin'…she just drags yer by the hair, back to her hut…and that's where she guts yer alive, pokin' about with her magic-"
"Don't speak about it, Pintel! She might hear yer!"
"-slicing yer open with all her knifes and daggers…pullin' out all of yer slimy guts as if yer made of stuffin' or not…like yer were some rag doll…and ye'll be screaming enough to beat Jesus…de pain will be so horrid dat nothing else would ever make sense again…everything becomes black and white…yer will screamin' and screamin' and yer can't stop-"
"I highly doubt that, Pintel…why didn't she pick us up from the shore then? No welcome party?"
"Aye, lass…she's waitin'…waitin, watchin' us from de bushes like some she-devil about to pounce on yer and rip yer heart out-"
"And cook yer! She'll pounce on yer and cook yer alive, like yer were no more den some rough-clawed animal from de ground! She'll drop yer into a pot of-"
"Nay, Rags, she eats dem alive, no? Remember what Old One-Eye said…she rips dem and pulls deir guts out…she makes dem hurt 'till they're near death…den she pounces on dem and eats dem…bites into deir blood-stained flesh with her sharp fangs…tearing chunks out of yer shoulder-"
"Lord, no, Pintel! I don't want to have chunks pulled out of me shoulder!"
"I don't mean-"
"Shoulder? Why, I prefer the heart."
It was a clear voice, a smooth accented voice that cut Pintel off in mid-sentence like a blade slicing through the air. My heart jumped in my chest as sharp intakes of breath muffed through the clearing beside me, my mind freezing as footsteps ceased in their paths.
It was as if time itself had frozen in its place.
The whipping sound of a rushing blade pounded through my head.
Standing at the edge of the mangled clearing, beside a giant, tall tree that pierced through the dark green ceiling, was a woman. A beautiful woman- she stood like a myriad against all the mangled green, her sculpted, tall figure like a marble statue of old. She wasn't pale though; her skin was of a rich ebony, like the colour of cinnamon sticks or freshly-brewed coffee with a tint of sugar. Black locks, thick and luscious in giant rings, streamed down her rigid back and firm shoulders like a never-ending waterfall, so dark that even the shadows behind her paled in comparison to its beautiful shade. It was like staring at Miss Universe or something; raven curls curved over her heaving bosoms like little, straggling streams of black, hiding part of her perfect figure behind a dark blanket. A pale green dress hugged her curvaceous body, like an emerald liquid flowing smoothly over her dark skin. It was short though-the flighty, smooth material cut just above her knee in jagged strips, exposing her muscled, brown legs all the way down to her bare toes. Her arms were bare too, green strips of blowy sleeves hidden behind curls and curls of pure black. A brown belt, with an empty holder, encircled her dainty waist. Up above, among the luscious wild of her hair, a striking face stood out; it was perfect in every way, her rich, coloured skin flawless and her features, perfect. Black bangs, like liquid, fell just above her fiery brown eyes, long eyelashes shying against her cheekbones. Pops of muscles jumped at her perfectly sculpted jaw. Her red, red lips were pressed in grim line.
Her beautiful eyes were as hard as stone.
Her lean arm was stretched out.
A silver sword shone in that hand.
The sword's bitter edge glinted at Pintel's chubby neck.
Wow.
A Femme Fatale.
I really wanted to clap, but something told me that that would be extremely inappropriate.
Beside me, on Pintel's other side, Ragetti had jumped back, his skinny, tanned hand reaching down to his gun as his eye bulged in complete and utter shock. A cry escaped his lips within a second. Behind and before me, the rest of our little party wasn't a minute too slow-cries of surprise and the thangs of freed rapiers echoed throughout the dense clearing as head swirled towards out newcomer, feet stopping in their paths as shock emanated throughout the group. Pistols cocked up ahead as voices raised up into the green blanket, curses and yells pounding through my head. Jared screamed my name from behind.
My heart was racing.
From fear or excitement I couldn't really tell.
Sweat pulsated down my bare back.
"Stay where you are," the stranger spoke again, her voice as clear as a fresh spring brook. Her red lips moved like liquid-every part of her face was strained, from the muscles in her jaw to the tension in her dark eyes. The smooth arm that held the sword remained as firm as a rock as she grasped the hilt with ferocity, never wavering the blade an inch. Hard, brown eyes travelled across the clearing with an almost regal air. In front of her, partially under a golden ray of sunlight, Pintel stood like a cowering beast, his neck at the mercy of the polished sword. Sweat streamed down his bulbous face as he studied the sword at his neck, his large yellow-rimmed eyes quavering like a dying candle. His booted feet shifted noisily.
Some part of me was trembling too.
On either side of my now turned figure, the rest of my party fell into silence at the stranger's voice-Sparrow and Barbossa had turned around, their metal guns cocked ready in their tanned palms. On my other side, Lestrade and Jared had drawn out their rapiers, though why anyone would give my brother a weapon was a mystery to me.
I mean, didn't they know he had issues?
Scarlett cowered behind Jared like a scared mouse.
A sound pressed against the back of my throat.
I wasn't sure if it was a laugh or a cry.
Euphoria stirred within my chest.
"Nobody move," the stranger was speaking again, her arm steady and composure cold and silent, " Nobody move or I'll kill him." There was no accent to her voice, none whatsoever. No trill, no melody, no frenching; it was just a voice, a plain, clear voice that, for some arcane reason, reminded me of dancing butterflies and clear, crystal rivers. A chill crept up my spine at the sound of her strange voice. In front of me, beside the cowering Pintel, Ragetti gulped with ferocity, his rapier held up as he stood a good distance away from the newcomer. His out-stretched hand trembled like the leaves in a gale. Sparrow breathed out a quick, shallow sigh. My fingers were as numb as ice.
Despite it all, I still wanted to take a cold shower.
My throat was awfully parched.
For a moment or so, in the never-ending noise of the restless jungle, no one uttered a word.
All was silent.
Finally, with a heaving, irritated breath, I drawled.
"Go ahead. I don't really care."
In front of me, standing rigid against the green backdrop, the beautiful stranger tilted her head, her dark eyes flashing towards me. Her red lips were pursed firmly; something dark and violent flashed in her brown eyes, muscules popping at her jaw. To my side, between Jared and Lestrade, Scarlett gasped behind muffled hands. Pintel shuffled beneath the sword's gleaming edge with wide, frightful eyes. Barbossa cocked his pistol again.
"Excuse me?" There was that voice again.
"You heard me," I rolled my eyes, closing my hands over my leather-clad hips as I returned the stranger's sweltering glare with my own bored one, "Go ahead and slice him-trust me, you'll be doing me a massive favour."
In front of me, Pintel turned furious eyes at me, though apparent fear shone at the edges of his yellow rims. Ragetti was gulping away beside him, his rapier quivering until it was nothing more then a blur of flashing silver. My insides bit with unease-what the hell was I doing?
The stranger raised a single, snaky eyebrow.
"I will do it, you know."
"I know. And I'm saying…go ahead."
"Joey…"
"Shut up, Jared."
"You are bold, child," The stranger spoke again, her arm and hand firm as she kept her sword to Pintel's trembling, sweating throat. She spoke in that odd way again, like fairy laughter or something-it was so alien, so foreign that a part of me yearned to hear that voice again, for it to stream through my mind like a rushing river. Dark, fiery eyes, strange in its every right, glared at me silently, her eyebrow raised in question. Behind her raven head, among the twirling trees and leaves, a dark green snake, as wide as two fists, encircled a branch in slow laps. Crickets cricked by my feet.
Gulping back an orb of salvia and ignoring the other sounds around me, I stared back at the stranger, eye to eye.
"It's been said."
"What makes you think that was a compliment?"
Off to the side, Sparrow was murmuring something, curses by the sound of it. Feet shuffled over the undergrowth with creaks and crunches- if I had reached out into the air, I might have just corded all of the tension into thick, long ropes. Rigid, melting fingers strayed at my side.
I sighed all over again.
"What makes you think I care?"
For a second, no one said a word as the stranger and I exchanged glares-hers was cold and rigid while mine was…well…bored. After all, I didn't know how to react exactly; here I was, staring at a strangely clad woman with tempting eyes and an alluring voice, watching her as she held a razor-sharp sword to Pintel's bulging neck.
I mean, how are you supposed to react something like that?
Especially when I felt like melting in the very ground.
For a second, no one spoke.
Sparrow's breathing, for some, reason, was pounding through my skull.
Lestrade's giant wave of body heat crashed against my sweltering being.
I gulped all over again.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the strange woman spoke again.
"What is your name, child?"
Her voice was just as odd, though something was changing in her eyes-the dark stirrings was dwindling, her arm easing slightly against Pintel's throat. It was too late though-a line of blood, thick and red against his skin, had streamed down the sword's edge, tipping over and dropping to his collar in fat blots. Ragetti's breath was rasped beside him.
"Joey," I answered simply, drawing my arms all the way up to mid-section, crossing them tightly. At my hip, my rubied sword hung heavily against my leg-for some odd reason, subconsciously of course, one of hands trailed near the gold hilt, fingers curled in preparation.
Hanging with these pirates has made me paranoid.
Geez.
"Strange name," the newcomer commented leisurely, cocking her head slightly. Up above, leaves rustled as a hot draft brushed by, rushing over the enclosed jungle like a whisper in the ear. Sweat bubble down my skin as all our hairs stirred slightly in the breeze, the stranger's dark hair like a nest of black, black curls. Sparrow was muttering again.
"Not as strange as yours," I rolled my eyes again as arms tightened around my body, "Your name is Circe. What kind of name is that?"
Pintel's adversary raised both eyebrows.
"You know my name," she stated simply, her beautiful eyes widening slowly as her luscious lips parted into two, tulip red parts. Her arms slackened even more as all her attention was focused onto me, freeing Pintel by just a little. Feet shuffled and murmurs echoed from either side of me. Little Jack hooted to my left.
"Well…you are dressed like some gay fairy."
"If you know me…then you know-"
"Yes…I know…you're some all-and-mighty demi-goddess, daughter of Calypso, blah, blah, blah….look, if you want to kill Pintel, just go ahead and do it. Don't just stand there, talking about it."
Yet again, no one spoke. In front of me, beneath the woman's-Circe's-blade, Pintel's animal-like eyes darted towards me, frightful and alarmed. Anger raged in his dark flecks. Beside him, Circe just watched me quietly, her eyes cryptic and mysterious in their own right. Jared's breath was ragged, like a horse's panting after a long run. Smoke stained the roiling, hot air.
I clenched my hands against my bodice.
Blood rushed through my veins.
Scarlett coughed.
Finally, with a little sigh, the tall demi-goddess moved-dark skin glinted gold with sweat as she swung her arm back towards her, withdrawing the rapier from Pintel's neck with a swift, almost liquid movement. Before her, Pintel jumped back with a renewed energy, grabbing at his fat neck as he hopped a wide step away, out of danger. Relief flooded his features, though all the previous emotions were still there, flashing across his face in churning, black waves. Beside him, Raggeti exhaled an audible sigh, his giant Adam's apple bobbing away at his throat. On either side of me, silence remained thick in the hot jungle air, except for the relieved sigh of Scarlett and the hot huff of nostrils from Lestrade. To my left, a pair of feet shuffled forward nosily, moving by just by an inch.
A bird cawed overhead.
Drawing her sword back, the ethereal being that was Circe moved fluently, her strong hand reaching forward and swiping the dots of blood of the tip of her blade's edge. The sword came out clean, and before all of our watching, agitated eyes, the demi-goddess pulled back and sheathed her sword back into her belt, sliding silver against her green-clad waist.
Something about her reminded me of Peter Pan.
Why the hell did I go and talk to her like that for?
'Cause you're an idiot who's addicted to danger, that nauseating voice echoed within my head again, answering my very question and clouding out all my other thoughts in that sickening tone.
You know, if that voice weren't my conscience or pure common sense, I would have ripped it out years ago.
After all, it never did me much good.
Why the hell did I go and talk to her like that for?
Standing behind all the dangling vines, beside the shivering Ragetti and Pintel, the beautiful immortal raised her head, her dark hair stirring in the invisible draft. Flashes of hot fire burned in her dark, dark eyes like merry nymphs of the flame, bright and alive with an energy so profound, so strange. Her perfectly sculpted lips were tilted upwards now, the edges of the slender reds twitching in a half smile. Smooth, liquid brown arms curved at her waist in sharp triangles. An unscarred palm remained on the wooden hilt of her sword.
She was so strange, this demi-goddess of the forest.
This Circe.
Why wasn't I freaking out yet?
"You know," she was speaking again, all her attention bade on me as her dark eyes gazed deeply into my own, unflinching ones, "I haven't met another of my gender since nearly 20 years ago…yet, if this is how young women act these days, then I safely say that I am pleased."
She spoke with that odd trill again-I was beginning to think that her voice was just like that, like something magical and beautiful all mixed together. Beside me, Lestrade shuffled at his feet as Jared made an audible gulp farther behind. The pair of feet inched a step closer. Little Jack screamed.
My clenched fist tightened even more.
"Well, I'm not from around here, so techni-"
"Nay, you aren't," Circe interrupted smoothly, inclining her head as she watched me with those dark, endearing eyes of hers, "You aren't from around here at all."
"No…" I let my voice trailed as an eyebrow shot up to my brow, my eyes studying her as well-there was an unearthly regal nature about her, in the way she spoke and the way she carried herself. Dark brown eyes studied me intensely, as if I was page in a book; it was unnerving really. Extremely unnerving.
As if those dark brown eyes could read right through my very soul.
"You're from far, far away, aren't you?"
Without pausing and ignoring my brother's sharp intake of my breath, I answered the demi-goddess, swiping a buzzing bee away as I went.
"Yes…I suppose. Quite far."
"And where is that exactly?"
In the hot, smoke-stained forest, her words chilled me. Icy chill.
For some arcane reason, Circe's simple question had frozen my mind, clouding over all thoughts at the possibility….
Stop.
Think.
After all, how bad could it be telling a demi-goddess that Jared and I were actually from the future?
Right?
As I opened my mouth to speak, another voice cut me off short, stopping my jaw in mid-air.
"Oh, she's no-one!" Sparrow cried as he jumped in front of me, hitting me with his flapping arms as the undergrowth cursed under his sudden weight, "Absolutely no one at all….juz dat eunuch's new lass…honestly, I personally dink his taste gone down a wee bit from de last time…"
His black dreadlocks and knobby hat hit hard against my face as hopped in front of me, his mouth spitting the words before he even landed-he had been him, I realised, that had been inching forward towards us. His tanned hands hit against my shocked body-he towered in front of me, almost like a shield in front of me. Repulse surged through my veins as the stench of his unwashed hair slammed against my face in a hard, unnerving slap. Helplessly, I staggered back a little into a tangling vine.
All around me, everyone had remained their silence, keeping their lips shut as the scene unfolded before them. I couldn't see them though; Sparrow's lanky form and broad shoulders blocked my vision as he stood in front of me, his awful dreadlocks and smelly old hat filling up my world.
God, he stank!
Without another word, I tried to squirm past him, to take a large angle around him and towards Lestrade so that I could once again be eye-to-eye with Circe; as I moved though, Sparrow seemed to have sensed it. With his eyes still kept in front of him, he reached back and grabbed hold my arm, holding me in place. Pain screamed through my trapped wrist as his hand clamped over mine, staggering my weak knees as he halted my attempt all together. Up above, faint, evening light streamed through the green canopy in patches.
"OI!" I screamed into his ear but the pirate didn't seem to mind; his hands were like hot handcuffs as he kept his hold on me, keeping me right behind him. It was painful though-I struggled and pull but God, the man was strong! Frustration began to well within me as Sparrow refused to even budge under all my attempts, his foul smelling hair engulfing all my senses.
For once, Jared didn't make a sound.
I was on the verge of screaming myself.
And then…
It hit me.
Sparrow was protecting me.
He was standing in front of me like a shield, protecting me with his own very body.
His hands were holding me back, stopping me from getting around the shield and putting myself in danger.
Sparrow was protecting me.
From Circe.
For the first time in my life, I stopped fighting-with a pull of dread, I eased my hands in Sparrow's and shrank back behind him, looking down at my feet as my vision was once again blocked off by Sparrow's bulk. My damp, honey curls brushed against his wet back as I helplessly leaned slightly against him, letting my strength go as a hollow, nauseating feeling overcame the stench of his rotten hair. Salvia gulped back down my throat at the unprecedented emotions.
Sparrow was protecting me.
From Circe.
For a reason.
Hey, I didn't like the man.
But something told me trust him right now.
Jared was murmuring something to Scarlett.
Little Jack hooted quietly.
My insides clenched with apprehension.
Why was Sparrow protecting me from Circe?
She seems….decent….
Sparrow's grip loosened over one hand.
From somewhere behind Sparrow's shoulder, out of my view, Circe's beautiful, enchanting voice spoke once more.
"I see if you've got yourself a new girl, Jack."
The voice was as per normal, not a reaction displaying in her tone at all.
As if she hadn't witnessed Sparrow's obvious attempt at protecting me.
Her voice was muffled though.
Off to the side, Lestrade was murmuring too now, only to be answered by my brother again. Despite the heat, a sudden stroke of ice seemed to slither up my spine-Sparrow's mere action made me want to dig a hole and bury myself in it.
For some reason, I just wanted to stay behind Sparrow, in his protection.
Away from her dark, fiery gaze.
All cocky, self-confident emotions of before have seemed to evaporate into the wind.
I have no fucking idea why.
Jared whispered again.
"She's not me girl, Circe, and yer know it."
My heart clenched beneath my brown bodice.
"Do I, Jack?"
I sank deeper into Sparrow's sweat-stained back and revolting dreadlocks.
Nobody said a word.
Sparrow's grip remained strong on my hand.
Every part of me wanted to re-trace my steps and take back all I said, all the cockiness I had done towards the demi-goddess.
God.
Why the hell did I had to go talk to her like that for?
But she seemed impressed with me, right?
Right?
Right?
Stupid, endless mind.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Circe spoke again, her voice as clear and crystal as a rushing spring.
"Enough of this."
Ta-da! End of chapter!
I'm not really sure about how I ended things of with Joey's confused, boggling thoughts…I'm sorry if the change was too drastic…and for leaving things off with a cliff hanger of sorts….
Sorry…
Anyway, I will be trying to write soon as possible but school has been really buggy lately, so it might take a while. Sorry to all of you guys and really, THANK YOU for actually taking out the time to read my stuff. You have no idea what it means to me.
Lastly, I would just like to say that Fanfiction, for some reason, doesn't allow my asterisk-break in the chapters. So yeah…real sorry about that.
Thanks for all the reviews and please suggest anything that can help me! Thank you guys so much!
XOXO
P.S. Sorry about any missing words or grammatical error…I kind of did this in rush! Sorry!